Whew. Okay. It's all heating up now, and I can sense that we're in the home stretch. Any reviews you have just kinda lyin' around would really help me power through. :D

in the locust wind comes a rattle and hum
jacob wrestled the angel
and the angel was overcome
you plant a demon seed
you raise a flower of fire
see them burning crosses
see the flames higher and higher
U2, "Bullet the Blue Sky"

It didn't take Chibs long to find Juice. He hadn't wasted time checking Juice's place or any bars he'd known him to haunt; he went straight to Ollie's. And sure enough, there was Juice's bike parked in the driveway. The front door was partially open, and Chibs pulled his gun (just to be safe) and pushed his way in.

"Juicy?" he called. "It's Chibs. Where are you, lad?"

He heard a series of thumps from the bedroom. Still wary, he checked behind each door on his way back, and once he got there he stopped in the doorway and his mouth fell open. The room was a shambles. Clothes from the closet were scattered over the bed. Drawers had been pulled from the bureau and the vanity. The contents of her lingerie chest littered the rug.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what happened here?"

Juice popped his head out of the closet. "Chibs," he said. "I didn't hear you come in."

He holstered his gun. "No wonder, lad. What the hell have you done?"

"She didn't tell me about the postcards or the pictures. I don't think she gave us everything she has on Doyle; she'd want an insurance policy. I've gotta find the real file. The one that has all of it."

Chibs' brow creased. "What pictures?"

Juice emerged the rest of the way and headed for the chest of drawers. It's where he kept his stuff, but he'd never checked the bottom of the drawers or the inside.

"Juicy!" Chibs said as he started pulling them out. "Stop now, lad. Do you really think Ollie stashed anything here? Especially after the invasion?"

He paused. "Her car," he said. "It's back at the shop. She probably—"

Chibs grabbed him as Juice tried to push past. "Just hang on a minute. What pictures are you talkin' about?"

He shook his head and jerked away. "In the file she gave us there were pictures of her. Pictures she took while she was still with TJ. Evidence—of what they did to her."

"They?" he said, his mouth forming a grim line.

"TJ and Doyle." He pressed his hands against his scalp. "Fuck, Chibs, fuck. He's gonna hurt her so bad. He's gonna hurt her and there's nothin' I can do." He staggered and might have fallen, but Chibs was there to catch him.

"All right, Juicy. All right. Breathe, laddie. We'll find her, her and Tiggy both. We just gotta be smart about it. Keep our heads."

Juice slumped against him and didn't bother to check the tears that coursed down his face. "I asked her to marry me," he said.

Chibs went still. A small smile twisted his mouth. "Oh, aye?" he said, carefully.

He gave a sloppy nod. "I didn't plan it. It just kinda came out. I thought she'd flip."

"Did she?"

"A little. But today—this afternoon—before I left to meet you guys in Stockton, she said yes."

"Ah, Juicy!" Chibs seized his face and planted a smacking kiss on his forehead. "It's good of her to make an honest man of you. Generous lass, our Ollie."

"Ha," he said, half a laugh. Then his expression crumbled. "I love her so much, Chibby."

Chibs pulled him into a tight embrace. "I know you do, laddie. I know you do." He held him out at arms' length and shook him. His head lolled. "Listen to me, Juicy. That woman loves you—God knows why, but she does—and she wants to spend her life with you. Are you goin' to let her down now?"

"Probably," Juice said.

"Don't be daft!" He shook again, harder. Some life finally sparked through his dull eyes, and he met Chibs' angry gaze with a puzzled frown.

"Why are you here?" he said.

"I came lookin' for you. Figured you didn't need to be alone just now."

"I thought you and Bobby'd be plannin' my execution by now."

Chibs' mouth went hard. He pulled the patches from his pocket and pressed them against Juice's chest. He looked down, surprised, and accepted them before they could drop.

"You're our brother, Juicy. Bobby's not happy with you, I won't lie, but he's willin' to give you another chance."

"Again?" Juice said with a cynical curl to his mouth.

"Aye, again. Luckily he doesn't know about the first time." He scraped a hand down his face and turned away. "I told her what I voted," he said at last.

"Huh. What'd she say?"

He hitched a shoulder. "I told her it was to repay a debt between us."

"Why would you say that? That's bullshit, Chibs."

"Mostly, aye. But I knew it would piss her off—which it most certainly did—and she needed that anger. Coming to the table like that, vouching for you…it seemed like the actions of a woman who had given up. I couldn't let her give up."

