Alex took a long shower and slept a few hours before she went to Juice. Her breasts hurt so much because of the long time she had worn the chest binder that she decided to leave it at home and put on a wide SAMCRO hoodie. It was too warm to wear such a thing, but the pain was fucking annoying and she'd had enough pain for today. As long as she wouldn't give Juice another lapdance, she would be fine. Even though her crotch still felt sore, she climbed on her Harley. It was only a small distance.

Five minutes later she parked her bike in front of Juice's house, ascended the few steps to his front door, and rang the bell. She shoved her hands into her pockets. The numbness she had felt the past hours, faded away at the prospect of seeing Juice. She had missed him for the past days, and she wasn't sure everything was all right between them. Actually, she was disappointed in him; they had vented to each other time and time again and it hurt that he hadn't trusted her with his problems this time while feeling so desperate he had been willing to steal drugs from a cartel.

The light in the hallway went on. Slowly, a shadow came closer and a few seconds later the door was opened. Alex's eyes shot to Juice's immediately. His glance was blurred, confused – maybe even desperate.

"Hey," he said softly. His glance slid away from her and focused on the ground.

Sighing, Alex headed inside, closing the door behind her. "Hey, come here." She spread her arms.

Juice rubbed his eyes. The murder of his brother hadn't left him indifferent. Alex wished she could tell him what an asshole Miles had really been so he wouldn't feel so guilty, but she couldn't. Not now. He was too erratic, the last thing she wanted to burden him with was another secret. Maybe he would even feel compelled to expose her to the others because of the guilt that was suffocating him.

For a moment he seemed to hesitate, then he turned towards her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. Panic shot through her head as she realized he might be able to feel her breasts through the hoodie so that she held him a little less tight than she had wanted. Although his thoughts were probably too entangled to focus on something like that.

"I killed a friend. A brother," he whispered with a broken voice. His shoulders started to shake.

Alex rubbed between his shoulder blades, eventually moving her hand to his neck, hoping her touch would ease him a little. He had bent his head, his forehead rested upon her shoulder.

"You did," she said softly. There was no point in denying or weakening it. "We all do stupid things sometimes."

Juice cringed. "But this..." Sniveling, he breathed in.

Alex swallowed the lump in her throat. The fact that he had done this to himself frustrated her, but there was no point in telling him that. She kissed the top of his head and when he looked up she pressed her forehead against his. She could also see the others do something like this to comfort him, especially when his whole attitude was screaming for solace.

"You'll get over this," she ensured him. "It won't be easy, but you can do it. And I'll help you to get through this. Okay?"

With watery eyes, Juice looked at her. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

Alex let go of him and looked at his tied-off leg. "Does it hurt?"

He shrugged his shoulders, convincing her it wasn't the pain in his leg that was on the forefront.

"You should sit." She pushed him to the living room and followed him. She hadn't been in his house again since she had slept on the couch after Opie's wedding. She however felt comfortable enough to pour them two drinks before she sat down on the couch, next to him. He had bent his head and was staring at his hands.

Alex leaned back on the couch without saying anything. She rather gave him room to speak up, before she would sound like an interrogator. It didn't take long before Juice cleared his throat – as she had expected he was longing for a listener.

"Why did you do it? Blaming Miles? I know you didn't like him, but..."

"I hated him," she stated simply. "I'm not gonna lie about it; I won't miss him. Not for a second. In the week you guys were gone he was such an asshole that I almost put a bullet in his brain myself."

Juice looked up, his eyes wide.

Alex shrugged her shoulders. "You're my best friend, Juice. I don't give a fuck about the opinion of the others."

"If they find out, we'll both hang." His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

Again she shrugged. "They will never find out. Nobody knows the truth beside us."

The foot of his healthy leg tapped in a quick pace against the floor, showing how nervous he felt.

"Why did you steal the drugs?"

His eyes shot towards her face, to the ground, and back to her. Then he shook his head, rubbing his face.

"You still don't trust me?" she asked annoyed. "Man, what else do you want me to do besides covering up a fucking murder?"

He took a deep breath and nodded, staring forward as if he'd been in a debate with himself. "Roosevelt discovered who my old man is," he said. His eyes reflected the fear he felt, but which Alex didn't understand yet.

"So?"

"He's black."

She raised her eyebrows. "So?"

"No black people can join the club."

"You look pretty white to me. At most a hint of brown, but that goes for Happy too."

"But neither of his parents is black."

"You're afraid they'll banish you?"

With a bent head and slumped shoulders, he nodded. "And without the club... I'm nothing without the club."

"You're a great guy, Juice, with or without the club."

He looked up, there was a sad smile on his lips.

Man, she wanted to pull him close so badly, telling him everything would be fine. But according to men's terms, they had cuddled enough for today.

"I don't believe they will turn their backs on you for something like that. I really don't. Everybody loves you, Juice, that ain't gonna change 'cause of one stupid rule."

"Those club rules exist for a reason," he muttered. "Even if they disagree, they're bound to it."

"I can't imagine there's a rule that's literally saying someone with a black father can't become a member. Sounds like it's a topic open for discussion."

He looked at her again. Tears were shining in his eyes. He was scared, so scared to lose the club.

Alex tried to tie his confession to the drugs, which wasn't that hard. "The police forced you to steal the drugs? They were blackmailing you, threatening to tell the club about your origin?" Cursing, she shook her head. "Motherfuckers. That ain't legal, man."

Juice sighed. "They wanted me to take a sample of the drugs, so they could determine its origins. They want to round up the cartel and promised to give the club immunity. This was some kind of test to see how trustworthy I was." A silence fell before he continued: "Last night I took the brick. I wanted to take a sample and put it back, but I fell asleep."

Alex blinked her eyes. "What? You fell asleep?"

He moved his hand across his mohawk, looking away again. "My head was a mess. I didn't know if I had to do it or not, and in the end, the stress just wore me out. When I woke up the next morning, I hid the brick and when I got back later to return it, Miles saw me."

She rubbed her forehead. "And you still took that sample? Did you hand it to Roosevelt?"

"No, not yet," he muttered.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Juice," she snapped. "After all this shit you still took the sample?"

"I did it before the shooting. I just – I just don't know what to do."

"Give it to me, I'll get rid of it." She shoved a little to the side, so her upper body was turned towards him. "Listen to me, Juice. If you go along with them, they will never let you go. You will be their puppet, they will keep asking things from you. More and more shit will pile up until you're buried beneath it. Time and again they will find new things to demand from you and in the end, someone will find out. And then you'll drag me into the grave as well."

He looked at her, despair was radiating from his face. "Then what should I do?"

"Don't let them push you around any longer. Wait until Roosevelt picks you up again, tell that asshole to shove the intel about your dad into his ass, and tell the club they tried to blackmail you and with what. Miles is dead, it's obvious they'll try to find a 'new' mole. Use that. I assume nobody knows about your little chats with Roosevelt?"

He shook his head. "No. Only the first time."

"Good." She grabbed his hand, ignoring the fact that it might confuse him, and squeezed. "Have faith in the club, Juice. In your brothers, in me, instead of putting trust into those assholes. They only wanna bring you down. You got that?"

He looked at her, with a pleading look in his eyes. Then he nodded, holding her glance.

"Yeah, okay. I'll do that."