Just to make sure there's no confusion, the last chapter took place in s2 right after the guys got out of that short stint in jail when Juice got stabbed in the kidneys. THIS chapter takes place a little bit after that, but still s2.
Also, we get the last few pieces of Olivia's puzzle (except one, which no one's getting for a whiiille), so just be warned: mentions (but nothing "on-screen," so to speak) of abuse, rape, and attempted suicide.
ETA: hey! so I went ahead and took one of the chapters from Missing Pieces and added it in the main story, bc it was really good character work and I wanted to. Anyway, it added a couple k words to this chapter, so settle in.
i wanna stop the world and hide
but there's no place left to run, no place left inside
just want to stop and catch my breath
spend one second on this earth not scared to death!
Bob Schneider, "C'mon Baby"
Juice was out of the hospital, but she hadn't seen much of him—or anyone else, really; she'd had the shop mostly to herself recently. Something had happened, something she hadn't asked about, and it had sent the club into a tailspin. Jax had apparently decided not to go Nomad after all, and he and Clay spent long hours sequestered in the chapel. Sometimes the club was with them. Sometimes not.
It seemed like days had a way of flying by, like one of those movie scenes with pages flipping on a calendar. That's how Olivia felt now: outside of her own life, watching it flip past her. All she needed was an appropriately turbulent song and she'd have her very own montage. She hated the feeling. The powerlessness of it. The club—and the people in it—were drawing her in, and she wondered why it was different here. She'd always been able to keep herself outside of things before. Just an employee. Just a…whatever. Now, though, everything was trying to change, and she didn't know how to stop it.
All day people had been trickling in. Sack had told her they were going on lockdown: no one in or out without an escort. Gates locked. Guards posted. She shuddered at the thought and tossed a wrench into the drawer with a clatter. She had to get out of here before she couldn't. She wasn't part of any of this. She had no need to be locked down like some sort of prisoner.
She grabbed her bag from the office and stepped out into the garage for one last check. The bay doors were closed and everything was in its place. Even though she was in a hurry she couldn't leave things a mess; it would bug the fuck out of her all night and she wouldn't get any rest.
She had her hand on the door when it burst open. She jumped back, startled, and pressed a hand to her chest. "Fuck me, Juice, you nearly gave me a stroke!"
"Sorry," he said. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I was worried you might not've heard about the lockdown and left. Come on. Everyone's in the clubhouse."
He stood in the doorway, his hand extended, and his expression slowly morphed from relieved to nonplussed. "What's the matter?" he said.
"I'm not coming with you. I'm going home."
He stared at her. "Are you crazy?"
"I don't think so," she said. She started to brush past him, but he grabbed her arm. She jerked away and glared at him. "Please get out of my way. I need to get going before they shut the gates."
"You're not going anywhere except the clubhouse, Olivia."
"No, I'm not. I'm going home."
She spun away and started toward the office. He yanked the door shut behind him and hurried after her.
"Wait," he said. "Please, just wait."
She froze and turned, each movement slow and deliberate. She looked like a coiled spring: all potential energy ready to explode. He held out his hands and smiled a little.
"Come on, Liv. You know you gotta stay here. It's too dangerous out there. You live way out of town, all by yourself on that empty street. You're safer here."
The tension snapped and she charged at him. Despite their height difference she was somehow up in his face, and he fell back a little. "I'm not part of your club, Ortiz. I'm not part of whatever war you have going on. My life is mine, and when I drive out of here every day I leave the club here. Do you get that?"
"I do," he said. He started to touch her, but the look on her face made him drop his hands to his sides. "I understand, Olivia, but right now none of that matters. You work here. You're connected to the club. That's all these guys will care about."
"Why would they come after me anyway? I'm nobody."
He blew out a breath and decided to ignore that last bit. "They could come after anyone. That's the point. That's why everyone's here, where it's safe. Anyone with any connection to the club. Hell, Unser's here!"
It was maybe the worst thing he could've said.
"A cop!? Are you kidding me, Juice? There's a fucking cop in there, the Charming Police Chief, and you want me to just stroll on in and cozy up to him?"
"He's not here to fuck with you, Liv. He's here because he protects the club. You're ours. He would never mess with you."
"I am not yours!" she cried. She spun away and thrust her fingers into her hair. "I never should have come here. I should have just stayed in Las Cruces. Things were simple there. Easy. I did my job and I went home and I didn't get almost blown up or forced into any fucking lockdowns."
