I skipped a day of updating in order to get a little caught up, and now I have written through ch18 w 19 sort of sketched out.

Reviews help me so, so much, you guys! I had no idea when I started that this was going to be quite so epic. Thank you for your encouraging words!

i got brass in pocket
and i'm gonna use it
-The Pretenders, "Brass in Pocket"

When Olivia heard what had happened to Tara, she almost had a panic attack in sympathy.

Obviously she was just a mechanic and Tara was a surgeon—a surgeon who operated on little babies, for fuck's sake—but at the same time she couldn't imagine what she would do if something happened to one of her hands. Cars or babies, she and Tara both lived and died by the skill of their hands.

And so once more Olivia was on her way to the hospital to visit someone injured due to their association with SAMCRO. She wondered how many times she'd have to make this trip, and when one day she would be the one in the hospital bed with everyone coming to see her. It was, she thought, only a matter of time.

Rat and Phil were posted at the door, and they both nodded as she approached.

"Hey, Ollie," Rat said. "You here to see Tara?"

"Mhhmm. How's she doing?"

Phil hitched a shoulder. "Okay, I guess. She don't say much."

"Jax is in there with her now," Rat said.

She nodded and patted his arm as she went by. "Thanks, guys. Keep up the good work."

She knocked softly and poked her head around the door. Jax was slumped in the chair beside the bed, and it looked like he was dozing. At the sound of footsteps his head snapped up and toward her. He relaxed when he recognized her, but for a few seconds she had thought he might shoot her.

"Jackson," she said, her tone wary.

"Ollie. Sorry, I—I guess I fell asleep."

"It's okay. I might've had a similar reaction, all things considered."

He looked like shit: exhausted and strung out, and his normally clear blue eyes were glazed with something she recognized. He was afraid. Afraid and unsure, because he had no idea where to turn for help.

"Why don't you step out for a minute? Grab some coffee. Get some air."

He scraped a hand over his face and shook his head. "I can't. I don't want her to wake up alone."

"I'll stay with her, Jax. I know she wouldn't want you to make yourself nuts. Take a break."

He frowned at Tara's still form and then glanced toward Olivia. "Yeah, I guess. I'll be right back, though."

Her mouth quirked. "I'll be here."

He hesitated at the door, but with one last look at Tara he slipped out and closed it gently behind him. Olivia let out a quiet sigh and sank down in the chair. It was, as Juice had said, shit. She shifted her weight and leaned back. The room was quiet, and the hospital sounds from the hall filtered in through the closed door. A doctor was paged; a nurse's shoes squeaked; some monitor somewhere beeped.

Olivia hadn't brought flowers this time—she had a feeling Tara wouldn't want them—but there were a few bouquets on the bedside table. She added water to one, and as she set the pitcher back on the tray Tara's eyes fluttered open.

"Jax…?" she said in a sleepy, drugged voice.

"No, Tara, it's Olivia. Jax stepped out for a sec, but I can—"

"Wait," she said as Olivia started for the door. "Don't. He'll be back soon, I'm sure."

"You don't sound thrilled at that idea," she said and sat again.

Her head lolled against the pillow. "He's very loud even when he isn't saying a word. His guilt and his anger. It's like shouting."

"Hum," Olivia said. She understood exactly what Tara meant. It was something she was more familiar with than she'd like to be. "And how about your anger? How's that working out for you?"

Tara rasped out a laugh. "It's all I've got right now. I swear to God, Ollie, if you tell me everything's going to be okay—if one more person says that to me—"

"Hey." She held up a hand. "I wasn't going to. This fucking sucks, Tara. I can't imagine anything much worse for someone like you."

"Wow," she said. "You know how to cheer a girl up."

She acknowledged that with a wry twist of her lips. "My ex broke three of my fingers once. Slammed my hand in a car door."

"Sounds familiar."

"Mmhhmm. I got lucky. They were just broken, and bones heal." She paused. "Nerves heal too."

"Liar. You're sneaky about it, but you are telling me everything will be okay."

"Maybe it will. Even I get surprised by the Universe sometimes."

"Yeah," Tara said. Her tone was bitter. "I guess it happens. Just not usually to people like us."

