CP BK 3 Chpt 10 Home Down But Not Out

by wanderingchat

The Sons race from Oregon while Cat and her companions hurry from Stockton to catch Gemma before Stahl can arrest her. Obstacles get in everyone's way and all attempts to keep Gemma out of Stahl's clutches go awry, much to Cat's distress.

"

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination, with the exception of Mr. Gerard Butler. Similarities to any real persons are pure coincidence.

Love and thanks go to the DH, who is very much alive and well; along with my best friend and my 'unofficial' god – daughter for being part of my family. Also, much thanks to the members of , , the Indy Tarts and Tartans Gerard Butler fan group, SOA Forums, Watchers of Anarchy, Kim Sisk (author of Sapphires and Whiskey), and my Facebook and Twitter friends for their support. A big thank you for those readers who have written reviews and listed me as a favorite author here at FanFiction. Net.

Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.

Charming Pawse

Book III

Chapter X

Home

Down But Not Out

The bright red tail lights blinked on and off in all three traffic lanes of the highway as the speeding Land Rover rounded a curve. The driver swore at the unexpected sight and mashed his foot on the brake in order to avoid running up the tailpipe of the stopped vehicle in front of him.

The tires squealed loudly in protest, causing all the occupants to grab onto the door rests. The sudden deceleration startled Cat from the drowse she'd fallen into after being awakened by Lyla's call to Neeta.

"What the fuck is goin' on?" she growled, wrinkling her nose at the acrid smell of burning rubber on asphalt.

"Don't know for sure, Ma'am," the driver replied grimly over the screeching noise of the tires. He turned the steering wheel hard, heading for the breakdown lane. He hoped that move would save them all from serious injury.

"Tha fooking GPS isnae bein' o' mooch 'elp!" Gerry added grimly, glaring at the silent device. A high end vehicle like the Land Rover carried high end electronics. This particular GPS was supposed to alert the driver to any sudden obstacles such as accidents as soon as they occurred, giving the driver time plenty of reaction time.

The occupants in the Land Rover prepared themselves for an impact that never came. The vehicle came to a halt mere centimeters from the back end of the vehicle stopped in front of it. One side of the Land Rover was on the beak down lane, the other in the travel lane.

The passengers and driver panted for a few seconds, thanking his or own particular God for deliverance. All they could see through the windshield was a sea of bright red taillights. None of the vehicles in the three lanes was moving.

"There is an obstacle ahead," the GPS intoned in its' mechanical voice. "Slow down and be prepared for stopped traffic!"

"Really?" June retorted scathingly. "Y'all are a little bit late with that newsflash!"

"Evryboddy all ryte?" Gerry inquired, gazing anxiously at his guests. He suppressed a smile at June's reaction, though he agreed with her wholeheartedly.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Cat added with a snarl. "Next time, try tellin' us before we hafta make a sudden stop!" She glared at the innocent GPS in the dash.

"We're just a little shook up, Gerry," Lyla replied, though her eyes were round with fright.

"A little?" Cat snorted. "Sure! Other than nearly scarin' the shit outta us and probably addin' a few more white hairs to my head, everything's just ducky!"

The driver had recovered from his own fright and hastily checked the traffic alert channel on the radio. There was no announcement detailing the sudden stop. The GPS wasn't providing any more information, either.

"Anyone got a CB radio?" Cat muttered. "A body could always count on 'em!"

"No, but you just gave me an idea, ma'am! I'll be right back!" The driver leapt from the vehicle and trotted down the lane towards a semi. 'I might be able to learn something from the driver, they still use CB.'

While they waited for the driver to return with news, Cat left an updated message for Alex on the two way. It was obvious that whatever was causing the tie - up, the Land Rover wasn't going to be making any rapid progress.

"Hey, love. We ran into a bit of trouble. We're OK, but tied up in traffic. Bit of trouble came up. We're OK, just stuck in a major traffic jam," she paused a moment, then added ruefully,

"Afraid there's more good news, love. Gemma's apparently already in Charmin'. Lyla had the foresight to call Neeta and warn her not to answer any private number calls. She got one and alerted us about it a bit ago. Best to go on to the clubhouse instead of Jax's, might have a chance to keep her from Stahl." She paused again before sighing sadly, "I'm sorry, love. See ya when I see ya."

