"Olivia's gonna flip when Juice cuts her hair! I can't wait!" You guys are cruel and I love you all.

So. We now enter uncharted territory. Here goes.

i'm a little bit wiser
i'm a little bit sadder
i'm a little bit less you might have guessed
but if you could be stayin'
tell me now, darlin', i think i'm fading
i swear i'll never trade your life for a lie
Better Than Ezra, "Overcome"

She was there alone, tinkering with one of the milkshake machines. When she saw him she dropped the screwdriver and her face went ghostly pale. "They sent you?" she whispered.

"Come here, Olivia. To the back. Away from the windows."

Her eyes were big and dark in her chalky face. She lowered her head a moment, and when she looked up again her expression was blank. "Yeah," she said, "yeah, okay."

He waited for her to proceed him into the workshop, and he shut the door behind them. She spun toward him. Her brow creased in confusion when she saw the knife in his hand. He stepped closer, and to her credit she didn't back away. Tears stood out in his eyes. The muscles danced in his jaw. He reached over her shoulder and started pulling pins from her hair.

"Juice, what—?"

"I'm not here to kill you," he said.

"Ohh," she said on a relieved breath. Her glance darted to the knife and back to his face.

He flicked the last pin away and pulled the heavy red-gold braid over her shoulder. Understanding dawned, and she gasped.

"No, Juice. No, please."

"It'll grow back, Liv," he said. "They would want me to beat you. Like Chibs did to me. Like Clay did to Gemma. You think I can do that?"

Her chin trembled. "Are you safe?" she said in a raw rasp.

"I think so," he said. His mouth quirked in a tight, ironic grimace. "Unless they're talkin' about me right now. But I think I'm okay."

He pressed the knife against her hair and she closed her eyes.

"Look at me," he said.

"I can't."

"Please, sweetheart, look at me."

She did, finally, and her normally clear green eyes were hazy with fear and hurt.

"You'd rather die than this? You'd rather me cut your throat than your hair?" His voice turned angry through the last sentence, and he tugged the braid hard enough to make her wince. "It's just hair, Olivia. What the fuck is worth dying for? Not me. Not this. I don't need my old lady to protect me."

Her mouth hardened and a spark burned away the fog. "You've tried to kill yourself twice, Juice. Twice in less than a year. Don't tell me you don't need someone to look out for you, because you sure as fuck refuse to look out for yourself."

He used her hair to drag her closer until they were nose to nose. "I was lost last night, Liv. After everything that went down with Clay and all the shit from the club…and I didn't have you. I pushed you away and when I tried to get you back you told me you needed time. What was I supposed to think?"

She jerked her head back despite his grip. "I also told you you can always come home to me. I meant that, Juice. I watched Jax shoot his stepfather in cold blood yesterday. I watched knowing full well it's how the club voted for things to go down. You think I could just shrug that off?"

"Tara did!"

"Tara did fucking not, Juice! She was going to the Feds. She was taking her boys and getting the hell outta Dodge. This life is your life, not mine. I never wanted to be involved with this club. Never."

"Then why are you?"

She slapped him and he jerked her hair. She let out a cry of pain and he yanked again.

"Why, Olivia? Why the fuck are you here? You said you run when things get heavy. Why are you still here?"

"Because I fell in love with you, asshole! You know that. Your shit is my shit. You're mine, you fucking moron, and I'm yours. You want me to run, then fine. Fuck you. I'm halfway out the door. But don't play games with me. Don't tell me you love me and then bail when you can't handle your shit. I'm here to help you. I'm here instead of Cuervo and oxy."

Her voice hitched on a sob and she poked him hard in the chest. "Don't you ever do that again, Juice Ortiz. I don't care how fucked up things get. You promised me! You promised!"

"You were ready to let the club kill you, Olivia!"

"If you can throw your life away for nothing then I can give mine up to keep you safe!"

"I never asked you—"

"Of course you fucking didn't!" She clutched his cut so tight her knuckles were turning white, and her freckles stood out like sparks across her cheeks. "It wouldn't have occurred to you to ask. That's why I did it."

