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and you're standing beside her
the light from inside her
filling up the darkness in your head
it was all for a woman
The Airborne Toxic Event, "All for a Woman"

Light was just beginning to flood the room when he woke the next morning. He watched it creep along the floor and up the wall. Olivia was curled in a ball with her back to him, and he draped over her shoulder to brush his lips along the side of her neck. "You awake?" he said.

She grinned and shifted against him. "Uh huh. You?"

"I think so."

She flipped over so that they were face to face and ran her hands over his chest. The dimple appeared in her chin as she leaned closer to kiss him. She started to pull away after a quick peck, but he tugged her back for more. The kiss lengthened, deepened, and his fingers tightened on her waist.

She broke off with a soft laugh. "You're incorrigible, Ortiz," she said and kissed him again.

"I don't know what that means."

"Um…like, unrepentant. A hopeless case."

"Yeah," he said with a quirk of his brow. "That's about right." He recaptured her mouth and his tongue slid against hers.

"Mmm," she murmured. She leaned back, and there was a crease between her brows. Her nose was scrunched just a little, and he knew she had something on her mind.

"Hey, so. I have…I have something I want to run by you. It's just an idea, and you can say yes or no and I won't be mad and I won't judge you."

"Hum," he said. He nipped her lower lip. "If it's about anal, then the answer is a definite yes."

"Funny, smartass." She flashed a devilish grin. "But I'll keep that in mind."

"Ha." His expression sobered. He brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. "You kinda got me worried now. What's up?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally she said, all in a rush, "What if we just left? I mean, you're the only one who knows I'm back—except Eli, and he was trying to talk me into leaving the whole drive here—"

"Wait. You got a ride home from Eli Roosevelt? Where's your car?"

A wince and a scowl. "They seized it as evidence in an on-going criminal investigation. Eli says he can get it back, but in the meantime it's the property of San Joaquin County."

He made a low noise of commiseration, but he was distracted. When had she started calling the Sanwa Sheriff Eli? Olivia on a first name basis with a cop. He never thought he'd see the day.

She waved a hand and pushed him back against the bed. Threw a leg over and straddled his hips. "But, listen. I'm serious. I throw some shit in a bag and we hit your house for your stuff and then we just…go. You can get your ink blacked out and send them a picture from the road. Leave your cut here."

"I don't understand," he said. "You gave up WITSEC to come back. Now you want to leave?"

"Juice," she said and leaned closer to look him in the eye. "I didn't come back for Charming. I didn't come back for the club or the job or even the guys. I came back for you."

He shifted beneath her and looked away. "Did you really?" he said at last.

She grabbed his chin and turned his face back to her. "Yeah, Juice. I did really."

His mouth quirked. He ran his hands over her hips and down her thighs. His expression was pensive. "It's a really tempting idea," he said.

"But…?"

Reluctantly he shook his head. "I can't, Liv. The club's a mess right now. The last thing it needs is for someone to just take off. And after the whole thing with Miles and the coke there's no guarantee they won't decide they need to hunt me down."

She bit her lip and glanced away. She couldn't decide how she felt. Disappointed, some. Relieved, a little. Unsurprised, for sure. "It's okay," she said and mustered up a smile. "I get it. This is your home. Plus, I mean, we've only been doing this"—she gestured between them—"for like, a week. It's a little soon to run away together."

"Well, yeah," he said with a shrug. "But I've known I wanted to be with you since, I don't know. The night we met, I guess."

She smirked and dropped a peck on his nose. "You're so easy, Ortiz."

"Well, yeah," he said again. He captured her face in his hands so she couldn't get away, and he could feel her smile against his mouth as he kissed her. She made a low noise of pleasure and ran her nails up his chest. He hissed as she dug them in a little, and she chuckled.

He had his hands on the small of her back and was rubbing in circles as he slid them higher—when they both heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle engine. She sat up and her head tilted.

"Sounds like Opie's bike," she said after a moment.

"You can tell that just from the engine noise?"

Her mouth twisted and she rolled off the side of the bed and onto her feet. "What kind of ace mechanic would I be if I couldn't? I've spent enough time elbow deep in your pipes to tell the difference."

