DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

Jax sat in the darkened bar, waiting for the clubhouse's latest arrival. Kozik had called a few hours ago from the state line. Fortunately for everyone involved, Tig had spent the better part of the night with a bottle of Jack Daniels and was passed out in his room at the very back. Jax knew the two of them being under the same roof was a risky proposition, but what else could he do? He'd decided it had been better not to even ask Tara if Kozik could crash on their couch.

As president, Clay should be the one sitting here, but he'd played the old man card. He was sound asleep at home, his stepson wishing he was at his little house with Tara's soft, warm body next to him. Jax was starting to doze off sitting up when he heard the characteristic purr of a Harley-Davidson. He opened the door and gave his brother a handshake hug.

Up close, Kozik looked strung out; his eyes were slightly sunken with dark rings beneath them. He was pale. Edgy, too. When Jax let go, Kozik kept shifting his weight from one leg to the other, drumming his fingers against the strap of a worn backpack. He'd probably had it since Desert Storm. Jax hoped Kozik's behavior was just a side effect of the long trip from Tacoma. As far as he knew, the dragon had been off his friend's back for a few years. Jax led Kozik down the hall, nudging open the first door on the left. Kozik dropped his saddlebags and backpack next to the bed.

Jax took out his phone and started dialing. "I better let my mom know you're here and not dead in a ditch."

"You don't hafta call her now, dude. It's not even light out yet," said Kozik, holding back a yawn.

"You must not remember Gemma very well." She must've answered because the next thing Jax said was, "Hey, it's me. Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to let you know that Koz just got here. You don't have to do that. Okay, sure, fine. See you soon. Bye." Jax hung up and reported, "Gemma's on her way with some breakfast stuff."

"Right now?"

"I guess." Jax shrugged. "Her idea, not mine."

Jax left to start a pot of coffee. There was no point in going home and trying to go back to sleep; he'd just have to wake up for work at Teller-Morrow in a few hours. Kozik sat down hard on the end of the bed. Almost 13 hours of straight riding had taken it out of him, a lot more than it used to. He knew he should really take off his boots before putting his feet up, but he didn't think he even had the energy to shrug out of his kutte. Kozik leaned back until his head hit the pillow. He shut his eyes, feeling like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the old mattress.

When Gemma arrived with the makings of French toast, she smelled coffee perking but didn't see their guest at the bar waiting for a cup.

"Morning, Jax," Gemma greeted her son with a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Koz?"

Jax pointed a thumb over his shoulder. Gemma deposited her groceries in the kitchen and went down the hall, spotting him through the open door. Kozik was lying flat on his back atop the covers, one arm draped over his eyes to block out the rising sun. Gemma thought he must be uncomfortable with his knife handle digging into his ribcage and his holstered gun still on his hip, but stripping weapons off a sleeping Son would be tantamount to suicide. She shut the blinds and took an old blanket off the desk chair. With a mother's practiced ease, she carefully laid it over him. Kozik made a little noise in his throat, but didn't wake up. She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Back in the kitchen, Gemma put Bobby's favorite frying pan on the stove and dropped a pat of butter into it. No sense in letting the supplies go to waste.

"You find him?" Jax wanted to know. When Gemma nodded, he pointed to the stove. "Want me to wake him up when that's ready?"

"No!" Gemma looked scandalized by the idea. "He's exhausted. Poor baby." Gemma added, now fork-whipping eggs and milk in a bowl.

Those weren't exactly the words most people would use to describe SAMTAC's sergeant at arms, but Gemma was a breed of her own.

"Room service might be better," Jax suggested, hoping his mother got the hint.

"Not a bad idea," Gemma acknowledged with a tilt of her head. "I was thinking, Jackson. You should bring the boys over tonight. Family dinner. Bobby gave me this new recipe I wanna try out."

Jax raised an eyebrow. Was his mom nuts? She knew all about the bad blood between Tig and Kozik. Jax doubted that 8 years had made Tig hate his Tacoma counterpart any less; the man was known for burying his enemies, not grudges. He also knew that his mom would do what she wanted, no matter what he said.

"Just don't use your good plates." Jax cautioned.

Before long, sizzling and the smells of coffee and cinnamon brought the rest of the clubhouse's lodgers out to the bar, except Kozik. Jax noted that Tig looked especially surly this morning, even after two cups of strong coffee. He had no idea his mortal enemy was sound asleep behind a flimsy plywood door just steps away; Jax was further determined to keep him from that knowledge for as long as possible.

When the French toast was ready, Gemma started passing out plates. The members of SAMCRO slid the bottle of Aunt Jemima back and forth across the bar, occasionally singing the praises of Gemma's cooking. Gemma perched on a stool with her own breakfast, telling the boys about Charming's latest gossip between bites. Tig picked at his food, too hungover for anything this rich. One by one, the Sons cleaned their plates, thanked Gemma again, and headed off to work in the garage.

After all the boys were gone, Gemma opened Kozik's door to check on him. He had rolled to his side facing the door. His cheek was pressed against the pillow, a half-smile on the part of his face that she could see. Gemma figured the sweet-butt he was dreaming about must've been pretty damn sexy. Or did he have an old lady now? She added that to the mental list of questions to ask later.

"Koz, honey, it's Gemma," she said quietly. "You wanna come have some breakfast?"

She didn't get any kind of an answer, so she closed the door. She hoped Kozik wasn't laying on his gun; he'd be really sore later. Gemma went back to the kitchen and washed the dishes. While she was there, she cooked another plate of French toast, leaving it on the counter with a note and the bottle of syrup. All her boys were now taken care of, meaning she could start her shift in the TM office. It would be a short one today so she could go home and cook some more.