She lowered her head to his chest. "Just do it, Juice. It's just hair."

"No," he said, "you don't get to do that. You don't get to give up. They wanted you dead five minutes ago, and one wrong step and we're both fucked. I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you and I meant it. I voted like you wanted, and now I'm gonna do this because I don't have any other choice. For both of us. But you gotta be pissed at me. Hit me again if you want to. Yell at me. You can't just accept it like it's nothing."

She glared up at him and shoved. He was so surprised that he stumbled, but his grip on her hair didn't let up and she fell against him. He lowered his head and captured her mouth. She bit his lip. He cursed.

"Just do it," she hissed.

He kept the blade sharp, so it sawed through the thick rope of hair with relative ease. She let out a sigh as the pressure lifted from her skull, and he opened his hands to let both braid and knife drop. She tangled her fingers in the front of his shirt and kissed him again. Her teeth were rough against the tender place she'd bitten and he moaned into her mouth.

He shoved her back against the wall. Fisted a hand in her newly shorn hair and yanked her head back so he could mouth her neck. He nipped and licked and sucked a trail from collarbone to chin, heedless of the marks he left on her sensitive skin.

She fumbled with his belt, her hands uncharacteristically clumsy, and finally got it free with a hiss of triumph. She made short work of his fly, and a moment later the heel of her hand was pressed against his cock. Her other hand was on his shoulder, and she pushed him away even as she squeezed him through his shorts.

"You go to a brothel. You OD on stolen OxyContin. You cut my hair with a goddamn knife. Now you think you can push me up against a wall and I'm gonna get all wet for you? That I'm gonna let you fuck me?"

His voice was hot and his hands were rough as he gripped her thighs and pulled one of them up and around him. "Yeah, I do. You're not just gonna let me, baby. You're gonna beg me. You want it as bad as I do."

She squeezed him hard enough to make him wince, and his breath came in pants as her grip relaxed. "Fuck you!" she said on a hiss.

"That's the idea." He jerked her jeans down and ripped her panties away. "You're mine, Olivia," he rasped against her mouth.

She freed him from his underwear and tugged him closer. Her legs went around his waist and he squeezed her hips hard enough to leave handprints on her skin. "You're mine, Ortiz." She kissed him, a violent meld of lip on lip and tongue scraping against tongue.

She was so wet he slid into her easily, one long rough thrust that buried him to the hilt. She moaned and dug her nails into his scalp. He didn't pause for her to catch her breath, but immediately set a hard, almost punishing rhythm. His fingers bruised her thighs and his teeth nipped at her throat, and she panted his name in uneven, desperate gasps.

He caught one of her hands and pressed it against her clit. "Come for me," he said.

"I can't," she moaned. "I can't!"

"Yes you can." He shifted her to adjust the angle. "Come for me, baby."

She pressed her forehead to the curve of his neck. Her voice was so muffled he could barely understand her, but once he decoded her words a smile spread across his face.

"Tell me you love me, Juicy," she said, and he grinned like a mad man.

"Always, Livvie. I love you. I'm yours. You're mine." He punctuated each word with a hard thrust, and she bit him on the shoulder as he said mine. "That's right, babe. That's it," he said.

Her legs tightened around his waist, her heels pressing his ass, and she let out a soft cry. Her head fell back and his eyes stayed steady on her face as he felt her clench around him."Yes, like that, yes!" she whimpered. He didn't stop as she came, even moved faster as the orgasm rocked through her. He ran his hand down to join hers on her clit, and his touch was rough enough to send her over the edge again.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered through gritted teeth. He jerked his hips into her and his control snapped. He braced himself against the wall with one hand and rode out his own orgasm with slow, easy thrusts and sharp, desperate gasps.

After what seemed like forever they tumbled against each other in a sweaty, panting tangle. He soothed the angry red marks on her throat with his lips and tongue and she ran her fingers along the curve of his skull.

"I love you, Juice," she said once she had enough breath.