"Then maybe we're due," Olivia said with a little smile.

"I just wanted out of Charming, Ollie. I wanted my boys clear of all this—all this shit. Fucking drug cartels and the IRA and car bombs and—everything. Why was that too much to ask? This town is like a living thing. Once it sucks you in it never lets you go."

"I'm beginning to get that impression," she said.

"You should've run when you had the chance."

"Probably. Too late now, though."

Tara cut a look her way, and her dark eyes were knowing. "I think you could be good for him. He doesn't have much. The guys never—they never give him a break. He needs something that's just his." Her face scrunched. "I don't mean to make you sound like some sort of prize he won at the fair."

The image made her laugh. "It's okay. I get what you're saying. And you're right, at least about what he deserves. Whether or not I'm the right person? Hm." She flicked her fingers. "I guess that remains to be seen."

Tara peered at her. "So you're together now? Actually together? We can all stop pretending we don't notice?"

"Oh geez," Olivia said with a grimace. "Um…no? Or maybe yes. I, um. I don't know."

"So keep pretending?"

"Yeah," she said and sighed. "Keep pretending."

A few beats of thoughtful silence.

"It's not easy being an old lady, Olivia."

"Exactly why I've worked my ass off to avoid it for the last six years."

"I guess Charming had other plans," Tara said with a sardonic smile.

Olivia shrugged a shoulder. "Charming, the aforementioned Universe—whatever. Yeah. Woman plans, it laughs."

Tara's mouth quirked in appreciation, but then her head fell back against the pillow and she closed her eyes. Olivia shifted again and let her gaze drift toward the window. The blinds were open, and she could see a sliver of moon peeking through the clouds.

"Can I ask you something, Tara?"

"Mmm. Go for it." Her voice was hazy, skirting the edge of sleep, and Olivia almost told her never mind. It could wait.

Except it couldn't, and if she didn't ask now she never would.

"What would you do for Jax?"

A crease formed between Tara's brows as she rocked her head toward Olivia. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…how far would you go to protect him? If you had a chance to save him from something, maybe even just himself, but doing so would be…hard. A sacrifice, I guess. How much would you give up for him?"

"Anything," she said after a moment. "Anything except my boys."

It was what she'd been expecting, but still it was a bitter pill. No. Bitter wasn't quite the right word. She'd mostly already made up her mind anyway. Tara was just confirming her own gut instinct.

"What's this about, Ollie?" Tara said, her tone suspicious and her gaze suddenly sharp.

She gave a quick shake of her head. "Nothing. It was just a hypothetical, really."

"Hhhmm," she said. She was unconvinced.

"I should go find Jax," Olivia said. "If he finds out I was in here chatting you up when you should be resting he'll have my head."

Tara's eyes had closed again, and she didn't open them as she said, "Be careful, Ollie. Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't, Tara." She brushed her fingers across the back of Tara's good hand. "Get some rest."

She didn't reply, and Olivia thought she was probably already asleep. She pointed Jax back to her room on the way out, and once in her car she sat for a long time, her fingers tight on the wheel.

She wiped a hand across her eyes and sniffed hard. Picked up her phone and dialed his number.

"Hey," she said when he picked up. "Where are you?" A pause as she listened. "Good. I'm on my way."

She pulled into his driveway and cut the engine. She didn't think she'd ever been to his place when he was actually in it. She only knew where it was because they'd all rotated keeping the guys' houses up while they were in prison. She'd planted flowers out front (like she'd done for all of them, much to Happy's chagrin—he thought she was trying to ruin his rep), and she was pleased to see he hadn't let them die.

He opened the door to her knock with one of those huge, face-transforming grins, and suddenly she had to fight back tears. She was making the right decision. It was the only choice. Didn't mean she had to like it. Didn't mean she wouldn't regret it, maybe forever.

"Hey—"

"Hush," she said. She pushed him into the house and kicked the door shut behind her. Her mouth found his, and her kiss was rough, demanding, and for a second he froze. Then he caught up and kissed her back. Her teeth snagged his lip and her tongue scraped the inside of his mouth and she dragged him to her with her fists balled in his shirt.

"Whoa, hey, what's up?" he said when they parted for air.