Juice cleared his throat. "You know what's been goin' on with her?"

He turned slowly. "About the abortion, you mean? Aye."

"She had that, and then the postcards, and then after what happened that day, with Clay and Bobby gettin' shot—it was a lot. Too much, I guess."

"Too much for you, too, sounds like."

He hung his head. "I didn't want to die, Chibby."

"Oh?"

"I just wanted a little quiet. Some peace. All that shit with Clay…it fucked me up. Everything with the club's fucked me up lately."

He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. "Olivia doesn't fix me. She's not magic. It's not like that. But when I'm with her it's like…it's like I can see another way. I can see how life could be. It's a life I want, Chibs. I want it so fuckin' bad."

"Then sew your fuckin' patches back on and let's go find your woman."

"That easy?"

"For now. One crisis at a time, Juicy m'lad."

His brow furrowed. He looked down at the patches and squeezed them in his fist. "You and Bobby gonna tell everyone else about Gemma?"

Chibs let out a long sigh. "I don't know." He frowned and wandered to the window. It wasn't quite dark yet, and tendrils of pink and lavender streaked the sky. The sunset's beauty was lost on him and as he wrestled with long thoughts.

"I never imagined this would be an issue we'd have to face."

"Well," Juice said, "she did hold a gun on a baby one time."

He huffed out a dry, unamused chuckle. "Special circumstances. She was tryin' to get Abel back."

"I think she'd say these were special circumstances. When she got there she thought Tara had ratted."

Chibs cast a frown over his shoulder. "When she got there? Did something happen to change her perception?"

"Tara and I both told her she didn't."

His brows drew together. "And she shot her anyway?"

"I think it was too late. She was completely out of it."

"Fuck me sideways," he muttered. "What the fuck do we tell Jackie? He doesn't have it bad enough, rottin' in jail while his wife's in the hospital? Now we gotta tell him his mam's the one who put her there?! Who's gonna look after those boys?"

"Ahh…we might not have to tell Jax."

"What d'you mean?" he said as he pivoted around.

He told Chibs about the pictures Olivia and Tig had found that afternoon. "She said it's likely Doyle has copies. Who knows what he's planning to do with them."

Chibs was silent for a long time. Finally, "There are men in this club who are very loyal to Gemma."

"You," Juice said.

"I'm loyal to Jackson. I'm loyal to the club. I know the choice Jax would make; that's my choice, too." He raised his head and pinned Juice with an incredulous glare. "You are the one who covered for her."

"Because it's what Clay would've wanted. I owed Clay. I had to do somethin' to make it right."

"Clay's dead, lad," Chibs said, bluntly.

"No fucking shit. I covered for her once, and now it's done. Debt settled. For real—not like that bullshit you tried to feed Olivia about your vote. Right now I care about getting Olivia back safe, and I care about keeping the club together. In that order."

"Juicy—" Chibs broke off and frowned. "You need to do some deep soul-searching before you sew on those patches. I understand how you feel about Ollie, but you can't have your loyalty divided. You've gotta choose."

"Then I choose her," he said, without any sort of hesitation or doubt.

"I thought you would say that." He ran a hand through his hair with a glower. "Come back until we find her. After that patch out the right way. I do not want to have to hunt you down, brother. I do not want to have to kill you."

"Brother," he said with an ironic snort. "We still brothers, Chibs?"

"Aye," he said, shortly. "We are."

"And after I patch out?"

"Doesn't really work that way, Juicy."

"I know how it works," he said. "That's not what I'm asking."

He met Juice's dark, serious gaze with a thoughtful look. "Aye, lad," he said at last. "I could have left for my Fiona, but I know we're better apart than together. It's different for you and Ollie. That woman is the best thing to ever happen to you. If you gave her up for this club you'd be making a mistake so stupid I'm not sure I could, in good conscience, let you do it. So, aye. We'll still be brothers even when you're not a Son anymore."

"Good," he said. He looked relieved, and he even managed to eke out a smile. "I'm real glad to know it, Chibby."

His face fell as he looked around the room. "She's gonna fuckin' kill me."

Chibs clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck there, laddie. Might be we'll need to keep you after all."

"At least help me find the sewing kit?"

