I created a playlist called "Sad Songs" that I've been listening to as I wrote this. I MIGHT have gone overboard on the sheer number and sadness of said songs.

Events in s6 are clipping right along now: we're up to 6x11.

it may be over but it won't stop there
i am here for you if you'd only care
you touched my heart, you touched my soul
you changed my life and all my goals
and love is blind and that i knew when
my heart was blinded by you
i've kissed your lips and held your hand
shared your dreams and shared your bed
i know you well, i know your smell
i've been addicted to you
James Blunt, "Goodbye My Lover"

The next night she pulled the Cougar to a stop in front of Juice's house and cut the engine. His new bike was in the driveway. She hadn't tried calling first, so she was relieved to see it—and to see that it was alone, though that didn't necessarily tell her anything. Not that she thought—

She cut that off half-formed. Better not to think about it either way.

She boosted herself up onto the trailer and unfastened the chains holding the old bike in place. She walked it down the ramp and parked it next to the new one. It looked good. Not as fancy, but she'd upped the horsepower and the torque, and, with Chibs' help, she'd redone the Reaper design on the front panel.

She cast a look toward the front door. Part of her wanted to turn around, get in her car, and drive back to TM. Or home. Or…anywhere, really. Anywhere but here.

But she'd made a promise to Chibs, and besides that she owed it to Juice to tell him the truth. They couldn't just leave things in this agonizing state of limbo. They'd barely spoken in the last week. Was it killing him as much as it was killing her? Yesterday Chibs had seemed to imply that it was.

Better to rip the band-aid off. Better to get it over with and have things done.

She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and rang the bell.

There was a long silence from inside. So long, in fact, that she began to wonder if he'd left his bike here and gone off somewhere else. Then the door opened and there he was. His face transformed from a sort of resigned despair to disbelieving joy before it settled on cautious hope.

"Liv," he said. His voice was rough. She could tell he'd been drinking. There were new bruises around one eye, apparently from some incident the other day with the Byz Lats. She hadn't asked for details.

"Hey," she said. She tried for a smile and couldn't make it happen. Her forehead scrunched and she slid her hands into her pockets. "I, um. I got your bike put back together." She jerked her chin in that direction. "Thought I'd bring it by."

He leaned out to get a look. "You didn't have to do that," he said.

"No, I know. I just—I wanted to see you."

"Oh."

There was a groove between her brows, and the need to soothe it with his fingertips was so strong he had to ball his hand into a fist and shove it behind his back. Her lips were chapped (probably from her chewing on them, like she did when she was nervous or worried), and he knew exactly how they'd feel beneath his.

He took an abrupt step back and thrust his arm out. "Come in. If you want."

She eyed him, but after a moment she nodded and slipped past him.

He lowered his head to get a whiff of her hair as she went by. He could smell her sea-scented shampoo and clean laundry and, just a hint, motor oil and metal. The garage. Memories hit him like a fist to the gut and he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the images.

When he opened them again she was in his living room giving him a curious look. He closed the door and started toward the kitchen. "Can I get you something? A beer?"

"No thanks," she said. "I'm good."

They stood awkwardly, neither sure what to say. She wanted to tell him everything, pour the entire story out and just let him react as he would—but she couldn't. Her tongue felt cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Maybe Chibs was right. Maybe she was a coward.

"Juice—" she said.

"Liv—" he said at the same time.

They both broke off and laughed a little. She hooked her fingers in her back pockets. She was, he knew, trying not to fidget. It was working, for the most part, but he knew her well enough to see the fear she struggled to hide. He wanted to reassure her, to remind her again that nothing could change how he felt about her, but suddenly part of him wasn't sure.

He would never stop loving her, he knew that, but…maybe it wasn't quite that simple.

His mouth tightened and he turned his head. The muscles in his jaw danced under the skin. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but none of them were right. All of them were about how much he wanted her. How he couldn't imagine his life without her in it. How whatever it was they could figure it out. They could figure anything out as long as they were together. But the words stuck in his throat and he choked on them.