He choked a little and she winked before her face turned serious. She dug a pair of jeans out of the drawer and wiggled into them. "What I don't know is why Opie would be coming here at…nine in the morning."

"He doesn't know you're gone. I mean, I don't think anyone's had a chance to tell him. After he found Piney he just lit out and no one's seen him since."

"Mmm," she said and turned away. She didn't want to lie to him, but if Jax had chosen not to tell the club who really shot Clay, it wasn't her place to do so. Or maybe it was, in Juice's case. Clearly, she thought, she'd have to make a decision about such things soon. No one could serve two masters.

The bike stopped in her driveway and a few seconds later the doorbell rang. "Hang out," she said. "I'll be right back."

She greeted Opie at the door with a smile and gestured for him to come in. He still looked harried, but not as crazed as he had been the other night. He stopped without her asking to strip off his boots, holster, and cut, and he lifted a brow at her when he saw Juice's already there.

"Am I interrupting something?" he said.

"Nope," she said, shortly.

She led him into the living room and nodded toward the couch. He hesitated a moment before he slumped down onto it. His head fell back and he let out a long sigh. She tucked her fingers into her pockets and leaned against the heavy mantel. She watched him silently. Whatever had brought him here would spill eventually, but in the meantime she knew him well enough to wait him out.

He lifted his head again and fixed her with a puzzled look. "I thought you'd be gone by now."

"I was," she said. Shrugged a shoulder. "Change of plans."

"Oh." He looked toward the window. "I almost didn't knock. Your car wasn't there, so I thought…but then I saw the bike and figured I should check anyway."

"Hmm. The cops have my car still."

He snorted out a chuckle. "Shit."

"Uh huh." A pause. "You want some coffee?"

"You've got coffee?"

"Other people like it."

He relaxed a little in the face of something so mundane. "Yeah," he said. "Coffee would be good."

She went around the couch the long way so she could drop a hand on his shoulder. She held it there, briefly, and then moved on. He hunched his body and rested his head in his hands, like Rodin's The Thinker wrapped in existential angst.

She didn't waste time in the kitchen. She got the coffee maker going and set it to beep when it was ready and then hurried back to the living room. She forced her gait into nonchalance and sank down into the chair catty-corner to the sofa.

"You thought I might be gone but you came by anyway," she said after a time.

"Just in case," he said with a grunt.

"Came to say goodbye?"

He sat up and spread his hands in a shrug. "I don't know, Ollie. I guess. It didn't seem right, you leavin' like that."

"You voted for it."

"Yeah, but—" He broke off with a shake of his head. "Don't mean I liked it."

Her mouth quirked. "Yeah. I wasn't thrilled with it either."

"That why you came back?"

"I was given the option," she said slowly. "Apparently Potter's priorities changed, and he gave me a choice. I chose to be here."

He nodded and looked down at his hands. Clenched one around the other and squeezed despite the bandage around his palm. The heavy gold rings dug into his skin so hard it made her wince.

"Opie—"

"Clay killed my dad," he said. "He ordered Tig to kill Donna."

Her brow furrowed. "I know."

"You saved his life, Ollie."

She tilted her head in quiet astonishment. "You would feel better if I'd let him die? You'd be okay with that? Really, Ope? Because somehow, no matter how furious you are, I don't think you would be."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do," he ground out in a low voice.

"Maybe I don't. Maybe after two and a half years you're nothing but a stranger to me." She paused and her eyes narrowed. "I know a few things, though. I know you're a better man than Clay Morrow. He killed your father, but you didn't kill him."

"Not for lack of tryin'."

"No, that's true. But we all do crazy things in the heat of the moment."

"Is that why you shot your husband? The heat of the moment?"

She looked away, toward the fireplace and the Turner print that hung above it. The wild, swirling sea calmed her somewhat, and her voice was steady when she finally spoke. "No, Ope. I planned that for a while. Murder One all the way."

She said it baldly and without a hint of regret. Part of him admired her for it. It wasn't easy to take control of your own life—he knew that better than most—but that's exactly what she'd done, consequences be damned.

"Jax said he had it comin'."

"Jax knows less than half the story, but yes. He did." She let out a long breath and leaned toward him. "Look, Ope, there was part of me that wanted to let Clay die. After what he did to Gemma and what he tried to have done to Tara, Piney's murder was like icing on the shit cake."