He scuffed his boot against the floor and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You can still go back there after this is all over."
"No," she said. "I can't. I don't ever go back. Only forward. Always forward."
"Olivia—" He stepped toward her but she whipped around to face him.
"I can't stay locked in here. You don't seem to get it, Juice."
"Of course I don't!" he said, his patience finally wearing out. "You don't tell me a fucking thing! Why are you running from the cops? What are you so afraid of?" He grabbed her left wrist hard enough to hurt, but she didn't pull away. "What the fuck is this thing? Did you go through an emo phase as a kid and take a razor blade to your wrist one day?"
Now she jerked out of his grip and shoved him away. Followed as he stumbled to shove him again. He clutched her arms to stop her and yanked her against him. "Stop it. Fucking stop it and just talk to me."
Her eyes spat fire and her freckles stood out like sparks against bright red cheeks. "You don't know a fucking thing about me, Ortiz. Stop pretending you do."
"Bullshit." He squeezed her arms hard enough to leave impressions in her skin and glowered down at her. "I know plenty of things, Olivia. For one I know every time I say your name it's a fucking lie. I know the way your skin tastes right there"—he nodded toward the curve of her shoulder—"and the way your face flushes when I kiss you."
He leaned closer and his voice dropped. "I know the noises you make when you come and I know that you're only ticklish on your ribs and the inside of your thighs."
"Right," she said, desperate to interrupt him before he could go on. "You know I take my tea with honey and that my nose goes funny when I'm thinking. Anybody who's bothered to look at me for five seconds before he fucks me would know those things, Juice. They don't mean a goddamn thing."
"Then tell me more! I've stopped asking because I know it's pointless and it pisses you off, but I want to help you, Olivia. I want to—" He stopped himself before he could say protect you, because from the way she was looking at him he thought she might stab him for it. "I just want to know you," he finished lamely.
She shrugged off his hold and pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. Her eyes were closed, her head down, and he waited silently while she wrestled with it. At last she looked up, her expression resigned. "It wasn't a razor blade. It was a steak knife. I was twenty-four and I thought it was my only option."
"To die? By steak knife? Liv—"
"No," she said and held up a hand. "I didn't want to die. That's the point. I wanted to live."
His brow furrowed. "Maybe you should start at the beginning."
She drew in a breath and let it out in a long, slow stream. "Yeah. Why not." A brief pause as she gathered her thoughts. Then, "When I was seventeen I met this guy. That's how every sob story starts, right? With the wrong boy."
He blinked at her and she hurried on.
"I was a senior in high school, and even since my mom died and things started going wonky I'd still been a good kid. A good student. I was on track to be valedictorian of my class and I'd applied for early admission at MIT, Georgia Tech, Berkeley…I wanted to be an engineer.
"He was…" She trailed off and let out a bitter laugh. "He was perfect. Smart, funny, sophisticated—at least to a seventeen year old. Good looking." A shrug. "Rich. He treated me like a princess, and what's more he encouraged all my dreams. It was his idea to apply early admission. He suggested California when I said I'd be content at Georgia Tech. In-state tuition and closer to him."
Their eyes met, and he understood what she was telling him. The significance of it.
She kicked at the ground and lifted her arms in a helpless shrug. "I was young and naive and I wanted to believe in him. He asked me to marry him after I graduated, and of course I said yes. I was so obsessed I dropped from first in my class to tenth and didn't even care. Three days after graduation, I packed a bag and walked out of my house and never went back. Two days after that we were married."
He tried not to act surprised when she said she'd married this guy. He'd gotten the impression she wasn't interested in marriage at all, not that she'd tried it once and it had gone spectacularly wrong. "I'm guessing he wasn't the Prince Charming you thought."
"Hardly. He started off slow, because even though I was pretty fucking enthralled, I also wasn't stupid. But by our first anniversary he was locking me in my room at night and loaning me out to his friends."
Juice choked and stared at her. "What?"
Her head tilted as if to say you heard me. "I was a possession to him, pure and simple. He brought me out when he wanted me and put me away when he didn't. When he was bored he might beat me just for the hell of it. He lied. Manipulated. Raped, of course; what's the point of having a wife if you aren't gonna fuck her, right?"
