Beginning Notes: Loosely based off the song, 'No Ones Here To Sleep' by Bastille feat. Naughty Boy. I highly suggest giving it a listen.

lovebirds; too on the nose

She couldn't do it.

The key was right there in her hands, the door was right in front of her face, but she couldn't do it. She knew what lay on the other side of that door, the promises and prospects. Her grandchildren, her son, her daughter… this door could bring them to her, rekindle their want to be her family. An old life, long not-so-forgotten. Seventeen years of marriage. Years of laughter and life but not quite light. The man she'd promised her life to, until death did them part. The man she thought she loved… no, the man she had loved. The man that had helped her commit sin after sin, cover up lie after lie…

The man that had taken his fists to her face.

Gemma takes a step away from the door at the thought, her breath being caught in her throat. A hand that was raised to knock draws away, falling limply at her side. That was right. The other thing that lay on the other side of the perfectly carved mahogany was deceit, and pain, and misery, and keeping her mouth shut for fear of pissing him off, and…. and, and, and, there was always an and. Never an end. She'd loved this man, and he'd hurt her. Of course, he'd loved her too. But never enough, never enough to keep from cheating or lying or hitting. There was never enough love between them, just enough to get them by. Keep that precious crown on her head and keep that patch on his back.

She couldn't do it.

She knows she needs to. If she doesn't, she'll never see Abel get big. Never hear about his first A in school or see his graduation. She'll never hear baby Thomas' - so similar to her own baby Thomas, so small and innocent and calm and sweet - first words or witness his first steps. Never see his first tooth fall out, or know the feeling of him running into her arms after his first day of Kindergarten. She'll never witness Jax's first grey hair, never be able to tease him about climbing into old age. She will never hold him in her arms after Abel brings home his first girlfriend, teasing him about being too overprotective. And oh god, she'll never see Tara become her. See the fierce mother inside of her have her flames fanned. She'll never listen to the contempt she has for the bitch of a girl Abel's fallen in love with, sipping coffee and reminiscing about how familiar that sounds.

She loved them so much. She couldn't stand to lose them.

But she loves Nero, too. More than anything on this entire planet, more than anything she's ever felt with a man. It's a different kind of love than she's used to. Something she's never felt before. When she's with him, everything around her fades to background noise. He makes her smile so hard that her cheeks burn, laugh so hard that her sides ache, love so hard that she's not sure if any love she's ever felt before has been real. When her eyes fell closed, and she was drifting into dreamless sleep, it was him she found plaguing her thoughts. He never wanted to hurt her, ever. And she never, never, never wanted to hurt him. Nero was the oxygen that keeps her alive and she needs him. She needs him, she needs him, she needs him, she loves him.

This will hurt him, more than it will hurt her. And that terrifies her.

To no end. She doesn't think she's ever been so scared before. When he almost left her, she'd felt a pain like no other. The idea of losing him sends her careening off a cliff, falling, falling, falling, into an abyss. This man had saved her when she thought she was unsaveable. He'd brought her back, gave her another life to live. He'd seen her sadness and her tire, and he'd showed her happiness and energy. He'd been there when her own son hadn't. Held her through her pain, loved her. And not because she could give him anything, or because she was young, fresh pussy. But because he saw her. He saw her, and her tainted heart that had the purest intentions - mostly - and he saw her strength and heard her stories and he loved her wholly, and purely. Loved her imperfections, kissed her scars, and held her broken, beaten heart in his palm.

He didn't need to take her clothes off to see her naked.

Thus, Gemma couldn't betray him. And by stepping through that threshold, she would be. Laying down in bed with that man again, after everything he'd done… and with Nero waiting for her, thinking that she was only at home, when in reality she was in bed with her ex-husband? What Jax was asking her to do was wrong, and she knew this. Everything her son had been doing to and with her lately had been wrong, but he was her son. Not to mention that he held all the trump cards - her grandkids, her daughter-in-law… hell, himself. She could never tell him these things, for fear that he may not see the truth to her words and he'd pull further away from her.

It didn't change the fact that she couldn't, simply couldn't, do this.

What could she illicit from Clay that everybody else hadn't anyway? She was just an ol' lady, as everyone so liked to remind her. All she had to do was love her man, and love him honestly - and Nero was her man. Why did everyone keep asking her to do things when they were the same men to remind her she was nothing but pussy a step higher than a croweater? She didn't understand. Gemma didn't understand a lot of things about this Club, with the men that bore its patches, with the men she called her family. An entire life of being with them, and it was still a mysterious enigma. Why they relied on women they so liked to degrade, why they asked things of them that they knew they couldn't do… why, why, why. So many questions, never enough answers.

Answers were what got her back to her grandchildren. But they were also what took the one great love of her life away from her.

Eyes find the mahogany door again. The man that lied behind it. The man she was supposed to sleep with, the man that she was supposed to be with to aid the child she loved and the Club she lived by. Then they flit to her hands. Hands that held her lover's face between her hands, hands that stroked the prickly stubble on his cheeks, hands that curled around the lapels of his jacket when he kissed her dizzy.

You did this for me?
Well, Lyla picked them out… lovebirds… too on the nose, huh?
No. They're beautiful. Thank you.

Gemma takes a deep breath, turns on her heel, and heads back to her car to drive home. Home to the man she'd love, the man that would love her.

Her lovebird.