This chapter is on the shorter side, but that's bc the first part of ch58 is like 2.6k words long. Also, I mean. I'm trying to pace out my plot beats, so it worked better to end it where I did.

i wish i was a baby bear sleeping on the ground
winter grass in april while the sun was going down
i wish my shoes were empty
and i were still in bed with you there beside me
with your dreams inside your head
i wish the world would do what i want it to
and i wish the wind would blow me back to you
Bob Schneider, "Wish the Wind Would Blow Me"

When they got to her place Tig took the helmet from her and followed her inside. He sat to remove his boots but she flicked her fingers.

"Don't worry about it," she said.

He looked up with a frown. "I thought—"

She shrugged. "Hardly matters, does it?"

He watched her as she hung the sweatshirt on the coatrack and set the candy box on the shelf beneath it. "You think he's gonna die, don't you?"

She didn't have to ask who he meant. Her mouth twisted and she looked away. "I want to hope, Tiggy. I really do. But when do things ever work out the way we would have them?"

He thought it over, his pale eyes darkened and restless. "Tara. Tara's gonna be okay."

"Right. Tara will be okay. And Jax will kill his own mother. And all of it, the whole sorry goddamn mess, will probably rip the club apart…after everyone's done so fucking much to keep it together."

"You don't care about the club."

She winced. "Not true. Not entirely. I care about Juice, and Juice cares about the club."

"Juice's patchin' out."

It was similar to the conversation she'd had with Chibs in the van, but she wasn't as comfortable with Tig, so she didn't share her doubts with him. Instead she just hitched a shoulder. "Yeah. He is."

His frowned deepened. He wanted to pursue it, but he could tell that she'd rather he drop it. So he did. "You got any food around here?"

"Kitchen," she said. "But, um. Don't take this the wrong way, but I could actually use your help with something in the bedroom."

He lifted a brow. "Well there's an offer no sane man would pass up."

Her mouth quirked. "Tig be Tig," she said. She motioned for him to follow her, and when they got to the bedroom he froze in the doorway.

"Holy shit. What happened here?"

"Juice. I guess when he found out Teddy had grabbed us he tore the place apart looking for anything I might've held back."

"Held back? You mean he thought you hadn't given us everything?"

She blinked at him, and after a moment he grinned. "Forgot who I was talkin' to. Sorry."

"I don't need it perfect, but if you could maybe put the drawers back in?"

"Yeah, Ollie. No problem." He stepped deeper in the room and kicked clothes out of his path. He hit something and bent down to pick it up. It was a garter belt, navy blue satin with black lace trim. One of Juice's favorites. One of hers too, for that matter.

"What?" she said at his look.

"Nothin'," he said and tossed it on the bed. "I've got one just like it."

That made her laugh, but honestly with Tig it was hard to tell when he was joking and when he was being completely serious. Well. What he wanted to do in the privacy of his own bedroom was his business, not hers, and it sure as hell wasn't her place to judge.

"Yes, but;" she grabbed another scrap of lace and satin off the floor; "do you have the matching bra?"

He snorted. "Do I look like an amateur to you?"

"I would never make that mistake, Tiggy. You absolutely look like an underwear professional."

"Damn straight. I'm a fucking connoisseur."

She smirked. "Shut up and fix the drawers, Tig. And quit pawin' through my panties."

They worked for a few minutes in silence, punctuated by the sound of each drawer sliding back into place and Tig's curses when he couldn't get one lined up.

"Tiggy, can I ask you something?" she said, her voice quiet and small.

"Um." He glanced up from what he was doing with a distracted nod. "Sure, Ollie. Shoot."

She fiddled with the blouse she held. Folded and unfolded it. Cast around for a padded hanger and got it lined up perfectly before she placed it in the closet. Finally, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, and honestly I know I shouldn't even be asking…but…what did you vote?"

He straightened and leaned back against the dresser. Crossed his arms over his chest. "The other day you said you didn't want to know."

"That was the other day. But, like I said—"

"I voted yes, Ollie."

"Ah," she said, a soft exhale.

"Look, I know why you did it. And I appreciate that you didn't bring Chibby's name into it when you could've. But you ratted, Ollie. Bottom line. It didn't make me happy, but I had to vote that way."

"No," she said, her voice thick, "no, I get it. There's a code."