Juice's hands were shaking as he scrubbed them over his skull and locked his fingers behind his head. "Jesus Christ, Olivia. Jesus fucking Christ. You were with this cocksucker for six years?"
"I had nowhere else to go. No money. No friends. I hadn't spoken to my dad since the day I left home, and TJ—that was the cocksucker's name—had convinced me that my father hated me for abandoning him." She said it defiantly, her chin raised and her jaw tight, but he shook his head.
"I didn't meant it like that. I just meant—" He made a face and let his arms fall to his sides. "How did you get away?"
"Ah, well." Her mouth twisted. "In addition to using me as his own personal party favor when he and his dumb buddies got together, he also occasionally sent me to 'entertain' one of his clients. He usually just sprung it on me, day of, but for some reason this time he didn't."
A crease appeared between her brows and her gaze turned inward. "I think he wanted to punish me with it, you know? He knew how much I hated it, so he wanted me to watch me squirm some beforehand. It was stupid and arrogant, because all he did was give me time to plan.
"I did my homework. I knew where and how to cut to get an impressive amount of blood without severing any tendons—the last thing I wanted was to fuck up my hands. Over the years I'd started squirreling away pills from his collection, and by that time I had a pretty decent haul. I brought them with me that night.
The guy, his client, was this real old school type. Ordered dinner from room service but had me serve it to him. Had me making his drinks all night."
"And every time he got a little something extra, I'm guessing," Juice said with a huff of appreciation.
She nodded. "He was half asleep by dessert, completely passed out twenty minutes later. I grabbed a knife off the room service tray and booked it to the nearest hospital." She tugged the cuff over her hand and held out her wrist. "I walked into the ER and did this. They stopped me before I could do the other one, which was good because it hurt like a motherfucker. Any suicide attempt is an automatic twenty-four hour hold, and once they saw my x-rays…well. They stopped asking my name after that.
"A cop came in to ask me a few questions and I decked her." She winced. "I'm not super proud of that. She was just doing her job, and she seemed sincere. Anyway, it got me locked up, and while I was there I met this woman." She smiled then, a brief curl of her lips. "She reminded me of my mom. God, I just…I was so scared. I kept thinking I'd made a huge mistake and I should go back and beg him—"
She shook herself and passed a hand over her eyes. "I ended up telling her everything, all those little sordid details I'm glossing over right now. Turns out her old man was the president of a pretty big MC."
"A Sons charter?" he said with a frown.
"No. Different club altogether. When I walked out of jail a week later they were there. All of them. These big burly guys on motorcycles. Even the guards looked spooked. They got me to one of their charters in Tennessee, and at some point I got handed off to the Sons."
A deep breath. "You should maybe know…the other night I told Jax a version of what happened, but not the whole thing, and not about…" She flexed her wrist. "I don't want him to know this part, and if he asks you anything—"
"It stays between us, Liv. I promise."
She acknowledged it with a nod and then stared at him without blinking as silence settled around them. It was so quiet they could hear the commotion from the lot outside, voices calling back and forth, tires on pavement, a baby crying. There was a rattle and a clang as the gates shut, but apart from a minute tightening around her eyes, she didn't react.
"Shit," he said at last. He shook his head, stunned. "That's one hell of a story, Olivia."
"Yeah," she said. "It's a humdinger. Juice—" She looked away sharply. When she turned back again he could tell by her face he wasn't going to like what came next. "For the last five years I've lived my life a certain way. I don't get attached. I keep moving. I cover my trail."
"You think he's looking for you?"
"No," she said shortly. "He's dead. His father, on the other hand…" She trailed off with a shrug. "He'll never stop, and his resources are, for all intents and purposes, unlimited."
"The club—"
"I hide out under the club's umbrella," she said with icy precision. "I don't get involved with the club. Or anyone in it."
"You mean the way you're involved with me," he said, his voice quiet.
A soft sigh. "Yeah, Juicy. I mean the way I'm involved with you."
"So what will you do? Run again?"
"I'm running out of hiding places. Charming was sort of my ultimate goal. SAMCRO. I figured if anyone could keep me off the radar it was you guys."
She hesitated. Then, "Juice, I knew who you were when I slept with you. I made a choice. I don't regret—that part."
"You just regret everything else," he said with a furrowed brow. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his cut and scowled down at the floor.
