Here we go again...

i can list each crippling fear like i'm reading from a will
and i'll defy every one and love you still
i will carry you with me up every hill
and if you die before i die
i'll carve your name out of the sky
i'll fall asleep with your memory and dream of where you lie
The Airborne Toxic Event, "The Graveyard Near the House"

She jerked out of the nightmare with a brief cry. The usual old one: running down a hall full of doors, and every door was locked. The one that finally opened revealed TJ with a huge grin on his face. Except this time it hadn't been TJ. It had been…a hand. That's all. A hand with a gold ring flying at her face.

It seemed her subconscious mind had a better memory of the attack than her conscious one did.

She scraped a shaking hand over her face and peered at the clock. Almost two. Where was Juice? She checked her phone but there were no missed calls. He must've gotten tied up with some club-related something. If he'd been hurt someone would have called. Unless, of course, Jax had changed his mind about letting him earn his way—

She cut that thought off before it fully formed and swung her legs out of bed. She padded down the hall and stopped at the bathroom. Her fingers rested briefly against the door before she turned and walked on.

In the kitchen she poured a glass of water and leaned against the counter to drink it. She felt anxious and antsy and uncomfortable in her own skin. She paced a circle from kitchen to living room to dining room to kitchen again.

Should she call him? And say what? That she was worried? She wasn't really that kind of—of girlfriend. If that was the right word. What other word was there? She squeezed the phone in her hand and set it on the counter. No. She'd just wait.

She wandered back to the bedroom and tried to sleep, but after a while she gave it up as no good. She flipped on the bedside lamp and grabbed her book. After half a chapter she threw it aside. Got out of bed again and prowled through the house like a restless cat.

She had no idea how long she'd been pacing and rearranging and fiddling when she heard his bike from down the street. Her eyes closed and she let out a sigh of relief. Part of her was surprised he was coming by this late: he knew she'd have to get out of bed to unlock everything, and usually he would call to tell her he was crashing at his place.

It was a night of oddities.

She opened the door and watched as he dismounted and almost fell. He fumbled with the strap on his helmet for a good minute before he managed it. Her brow creased as he lurched up the path. She rested a hand on her hip and frowned down at him.

"You show up at my door at almost three AM drunk as a skunk and expect me to let you in, Ortiz?"

He threw out his hands in a dramatic shrug. "I'm not drunk."

She snorted.

"A tiny bit drunk. Not much drunk."

"I can't believe you drove like this."

"Barely drunk, Liv!"

She rolled her eyes and turned away. He stumbled up the steps and dropped onto the bench to get rid of his boots. She was at the door setting the locks when he wrapped his arm around her from behind. He kissed the back of her neck and she felt his tongue brush her skin.

"You're drunk, babe," she said. "Let's get you a glass of water and put you to bed."

"You can put me to bed," he rasped. He spun her around and pressed her against the door. His mouth was hot and hungry when he kissed her, and the taste of tequila was strong on his tongue.

She pushed him away and dodged his grasp as she went past him into the living room. He followed her into the kitchen while she poured a glass of water and knocked two aspirin from the bottle. She offered him both, and after a moment he took them and tossed the pills down.

"So," she said. "You gonna tell me what's up, or should I wait until you're more coherent?"

He brooded about it, staring down into the glass with a deep glower. "I had a little too much to drink."

"Did you?" Her head tilted. "How come?"

"I shoulda called and told you I'd be late."

She waved a hand. "Doesn't matter. But thank you for thinking of it."

"I wanted to call."

"What, someone stole your phone?"

His scowl deepened. "No. Fuck. Not like that. Just, there was shit."

"There always is," she said, mildly.

He looked up at her and his eyes were clearer than they'd been before. "You hate SAMCRO, don't you?"

"No, baby," she said. "I don't hate the club. I just…I wish things were better. I wish they didn't treat you like shit."

"They don't—"

"Remind me some time to show you the definition of an abusive relationship, Juicy. I think you'd learn a thing or two."

He slammed the glass down on the counter and stormed out of the kitchen. She shook her head and went after him. He was in the bedroom digging through a drawer. His drawer. He worked fast: he already had t-shirts scattered all over the floor.

"Babe, what are you doing?"

"Packing."

"Packing. Juice. You don't have a suitcase."

"Sort of packing."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead in a bid for patience. Grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the bed. He went only reluctantly, and he wouldn't look at her. She pulled him down beside her and he glared at the floor.

"Talk to me, love. What's going on?"

He sat sullenly, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders tight. She climbed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest; pressed her cheek against his back. After a long time she felt him relax. His body shook and she held on tighter. He grabbed her good hand and their fingers tangled together.

She kissed the back of his neck and rested her nose there. He sniffed hard and shook his head.