"Don't want to talk. I'm tired of talking."

She kissed him again and they stumbled toward the bedroom. She pulled away long enough to yank his shirt over his head, and then she shoved him onto the bed. He hit the mattress hard and watched her with wide, surprised eyes as she stripped off her own shirt. Toed off her shoes and unzipped her skirt so that it fell in a puddle at her feet. Her bra and panties matched, and the sight of her pale skin set off by midnight blue lace and silk was almost his undoing.

"Babe—" he choked out.

"What did I say?" she murmured as she crawled toward him. "Don't talk. Just fuck."

She tugged his pants down and pulled him free of his underwear. He was hard and hot in her hand, and when she squeezed him he let out a strangled gasp. Her mouth moved in a wicked curve. She leaned down and ran her tongue from the base of his cock to the tip and watched his face transform. His brow scrunched and his mouth fell open and the crinkles appeared around his eyes. She sucked him between her lips and his head fell back as he groaned.

She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock and listened to him pant. She stroked him with one hand while her mouth worked him, played with his balls with the other, and when he started to make a particularly desperate wheezing sort of noise she pulled away.

His eyes were huge as he stared at her. She laughed and ran her tongue from his belly to his collarbone. She straddled him—at some point she'd gotten rid of her panties, he noticed—and pressed her hands to his chest to hold him down. He was stronger than she, of course, and he easily could've shaken her off, but he was transfixed as she moved above him. Her hair was coming loose from its braid and it fell around her face like a corona of red shot through with gold. She dipped to kiss him and he grasped her hips and kneaded.

She moaned against his mouth and he lifted her up and onto his cock. She was dripping wet, hot and slick and more than ready. She didn't bother to tease. No sooner was he inside her than she was grinding her hips against him and rocking to take him deeper. She squeezed her breasts through her bra and tugged one of the cups down to toy with the nipple. He let out a furious curse that made her laugh, low and smoky with a jangled edge.

"Fuck, Liv—"

"Exactly," she said. "Now you're catching on."

He caught his lip between his teeth and the muscles in his neck stood out like cords as she rode him. The room filled with the obscene sounds of skin against skin; sharp, fevered breaths; and pleasure-soaked moans. She slid a hand down her body toward where they were joined, but he stopped her.

"Let me," he said. "Please."

She gave a quick, wordless nod, and he pressed his fingers against her clit. He held them still, creating a little v for the slippery nub to slide against as she moved. Her head fell back and her nails left half-moons in his chest. He thrust up into her as she dropped down onto him, and then suddenly she was coming, clenching around him again and again like a furious storm.

She slowed into a smooth, sensual rhythm that made him almost forget his own name. She leaned down, and with her mouth close enough to his ear that he could feel her lips brush his skin, whispered, "Come for me, baby."

He'd had no idea he could come on command, but she had him so wrecked, and the feel of her sultry breath against his ear and her hot cunt gripping him tight was enough to undo him. His hips jerked and she caught his moan with her mouth as she kissed him. She rocked against him to milk every last drop, and by the time she finally went still he could swear his balls felt rung out and empty.

She lapped at the tiny puddle of sweat that had gathered in the hollow of his throat and then collapsed beside him. He lay still, panting hard, and she ran a hand up his chest.

"Okay, Juicy?"

He managed a nod and rolled his head to look at her. "First," he said between breaths, "know that I'm not complaining. At all. But—what. The hell. Was that?"

"Oh, that?" She tilted her head in a teasing little shrug. "Not much. Just, you know. Me. Fucking your brains out."

"It worked."

"Good," she said. She flicked her tongue against his earlobe. "When you're recovered I think you should reciprocate."

His brow furrowed and his jaw fell open, but she pressed a finger against his lips. "With your mouth," she said with a smirk.

His expression went through a series of changes until it finally settled on…hungry, maybe, if that wasn't too on the nose.

"I think I'm recovered," he said. She laughed as he rolled them over, and soon the sound of her breathless, wordless gasps filled the air.

Olivia hadn't seen or heard from Juice since she'd left his house that morning, and she was starting to get nervous. If he were incommunicado it meant one of two things: either he was dead, and she doubted that, or he'd been picked up again. Lincoln Potter would be putting the thumbscrews to him to get him to accept the deal, and Olivia was running out of time to put her plan in motion.