"No, I—I regret—I regret that my life is like this. I regret that I'm not the person I was ten years ago. Maybe she could've—" She broke off and bit her lip. "All I know is I can't. It's just not the way I'm built anymore."
"Tell me what you want, Liv. Whatever you want, I'll do it."
"I'll stay for the lockdown and I'll quit bitching about it. I'll talk to Unser. I'll even try to stop by the clubhouse from time to time, to socialize, and not stay holed up in here."
"But…?" he said when she didn't go on.
"But." She hauled in a breath. "But I need you to stay away from me, Juice."
"You mean tonight? During the lockdown?" He knew she didn't, but part of him still hoped.
"No." She closed her eyes. Opened them again. "Not just tonight. What happened at the hospital and the night of the bomb; nothing like that can happen again. I can't—I can't be around you right now. You stay away from me and I'll stay away from you and we'll both be happier for it."
He looked away. His jaw worked and his eyes were bright. She could tell he had his hands clenched into fists from the way the muscles danced in his arms.
"Juice, I just—"
"No." He stopped her with a gesture. "It's okay. You don't have to explain." He shuffled backwards, towards the door. "I can do that, if it's what you want. I won't hassle you about it and I won't try…I won't mess with you. You have my word."
She opened her mouth. Closed it again. "Okay," she said at last. "That's all—" She cleared her throat as her voice got thick. "That's all I needed to hear."
"Good," he said. Backed up a few more steps. "As long as we're all on the same page. I know how much you like that."
Her face scrunched and she started towards him, but he just shook his head and shoved his way out the door. He slammed it behind him and the hard finality of the sound echoed in the empty garage.
Olivia and Juice had steered clear of each other for the past several days, since the conversation in the garage, but it hadn't been that difficult: things were tense and crazy around the clubhouse as the guys frantically tracked down lead after lead about Abel. Gemma was still on the lam and there was something stirring with the Mayans. Olivia didn't really know what, but she'd been hearing about it from a couple sources.
She had told Juice more about her past the other night than she'd told anyone since that first night in prison, immediately after she escaped from TJ. It was…she had no idea what it was. Maybe, a little bit, a relief, but at the same time.…
He had to see her differently. It was one thing to know someone had a secret and wonder what it was, and she imagined Juice had probably figured out it wasn't something good, like she was actually a princess in disguise or she was heir to a coffee fortune. Still.
He knew why she didn't turn her back. Why she hated loud noises. He knew what was under the cuff on her wrist and he knew she was a murderer.
All his best friends were murderers, so maybe that one shouldn't bother her so much. And she wasn't ashamed of that part. The rest was…iffy. She hated the shame, but hating it didn't make it go away.
She was glad that they'd all been so busy, and she hoped it meant no one had noticed the new tension between Olivia and Juice. As if they'd notice anyway; it wasn't like she and Juice spent much time in the same room, and Olivia avoided the clubhouse as much as possible—despite what she'd said to Juice the other night.
"Hey, Red."
Tig. She wrinkled her nose at him and he held up his hands.
"What, no go?"
"I've got a nickname, Tig. One is plenty."
He let out a long sigh. He'd been trying for weeks to replace Chibs' nickname for her. She didn't think it had anything to do with her, really; more that he wanted to one-up Chibs. He kept trying out different options and she kept shooting him down. He'd give up one day. "Fine," he said. "Ollie. Someone's out here lookin' for you."
"Who?" she said, frowning. "A customer?"
Tig smirked. "Don't think so. Hot little blonde number."
Olivia rolled her eyes. "Rise above expectations, Tig. It won't kill you."
He hitched a shoulder as she brushed past him. "Why would I wanna do that? So much more fun to wallow in my depravity."
She ignored him, and he fell in step behind her. She ignored that, too, and concentrated on not looking over her shoulder. Out in the lot there was indeed a "hot blonde number:" tall, five eight or five nine, with warm dark skin and a cascade of pale hair. She wore jeans so tight they looked painted on, a brief top that exposed most of her belly, and a leather jacket with "Pink Kitties" embroidered on the back in swooping cursive.
She grinned when she saw Olivia and sauntered over, a swing in her step that drew eyes from all over.
"Hey, baby," she said, her voice low and smoky.
"Kitty," Olivia said, shading her eyes against the sun as she looked up at her. "What brings you by?"