He sighed and glanced away. Back. "It don't mean I don't love you, kiddo. I'm real glad shit worked out the way it did."

"Yeah. Me too." She scraped a hand through her hair. "Thank you for being honest. And for taking me to see Teddy today."

"You get what you needed?"

Her mouth twisted in a bitter moue. "I think so. Um." She gathered a fresh change of clothes and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm gonna hit the shower. Make yourself at home. Food in the kitchen, like I said."

He watched her make her escape and glowered down at his boots. He was certain she'd known the answer before she'd asked, and he couldn't figure what had prompted her need to know right now. He shrugged and went back to the drawers. Like he'd told Hap: he'd lost his Olivia Gable magic decoder ring a long time ago.

If he'd ever fuckin' had one.

By the time she got out of the shower and dressed, Tig was in her kitchen stuffing his face. He had almost the entire contents of her fridge spread out on the counter and was grazing from each dish with all the discerning attention of a gourmand.

She paused in the doorway to watch him, a smile twisting her mouth. "I'll tell Juice you appreciate his cooking," she said before she caught herself. She winced and looked away.

He shrugged a shoulder. "You can still tell him. He's a lazy little shit, so he'll probably sleep as long as he can before he finally wakes up and asks what all the fuss is about."

She had to smile at the easy, offhand way he said it. He sounded so confident. She wished she could bottle that.

He examined the bowl of spaghetti he was eating. "Juicy made this?"

"You think I made it?"

"Good point," he said.

She hesitated. She knew Juice wouldn't appreciate it if she got…maudlin. Or tried to defend him to a brother. But she felt the need to say something. "There's a lot to him, you know. Way more than you guys ever see."

He set his fork aside and propped his elbows on the counter to study her. "You're an interesting and complex woman, Olivia."

Her head tilted. "Are you taking advantage of Juice's coma to hit on me, Tiggy?"

He waved a hand. "I just mean—you don't seem like the type of woman to fall for a knucklehead."

"Oh," she said with a surprised laugh. "I fell for TJ."

"You were young. We all do stupid shit when we're seventeen." He paused. "You know they say a club's only as good as its old ladies."

"I've heard that."

"You're stubborn as fuck and you make choices I don't always like, but you're good for Juice, and that's good for SAMCRO."

"Don't try to sell me on SAMCRO, Tig. I'm too tired right now."

He lifted his arms in a shrug. "Just give it some thought, Ollie. We're Juice's family. Your family. We're out of guns and drugs and Teddy'll be dead as soon as Jax gives the order. We're goin' legit, and it'll be better for everybody."

"What about the Mayans and the Byz Lats in Stockton? That gonna be good for everybody?"

"How do you know about that?" he said, his face creasing.

"Jax told me the other night. You're dodging the question."

"Not dodging. I honestly don't know the answer. Maybe with Jax in jail we can win Nero back. With his help we can smooth this shit out."

"I don't think Nero's gonna be coming anywhere near this club once Gemma mysteriously vanishes."

He shifted his weight and pushed the food away. "I'm gonna have to go to Bobby and Chibs with that pretty soon."

"Juice already did," she said, tiredly.

"What?"

"Yeah. Again, right after we were taken. He told them everything."

"Jesus," Tig said and ran a hand down his face. "That explains why they were runnin' interference between you and Gem at the hospital."

She nodded. "They're apparently sitting on it, too. I don't know that they've decided what they're going to do. They hadn't told Juice either way, so—" She broke off with a wry grimace.

Before either of them could say anything else the doorbell rang. They looked at each other. Everyone they knew would have called first, and they hadn't heard a bike outside. Tig pulled his gun and held it low. He nodded her forward and she held up a hand.

"Just hang back. I have friends outside the club."

"Like who?" he said and made a face.

"I did have friends outside the club. Once."

The house was small, and he had a pretty good line of sight to the enclosed front porch, if not quite all the way to the door. He gave a reluctant nod. "I'll stay here. Yell if you need me."

She flipped on the outside lights and peered through the peephole. The men on her doorstep looked like cops. Feds? Here about Agent Stephens? Possible.

"Can I help you?" she called without opening the door.

"Atlanta PD. Please open the door."

She pushed away from the door so violently that Tig rushed from the kitchen, gun raised. He stopped, puzzled. She waved him away.

"Can I—can I see some ID, please?" she said.