The sight of his tears was her undoing. She let out a soft curse. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry."

She rushed to the door, but his voice stopped her before she could get away: "I know about the abortion."

She spun toward him, her eyes huge. There were two bright spots of color high on her cheeks, but otherwise her face was pale as death. "Who—?"

"No one told me," he said. "I Googled some shit and figured it out. It all fits."

She pressed against the door, and her hand gripped the knob so hard it creaked. "Juice, I—"

He took a step closer and she shrank back. "Don't look at me like that, Olivia."

"Like what?" she whispered through lips gone numb.

"Like you think I'm gonna attack you. I'm not him. I'd never—" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'd never do that to you."

She eased her fingers away from the doorknob. "I know you wouldn't," she said, but her tone was careful, like she didn't want to provoke him.

He took several steps back and lifted his hands. "Givin' you room, Liv. You gonna run or stay?"

"I want to run," she admitted.

"I know you do."

She shuffled forward a few paces and clenched her hands into fists to hide their shaking. "I should have told you," she said, quietly.

He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. His throat worked and a tear tracked down his cheek. "I don't understand. Did you think I would—what did you think—I wouldn't have—" He gulped down a breath.

"How long?" he finally managed.

"Six weeks. That, um. That time in the hospital, I'm thinking."

"Holy shit." He scrubbed at his face with his hands and winced when he hit the bruises. "It was just—it was just a little pea."

Her head tilted. "You did do your research."

He shoved that aside with a frustrated gesture. "I wouldn't have tried to talk you out of it if it's what you really wanted, Olivia."

"That wasn't why I didn't call you."

"Then why?" he demanded. "I thought we were in this together. You and me, remember?"

"I know." She dropped her head. When she looked up again her eyes were wet, her nose red. "I know, Juice. I'm not going to give you excuses. I was wrong, and I don't know what else to say." Apologies were meaningless, and all the I'm sorrys in the world wouldn't fix anything.

He paced away. Back again. He was close enough to touch her, but he kept his hands by his sides. "I can't stop thinking about that night, Liv. The way you cried. I wanted to help you, but I didn't even know what was wrong. I don't understand how you still don't trust me. What else do I have to do, Olivia? How can I possibly prove how I feel about you?"

"It's not like that. It wasn't even about you."

His face twisted. "Your decision to kill my child wasn't about me?"

Anger flared, hot and sharp. "Okay, first of all, it wasn't a child. It was a bundle of cells that was, like you said, about the size of a pea. Secondly, until you're the one carrying it, until you're the one—" She broke off and spun around. She muffled a sob in her hands.

"Olivia—" he murmured

"Don't," she said, her voice broken and choked. "Don't be kind, Juice."

"Then tell me what I should be, Liv. If I get pissed you look at me like a fuckin' wife beater. If I get sad you tell me I don't have the right. If I try to be nice, you say not to. How should I feel right now? I sure as fuck can't figure it out!"

She twisted back toward him. "I never said you didn't have the right to be sad, but how can you be sad about something that never existed?"

"You are," he said, mildly.

That seemed to deflate her. She dropped down into a chair like her strings had been cut. "I know," she said. Her eyes were blank, her gaze far away. "I don't know why. I didn't even know it was in there, and when I figured it out I panicked. I never wanted a baby, and especially not now. Not here."

"I know that, Liv. I do. I would've gone along with whatever you wanted to do. That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

Her head tilted in his direction. "You just accused me of killing your child," she spat.

"That was a stupid thing to say. I didn't mean it."

"Part of you did," she said. "Part of you always will."

"For fuck's sake, Olivia, quit thinkin' I'm gonna be an asshole about this! I'm not mad about the abortion. I swear I'm not. And I'm not really even mad that you didn't tell me about it."

"What are you then?"

He slumped in the chair across from her and dropped his head into his hands. "I don't know," he said without looking up. "A lot of things. What are you?"

Her brow furrowed. She brushed at her eyes. "A lot of things," she said.

He lifted his head and fixed her with a desperate, longing look. "I don't want to lose you, Olivia."