Chibs had left him alone to sew his patches, and for nearly half an hour after he left Juice just sat on the floor in the bedroom with his knees drawn up and his arms propped on them. He groped to his right and came up with a blouse: white, filmy, with pearl buttons down the front and at the cuffs. He held it to his nose and took a deep breath.

It was so Olivia it made him ache. Pretty, feminine, a little old-fashioned. Not fussy. Just—what did she say all the time? Vintage.

He sighed and put it aside. Flipped open the sewing kit and carefully threaded a needle.

There were clothes everywhere, he thought as he worked, and he'd only emptied out about half the closet in his search. She loved clothes, and since leaving TJ she'd kept her wardrobe necessarily small. And when she was with TJ, he, of course, controlled every stitch she wore. After she'd decided to stay in Charming she'd made it her mission to fill the big bedroom closet with as much as she could possibly stuff in it.

She'd told him years ago that on her days off she wanted to look as little like the shop as possible, and she'd meant it. She rarely wore jeans when she wasn't working. T-shirts, either, unless it was to sleep.

She was also unapologetically addicted to lingerie. The pieces scattered on the floor ranged from sweet to sexy to scandalous. She liked to wear lacy panties under her grease-spattered jeans. Silk teddies with her cute dresses. It was always a nice surprise to see what she had on under her clothes—and if that wasn't a perfect metaphor for the woman herself, Juice couldn't think of one.

She tried so fucking hard to make everyone think she was untouchable. Hard and cynical and aloof. That was part of her. Not all, but part. She gave herself away in a thousand small ways, though: she always knew when someone needed a kind word and was the first to offer it; she was endlessly patient with Chucky's eccentricities; baby elephants made her giddy.

He bit off the thread and started on the Original patch.

He wished now he'd taken her to Disneyland. She'd asked to go one day, out of the blue, and said she'd loved Disney World when her parents took her as a kid. He'd promised her they'd go, but somehow with one thing and another they hadn't made it.

"Not too late," he muttered as he sewed. He reached for the Man of Mayhem patch and paused. He'd always hated this one. But Clay had given it to him, and he'd sure as fuck earned it. He'd killed for the club more than once.

With a bitter sigh he stuck the needle in. He was actually pretty good at this. Olivia was right; it was soothing. Something about pushing the needle in, pulling it out, keeping his stitches neat and even; all of it helped to calm his disordered mind.

By the time he was done with the last patch he felt better. Chibs had been right about one thing: he couldn't find her alone, and it was stupid to pit himself against the club now. If they weren't going to punish him for protecting Gemma then he should use whatever help they offered. And Tig was missing, too. Things were more uncertain than they'd ever been; they needed to stick together.

He started to swing the cut over his shoulders when his eye snagged on something. That fucking Yes t-shirt. Goddamn. He grabbed it and ran his fingers over the fading image on the front. His mouth curved as he remembered that day in the hospital. He'd been so fucking in love with her. Stupid in love. Infatuated from the moment they met—switchblade, grungy car, amazing sex on a cheap motel table—and completely lost at the first peek of the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

He thought maybe it had happened the night of the bomb. The first bomb, the one that'd hurt Chibs so bad. Her ridiculous, ripped-apart house and that kiss she tried so hard to fight and then, finally, the next morning when he caught her with her hair down and she said she hated motorcycles.

You really aren't old lady material, he'd told her. The memory made him laugh now, though at the time he'd been ready to kick himself.

Anyway, while that might've been when he fell for her, he hadn't realized it until he saw her in this stupid t-shirt at the hospital. She'd had paint spattered on her arms and legs, like extra freckles, and she'd crawled up into bed next to him and they'd watched cruddy daytime TV and eaten cookies. She'd done it despite her fear and her desire to keep a distance between them. She'd done it because he'd needed it, and that was just the type of person she was. He'd told her different, once, but that had been because he thought maybe it'd freak her out to know he'd loved her that long. She was a woman who thought she had to earn someone's affection, which in his mind was ridiculous. You either loved someone or you didn't; earning it was beside the point.

He poked around the sewing kit until he found a pair of scissors. He carefully cut out the band name—yes, in curvy, psychedelic letters—and threaded another needle. He sewed it to the inside of his cut, into the lining. She'd probably be pissed that he'd cut up her shirt (or maybe not; she didn't actually like the band and it had only been fifty cents), but he wanted it as a good luck charm. A sort of talisman.