They each presented a detective's shield coupled with a picture ID and she studied them through the peephole. Okay. That seemed legit.

"What the fuck, Ollie?" Tig said.

She cast him a rueful look as she undid the locks. "It looks like Teddy's contingency just showed up on my front stoop."

His eyes went wide.

She opened the door and presented the detectives with her most honeyed smile, but when she spoke there was no trace of the South in her voice. "You gentlemen are a long way from home. How can I help you?"

"I'm Detective Barnes; this is Detective Riggs. Are you Audra Flanary?" the taller of the two said. He had sandy blond hair, watery blue eyes, and a baby face.

She shook her head. "There's no one here by that name. I'm sorry."

The shorter one—rich dark skin, shaved head, big eyes that would probably be warm under other circumstances—pulled a photo from his jacket. "This isn't you?"

"Certainly looks like me," she said.

Tig had holstered his weapon, and he stepped into the doorway that divided the porch from the living room. "Everything okay, Ollie?" he said.

"Sure," she told him, her tone deceptively casual. "I'm afraid these gentlemen have come all the way from Atlanta on a wild goose chase, though."

Barnes sighed. "Mrs. Flanary—"

"That isn't my name, Detective. I'm sorry."

"You aren't even curious why we're here?" Riggs said.

She lifted a hand. "I assume you're looking for this woman. And we do look a lot alike, so I can understand—"

"Okay," Barnes said, "that's enough."

He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her into the house. She let out a cry of pain and shock, and Tig charged forward. Riggs pulled his weapon.

"Don't fucking move, asshole," he said.

Tig froze and raised his hands. "Look, we don't want any trouble. You just tell us how we can help and we can work this out."

Riggs frisked him quickly and emerged with his gun. "I assume you've got a permit for this," he said.

"Sure, but aren't you a little far outside your jurisdiction?"

The detective hit him hard with the butt of his pistol.

"Stop!" Olivia cried. "Jesus Christ, I'm Audra Flanary. Or I was."

"See?" Barnes said. "That wasn't so hard." He spun her around and pushed her against the wall so roughly her head ricocheted off the wood.

"Hey!" Tig roared. "Watch it, fuckface!"

"One more word outta you and I pull the trigger," Riggs said.

Barnes twisted Olivia's arms behind her back and started to read her rights.

"No one's resisting arrest here, guys. Just stop."

"You lied about your name, Mrs. Flanary," Barnes told her. "That counts as resisting in my book."

"My name is Olivia Gable. I didn't lie about a fucking thing."

He wrenched her shoulder as he yanked her toward him. "Keep it up, sweetheart. You think your boyfriend's got it bad now? We can make it a whole lot worse."

She glanced over at Tig. Blood dripped down his face from the cut on his brow, but his expression was as furious as ever. He was bucking for a fight. Two armed men against one whose only weapons were his fists and his rage? Well. Normally she'd bet on Tig any day, but this might be more than he could handle.

"Call me a lawyer, Tiggy.

Their eyes met across the small space. She tilted her head just a little. Finally he nodded. "I'm followin' you to the station," he said through gritted teeth.

Riggs smirked and holstered his weapon. "Fair enough, douche bag. Gonna be kinda tricky with that flat tire on your bike, though."

"My tires are fine."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Right now."

"Tig, no!" she yelled.

He stopped himself before he'd even really moved. The muscles in his jaw twitched and danced.

"Call Chibs. Get me a lawyer. Stay calm."

"Come on, princess," Barnes said. "I'm sure your boyfriend can find a ride from one of his biker buddies."

"His ass looks like it was made for the bitch seat," Riggs said with snicker.

Barnes hauled Olivia down the steps and tossed her into the backseat of the car. Tig stood in the doorway and watched as Riggs shot out his tires and got in next to his partner. He didn't move until the car was out of the driveway and headed down the block.

He reached for his phone with a stream of curses so foul the insects seemed to hold their breath to listen. Some great bodyguard he was. Twice in less than forty-eight hours he'd had to stand by while someone hauled her away.

At least this time he had stayed awake for it.

DA Patterson and the new Sheriff (whom Olivia hadn't met yet) met them at the station. The two women took one look at Olivia's face and ordered the Atlanta detectives to deposit her in an interrogation room and, to quote the Sheriff, "take a goddamn walk before I lock you both in a room with a couple of her biker buddies."