"You, mostly." She tossed her hair back and flicked her fingers toward her bike, a monster of a Harley with tons of custom work, including a shiny pink paint job and pink wheels. "My girl's actin' up a little. Thought my other girl could take a look."
Olivia laughed. "Uh huh. I see where your priorities are."
She leaned closer and traced a shiny red nail along Olivia's jaw. "I came here rather than goin' to my regular mechanic. That says a thing or two about my priorities."
Olivia couldn't argue with that, especially since Kitty had made no secret about her general hatred for SAMCRO.
"Well, well," a voice said from behind them. Kitty stiffened and her hazel eyes went hard. "If it ain't Kitty Pink, slummin' it in Charming."
Jax appeared, his posture easy and his mouth curved in a teasing smile. Olivia's eyes darted between the two of them. History, or just general bad blood? God she hoped Jax had never fucked Kitty; Olivia didn't even want that much of a connection to Jax Teller's penis.
"Jackson," Kitty said in cold, clipped tones. She crossed her arms over her ample chest and eyed him up and down, a long slow rake the likes of which he was probably used to turning on women; not vice versa.
He didn't seem discomfited about it, though. Instead he just nodded toward her bike. "Nice ride, darlin'. Suits you."
"It sure does," Kitty agreed. Jax' irony wasn't lost on her, but she chose to ignore it.
"You got customers waiting," Jax said to Olivia.
"Uh huh," she said. "Kitty's one of them."
"She's the only one allowed to touch my bike," Kitty said with a brief, sharp smile. "Probably gonna be sendin' my girls this way pretty soon. Got some custom work we need."
"Right," Jax said. He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Cars, too, or just bikes?"
Kitty's head moved in a quick tilt. "We're gettin' rid of the cars. Girls'll still have 'em, of course, but to be a full member it's bike or nothin'."
That got his attention. His brow furrowed as he studied her. "You goin' MC?"
"That's the plan," she said, mildly.
His frown deepened. "One percenter?"
Kitty smirked. "I got a line."
"Lodi's gettin' kinda crowded," he said. "Might not be the best time."
Her eyes narrowed and Olivia fought the urge to take a step back. "Sweetheart, that's the best time of all. Grim Bastards and Mayans think they're hot shit, that we're just a girl club they can push around. Fuck that. We got interests in Lodi, too. They're just gonna have to deal."
"Shit," Jax muttered and scrubbed a hand over his face. He cut a glance at Olivia, and she just shrugged. Finally he said, "We're workin' with the Bastards and the Mayans. If you're really serious about this we might be able to broker a sit down."
Kitty lifted a brow at him. She was clearly skeptical. "Why would you do somethin' like that? You don't owe us shit, and I sure as fuck am not gonna let myself be indebted to SAMCRO."
"It's not like that, Kit, come on. I just don't want any wars. Don't wanna get dragged into shit. And if it blows up in Lodi it interferes with our business. We need the flow."
Olivia glanced at Kitty: Kit? she mouthed.
Kitty's look said forget it, and Olivia's mouth curved in a grin. She'd find out later.
"Fine," Kitty said after a time. "We get things all settled up and I'll give you a call. Might be a month or two. It's not an easy process, especially for an all-female club like ours."
It wasn't unheard of, certainly, but usual all-female MCs were charters of larger organizations; the Hells Angels, for instance. An all-girl MC, all on its own, and one-percenters to boot, wasn't really the norm. A club didn't just call itself an MC; that was a sure way to get wiped out. The whole thing made Olivia nervous, and she honestly wished she hadn't been privy to their conversation.
She was trying to avoid club business, SAMCRO or otherwise, and she'd thought going out with Kitty would be a safer option. Maybe she'd been wrong.
Kitty must have sensed some of Olivia's unease, because she offered her a warm smile. "It's okay, baby," she said. "No one's gettin' you involved. Promise."
Olivia gave her a skeptical look, not trusting herself to speak in front of Jax without saying something she might regret, and Kitty laughed. She hooked her fingers around the back of Olivia's neck and kissed long, light and quick, but enough to stake her claim for anyone who might care.