She'd been wearing it the day he realized his life was a much shittier thing without her in it. She'd also been wearing it yesterday, when he cut her hair. Somehow she'd forgiven him for that, and for covering up what Gemma had done to Tara, and apparently at some point between the hospital and the haircut she'd realized her life was shittier without him in it.

And so, today, she'd said it.

Yes.

It was cheesy. Sappy and sentimental and exactly the sort of thing that would make her roll her eyes while she tried not to grin. He smoothed the cotton and tied off the thread. Pushed himself up from the floor and pulled his cut on over his gray t-shirt.

"Time to quit mopin', Ortiz," he told his reflection in the vanity mirror. He had to get to TM—the club's new temporary clubhouse—and figure out how the fuck he was gonna get his girl back.

When Juice got to the garage the place was in an uproar. Chibs immediately hustled out and hauled him off his bike.

"Nothin' about Gem, yeah? We'll tell 'em when things've calmed down some. For now we got news."

"About Olivia and Tig?"

"Aye. Come on, lad. Try to keep your head."

He frowned. What kind of news? He didn't ask. He'd find out soon enough.

Everyone was already there when Juice and Chibs got inside. Bobby was talking to Happy, but when he saw Juice he paused. Juice braced himself as Bobby lumbered over. He scanned him from top to bottom, his bearded face guarded and closed. Juice stripped off his hoodie and Bobby took careful note of the re-applied patches on his cut. After a moment he smiled and pulled Juice into an embrace.

"Good to have you back, brother," Bobby muttered against his ear. "Stay steady. We're gonna get through this."

"Thanks, Bobby," Juice said. "Sorry about earlier."

Bobby clapped him on the back almost hard enough to stagger him before he pulled away.

"All right," Bobby said. He knocked the gavel against one of the tool chests. It made an odd, metallic clang, and the room went silent. "Hap and Quinn got some news for us from Chucky."

"How's he doin'?" Rat said. Chucky was weird, but they all liked him. He was kind of like a club mascot or something.

"Like I told Chibs, he's a little out of it. Honest, I don't think Doyle was tryin' to kill him," Happy said. "The cut wasn't that deep. Just looked real bad."

"He cut his wrist?" Bobby said with a confused scowl.

"Which side?" Chibs said.

"Left," said Quinn.

Juice let out a weary sigh. "Like Olivia's. Her escape plan."

"She tried to kill herself, right?" Rat said.

Juice shook his head and gestured at Chibs. He didn't have the energy to tell the story.

"All right, lads, I guess we need a little history lesson. Some of you are new, some of you weren't full patch, some of you just don't know our Ollie that well. She's a secretive one."

He paused and gathered all their eyes to him. "Mick Doyle is the man we're after. His real name is Teddy Flanary, and Ollie was married to his son."

He gave them a brief run-down of the kind of men TJ and Teddy were, and what Olivia had done to escape them. He also outlined TJ's fate (including details that made the new guys wince), and some of the more notorious crimes that had been pinned on Doyle and his crew.

"Our goal is to get Tiggy and Olivia back alive and as unharmed as possible," Bobby said. "That ain't gonna be easy, not from this guy. Not with a vendetta like he has."

They all looked disconcerted by Chibs' explanation—except Juice, who had virtually no affect at all. He knew more than any of them did, and there wasn't much of anything Chibs could've said to shock or disturb him.

"Okay, back to Chuck," Chibs said and turned the floor over to Happy.

"That lady Sheriff showed up with some kinda picture. Said it was left at the scene. Chucky told her he didn't know what it was, but after she left he told us he recognized the place."

That got Juice's attention. He pushed himself off the edge of the counter and took a step forward. "Where?"

Chibs held up a hand to quiet him.

"It's an old warehouse down near Stockton. The Chinese used to use it for storage and shit, but Chuck said they got rid of it right before he went down," Happy said.

"And he recognized it out of hundreds of other warehouses down near Stockton?"

Happy shrugged. The look on his face spoke volumes about Chucky. "He said somethin' about a tree. I don't fuckin' know."

"He was pretty adamant," Quinn said. "He gave us an address, but we didn't wanna go check it out without bringin' it back here."

"Smart, fellas," Chibs said.

"This's probably a trap," Bobby rumbled. "Why the fuck would he just let us waltz up to his fuckin' warehouse and grab 'em?"

"Definitely a trap," Happy said. "Don't sound like there's much stupid about this guy."

"We got any choice?" Juice said. "He obviously left the picture for a reason. If he wants us there, we gotta be there. Maybe he's gonna give us Tig." He hitched a shoulder. "No reason he wants Tig anyway, except to bargain with."