"I don't want to be lost."

"Then come back, baby," he said. "Please just come back."

Her mouth moved in a grim, tired smile. "It's not that easy, Juicy. I wish it were, but it just isn't." She pushed herself to her feet and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

His eyes followed her to the door. She opened it and paused. "If you want to come by the house for your stuff, I'm working all week till six or seven." She cast a look over her shoulder. "You can keep your key. I mean. I'd like you to keep your key. It you want to."

He didn't say anything. His face was contorted with pain and he didn't bother to wipe away the tears as they fell. Her chin quivered. That was the last glimpse he had of her face before the door shut hard behind her. After a few moments he heard the sound of the Cougar's engine outside.

It faded down the block and all was silence.

The next day was THE day—the big jailbreak. Jax had sent the cops off to sit on an empty warehouse while the club went after Clay. Juice hadn't been looking forward to today anyway, but after the vote yesterday…and his conversation with Olivia last night…the whole thing felt like a giant weight around his neck dragging him under.

He and Jax were in the same van, and as they waited for word to move, Juice felt the need to reassure him that he was steady, no matter how he might feel otherwise. Jax assured him that he was moving the club in the right direction and that they could all feel, as Juice phrased it, like "good guys" again.

A short silence fell before Jax said, "How's Ollie been?"

Juice stirred and cut his eyes across the van. "Fine, I guess."

Jax gave him an odd look. "You guess?"

He frowned and looked away. Adjusted the fit of his vest and ran a hand over his scalp. "We're going through…a sort of rough patch, I guess."

"Hum," Jax said. That might explain her strange behavior yesterday (and the past few weeks according to the other guys), but he had his doubts. She didn't seem like the woman who'd fall apart over a break up, and he suspected that whatever had her in such a weird mood was actually the cause of the rough patch, not vice versa. "Think it'll work out?"

He hitched a shoulder. "Don't know." His mouth tightened. "Maybe not."

"That fuckin' sucks, brother. I'm sorry."

Juice's chin tilted in his direction. "You think you're gonna be able to work things out with Tara?"

Now it was Jax' turn to go quiet. His jaw muscles bunched and stretched. Finally, "I hope so. I want to. I don't know if she does."

"She's scared," Juice said, "like Olivia."

Jax fixed him with a shrewd look. "Is Olivia worth fightin' for?"

"Yeah," Juice said without hesitation. "Yeah, of course she is."

"And you're gonna just let her go?"

"It's not…it's kinda complicated."

He snorted. "And Tara and me aren't? Look, Juicy, it's simple: either she's worth it or she's not. If she's not, you let her go. If she is—you fuckin' well fight, brother. You gotta at least let her know you still want her."

Part of him wanted to tell Jax more, get his take on the situation, but considering how unstable the club already thought he was—and the fact that it might be a sensitive issue, all things considered—he didn't want to push it. Instead he just smiled a little. "I think I need to give her some time first."

Jax shifted in his seat. "You think she knew what Tara was up to?"

Juice's brows drew together. "You mean the fake miscarriage and everything?"

"Yep," he said, shortly.

"What did she say when you asked her?"

"Said she had no idea."

"There's your answer, then."

A pause.

Jax: "You don't think she'd lie about it?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He shook his head. "She's loyal, Jax."

"I get that, Juicy. I just don't know who she's loyal to."

Herself, he thought.

Unfair, only partially true, and an answer that was sure to get her killed. He clamped his lips shut and decided he'd already said enough.

By the time they got to the hangar Olivia was already there. Jax had called her from the road when he realized Bobby was hit, and then he'd called Gemma to get Tara. He wasn't sure how bad it was, but he'd rather have too many medics than not enough.

The truck screeched to a halt and the back doors flew open. Olivia rushed toward them, but she stopped short when she saw Clay. Chibs stuck his head out and waved her over.

"Get in here, lass. He looks like shite."