"You don't want me, Liv. I'm no good for you. You woulda left months ago if it wasn't for me."

"Hhmm. Well, the last part is true: I would have left months ago if it weren't for you. But the first part is complete bullshit. Because if I didn't want you, and if I thought you weren't good for me, I would've left anyway."

He swiped the heel of his hand across his face, a rough, angry gesture, and tried to pull away. She wouldn't let him.

"Talk to me, Ortiz. I'm not going anywhere."

He twisted toward her and she gestured for him to follow her up the bed. When he was settled against the pillows she straddled his lap and fixed him with an earnest stare. His hands dropped to her bare thighs and he frowned.

"It's really distracting when you do that."

"I'm just sitting here, Juicy. Besides, you're wasted."

"Not that wasted. And you're really fucking beautiful." He leaned forward to kiss her but she avoided him.

"Nuh uh. Not this time. Story first."

He subsided with a sigh. She ran her fingers along his jaw and kissed him softly. He caught her hand and pressed it to his lips.

"We took Clay's patch."

"Oh—"

"Wait. That's not the bad part." His eyes went flinty and his grip tightened on her thigh until she squeaked. "Fuck," he muttered. He stroked her leg. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I know. It's okay. Tell me the rest."

"We voted on Mayhem."

Her eyes went wide.

"It didn't pass." A bitter pause. "Bobby was the only nay."

She drew in a long breath and let it out slowly as his words sank in. "Juice. If you had voted no Jax would've been done with you. No more chances. No more making it right. He might not even have taken it to the table; just done something to make it look like an accident."

"You think so?" he said. His voice was lost and hopeless and it broke her heart.

"Yeah, love. I do," she said, gently.

He buried his hands in her hair and pressed their foreheads together. "Jax has a plan. He wants to frame Clay for Damon Pope's murder, and he wants me to help."

"Wait." He'd lost her. "I don't understand. How does Pope figure in to any of this?"

"Apparently the one thing that Jax still owes him is Tig. He won't shut up about it. He wants Tig dead for what Tig did to his daughter."

"Even though he turned around and burned Dawn alive?"

"Guy's an animal."

"It's the game," she said. "They're all like that."

"This isn't what I signed up for, Liv. I just wanted…" He trailed off and let his head fall back. He closed his eyes and scrubbed both hands over his face. "I just wanted someplace to belong. A family."

She remembered what she'd said to Tara that afternoon. "Family isn't supposed to hurt, baby."

"I've never had it any other way."

She grabbed his chin and lowered it until their eyes met. "You do now." She kissed his forehead. His nose. His mouth. "You're mine, Juicy, and I'm yours. Remember?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I remember. I just have a hard time believing it sometimes."

"Well you best start to, kid. Once I decide on somebody it's pretty hard to get rid of me."

He ran his hands up her back, underneath her shirt, and pulled her in for a kiss. "That so?" he said as his lips skimmed hers.

"Uh huh," she said and teased his tongue with her own.

"And when'd you decide on me?"

"Mmm…" Her head tilted as she considered. He placed small, sucking kisses up and down her neck. "A while ago, I'd say. Just took me a long time to realize it."

He paused and leaned back a little. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. As long as you promise to fill me in on Jax's plan before you get all distracted."

His brow quirked. "It's probably none of my business, and I'm not asking because I'm jealous—at least, not really—but I just.… Were you in love with Kitty?"

"Um. Oh. That wasn't what I was expecting." She went still and her eyes drifted away as she thought about it. "I wanted to be in love with her. I'm pretty sure at one point I'd convinced myself I was falling in love with her. But—no."

He nodded slowly. "Because of me?"

Her mouth twisted. "Don't let it go to your head, Ortiz." She hitched a shoulder. "Yeah. Partially because of you. I never would've admitted it at the time, though."

His hands drifted lower to slide under the edge of her panties. She narrowed her eyes. "And what are you up to, sir?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just coppin' a feel."

"Hum." She wiggled a little. "You owe me info. Spill it."

He dropped his forehead to rest against her shoulder. "He wants me to get him one of Clay's guns. One that's actually legal and registered to him. He's gonna use that to kill Pope."

"Seems like there's potential for a lot of holes there. What if Clay alibis out?"

"He's got Gemma in on it, too. She's gonna lie about it."

"Wow," she said. "That is—wow." She shifted and he raised his head. "A guy like Pope, um…" Despite her best efforts, his hands on her ass—and what he was doing with them—were incredibly distracting. "He doesn't have failsafes in place in case someone kills him? To go after the killer?"

"Yup." He kissed from her shoulder up to her ear. "Jax's expecting that."

"Ohh," she said, the syllable going breathy at the end as he ran his tongue around the curve of her ear. "Everyone will think Clay did it."