"That a bargain you're willin' to make?" Bobby said.

"Depends on what he's asking." Juice paused. "He won't offer to trade Olivia for Tig. I doubt he'd trade Olivia for Fort Knox and a dragon."

"A…dragon?" Rat said with a disbelieving blink.

"I was tryin' to think of somethin' real rare," Juice explained.

"Okay," Chibs said to forestall any further chatter, "I think we're all agreed it's a trap, but I also think we agree with Juicy that we've got no choice but to check it out." He cast a quick eye around the room and was greeted with nods from everyone.

"Aye," he said grimly. "Well then. I suggest we come up with a plan that would allow at least a few of us to survive even the most devious trap his weasely Irish mind could think up."

It had been a good plan. A real good plan.

Problem was, they'd planned for shit like bombs or armed guards or even fuckin' snipers. They had not planned for a ridiculously sexy blonde tied (naked) to a pole. None of them were stupid, and they were all full grown adults, but it was difficult for even the steadiest man to keep his head around a gorgeous naked woman begging for help.

Happy, Juice, and Chibs were the first ones in. Quinn and Mendez should be through the back any second, but the warehouse was way too big to communicate. Bobby, Rat, and West were posted along the perimeter to take care of any potential snipers or backup.

They'd been reminded, as they'd made the plan, how painfully thin their ranks were.

Chibs stopped them with a gesture, and they huddled behind a large pile of crates to talk it over.

"We gotta ignore her," Happy said. "She's fuckin' bait."

"What if she's not?" Juice said. "Olivia said one of the reasons she killed TJ is because he was linin' somebody up to take her place. What if that girl is Doyle's new Olivia? We can't just leave her."

"Christ on the cross," Chibs muttered. "All right. Hap, head toward the others at the back. Let 'em know what's happening. Juicy, you're with me."

Happy broke right while Chibs and Juice broke left. Chibs left Juice to guard his back as he approached the woman. He pressed a finger to his lips to keep her quiet, and she gave an eager nod. Eyes wary and watchful, he knelt behind her and set his gun near his foot. He pulled his knife and started on the wire ties that held her wrists.

He hesitated a moment, eyes narrowing, at the tattoo on her shoulder. He knew that symbol. Anyone who knew anything about Mick Doyle knew that symbol.

"I've been his prisoner for so long!" the woman breathed. "You're my hero!"

She sounded like she was reading from some kind of cheesy action movie script. Chibs cut the last tie and grabbed his gun. She spun around and smirked at his look of surprise.

"Well, lass, I don't suppose I want to know where you were hiding that," he said with a nod toward the gun she held. It was a compact .22, a lady's gun, but he knew full well it could do the job if she were a good enough shot. He had a feeling Doyle wouldn't risk her if she weren't.

"Don't worry, baby," she purred. "I'm not gonna shoot you."

He grinned. "That makes one of us, honey." He pulled the trigger. She stared down at her chest in shock. He shot her again and she spun away and fell. Her mouth opened and closed like a landed fish and her fingers scrambled against the cold concrete floor.

He strode to her side and pressed the gun against her temple. Leaned down so that his mouth was just by her ear. "Tell me where they are, sweetheart, and I'll make it quick."

"He's—" She broke off to choke as blood bubbled up. "He's gonna fucking kill you for this."

Chibs' smile turned feral. "He can try, darlin'. He can sure as fuck try."

"Step back!" a voice commanded from behind them.

Chibs spun, weapon raised, but he stopped short. Juice and Happy were escorted by four or five heavily armed commando types. One had an AK aimed at Chibs. Old fashioned, Chibs mused, but effective.

"Girl's dead already," Chibs said. "I'm sure your boss will be thrilled at the bang up job you did protecting her."

"She's cannon fodder," one of them said with a snort. "Boss's got ten more just like her beggin' to take her place."

Behind Chibs the woman let out a soft cry. The guard who'd spoken shot her in the forehead without hesitating, cold and clinical like a fuckin' machine. Chibs stared, astounded. It seemed, despite all their preparation and all of Olivia's warnings, they'd somehow managed to underestimate Teddy Flanary after all.

It was stupid and amateurish, and not a mistake they'd make again.

Poor Cindy. :(

Things are gonna get kinda hairy next chapter, loves. Let's hope it all works out for Our Heroes.