Olivia didn't have to wait long before the Sheriff joined her with an icepack and a cup of water. Olivia grimaced her thanks and pressed the pack to her face.

"I'm Sheriff Donnelly," she said. "We haven't been introduced."

"Olivia Gable. Welcome to Charming," she said with a pained grin.

"Fantastic little town you've got here."

"Yup."

A silence fell while they studied each other. Olivia liked the look of her: steady, intelligent, and clearly hard to intimidate.

"How was Yellowstone?" she said at last.

"Great. It's really beautiful this time of year. And, you know. The wolves."

She lifted a brow. "It's funny. I thought you were involved with the one with the mohawk. Juice?"

"I'm easily bored," she said, quietly.

She absorbed that in skeptical silence. Then, "He said that you and Sheriff Roosevelt were friends."

Olivia's brow furrowed and she looked away. "We were."

"So you can understand how eager we are to find his killer."

Her eyes flicked to meet Donnelly's dark, steady gaze. "I'm eager for that, too."

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Why were those assholes from Atlanta so rough with you?"

Her mouth quirked. "They said I was resisting."

"Were you?"

"They're the cops. I guess they would know."

"Right. Barnes has a hundred pounds and nearly a foot on you, and Riggs isn't much smaller. I'm sure you gave 'em a run for their money."

She winced as she moved the icepack to another spot on her face. "It's unfortunately true that I'm not very popular in Atlanta. The father of the man I'm accused of killing has…connections."

"Hhmm," she said, a quiet, speculative noise. "You know, Roosevelt had quite a file on you."

"Did he?"

"Crime scene info from Theodore Flanary's murder. Personal notes. X-rays, which made for rough viewing. Also a lot of information about one Mick Doyle. That name mean anything to you?"

She smiled, briefly. "A great deal…but I think I'll wait for my lawyer before I say anything else."

Donnelly tilted her head in a shrug and rose to her feet. "I think the DA wanted to talk to you, too."

"I'll look forward to it," Olivia said. "Just as soon as my lawyer gets here." She paused. "Thank you. For the ice and the water. And getting rid of those guys."

"They'll be taking you to Atlanta soon."

"Think you could get me a Marshall as an escort?"

Donnelly's face scrunched. "Not sure anyone would see that as a necessity, since Atlanta came to pick you up themselves."

"Of course," Olivia said. "Well. Thanks anyway."

She cast one last curious look over her shoulder before she swapped places with a deputy and went to find DA Patterson. She had taken over Donnelly's office, which was a minor annoyance since she wasn't even completely moved in yet. Donnelly closed the door behind her and took the chair across from her own goddamn desk.

"So," Patterson said once she was settled, "what do you think?"

"Those guys worked her over pretty good. I think she's gonna have a pretty nice black eye, and she was holding her arm funny."

"Hum." She crossed her fingers on the desk and frowned down at them. "Any reason they would need such excessive force?"

Donnelly's mouth moved in a tight, angry smile. "I don't know. Two guys, both over six feet tall and two-hundred pounds, against a woman who barely clears five feet and weighs, what? A buck twenty? Thirty?" She lifted her arms. "Sure. Surprised they didn't break out the pepper spray."

Patterson's lips twisted in appreciation.

"You had a chance to peruse Eli's file?" Donnelly said.

"It's interesting reading."

"He seemed pretty convinced this Mick Doyle guy really was her father-in-law."

"Do you recognize the name?" Patterson asked, her dark eyes probing.

"I've heard it. I don't think you can be a cop and not have heard it. He's bigger on the East coast, though."

"True. Lately he and his syndicate have been making inroads in Seattle. San Diego. San Francisco." She sighed, hard. "Girls, mostly, shipped in from Asia. Drugs, too, but from what I hear they don't like competing with the Mexicans much these days. Girls are cheaper and yield more profit."

Donnelly made a disgusted face. "Sounds like a real class act."

She inclined her head in agreement. "Eli seems to indicate that Ms. Gable had some fairly deep intel on Mick Doyle and his operation. Why he chose to hold this back—and the knowledge that she was wanted for murder in another jurisdiction—is…well. It wasn't something I would have expected from him."

"Just based on the way she's been treated so far, I'm not super thrilled with sending her back, myself."

"Nor am I."

There was a long quiet moment as the two women watched each other through shrewd, careful eyes. "Are you going to offer her a deal?"

