Goodbye dear friend.

That's a lie. This is my fault. I gave clay the power; I gave him my hand with the gun to pull the trigger. I swore he was my goddamn world, but I guess I lied. There are something's you can never know, and this is one. It's now my job to give you a better life; it's now Clay's job to be the father he wasn't. As for that Belfast gash, she will never know the truth, and you will never know of the pain your father caused me. Had to be done. Had to be done...

{March, 1990}

Gemma moved about the room as calmly and collectively as she could. The night was burning long like her red candles on the vacant dining room table, but Clay had come to check on her since JT had prolonged his Belfast visit. A bit thankful not having to be alone again, she accepted his invitation to help out for a while.

Clay was inevitably keeping her heart pounding while Thomas was doing the same with her head. As long as Jax, who was Gemma's first born and was 12, had his toy motorcycles he was pretty calm. Thomas on the other hand had just turned 6 on January 8th; he was born with the same heart defect as Gemma, congenital heart defect. It was hard with JT not around, not that she couldn't do it. With JT around she got more help around the house and with the kids.

Clay popping up in the picture was a miracle. She had started to notice how he looked at her was nearly the same way she looked at him.

"Sure you don't mind?" Gemma picked Thomas up out of his play pin. Though he could walk and talk, his illness often kept him bed bound. His weight had dropped dramatically; and it nearly pained Gem to see how small he looked in Clay's arms. "Sure, Gem... You sure you're okay?"

"Oh I'm fine." She forged a smirk. Of course she wasn't fine... she was scared to death she was about to lose her son.

Running her hands over her too soon aging face, Gem looked herself over in the bathroom mirror. The bags of her eyes now a deep purple, and worry lines marring her forehead. You do this to me, John.

Wrapping up in a black silk robe, Gemma leisurely crept into the living room to find Clay with a sleeping Thomas in his arms. "He's out?" Her voice was small, exactly how she was feeling. Clay nodded and prudently stood. Silently down the hall and to the right, Clay placed Thomas in his bed. A bed that was sent from the hospital, a bed that reminded her that his days were limited, and a bed he would eventually lay to rest one last time.

Back in the kitchen Gemma brewed another pot of coffee. Coffee seemed to be her life line these days.

"Beer? Coffee?" She questioned, turning to face him.

"Coffee sounds good." He took a seat at the table and fumbled with his cut.

"Gem, I don't mean to pry or anything, but any time you need help you can always let me know..."

"I know, Clay, and I appreciate it...I'm fine..."

"-you're not... I see how you've change since JT's been gone... It's eating at you, Gem." His stern voice caught her off guard. Had she really changed that much? Was it really that noticeable?

Gem grimaced and poured the coffee into two mugs.

"What am I, an open book?"

"Nah, I just know how you are... And it kills me to see you this down."

Oh.

"You're too good for this..." He added.

Gemma fidgeted with the handle on her mug, not brave enough to look up. Clay easily had her head in a war with her heart.

"Listen, I'm gonna stop by tomorrow after church, I know that John said he was coming home, but you and I both know that's probably not the case."

"I'm sure he will be home, Clay, and I know you have a lot of shit to do, don't worry about me..."

"I do."

Shit.