"What's wrong, chick?" June inquired quietly, concerned over the wealth of sadness evident in her friend's voice.

Cat leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes without replying. She didn't want to give voice to the dark thoughts of failure that ran through her mind. She knew she'd let Alex down once again and the knowledge weighed heavily on her.

June didn't need a verbal response to know what was troubling Cat. She immediately recognized the signs of PTSS. "Cat, don't go there!" June admonished. "It's not your responsibility to run interference for Gemma!"

"Whot's tha lass goin' on aboot?" Gerry asked. "Is she in payne?"

"Sorta -" June started to explain, but Cat wearily interjected.

"Kittenface, I love y'all, but ya need to stifle! Tig asked me to do one simple thing, and I failed! End of line!"

"Don't y'all go all MCP on me!" June retorted hotly.

"I'm not bein' the Master Control Program!" Cat protested. "I'd just rather not talk it in mixed company!'

"You're right, it's your business, and this isn't time or place to be discussin' 'it'." June glanced from Lyla and Gerry, who looked confused by their reference to the original 'Tron'. "But don't think I won't bring it up later!"

"I knew y'all would understand," Cat sighed in acceptance of the inevitable pep talk June would give her.

"Weel, Ah dinnae unnerstand!" Gerry protested.

"I don't, either," Lyla added.

"It's personal, y'all. Let's leave it at that," Cat explained emphatically.

She was saved from further questioning by the driver's return. He slid behind the wheel, panting from his jog back to the vehicle. The passengers waited patiently for him to get his breath. The GPS hadn't uttered any information since he'd left.

"There's a semi - blocking all three - lanes about - a mile - ahead," the driver explained in between breaths. "It jackknifed - hit the - rock wall - bounced - off - came to a stop."

"Ennyboddy hirt?" Gerry inquired.

"No sir. The cab's a mess. Tow truck's on it's way. CHP are directing traffic, but it's gonna take time to get three lanes merged onto the one break down lane to go around the thing," the driver's breathing had slowed to normal as he completed his narrative.

"A semi trailer has jackknifed a mile ahead. CHP have been -" the GPS' voice came to an abrupt halt.

"Tha' weel be enuf outta ye!" Gerry snorted, turning off the annoying device. "Ye hev bean nay 'elp atall!"

"I'd like to defenestrate the thing," Cat muttered dryly. "The more we rely on these electronic doohickeys, the more control the fuckers have on us."

"Aye!" Gerry agreed fervently.

The vehicles ahead began to move, inching their way forward. The passengers grew quiet to allow the driver to concentrate.

Cat stared down at her lap as the Land Rover slowly creeped forward. Her thoughts were as black as the night around them. 'I should've stayed put instead of gallavantin' all over the redwoods. I've let Alex down one time too many lately!'

She glanced at Lyla, who was tensely watching their slow progress. Her fingers beat a small tattoo against her bare knees. The girl's nervousness annoyed Cat's frayed nerves, but she kept her annoyance in check to remind the girl she should call her man with an update.

"Won't Tig share your message with the guys?"

Cat sighed inwardly, reminding herself Lyla was still new to the 'old lady' life. "He will, but it will mean a lot to Opie to hear it from y'all. He'll wonder why y'all didn't tell him. They're kinda like little kids in that sense. Go ahead, humor an old woman and call your man."

Lyla gave her a look that said she thought it was a duplication of effort. "OK, if you think it'll help," the girl replied. She dug out her cell phone and waited for Opie's voice mail to answer.

"Hi, Hun. It's me, Lyla. Wanted you to know we're fine, but delayed by a semi mess on the highway. I called Neeta to warn her about Gemma, and not to answer any private numbers. Neeta called me back she got a call from a private number, so we think Gemma's in town. . Cat thinks Gemma's going to go to the clubhouse, so best head there. We'll get there as soon as we can. Love you!"