"I would like to take down Mick Doyle and his operation. I know the Feds would, too. I believe they would be in a position to offer her WITSEC and immunity for Theodore Flanary's murder."

Donnelly drummed her fingers against the arm of her chair. "That one biker, the little one with the mohawk—he said she was his old lady."

"SAMCRO exists, I believe, for the express purpose of complicating my life. Perhaps she'll agree if he can accompany her."

"Into WITSEC? A biker? Really?"

"It's worth a try, Sheriff."

"Yeah, I guess so. She said she'll talk to you when her lawyer gets here."

"Good. Hopefully she'll be willing and we can enter proffer right away. I'd like to know what she knows."

"About SAMCRO, or about Mick Doyle?"

"Either. Both."

"I have a feeling she's not going to give you the club."

Patterson's lips tightened. "It's a strange bond, that of an old lady to her man. I know that Jackson Teller deeply regrets what happened to his wife, and while I do empathize with his pain, I also can't help but think he and his violent lifestyle brought it on himself. If Ms. Gable's history is truly as…harrowing…as Eli's file would suggest, I can't imagine she relishes the violence SAMCRO deals in every day."

Donnelly remembered what Bobby had said to her the night the ice cream shop had been ransacked. He'd claimed the club hadn't been involved in Eli's murder, and they wanted to get to the bottom of it as badly as she did. He'd sounded sincere. Looked it, too. But who could tell with these guys? They were professional criminals, and lying was as easy as breathing.

Except, for some reason, Donnelly believed it. She wasn't sure she believed Bobby Munson, but something about Olivia's face when they'd talked about Eli—well. Donnelly bought it. And she didn't think he would've spent so much time and energy compiling a file like this for a stranger. It was deeply sympathetic toward her and her case, and Donnelly thought maybe they'd been quite good friends indeed.

Patterson tapped the closed file. "Do you think he was having an affair with her?" she said as if sensing the directions Donnelly's thoughts had taken.

She snorted and shook her head. "No. He was head over heels for his wife. She's pregnant, you know."

"Yes," Patterson said, her voice grim and sad, "I was aware of that."

"Besides, you didn't see the way that Juice guy flipped his shit when he thought she'd been kidnapped. He went nuts."

"Clearly a man in love," Patterson said.

"Looked like it to me."

"You think there's a way in there?"

"Could be. If we can convince him it's within her best interest to make the deal on Doyle, he might be able to convince her."

Patterson waved a hand. "Make some calls. Find him and bring him in. Go easy, though. Kid gloves."

"Any reason why?"

"No sense making him defensive before we even get him in the door. We need to look like we're doing it because we genuinely care about Ms. Gable's welfare."

Donnelly's mouth tilted. "You're the boss." She paused. "Mind if I get my phone back?"

She smiled and stood. "I'll see if I can talk to our new friends from Atlanta until Ms. Gable's attorney arrives."

"Kick 'em in the nuts for me."

"I just might, Sheriff. The thought crossed my mind."

So, okee doke. There's gonna be a bit of legal schtuffs for a minute. Mostly, like, what you just read, plus the first part of 58. Just in case you're looking for hot 'n' heavy biker action.

I think we're looking at 2, maybe 3 more chapters after this. I can't see that many more. At least 2, tho.

Also, haha, funny story. In response to the question about possible other SoA/Juice stories or Juice/Olivia stories or maybe any Juice/Olivia AUs...well. I was actually going to put in this note, before the question was asked, something along the lines of, "Is it bad that these two have become my OTP so hard that I want to write AUs about them?" Besides that, there's a lot I left out of this story. Which sounds weird considering its length, but I was focusing a lot on advancing the plot, especially in the early "seasons," so some things got skipped (a big one being Olivia/Kitty, but that's mostly bc I thought ppl wouldn't be interested in my two random OCs while half the club's in jail). I've toyed with the idea of writing some of the missing stuff; mostly Olivia/Juice type stuff; and putting it out as like supplemental reading.

As for writing more SoA in general: that's a possibility. I can't imagine writing a story with Juice as a main character that didn't include Olivia at this point, but an SoA story that focused on other characters could happen at some point, set within actual SoA canon. Honestly I'm in 100% denial about most of season 6 and all of season 7 (that hasn't even happened yet) and this fic is my new canon.