He raised his head, brow furrowed and jaw tight. "I would never have fucked her."

She frowned a little and pushed him away. Unwrapped her legs and dropped to the floor. "I know that," she said. She tugged her torn panties off and used them to clean herself up.

"Not just because I was so fucked up. I wouldn't have anyway. I didn't even go there…for that. Not really."

She pulled her pants up and fixed her shirt. Ran a hand back and forth through her hair with a strange little frown. She fetched a ponytail holder from her pocket and secured it around the loose end of the braid coiled on the floor. "I know that, Juice," she said. She sighed. "I wonder if I can donate this. Surely some little redhead out there could really use it."

He watched her as he set his own clothes to rights. Her hair now came to just above her shoulders, and it was shorn in a ragged, uneven line. He ran a hand over her head as she knelt on the floor. "There's something I should tell you."

She glanced up at him with a rueful smile. "There's more?"

His brow quirked. "It's about Tara. It's…bad."

She slowly rose to her feet. "Was Jax lying about that, too? About the deal and letting her go and everything?"

"No, no he meant it." Juice took a deep breath and didn't look away as he said, "Tara's dead, Liv. Gemma killed her."

She stared at him. She wasn't entirely sure she'd heard him correctly. It was too…big. Too much. She blinked. "I don't understand," she finally said.

"Jax sent me to find Gemma. To tell her about the deal he made. I went to her place, and Wayne was there. He had told her Jax was going to jail, but he didn't know the details. She stole his truck."

She took a step back and he reached for her as she stumbled. She started to bat him away, but instead she grabbed his arm and squeezed. "She was at Jax and Tara's. You didn't find her in time."

"Eli was there, too." He swallowed hard. He hadn't decided how much to tell her, but finally he reached in his pocket and pulled out the postcard. "Eli was already dead, and Tara was tied up. Gemma had a gun on her."

She stared down at the colorful card in his hand. There was a roaring in her ears and she could barely hear what he was saying. The room spun around her. She thought she might faint. "Oh God, Juice," she murmured. She didn't bother to wipe away the tears that tracked down her cheeks.

"I tried to stop her. I did stop her, but then she got the gun again and she—she shot her before I could get to her. I took the—" Here he had to pause to clear his throat. "I took the gun, and I got her into Unser's truck, and then I left."

"The card," she said. Her eyes hadn't left it.

"It was on the counter. Tara said some guys broke in and jumped them. They tied them up and killed Eli. They were about to kill Tara, but then Gemma showed up and they ran. They left this." He studied her. "You know who they were, don't you?"

Her head moved in a stunned nod. "I should have told you."

"How long?" he said, his voice hard.

"I got the first one—a few weeks ago. Before"—she made a vague gesture toward her stomach—"before. I've gotten a few since then. One today. Left at my house. I knew he was here."

"You were about to tell me this morning, weren't you? When I made you promise not to keep any more secrets."

Finally she looked at him. He barely recognized her. He'd never seen a look of such despair and loathing on her lively face. He knew it wasn't him she hated: it was herself. She blamed herself for what had happened to Tara and Eli. Maybe she had a right to.

Now wasn't the time for recriminations, though. They both had choices to make.

"Olivia—"

"You covered for Gemma," she said. She tilted her head. "Why?"

He hesitated. "You said earlier that I had to make a choice. I already knew I'd failed you; I hadn't kept my promise to protect Tara. I couldn't fix that or make it better. I just kept thinking—I kept thinking about Clay. About how much he loved Gemma and how he kept fucking it up. I betrayed him, Liv. I let him down over and over."

He broke off with a sharp shake of his head. He opened his mouth to try again, but she stopped him.

"It wasn't—" She pressed a hand to her face a moment. "It wasn't your fault, what happened to her. It wasn't. You say you tried to stop Gemma and I believe you." Her fingers fluttered back to her side. She rubbed her thumb against the scar on her left wrist. "No good would come from even more death. And that's what would've happened if you'd turned Gemma over to Jax."

"I had to choose Clay," he choked out.