Lyla closed her cell phone and glanced at Cat. "Happy now?"

"I'm not bald and tattooed, but I get your drift," Cat joked lamely. "It will make Opie immensely happy that you put his mind at ease."

"I'm not in the life, and thank Gawd for it," June added. "The guys remind me of a parent worryin' about their young 'uns if the kid hasn't checked in once in a while."

Lyla considered that nugget of information, then nodded gravely. "I think I understand. I know how frantic I get when Piper runs late from school, and Ope tends to behave that same way!" She grimaced and added under her breath, 'Sometimes he worries too much!'

The Land Rover continued inching along the break down lane, the scene of the trouble looming larger in the windshield. Flashing red and blue lights from the CHP patrol car illuminated the area. A large wrecker designed for eighteen wheelers was maneuvering into position to remove the damaged cab and trailer.

Cat winced at the damage the cab had taken. "The driver's damn lucky not to be injured. That was a hard hit!"

Gerry whistled soundlessly as they slowly passed the disabled vehicle. "Aye!"

"We're about clear, folks," the driver announced. "Hold on to your hats; I'll try to make up for lost time!"

Agent Stahl closed her cell phone and gazed out the door of the small office she'd commandeered in CPD headquarters. A grim, triumphant smile played across her face as she contemplated how that one simple telephone call could lead to her demotion being lifted.

'Gemma thinks she's going to turn herself in on her terms!' Stahl couldn't help feeling a bit of admiration for her adversary. 'I'll eventually be the winning Queen in this chess match! Instead of seeing her missing grandson, she'll see me slap a set of cuffs on her!' Sullins can't ignore the positive impact Gemma's arrest will have on my career record!'

Outside her door, officers of CPD went about their business, writing up reports or escorting minor miscreants to the holding cells. The dispatchers were busily answering phones and radio calls. None of the CPD staff paid attention to her. They didn't even spare a glance her way as they passed her open door.

Stahl's eyes narrowed in contemplation. She'd questioned every employee, from the janitor to David Hale about Unser's whereabouts the day Gemma disappeared. Everyone had told her the same thing; Unser often went off the radar for a day due to his latest cancer therapy.

'It doesn't add up. None of the area hospitals or clinics offering cancer treatments have record of his presence. Plus Unser seems too strong to be taking debilitating treatments like that! I know he helped Gemma escape, but I can't prove it and it doesn't seem like I'm going to find any around here!'

Stahl jotted notes as she figured out what Gemma's demands might be and how she would counter them. By the time the alloted 15 minutes had ended, she'd compiled a sizable list.

'Right on time,' Stahl smiled grimly, grabbing her vibrating cell from the desk. "Put her through," she snapped crisply.

"Here's my offer," Gemma stated without preamble. "I see my grandson tonight. Tomorrow morning, I turn myself in to Unser and you can be there to slap the chains on me. "

"This is an old song, Gemma. There's nothing new to hear," Stahl interjected, boredom resounded in her voice.

"There's more. I'll sign off on your version of events in Galt if you agree not to seek the death penalty and allow weekly visitation with my family."

Gemma's requests weren't anything Stahl couldn't live with. She'd anticipated the fugitive would ask for much more. She knew she'd have no problem getting the deal approved by the US Attorney she had under her thumb. Stahl smiled humorlessly, allowing the silence to continue, finding delight in the idea of making Gemma work for her deal.

"I don't believe weekly visitation is going to happen," she finally replied. "No one charged with multiple murder charges gets that kind of visitation. I don't want to establish a precedent."

"Tough shit!" Gemma retorted. "It's my way or no way."

"The US Attorney won't approve it, Gemma," Stahl insisted coldly. "I might be able to convince him to allow monthly visits."

Gemma didn't respond to the agent's counter offer. They were involved in a delicate chess match that neither wanted to lose. She lit another cigarette and inhaled, ignoring the continued pain in her chest.

'If I hold out for what I want, I'll lose everything and won't get to see Abel grow up. Getting to see my family every month is better than the death penalty!'