Olivia frowned, which only made Kitty laugh again. She knew Olivia didn't want their relationship flaunted in front of the MC, but she didn't seem to care. Not about Olivia's wishes, but about the MC knowing their business. Or maybe she just…
A quick glance behind them answered the question. Juice and Chibs were standing outside the office as Chibs smoked a cigarette. Juice's gray jumpsuit was peeled down and tied around his waist, but it was obvious he was dressed for work in the garage. Kitty knew about their history, and it was pretty easy to figure out which one was Juice. With the mohawk and the tattoos he didn't exactly blend.
She turned back to Kitty with an exasperated sigh, but Kitty just lifted her shoulder in an unrepentant shrug. Jax was beginning to feel like a third wheel, so after a moment he said his goodbyes and wandered off toward the clubhouse. Olivia wasn't sorry to see the back of him, and she wished she had Kitty alone.
Instead she just sighed and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's roll it in," she said with a nod at Kitty's bike. "Bay two's free."
"Hey," Juice said. He nudged Chibs to get his attention and tilted his head toward Olivia and the blonde. Jax was with them, and he seemed to know the woman. "Who's that?"
Chibs peered that way. Took a puff of his cigarette and blew the smoke out in a long stream before he fixed Juice with a careful look. "You really wanna know, lad?"
"Come on, man." He tried to make light of it with a laugh, but it fell flat. "Whatever. Just curious."
Chibs sighed and stubbed out his smoke. "Name's Kitty Pink. She's hot shit down in Lodi, from what I hear. TO's mentioned her."
Juice frowned. "Seriously? Hot shit how?"
"President of some all-girl motor club. I think TO's old lady's in it. Don't know for sure, though."
Juice watched as Kitty kissed Olivia, and after a few moments Jax left them and the two women started to push her bike into the garage. Juice glowered. Olivia didn't owe him anything, and they were barely even speaking, but did she really have to make out with her fucking girlfriend right in front of him?
"Steady, lad," Chibs said. "It was a wee peck."
Juice glared at him. "Doesn't matter. She can kiss whoever she wants."
"Aye," Chibs said, mildly. He cleared his throat and leaned against the building. "A bit of advice, Juicy boy?"
Juice grunted in reply, unconcerned either way.
Chibs straightened, clapped him on the shoulder, and squeezed. "Go find a nice lass in the clubhouse. Have yourself a good, uncomplicated fuck. Or two. It'll clear your head and help you move past that one."
"I'm not—"
He squeezed again, harder. "Trust me, lad. She's movin' on. Time you did too."
Juice clenched his jaw. "It's not about moving on," he said. "She made herself real clear; I'm not fuckin' stupid."
"Nobody said you were."
I just don't wanna fuck anybody else, he thought but didn't say. He knew that would not only earn him the type of lecture he had no desire to hear, but would also sound completely nuts, especially to one of his brothers. They had the crow eaters for a reason. Olivia had never been his old lady, or even close to it.
They'd had a one night stand and now, months later, she had a girlfriend.
He really did need to get the fuck over it.
"Yeah, Chibs," he said. "You got any recommendations?"
"Dana seems to have her eye on you."
Juice snorted. "No thanks. She's kinda…pushy, I guess. I don't know. Unsubtle."
"They're crow eaters, lad. Subtle isn't really part of the deal."
"Yeah, but—" He broke off with a shrug. He couldn't really explain it. He mostly liked all the girls, but something about Dana just put him off. She seemed to want something from him, and not just sex. "Maybe that new one. What's her name?"
Chibs grinned, his eyes twinkling. "The wee redhead?"
Juice glared at him. "Yeah, her."
"Annabelle. She's been spendin' a lot of time with Tiggy."
"Think he'd mind?"
Chibs hitched a shoulder. "Probably not. You know Tig. Lass might be relieved."
"Ha," Juice said, a brief sound of amusement. "Yeah, might be. Maybe I'll talk to her tonight."
Chibs sighed. He wasn't sure the girl—a redhead, taller than Olivia, with blue eyes and no freckles, but still—was exactly the best choice, but at least it was something. Maybe Juice would stop pining and Olivia could relax a little and things could settle down. As it was Chibs was growing tired of the whole thing, and if something didn't change soon he was going to have to do something about it.
Like I said, several chapters of angst ahead. These two crazy kids.
If you've ever seen Beyoncé's video for Superpower, from the visual album, that's how I imagine Kitty Pink.
Toss me a line if you like what you're reading! Or if you hate it, but be nice. Also if you've read the fic before and wanna give feedback on the additions :)