Against her better judgement, Alex hoped that Juice had left the house when the door was closed. She just wanted to be alone for a while, she had to process the things that had just been said. Piney was dead. She hadn't been close with the man - all she had seen him do was drinking and grumbling - but she knew him longer than most of the men. Once more she realized how fucked up all of this was. She was used to her life being in danger ‒ but in the past the danger had only been lurking when they were on a mission, when they were on hostile grounds. Piney however was murdered in his own house. And Clay... he was hit in front of his own garage, in front of his own clubhouse. Just as happened to her, a few weeks ago ‒ but back then she had believed it was an incident. As it seemed, it was turning into a habit now. 

As she heard the door to the living room open, she gritted her teeth. Great. He was still around. She didn't look aside when he sat down next to her. Contrary to earlier today, he didn't touch her. Grimly, she stared forward. 

"You want a joint?"

The offer came so out of the blue that she raised her eyebrows ‒ although it wasn't a weird suggestion at all. It wasn't the first time they would smoke pot when something was bothering them. 

"You gotta go to the hospital soon."

He shrugged his shoulders. "We can share one."

Alex couldn't think of a reason to disagree. "Fine."

His face was blank when he took a baggy of pot out of his pocket and started to roll a joint. For a while she observed him, realizing that he had known Piney for years. 

"Are you okay?" she asked. Focusing on his feelings was still easier than confronting her own. 

"No."

She didn't know what to answer. Having deep conversations with him had never been difficult, and a few weeks ago she had undoubtedly known what to say to him, but right now she couldn't think of a single comforting word and the silence was cutting her soul. 

When the joint was rolled, Juice walked outside in silence, sitting down on a garden chair ‒ the same one where he had been sitting when she had shut him out. Literally, that time. Now she was doing the same figuratively speaking. She knew it damn well, but it was just fucking hard to change it. Therefore she didn't follow him immediately, but kept sitting at the table. His coldness was getting on her nerves just as much as his clingy behavior and she wasn't sure what was more disturbing. Part of her wanted to be alone, wanted to cut herself off from everything and everyone, shoving the things she had just heard to a far corner in her mind where it wasn't bothering her and just move on, acting like nothing had happened. Deep down she however knew she would not only lose Juice that way, but also the club. And still... still it was so tempting, so easy to do it in her own way.

Eventually she stood up and headed outside. Instead of sitting down on the chair next to him, she glided on his lap. Although she didn't think he would push her away ‒ that was rather something she would do ‒ she didn't know what response to expect. When he wrapped an arm around her waist she felt remarkably relieved, making her relax a little. He lifted his right hand, encouraging her to take the joint. She took the cigarette from between his fingers, taking a drag. Breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes, resting with the back of her head against his shoulder.

For a long time she stared forward in silence. Her head was pounding, her breathing stuck in her throat. When the joint was finished, Juice wrapped his other arm around her as well, holding her tight. 

A tear was tickling the corner of her eye. She didn't know what was the cause; what had happened to Clay and Piney or the fact that there was someone who was holding her right now, who wanted to be with her, even when she was a total bitch. 

"At least Kozik's life is no longer in danger," Juice said after a while. "That's something good..."

"Yeah..." She sighed, hesitated and forced herself to speak out her thoughts. "I had actually accepted the idea that he would die. That I had made him suffer for nothing."

"Well... fortunately you're wrong sometimes." 

She shivered as his lips softly pressed against the muscle in her neck. He sounded calm ‒ he felt calm. Within her raged so many emotions that she wanted to tear her chest open to let them out. Should she say that to him? Was that the openness he was longing for? But it was precisely the fact that he looked so stable, while it had been the opposite in the past, what gave her the feeling that she was overreacting. 

"I'm glad you're with me," she said eventually. That was also true ‒ and it was easier to admit. She had thought different about it when Chibs had been in her house, not knowing how gay-Shane should behave. Before her sponsor had shown up, she had wanted him to believe that Juice and she were done, but maybe it was better this way. She was keeping enough secrets from him and he had already shown her that he wasn't too font of secrets. The other Sons however didn't need to know; she didn't want Juice and her to show their affection in public. He had slipped up her real name once, she was sure it would happen again when the lines between Alex and Shane where getting thinner and thinner. 

"I'm glad to hear that. I honestly thought you would push me away again." He strengthened his grasp around her, letting his chin rest on her shoulder.

"That was my first instinct," she admitted. "I hoped that you had left. Then I'd probably kicked the table, hurt my leg and made the pain and the news disappear with a bottle of scotch. So yeah, you did well, giving me some room."

His lips grazed her jaw. "We'll figure this out," he said in a light tone. 

Closing her eyes, she leaned in to him. His arms around her felt nice, even though it also caused a feeling of vulnerability which she hated. 

"I find it... hard. What happened to Piney. And that he is already cremated, without a ceremony, without his brothers around him. The last funeral had been much bigger. And that wasn't even the founder of the club, but a..." He swallowed his words. 

"But a prospect," she completed his sentence bitterly, knowing he was talking about her brother's funeral. 

"That was a beautiful goodbye," he continued. "With lots of people, many Sons..."

Alex dropped her eyes. She didn't know if she was relieved that he talked about it or that she hated it. "What did his coffin look like?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Black, shiny... With SAMCRO written on the side in white. There was a picture frame on top with a photo from his time in the army."

Alex's lips started to quiver. She tried to picture it; all those men together, the croweaters with whom he had slept... but she hadn't been there. Not a single family member had been there. "You must have thought that I was a horrible sister, for not showing up at the funeral of my little brother."

"I can't remember if anyone mentioned you." Slowly, he retreated his arm to her side, gently stroking his hand up and down. "We're all from broken families. Most of us haven't spoken to their siblings in years, I don't think anyone noticed you weren't there. And I think he told us you were in the army. Maybe we should have thought about that, so we could have waited for your return. But it was all organized by the club, and those were such chaotic days. It was a mess, just like it is now. Abel was just kidnapped and most of us had fourteen months of prison hanging over their heads... But we did sew his top rocker to his cut. I don't know if someone already told you that?"

Alex shook her head. "No," she muttered. "I barely talked about it with anyone, I was always afraid to break." Right now, she also felt the tears stinging her eyes. "Tara only told me how he died. With a little more detail."

Taking a deep breath, she tried to man up. Still a tear glided down her cheek. As soon as she wanted to wipe it away, his fingers folded around her hand. 

"Don't try to stop it," he said softly. "It's okay to mourn. You will feel relieved, trust me."

She shook her head and tried to stand up, to break away from his embrace, trying to keep him from seeing her tears but he only pulled her closer. 

"You don't have to feel ashamed for tears like this, Alex. Believe me. You have to let go of them."

"I don't have to do anything!" she snapped before she realized it. "Let me go! Let me fucking go Juice!" Her voice cracked, and suddenly all her limbs felt heavy; it felt like all energy was drained away.

And then her shoulders started to shake, tears pushed themselves between her eyelashes and all she could do right now, was sob. Juice turned her on his lap so she was sitting sideways; then he pulled her close, with her cheek against his chest.

"It's okay," he said in a soothing voice, kissing the shaved part of her head. "Every tear is a piece of your grieving process. It's a little bit of strength because you're finally brave enough to face your pain."

Clutching his shirt between her fingers, she leaned against him, still crying. In her head she kept repeating his words, adding her own encouragements to it. I'm not weak. It's okay to cry. It will make me stronger.