She cupped the back of his neck with her good hand and used her cast to push against his chest. She searched his face with worried eyes. "Are you going to do it?"

"What choice do I have? Like you said about the vote: if I don't do this, Jax'll kill me. Maybe take it to the table, maybe not, but either way I'm a dead man."

He hesitated. Cleared his throat and moved beneath her. "We could go."

Her eyes narrowed. "Leave, you mean?"

"Leave, I mean."

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "Fuck. No, we can't."

"Why not? Isn't that what you want?"

"Yeah. Yes, it's what I want. I want to get out of this place and away from the club, but—" She broke off and bit her lip.

"But what, Liv? I don't understand."

"I'm tired of running, Juice," she said after a moment. "If we leave now we'll be on the run from SoA for…ever, basically. I don't want to just take off in the middle of the night like fugitives. I want to make a clean break so we never have to look over our shoulders."

And there was Tara. She had made a promise today, and she always kept her promises. She couldn't leave Charming until she knew Tara and the boys were safe. She just hoped to hell she and Juice could stay alive in the meantime.

"I should hate him. He killed Piney. He set Tara up to get kidnapped. He was behind the home invasions and he's the reason you got hurt. I should be happy to help Jax with this shit."

"But…?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "It feels so shady. I voted to strip his patch and for Mayhem because that's how we do things. It's for the table to decide. To frame somebody for murder, though? All because of some crazy setup to get him taken out? It's just…it's not right."

"I think the rest of the club might feel the same way, and they all voted for Mayhem, too."

"They would vote the same way for me, Liv," he said in a low voice. "And I seriously doubt Bobby would save my ass."

"Chibs might."

"I don't know. He takes loyalty pretty seriously."

"It's not going to come to that, Juicy. You're right—you have to help Jax with this, but once you do you'll be square."

"Yeah. Square." His brows were drawn together and he shook his head. "Square with Jax. But what about Clay?"

"Baby, if you want me to speak up in Clay Morrow's defense, you've come to the wrong person."

"I know," he said with a wince. "I'm sorry."

She took his face in her hand and looked him in the eye. "It doesn't upset me that you're loyal to him, Juice. It's something I admire about you. You see the good in people. You want to believe in them. I wish I were more like that."

"Are you kidding?" he said, wide-eyed. "You're the one—"

"No. I assume the worst about everyone. The worst motives. The worst…I don't know." She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "I try not to assume everyone's out to fuck everyone else over, but it's hard. I saved Clay's life that night because…because I couldn't do anything different, and because I wondered what you would do in my place."

"Fuck it up, probably."

"Stop," she said. "Don't say that anymore, okay? You don't deserve the shit they pile on you, and you sure as hell don't deserve the shit you pile on yourself."

"No?" He snorted. "What do I deserve, Liv?"

"I don't know," she said. Her smile had an edge to it. "Maybe a paranoid redhead with a cast on her arm, pins in her leg, and a raging case of PTSD. How's that sound?"

"Hum." He pretended to consider it. "How about a sexy redhead who can fix anything and doesn't take anyone's shit and has a knack for helping me clear my head?"

She let out a low ripple of laughter. "I'll help you clear your head, baby."

"Uh huh. I bet you will."

He kissed her through her giggles and she ran her hand over his scalp. He tried to tug her panties down, but she pulled away with a shake of her head.

"I don't think that's gonna work in this position. Unless you rip them. And I'd really rather you didn't." She could tell the idea intrigued him, and she swatted him on the arm. "Go to sleep, you drunkard. It's almost four in the morning."

"I told you I'm not drunk. Or, anyway, I'm plenty sober for panty-ripping."

"Really?" she said and lifted a brow.

He looked insulted. "I have never in my life been too drunk for sex, and I sure as fuck am not about to start now."

"Hhmm," she said, thoughtfully. She scooted back a little so that she could undo his belt. He smirked as she opened his fly and slid her hand down his pants.

"Told you," he said.

She threw back her head and laughed. "Considering how long you've had your hands on my ass, I'd be a little insulted if you weren't hard right now."

He patted it and gave a satisfied nod. "It's a very nice ass."

"Thanks. Yours is cute, too."

"Yup." He lifted her off his lap to sit next to him. "You've had your eye on my ass since the first night we met." He kicked his pants off and pulled his shirt over his head.

"This's true," she said. She stroked her hand up his chest and pressed a kiss against his warm skin. She loved the texture of it—smooth and surprisingly soft—and the color contrast against hers.

He sighed dolefully and tugged on her braid. "You must think I'm so easy. I put out the first night!"

"Baby, I put out the first night."

"Yeah, but you're cute enough to get away with it."

"Ha. Someone apparently doesn't pay attention to all the crow eaters swooning in his wake."