"So why'd you do it? Nobody would've blamed you if he'd died. You're a mechanic, not a doctor."

She was quiet for so long he thought she might not answer. The coffee maker beeped. They both ignored it. Then, just as he was about to give up, "I don't ever want to kill anyone again. TJ did deserve it, and I'll never regret that, but—" She hitched a shoulder. "The world is a fucked up place. It doesn't need me adding to the fuckery."

"We kill a lot of people."

"You're involved in enterprises of a criminal and nefarious nature. Murder comes with the territory."

"Jax says he wants to get us out of all that shit. The drugs and the guns."

"Good on Jax. Maybe now that Clay's down and out he'll have a shot at it."

"You could've told me the truth about you and Juice."

It was such a sudden shift that she took a moment to stare at him. "I didn't think you…we don't usually talk about that sort of thing. Personal shit."

"Right," he said. "You've always been great at stayin' out of my marriage."

She acknowledged that with a wry twist of her mouth. "I can't believe you fucked Ima."

"Don't change the subject, Ollie."

"You wanna talk about my sex life, I can talk about yours."

"Touché," he said with a brittle smile.

"There's no excuse for what Clay did to your father, but I'm sure he'll have one anyway."

"He always does."

"Will you bring it to the club?"

"I don't know," he said after a thoughtful moment. "Jax lied and said black shot Clay. They'll be pissed when they find out different."

"Especially Tig."

"Fucker lost his shit and killed that girl. You know who she was?"

"Juice said Damon Pope's daughter."

"That name mean somethin' to you?"

A shrug. "I've heard it before. From what I gather he's not really someone you want to tangle with. Tig might just've screwed the pooch with this one."

"It's my fault," he said, a hoarse rumble. "Jax lied for me."

"He did, and he had his reasons. You can't control Tig's actions, Opie. You can't blame yourself for his stupid decisions." She paused. "Is that why you came? Because you feel guilty over Veronica Pope?"

Now it was his turn to go quiet. Once again she waited him out, her bright green eyes steady as she watched him wrestle with…whatever it was.

"Opie," she said when he didn't speak, "you need to make up your mind."

His head lurched toward her. "What do you mean?"

"You're upset right now. That's understandable. But Jax and the others are about to go to jail. You need to decide if you're in, or you're out. The club can't handle much more instability."

"I never thought I'd hear you argue in favor of the club."

She lifted her hands. "I'm not. I'm arguing against indecision, because it's the worst killer of all. Like in Dune: Fear is the mind-killer." She waved it away at his blank look. "Whatever your decision is, make it. Jax is your best friend. You at least owe him an answer."

He fell silent again. She could tell her words had affected him. She wondered if she'd said too much. She thought maybe not. Or at least she hoped. She let out a soft breath and changed the subject.

"You need a haircut, Ope. You look even more like Chewbacca now than you did the first time I saw you."

It surprised a laugh out of him, and she grinned. "C'mon," she said. "Let's have some coffee and you can help me figure out the best way to tell everyone I was just kidding on the whole leaving forever thing."

"You gonna let Juice come out from wherever he's hiding?"

"Nah," she said. "He's tied to the bed buck naked, so—"

"Fuck, Ollie, come on!"

She laughed. "I'm kidding." She touched his knee and pointed toward the kitchen. "Go get your coffee. I'll find Juice."

"Ollie," he said as she started away.

She turned back, brows raised in a question.

"You coulda told me. He's a brother. You're my friend. You could've said."

"I'm telling you now."

"Only because I found out."

She sighed and stepped closer. "People keep telling me the club is dangerous. It's an addiction. It sucks you in and won't let go." She lifted her hands. "All of that's true. I'm not an old lady, Ope. I don't want to be one. And I don't want SAMCRO in my bed."

"I get that. You know I do," he said, thinking of Donna. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "But you can't have it both ways, Ollie. Just like you said to me: you gotta make a decision. You either take him with the club and all the shit that comes along…or you don't."

"I know," she said. "I'm working on it."

"Just be careful, okay?"

"Careful's my middle name, mon ami. Don't worry about that."