He reached down to help her in. She tugged on a pair of gloves and knelt by Bobby. His big face was pale under all that beard, and Chibs' makeshift bandage was already soaked through. First she had to get his vest off; it was blocking her view.

She pulled her knife and flicked the blade open.

"Whoa," Chibs said, "you gonna cut the bullet out?"

She ignored him and sawed through the thick material. She sliced his shirt open and cursed. "You've called Tara, right?" she said.

"Yeah," came a voice from behind her. It was Jax. "Gemma's on the way to pick her up now. How bad is it?"

She flashed Bobby a reassuring smile. "He'll be shakin' his hips again in no time." She gestured Chibs closer and swapped places with him. Grabbed Jax by the sleeve and pulled him a few steps away.

"This is way above my pay grade, Jax. I'm afraid to even touch anything. He could bleed out. We need Tara, and she's going to need surgical shit. Scalpel, tweezers, I don't know what all."

His expression was grave. "Try to get the bleeding under control and do the best you can. She'll be here soon and we'll take him up to the cabin." He pressed a hand to her shoulder. "I've got faith in you, Ollie."

That was a new one. She nodded and spun back toward Bobby. Jax jerked his chin at Chibs.

"Sorry, lass," he said. "Duty calls."

"Go," she said. "I've got this."

He and Jax jumped off the back of the truck and disappeared into the depths of the hangar. Bobby's head lolled toward her.

"You think I'm gonna die?" he said.

"Fuck no. Would I let you die?"

"You ain't no doctor."

"True. But I'm stubborn enough to make up for it."

He snorted. "That's the fuckin' truth."

She grinned, but it faded quickly. "Are you cold?" she said.

"Yeah. Kinda. Pretty cold."

"Okay. I've got a blanket in my car." She cursed herself for not bringing it. She tied the bandage on tighter. "I'll be back in five seconds."

He managed a vague nod. She hopped down and stumbled as her weak hip caught. Righted herself and ran to the Cougar. She was halfway back when Gemma's SUV pulled in and Tara tumbled out.

She took note of the blood on Olivia's shirt. "Where is he?"

"Back here. He's going into shock and I'm having trouble stopping the bleeding. I can't find an exit wound, so I think it's still in there."

Tara boosted herself into the truck and helped Olivia in with her.

"Where's everyone else?"

She tilted her head toward the hangar office. "Not sure what's goin' down. Club shit, I guess."

Gemma and Nero were still in the hangar. Tara bent over Bobby and smiled.

"Hey, bud," she said.

He grunted.

Olivia spread the blanket over him. Her fingers went to his wrist. His pulse was thready and fast. She frowned up at Tara, who only nodded. Her face turned grave as she probed the wound.

"I've got to get that bullet out, but no way I can do it here. I'll need tools from the hospital. Pain meds. Sutures."

"That's what I told Jax. He said we can get him up to the cabin." She paused. "I think they need to finish whatever it is they're doing first."

"We have to move fast," Tara said.

Bobby shook his head, a glacial roll back and forth. "Nuh. Gotta get it done. Then we'll go."

"Goddammit," Olivia muttered. "All this fucking blood."

"Press here," Tara said and pointed to the a spot on the inside of his arm. "Press hard."

She did what Tara showed her, and finally the bleeding eased. Tara wrapped gauze under his armpit and around several times to hold the bandage in place.

The sound of muffled gunshots startled them both. Their eyes met.

"Go on," Bobby said. "Not gonna die just yet."

They both scowled at him, but after a moment they went. The office door was open. Clay said something to Gemma that they couldn't hear. Nero glowered and Jax tried to reassure him. Olivia flicked her eyes toward Juice. His face was blank, his eyes empty. She knew that look. It worried her.

The guys took Clay back into the office. The four of them—Gemma, Nero, Tara, Olivia—watched in horror and shock as Jax raised his gun and shot Clay in the neck. Gemma let out a sob. Tears poured down her face as Clay stumbled and fell. Olivia pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away.

The taste of Bobby's blood would linger on her lips for hours after.

They must have voted for Mayhem. Juice had voted for it—again—after everything. No wonder. She rubbed the center of her chest, but the ache there went too deep.