He made a complex noise that fell somewhere between amusement and disbelief. Then he suddenly went very serious. "You know I don't care about any of that, babe. You're the only one for me."

She rolled her eyes. "Hard on or not, you're clearly very intoxicated."

"Come on, Liv, I'm serious." He tilted her chin and kissed her. "How many times do I have to say it? You're it for me."

"I don't know. I'm stubborn and I recently smacked my head. Say it again."

He grinned and brushed his mouth over hers. "You're it for me."

"Hhmm," she murmured. "I think it's becoming clearer."

He kissed her again, long and slow and sweet. He sucked on her lower lip. Nipped the upper one. Swirled his tongue around hers and ran his hands under the hem of her t-shirt. She pulled away long enough to get rid of it, and just before their mouths met again he stopped to look her in the eye.

"You and me, Liv," he said, his voice rough and a little breathless. "That's endgame."

"You and me, Juicy." She pressed her lips to his and pushed him back against the bed and slid on top of him.

Neither had much breath to speak after that for a long, long time.

They lay in bed together after, her good arm thrown across his middle and her cheek resting near the crook of his elbow. He bent his arm to pull her closer, and she made a sleepy, protesting noise. He grinned and turned on his side to curl around her.

"Hey, big spoon," she murmured.

"Hey, babe." His kissed her ear. "You asleep?"

"Not quite. Something on your mind?"

"I just—I wanted to tell you that when you're ready to go, I'm with you."

She stilled. "Situations change, Juicy," she said, carefully. "Don't make promises you might not be able to keep."

He nuzzled the side of her neck with a bemused smile. "Try to trust me, Olivia. I know it's not easy for you, but try."

She was quiet for so long he thought she might have fallen asleep. Since the attack she tended to drop off suddenly, without a lot of pre-show. But then she stirred and twined her fingers through his.

"You're one of the few people I do trust, Juice."

"Okay, then. Believe me when I say when you're ready to go, I am too."

"It's not you I have trouble believing, baby. It's this place. Once you're in, it's hard to escape. It's fucking Hotel California come to life."

"Then we'll burn it down on our way out," he said, only half joking.

She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand. "There's something I need to tell you, and it's going to put you in an awkward situation."

"More awkward than I'm in now?"

"It's about Tara. And Jax. And you cannot breathe a word of this to anyone in the club. If you don't want me to tell you, say now. I'll understand."

He frowned and his arm tightened around her. He pressed a feather-soft kiss to the spot where they'd drilled into her head. "Tell me."

She sighed and filled him in on her conversation that afternoon with Tara. She told him about Otto (apparently Jax hadn't felt the need to share that with the whole table) and the job in Portland. Tara's plan to get the boys out without Jax knowing.

"I can't leave until I know she and the boys are safe, Juice. I promised I'd help her." She hesitated. "And I also told her I wouldn't tell you about it."

"Fuck me," he whispered.

"I bet you're wishing now that I hadn't."

"No. No, I'm glad you did. Just—Jax's family is everything to him."

A pause. "Is it?" she said, quietly. "Every time he has a choice between family and club, he chooses club. He chooses SAMCRO and promises Tara it's all for her and the boys. He tells her just one more time, one more thing, one more…and now, because she believed in him, she could be charged with conspiracy. Who will take care of the boys then? Gemma? Really? After that shit in the car?"

He propped himself up on his elbow to peer down at her face. "You like Gemma, I thought."

"Gemma is—Gemma. A force of nature. I admire her in some ways and fear her in others. I don't trust her as far as I could throw her, and she's got a good six inches on me. Tara doesn't want Thomas and Abel to turn out like Jax. How else would Jax's mother raise them?"

"I guess it's different when you have kids," he said after a moment. "Your priorities change."

He didn't mean it as any sort of rebuke, and she didn't take it as one, but still some part of her winced. "I'm not asking for your help, babe. In fact you need to stay out of it. Plausible deniability and all that crap. I just…I wanted you to know why I have to stay right now."

He studied her a moment longer, his brow furrowed and his eyes worried. At last he settled and pulled her to him again. "Okay, Liv. Do what you gotta do. I'm here."

She kissed the back of his hand. "I love you, Juicy."

"I love you, too," he said softly. "You're mine."

"And you're mine. I keep my promise to Tara, and then we're out."

He believed her. He really did. But he felt a sudden foreboding, an intense ache like he'd been elbowed in the gut. Nothing in Charming worked out the way anyone ever planned it. Tara wanted out. Olivia was going to help her.

Why did he think it would somehow, despite everyone's best intentions, end bloody?

Things here always did.

God every time I think I'm done w s5 I remember something else that has to happen. Next chapter WILL have s6, but the first little bit of it. Will still be. Season 5. I'm dying here.

In other news, I never expected these two to be so cute together. I apologize.