To that end she found herself in the clubhouse searching for Jax. He wasn't there, and she wondered what she'd been expecting. Of course he'd be at the hospital with Tara. She found Chibs instead, stumbled upon him with a mess of paperwork in the office. When he saw her he pulled his reading glasses off and fixed her with a tired smile.

"Ollie, lass. Hadn't seen you in a day or two."

"It's been a little hectic."

"Aye," he said. He hesitated. "You talk to Juicy?"

Her mouth formed a grim line. "Yeah, Chibs. I talked to Juice. That's part of why I'm here."

"Oh?" he said. He tossed his glasses onto the desk and leaned back in the chair. "Somethin' on your mind, lass?"

"Call Jax. Ask him to meet us here. We need to talk."

"Ollie—"

"Chibs. Please. Just call him. It's important."

"Aye, all right." A pause. "Sons don't suicide, Ollie."

"Yeah," she said with a grimace. "That's the word. I'll be in the garage. Come find me when he gets here."

Chibs watched her go with a deep frown. What was that all about? Maybe she had some idea why Juice had tried to hang himself. Something more than Juice had said to him, anyway. It seemed strange, on reflection, that she'd be so adamant about talking to Jax. She normally steered clear of him, and if she had any club business she brought it to Chibs or Ope.

Now Chibs flipped his phone open and dialed Jax' number. "Aye, Jackie boy," he said when he answered. "Need you back here. I think we've got a wee bit of a problem."

Half an hour later Jax and Chibs appeared in the shop. They both looked weary, but Jax had the worst of it: there were dark circles under his eyes, and his face was haggard. He looked older than she'd ever seen, and for a moment she hated that she was dumping all of this on him now. But she had no choice, and Jackson Teller wasn't the man she was looking to protect.

"What's up, Ollie?" he said, not bothering with niceties.

She smiled a little and tilted her head toward the office. Followed them in and shut the door. Closed the blinds while they watched with surprised faces.

"How's Tara?" she said.

He hitched a shoulder. "Same, mostly. Pissed and in pain."

"If that doesn't describe the human condition then I don't know what does," she said.

His mouth twisted in appreciation. He dug out his cigarettes and offered the pack to Chibs, who accepted, and Olivia, who declined with a shake of her head. He fished for his lighter, and once they were both smoking comfortably, Olivia slumped back against the wall and eyed them.

"You guys seen Juice today?" she said.

They shared a look. "Nah, not today. Why?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm going to lay some things out for you that neither of you are going to like very much. All I ask is that you hear me out before you do anything. Don't run off half-cocked until you've heard everything I have to say. Okay?"

"Can't make any promises, lass, but we'll do our best."

She supposed that would have to do. "There's a US Attorney in Charming building one hell of a RICO case against the club. Not just SAMCRO—the entire Sons of Anarchy MC. He has most of what he needs. The only thing left is someone on the inside."

"Wait," Jax said. "What the fuck are you saying? Juice's been a little squirrelly lately, but he's no rat."

Her jaw tightened. "Shit went down. Roosevelt had some leverage and he threatened to use it if Juice didn't cooperate."

There was a stunned silence. "Juice is a fucking mole?" Jax said.

"No. It hasn't gone that far."

"Then just how—" He stopped and surged toward her. "Juice stole that coke?! He killed a brother! What the fuck, Olivia?"

"That's part of it."

"Holy fuck, lass," Chibs said. "Do you realize what you're telling us?"

"I do, and that's why I asked you to hear me out."

"I think I'm done listening," Jax said. He towered over her, using every inch of his nearly one foot height advantage. The muscles in her jaw danced as she clenched her teeth, but she didn't flinch. He saw the quick flash of fear—there and gone in an instant—that crossed her face. It made him feel like an asshole, but he didn't back down either.

"You give me one good reason why I shouldn't go smoke that lying son of a bitch right now," he said in a hard rasp.

She pressed a hand against his chest to ward him off. "He thought he didn't have a choice, Jax. I'm not trying to excuse it, but you have to understand—this club is his life. You're the only family he has, and the only real home he's ever known. To him the idea of exile from the club is the worst possible thing he can think of."