When it was over, Jax instructed Gemma to take Tara to the hospital to pick up what she needed and then bring her to the cabin. Olivia offered to ride in the truck with Bobby, and Jax acquiesced with a nod.

She cast a worried glance at the Cougar. "I probably shouldn't leave my car here."

"You be okay with Rat driving it to the cabin?"

She frowned. Rat looked nervous. She stripped off a bloody glove and fished her keys out of her pocket. "Do not smoke in my car. Do not eat. Do not drink. If there's a scratch on him when I get him back, I take it out of your skin. Yeah?"

He gave a stuttering nod. "I'll take care of it like it was my bike, Ollie. Swear."

She dropped the keys in his outstretched hand and smiled at him. "I know you will, Rat."

He managed a sickly smile of his own and took off across the hangar.

Jax sent Juice and Tig with them in the van. Juice jumped in first, and when he offered his hand to her he wouldn't meet her eyes. She gave his fingers an extra squeeze before she let go, and she felt him briefly return the pressure. But when he turned away she wondered if she hadn't imagined it.

She settled in next to Bobby and tucked the blanket around him.

"Wanna lay down," he said.

"Nope. Have to keep you upright. You don't want to start bleeding all over again, do you?"

He snorted. Then, "Thirsty."

"Sorry, bud. No water until we get that bullet out. Trust me; you don't want it comin' right back up."

"Fuckin' bossy."

"Mmhhmm," she said, distracted. It was a long drive; almost two hours; and she was worried.

Tig craned his neck to look back at them, and he could read it on her face. He poked Juice on the arm and hitched his thumb over his shoulder. Juice nodded.

"Hey, Ollie," Tig said as he swung around to sit on Bobby's other side. "How's it goin'?"

"Bobby's bein' a whiny bitch, but otherwise real good."

"Fuck you, Ollie," he muttered. "Bet you'd whine if you'd just got shot."

"I was shot, Bobby. I don't think I whined once."

She and Tig locked eyes over his head. "Anything I can do?" Tig said.

"Hold him still. Don't let him lie down. Keep the blanket tight, no gaps. You still cold, Bobby?"

He managed a nod.

"Wrap your jacket around him."

In the driver's seat Juice shrugged out of his hoodie. "Here," he said and tossed it back.

She balled it up and put it behind Bobby's head as Tig followed her instructions. "Better?" she said.

"Little."

"We need to keep him awake, Tiggy. Talk to him. Don't let him fall asleep."

Juice couldn't risk speeding, not with Bobby bloody in the back and the possibility that they (or Juice, specifically) might be wanted for running that cop down during the raid. The miles passed with agonizing slowness, and they filled the time swapping stories, telling jokes (Tig's were almost unbelievably dirty), and debating the finer points of Texas Hold 'Em. Every time Bobby started to nod off either she or Tig would force him awake and they'd embark on a new topic.

It was the longest ride of Olivia's life, and by the time it was over she was shaking and exhausted. Juice and Tig got Bobby inside and wrestled him into bed. She slumped against the doorjamb and watched them, calling out the occasional instruction or caution. When they finally had him settled she checked his bandage, added another pillow behind his back, and squeezed his hand.

He blinked at her, the closest thing to a nod he could manage.

"Ollie," Tig said.

She jerked her head toward him.

"Go get cleaned up. Take a minute. We got this."

"I can't. I have to—"

"Ollie." He touched her arm, just a brief flick of his fingers. "We got this. Right, Juicy?"

"Yeah," he said. He even dredged up a smile for her. "We got it."

"You did good, Ollie," Tig said. "You did real good. Take a break before you fall over."

Her brow furrowed, but after a moment she stripped off the gloves, rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, and walked out. She didn't say a word, but her eloquent expression spoke volumes.

Juice thought today might've been the last straw for her, and he wondered how much longer she'd be able to stick it out in Charming.

In the meantime, reviews get Juice one puppy of his very own to hug. And y'all know he needs it.