But he did worry, and he wondered, with things heating up the way they'd been lately, how long she'd be able to keep her balancing act going. She'd decided a long time ago to accept the club as part of her life, but she didn't seem to get that there were no such things as lines. Juice was SAMCRO, SAMCRO was Juice. Like she'd said to him, you couldn't have it both ways. He didn't know if she'd take her own advice. She was stubborn as hell, and somehow he thought she'd try to avoid the decision until it was too late.

Who would be around to help her then?

When Opie's phone rang and he saw it was Jax he frowned down at it in surprise. Olivia lifted a brow and he hitched a shoulder. He flipped the phone open and said hello.

She and Juice listened to Opie's end of the conversation with growing confusion.

"What, today?" he said. Then, "What's Diosa?"

Juice smothered a laugh and Olivia rolled her eyes. She'd heard all about Diosa from him last night.

"Jax. You're getting married, today, in a brothel?"

"What?!" Olivia hissed. "Married?"

He waved her quiet. "Yeah, man. Of course I'll be there. You stood up for me." He tensed. "Yeah. I guess Clay should be there, too. I'll be fine." He listened for a few moments longer and then said goodbye and shut the phone.

Olivia exploded.

"Married?! Jax and Tara are getting married? You're kidding!"

"He said they wanted to do it before he gets picked up for that thing with the One-Niners."

"I guess there's no time like the present."

Juice's phone went off then. "It's Chibs," he said. "Probably with my invitation." He turned away to answer it, and Olivia's face fell.

"What's the matter?" Opie said.

"I just really wish I could go, that's all," she said with an uneasy shrug.

"Why can't you? You're back, right?"

"Yeah, but only you two know that."

"Okay, but, I think they'll figure it out when you walk in the door."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not nice to take focus away from the bride on her wedding day, Opie. They'll all have questions and I'll have to tell the whole story and it's supposed to be a wedding."

Juice had rejoined them, and he lifted a shoulder as his mouth twisted in a half smile. "The only reason Opie's wedding was on the rez is so we could shoot the Russians without any cops around."

"You weren't even at Opie's wedding," she said with a scowl.

"I was there. I just left before the reception. To kill Russians."

She sat back and rolled her eyes. "This whole place is completely fucked."

"Tara would be upset if she knew you were back and you didn't come," Juice said.

He was probably right about that. And she would hate to be stuck sitting at home all alone while everyone else was— "I don't have my car," she said.

"What's that gotta do with anything?"

"I can't ride to a wedding on the back of a motorcycle, Juice. I can't wear jeans and steel-toed boots, for fuck's sake."

Juice and Opie shared an exasperated look. Opie grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and gave her a light shove toward the hall. "Go put your girly shit in a bag and come the fuck on."

"No need to get handsy," she said. But she went.

"And put on a fuckin' bra!" he yelled after her.

Her arm appeared around the doorframe and she shot him the bird. "Quit lookin' at my tits, Winston. I'm not afraid to kick your Chewbacca ass."

He and Juice cracked up at that, and their laughter followed her all the way back to the bedroom.

To say they were surprised to see her was an understatement. Jax wasn't around, but Chibs and Bobby immediately grabbed her and herded her into one of the "relaxation rooms." They grilled her for almost half an hour, and she answered each and every question as patiently as she could: yes, they were still immune from RICO. No, she had no idea why he'd done it. Yes, she was safe from TJ's murder. No, they wouldn't need her to testify against Doyle. No, for fuck's sake, she had no fucking clue why he'd done it!

At last they seemed satisfied and let her go to find Tara. Bobby assured her he'd call Jax and fill him in so she wouldn't get the third degree from him, too—or at least she wouldn't until after the wedding.

Once she was finally free, one of the girls pointed her toward the bathroom. Tara was at the sink trying to secure an orchid in her hair. It fell out and she cursed.

"Need some help with that?" Olivia said.

Tara's head jerked up and she met Olivia's eyes in the mirror. Her mouth fell open. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too."

She spun around. "You know what I mean, Ollie. You're supposed to be in protective custody. Jax told me—he told me what you did." Her expression changed. "I guess that's what our conversation in the hospital was about."

"Yeah," she said, drawing the syllable out. "I'm sorry. I would've told you, but—"

"Forget it. I'm just glad you're here." She seemed close to tears, and Olivia figured it only had a small amount to do with her. Tara pulled her in for a hug and held on a little longer than she needed to.