"What the fuck did Roosevelt have?" Chibs said.

"He got information about Juice's father. Turns out he's black."

Jax went still above her, and he and Chibs shared an incredulous glance. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"He wasn't thinking straight, Jax. He thought if Roosevelt told you he'd be out."

His eyes slid away from hers. "Maybe it's time we reworked some of those old bylaws," he conceded.

"Aye," Chibs said, grimly. He tossed his cigarette away and ground it out. "Why are you comin' to us with this, lass? Juice send you to plead his case?"

Her glare flicked from him to Jax and back again. "Of course he didn't. He has no idea we're having this conversation. He has no idea I'm about to make the offer I'm about to make."

"What offer's that?" Jax said. He didn't sound like he cared very much, but she could tell he was listening despite his fury.

"None of us can get in touch with Juice. Dollars to donuts Roosevelt picked him up sometime today, and he and that US Attorney are trying to get him to flip as we speak."

"He hasn't made the deal?" Chibs said.

"No. He did the thing with the coke—which was fucking stupid, we can all agree on that—so now they have him by the balls. He signs and gives up the Irish and the cartel, and they put a halt on RICO. The Sons live to ride another day."

"Huh. You think he'll flip?" Jax said.

Chibs gave a grimace of distaste. "He did the first time."

"No," she said. "But Otto might."

"Otto? What the fuck do you know about Otto?"

"Last time Juice was in custody, Potter—that's the US Attorney—hinted that he had something that would convince Otto to talk."

Jax fell back with a hard sigh and rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Luann," he said to Chibs.

"Luann?" Olivia said. "Lyla's boss? The one who was murdered?"

"Otto's old lady," Chibs said. "It's probably the one weak spot they could use to get to him."

"Basically Potter told Juice that if he gets Otto first he won't need Juice at all, and he'll tell the club what Juice did with the coke. But, c'mon. A guy like this wants both of them, so even if Otto did roll, he won't stop going after Juice."

Jax grunted. "So, what, Ollie? You think if Juice doesn't talk this fucking time we'll just let what he did to Miles slide?"

"Of course not. Just listen." She paused a moment to make sure she had their attention. "I can give Potter something so good, so much bigger than what he has now, that one pissant MC won't mean fuck all. I offer him my information in exchange for the MC. He backs off, drops RICO, exempts the club from all future RICO charges, and he gets it. Otherwise, I walk, Juice doesn't talk, and he doesn't have either case."

"What the fuck could you possibly have that would make him take that deal?" Jax said.

Her mouth curved and she leaned against the wall again. "You boys ever heard of Mick Doyle?"

Jax shot Chibs a questioning look and Chibs made a face. "No such person, lass. It's just a name. A fucking myth, like Keyser Soze."

"Hhmm," she said. "In that case, Keyser Soze is to Mick Doyle as Verbal is to my father-in-law."

Jax blinked. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Now it was Chibs' turn to crowd her. "You're tryin' to say that your father-in-law is Mick Doyle? Mick Doyle is real, and you were married to his fuckin' son? You expect us to believe that shit? You expect Potter to believe it?"

"It's true, and I have enough proof to bury him up to his eyeballs." She held out her left arm. "You think this was a sudden decision? You think I hadn't been planning something like this for months? Years, even."

She leaned closer and her voice dropped. "When he wasn't using me as a punching bag my loving husband tended to forget I existed. He would say anything in front of me, like I didn't have eyes or ears or a functioning brain. I realized pretty fast I was getting enough on a weekly basis to fill the entire FBI's spank bank for a year. I've got pictures. Audio. Copies of documents. Anything they could possibly want."

"Nothing recent, though," Jax said. "You've been gone six years."

She shrugged a shoulder. "So they'd have to spend a little time building a case. They would anyway since he's such a fucking ghost. Look, I'm saying I can get everyone out of this. I can get RICO off the club's back for good. I can give you some breathing room."

Another long, simmering look between Chibs and Jax. Then, "What do you want from us?" Jax said.

"Give Juice another chance."

That took them aback. "That's it?" he said.