She nodded and looked away until she had control again. When she turned back the tears had dried up and her voice was steady. Steely. "And me?" she said. "I know that's the most selfish, ridiculous question I could ask right now, but what does that mean for me? For you and me?"

"It means…" He trailed off. Pulled her to him and cupped her head in his hand. She was stiff and blank like a doll. "It means whatever, Olivia. I told you earlier I'll always choose you. I meant it. You want me to take all this to Jax or the club, I will. Whatever you want, I'll do. You're mine. Gemma's not."

"No, Juice, fuck." She ran her free hand over his face and some life rekindled in her eyes. "We'll protect Gemma. You made that call and I'll go with it. I'm not as sure as you are that she deserves it, but there's no way in hell I'm going to have her blood on my hands. I'm sick of all the fucking death. It's too goddamn much."

She paused. "We'll give them Teddy. They won't be happy that I didn't come to them sooner, but…well, that's something we'll all have in common. I've still got the other cards, and you have that one. He's somewhere around, and he'll come for me soon."

She gulped in a long breath. "Thank you for telling me." She let go of his arm and knelt to retrieve the discarded braid. She handed it to him. "Take this upstairs. Let them know it's done. Then let's go home, baby, because I'm exhausted."

He pressed his forehead against hers and squeezed the back of her neck. Closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose to savor her unique perfume. "You and me?" he said.

"You and me."

She'd gotten in the shower (alone) the minute they got home. She stood under the hot spray and squeezed shampoo into her hand—the amount she always used—and as she stared at the puddle of soap the tears finally came. She squeezed a fist and shampoo squirted out between her fingers.

She smashed her balled hand into the tile wall again and again until she felt the ache down the entire length of her arm. She screamed, a sound of wordless, soul-rending rage that ripped out of her and left her throat raw and her head spinning.

How dare they. How dare any of them. She had promised herself a long time ago she would never live at a man's whim ever again. They'd held a fucking vote and cut her goddamn hair. Her hair. Hers. She was furious, violated, and she knew that wasn't even why she was so upset.

Tara was dead. Tara was dead because Olivia had been too fucking stubborn to tell anyone about the postcards. Maybe if she had they could've found Teddy. They could've stopped him, and he wouldn't have gone after Tara. And Eli. Eli had probably just been collateral damage; Teddy would never suspect Olivia would care so much about a cop.

The ironic part was Olivia knew she was safe enough for now. Teddy would pick off the people she loved one by one. He wouldn't come for her until he thought she was broken. Broken and alone.

She let the water pound against her face. It mingled with the tears and washed them away. She opened her eyes. The water stung and burned, but she didn't blink or flinch. The time for crying was done. Her fury and her fear had blinded her, made her stupid, and Tara and Eli were dead because of it.

The fear she discarded. It was suddenly easy, like shedding your clothes at the end of the day.

The rage she hugged close. She shaped it. Honed it. Sharpened it like a blade. It was her tool now, her weapon, and she would never let it control her again.

She washed her newly shorn hair and finished her shower in a state of detached calm. The anger had settled into the core of her, and it burned like ice: not hot, but cold. Impossibly, dangerously cold.

Even though it was barely after eight, Juice was already in bed when Olivia got out of the shower. It had been an exhausting and harrowing day. She pulled on a t-shirt and hip hugger panties. Ran a comb through her wet hair and met his eyes in the vanity mirror.

"At least it'll dry faster," she said. "And I'll save a shit ton on shampoo and conditioner."

He propped his chin in his hand and watched her. "Did I make the wrong call?" he said at last. "It was my idea. I couldn't think of anything else. I didn't want you—I didn't want anyone to hurt you."

She set the comb down and let out a sigh. Crawled into bed next to him and pressed her mouth against his. "You know I love you. Don't you, Juicy?""

"Yeah," he said, confused. "Of course I do."

"You did the best you could in shitty circumstances. I'm—not okay. I won't be okay for a long time. But I'm not mad at you, and I'm going to try as hard as I can not to blame you. I'm not mad about the hair. It grows back."