Olivia leaned away and studied her face through shrewd, knowing eyes. "What's up? You seem a little less hyper-thrilled than a bride should be."

"No, I'm happy. I'm happy!"

"You love him."

"He's the love of my life."

"And you know what his life is like."

"I've been living it since we were kids."

"Okay, then. So your wedding's in a brothel a few hours before your husband is arrested for murder. I'm sure it's some girl's dream wedding."

Tara laughed through her tears and Olivia squeezed her arms. "I don't get it. Are you back, or did you get some sort of wedding furlough? How did you even know?"

She turned Tara around to face the mirror and tugged the pins from her hair. They were clearly going to have to start over. As she worked she told Tara about the new deal, and everything Potter had said—including that last puzzling exchange, which she hadn't mentioned to anyone else.

"He did it because of Juice?"

She shrugged a shoulder and concentrated on the tiny braids she was weaving. "I don't know. I guess so. He was a weird guy, Tara. Maybe he's a romantic at heart."

"Hum," she said, doubtfully.

"Yeah, I don't really buy that either. I think he was pissed because his raid didn't work out—which nobody'll tell me about, by the way—and so he decided to…I don't know. Throw out the book or something. Put somebody's nose out of joint. Keep your head still."

"So you don't know what happened at the raid?"

"Nope. Why? Do you?"

She cleared her throat and her eyes in the mirror slid away.

"I figured. It's okay; I'm not asking. Whatever it is it must be big. I don't think Juice has a clue, either."

"From what I gather only Jax, Bobby, and I know."

"Good. Let's keep it that way. I don't want to give your almost-husband any more reasons to distrust me."

Tara's expression was troubled. "Jax trusts you, Ollie."

"Not really. But, then…" She trailed away and shook her head. It's hard to trust when you can't be trusted, she wanted to say. But it was pretty rude to insult the groom to the bride, so she kept her mouth shut.

"Here, look," she said and turned Tara's head. "Good?"

"That looks amazing! Wow. How did you learn to do that?" She'd divided Tara's dark hair into several small braids that fed into a larger one. She had looped that up into a bun, but some strands still dangled free.

She shrugged a shoulder and started to twist the free strands into loops that crossed behind the bun like Christmas bunting. "My mom had long hair when I was a kid and she used to let me braid it for her. She taught me most of this."

"Is that why you wear yours like so long? To be like her?"

"Mmm," she said, her mouth full of pins. "My former husband made me keep it cut short, so the second I was away from him I started growing it out. I haven't cut it since, except a trim now or then."

She reached over Tara's shoulder for the flower and wove its stem in place above her ear. "There," she said. "Perfect."

She studied her reflection a moment, and when she turned back her eyes shimmered with tears again. "I'm glad you're here," was all she said.

"Me too," Olivia replied. She was suddenly fighting tears of her own. They embraced. "You're gonna do great, Tara. You two belong together."

"Thank you, Ollie," she whispered.

They held on a bit longer before she pulled away. Olivia brushed a knuckle across her cheek and smiled a second before her face transformed into a puzzled expression. "What are you wearing?"

Tara looked down at her jeans and top. "Just this, I guess. I don't have a dress."

Olivia's eyes went wide. "Tara Grace Knowles, you are not getting married in jeans!"

She rolled her eyes. "I should never have told you my middle name. You sound like my mother."

"Don't worry," she said and unzipped her bag. "I brought something. It might be a little short, but I think we can work with it."

"Work with it how? Tear down the curtains?"

"It's an idea," she said with a shrug. "But, no. Paper would probably be better. Stay here."

"Ollie, what—?"

But she was already gone, and Tara was left in the bathroom holding a vintage style blue dress (definitely too short, and probably too big across the boobs) and wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into. A mechanic with a penchant for crafts. What would they think up next?

If you've never read the Fae series by Karen Marie Moning, there's a great quote that comes to mind (and I'm paraphrasing): When things get tough, a Southern girl knows to tear down the curtains and make a new dress.

The theme of "we shouldn't be here this place is poison" is only gonna get stronger in the coming chapters. This is the beginning of s5, so y'all know what's ahead. :(