"That's all. Don't take what he did to the table. Give him a chance to earn his way back in."

"He can't be trusted," Jax said.

"That's why I said let him earn it. He'd do anything for this club, Jackson. Let him prove it."

He snorted and pivoted away. He stood with his back to them, his shoulders tense and his fists clenched. "We're already barely gettin' by," he said to Chibs in an undertone. "The club finds out about this and it'll only make things worse."

"So we let him walk?" Chibs said.

He cut a quick look at Olivia and then back to Chibs. "We give him a chance."

Chibs made a low noise of disapproval. "I don't much like this."

She spread her hands. "I don't much like it either."

"They'll have to put you in WITSEC," Jax said. "No way Doyle won't come after you."

"Yup," she said.

"And you'll probably be in protective custody until you testify," Chibs said.

"Uh huh."

"You'll be gone," Jax said. "Out of Charming forever."

"That's the long and short of it."

"Why, lass? What do you get from this?"

She buried her hands in her pockets and dipped her head. "The club's been good to me. I don't like this RICO bullshit and I don't like bullies."

They all knew there was a lot more to it than that—after all, the only thing she'd asked for was Juice's safety—but no one commented on it. Some things were better left unsaid. Chibs sighed and glanced toward Jax. Gave a quick, tight shrug. Jax scowled and looked away.

"So what's your plan?" he said at last.

"I go to Roosevelt and tell him I have info about the club I'll only give to Potter. Once we're face to face, I start dropping names."

"What if he doesn't bite?"

She made a face. "He'll fucking well bite. I'll give him just enough to get him in a real lather and I'll tell him he can have the rest when a deal's on the table: immunity from RICO for the club and protection for me."

"No immunity for you? For Doyle's son?"

"If he wants me to do time for that shit, fine. But he won't. He'll know he has to keep me close if he wants me, you know—alive enough to testify."

"What if he still wants the Irish and the cartel? That's his case," Jax said.

She paused. Frowned. "If he's that greedy, then you can take it to the club. You can outline everything I just told you—minus anything to do with Juice—and we let everyone decide together."

"Would probably be better comin' from you directly, lass," Chibs said.

"I didn't know women were allowed in church."

"They aren't," Jax said, "but I think these are special circumstances."

His head fell back and he hauled in a deep breath. "Fuck. Goddamn fuck. This is some shit, Olivia."

"You're tellin' me."

He and Chibs shared a long wordless conversation. Jax grimaced. Chibs' brows flicked upward in a shrug. Jax shook his head. Chibs hitched a shoulder. Finally Jax' chin dropped toward the floor and he scrubbed his face with both hands.

"Yeah, Ollie, okay. You take what you got to Roosevelt and see what this Potter asshole says. If you can get the immunity you're promising, we'll back off on Juice."

"Your word?" she said.

"My word."

"Okay," she said after a moment. "I'll go down there now. The longer they have to sweat Juice the worse it's gonna go for everybody."

She turned away, but Jax stopped her.

"If you're even thinkin' about fucking us, Olivia—"

She cast a contemptuous look over her shoulder. "Fuck you, Teller. I keep my promises. Can you say the same?"

Tension simmered between them as their eyes met. Jax looked like he was ready to punch her, but she didn't back down.

"Just so we're all on the same page: anything happens to Juice, anything at all, and our deal's off. I'm not fucking around, and I have no intention of letting down my end."

"And what if something were to happen to you, Ollie girl?" Chibs said.

She didn't tear her gaze away from Jax, but there was a minute tightening around her mouth and eyes. "I'm the piece they need to make everything fall into place. Without me, there's no case against Mick Doyle, and no immunity for SoA."

Chibs snorted out a laugh. "You got balls o' fuckin' steel, lass, I gotta give you that."

Now she cut a look his way, and her mouth curved. "No, Chibs, I don't. Balls're soft. They pop if you squeeze them hard enough. What I've got is a pussy…and, sugar?" She tilted her head and her grin deepened. "A pussy can really take a pounding."

Yes I just paraphrased Betty White. She's an American treasure.

Obviously this marks one of the biggest departures from the show that I've made thus far, and I hope y'all are in this with me because things're gonna be heavy for a bit.