He ran a hand over it. The ends were already starting to dry. "I know, baby. You hated having the choice made for you. I know I'll never understand what you've been through, but I do understand how it feels to have no control over your own life."

Of all people, she knew he did. She brushed her fingers over his face and kissed him again.

"I think we'll be okay, Juicy. You and me. We've just gotta stick together. No more lies, no more secrets. I'm saying that to me probably more than I'm saying it to you."

He looked away. His jaw worked. When he looked back his eyes were a storm. "Don't ever make me do anything like this again, Olivia. Don't ever—no matter what happens, if I'm there again, I'm voting no. Hear me? I don't give a fuck about the club. Not compared to you."

Her mouth curved. "That's not true. Of course you give a fuck. They're your family. But fair enough. I robbed you of your agency; you robbed me of mine. I'd say we're even."

He scowled. "This isn't a competition, Liv. It's a relationship."

She nodded, but there was a hardness to her face he didn't like. "There are only a few ways I can make any of this right in my head. That's one of them. I told you I'm not okay."

He took her face in his hands and rubbed his thumbs against her temples. "I love you, Olivia. You're mine."

She smiled then, a real smile. "I know, Juice. You're mine, and I love you too."

Their mouths met, briefly at first, and then with increasing ardor. Her fingers crept up his chest beneath his shirt. One of his hands rested against the small of her back, but she wiggled so that it slid down to her ass.

"Are you sure?" he murmured against her lips. "After earlier—"

"Earlier was just the pre-show," she breathed. "I need you, Ortiz. I know you need me, too."

"I do," he said. "God I do, so much."

"Then show me. And take your time about it."

She didn't have to ask twice. He rolled over so that he was on top of her, and his hand had just found her breast when they heard the sound of a rapidly-approaching motorcycle. His head dropped and he let out a long stream of curses.

"It's Chibs," she said and propped herself up on her elbows.

"Again? Jesus fucking Christ."

She grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to the center of his palm. "Raincheck, babe."

She slid out of bed and, not bothering with a robe, hurried to the door. On the way she practiced exclamations of horror: she had no doubt he was here about Tara, and she had to look shocked. The grief wouldn't be feigned.

She opened the door before he could knock, and he started in surprise. "I heard your bike," she said. "What are you doing here?" She stepped back so he could come in and locked up behind him.

He hesitated. Her hair—barely to her shoulders, and ragged with it—part of him wanted to mention it, to apologize somehow, but he had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate it. She seemed to read some of his thoughts on his face, because she lifted her chin and met his eye with a defiant glare. He looked away.

"Where's Juicy?" he said.

"Here," Juice said as he appeared from the hallway.

Chibs kicked off his boots and stepped into the living room. He spun in a circle and ran a hand through his own graying hair. "It's bad, laddie."

"What's wrong?" Olivia said. She went to stand with Juice, and he slipped an arm around her waist. She leaned against him just a little, and that gesture alone told him how upset she was.

"It's Tara," Chibs said, his mouth grim and set. "She's been shot."

"Shot?" Olivia said. "What—" She broke off as the significance of his words hit her: shot, he'd said, not killed. She swallowed hard. Had Juice been wrong? Was there a chance—

"Where is she now? Is she...?" Juice sounded as rattled as Olivia felt.

"St. Thomas. She's in surgery. They don't know how bad it is, not yet, but the doc said he's hopeful. Eli Roosevelt is dead. Mother of God, lass, sit down before you fall. You look like death."

Juice got her to the couch and she raised shaking fingers to her face. Her eyes were dry, and when she spoke again her voice was strange. Cold, and absent somehow. "I think I know who did it. I think I know why." She lifted her head. "You're not going to like it."

Wait. What? Surgery?

No dead ladies, guys. It's my mantra.

ALSO. Every "how to write" guide will tell you not to linger on things like how a character styles their hair, etc, unless there's a reason for it. I hope you guys now understand why I mentioned Olivia's hair practically every time she was "on screen."