Stahl waited patiently through the ensuing silence. She knew Gemma was weighing the pros and cons of her decision. 'She's not going to rush into this blindly, unfortunately. I can wait her out.'

"A'right. Present it to the attorney. I'll call you back in half an hour." Gemma shut off the cell and dropped it in her purse. Her hands shook as she absently massaged the scar on her chest.

Stahl smiled in triumph as she entered the number of the US Attorney. 'I almost don't need to bother getting his approval ahead of time. Chaz doesn't dare turn me down, but following protocol doesn't hurt.'

"Fox here," a warm, deep voice sounded in her ear.

"This is Stahl."

The voice chilled several degrees. "What do you want now?"

"You're familiar with the Morrow case?"

'I was hoping this wouldn't cross my path!' Chaz Fox covered his forehead with one hand, rubbing it as if trying to soothe a headache. The other hand gripped the receiver the way he'd like to grip Stahl's throat. "Unfortunately, yes. As I recall, the main suspect is on the lam," he sneered.

"You can wipe that smile off your face, Chaz. Gemma's turning herself in," Stahl purred.

"Oh? What's that going to cost me?"

"Not too much. Monthly visits with her family."

Chaz's eyebrows lifted in surprise. 'That doesn't seem too bad -' Then he remembered who he was talking to. "Something tells me I'm not going to like the next part."

"You won't, but you'll agree to it," Stahl assured him. "Drop the death penalty."

Fox snorted with disdain. "You're nuts!"

"That's your opinion," Stahl retorted. "C'mon, Chaz! You've got to admit that no one is going to raise Hell that justice is being denied Edmond Hayes and Patty Zobelle! Both of them walked deeply in their fathers' footsteps!"

'She's got a point there. Ethan Zobelle is out of our jurisdiction and LOAN isn't likely to call for Gemma's head on a platter. Eddie Hayes dad already got his own retribution against SAMCRO.'

"When is she turning herself in?" Fox inquired.

"Tonight, though she thinks it's happening tomorrow morning at Charming PD."

"Huh? How are you going to accomplish that?"

Stahl almost felt guilty to enjoy the moment so much. She quickly got over the guilt. "She doesn't know that her grandson is missing and thinks she'll get to visit him tonight. Instead, 'll be waiting to escort her to the nearest holding cell."

Fox shook his head. "That's not very fair, Stahl. You really have an evil streak about you."

"You should know that by now, Chaz," Stahl cooed maliciously.

"Yeah, I should. It never fails to amaze me how low below the belt you'll go to get your way," he sighed.

"You're not the fastest learner in the book," Stahl agreed.

"I don't have much choice in this matter."

"Why, Chaz! You always have a choice! You can either approve the deal and catch a little flak now, or you can deny me and say goodbye to everything you hold dear in life!"

Chaz sucked in a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a slow hiss. It sounded to Stahl like air escaping from a tire punctured by a rusty nail.

"Someday, Stahl, you're going to push someone too far, and they're going to push back - hard. You know I'll sign off on the deal. I have no other choice!"

"True," Stahl admitted. "But then I'd miss these little heart to hearts we have if you chose otherwise. As far as anyone pushing back, don't hold your breath waiting, darlin'. You don't look good in blue."

She pushed the image of her meeting with Death just a few days ago out of her mind as she spoke. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Opie Winston pointing a gun between her eyes, desire to take her life clear in his malevolent gaze. He'd given her the same look at the military supply store in Galt, as if he regretted being merciful to her.

'I won't let that bother me! Opie had his chance, he didn't take it, and he won't try a second time. He knows if anything happens to me, he'll be the prime suspect!'

Chaz slammed the receiver into the cradle, finding a small amount of satisfaction from the noise. He sat with his head cradled in both hands, wishing once again he'd never made the mistake all those years ago that had left him at Stahl's mercy.

'I can't undo the past, and God help me, I'm not brave enough to come clean now! She has me by the proverbial short hairs and will keep me there until one of us is dead!'

Stahl rose from her chair and sauntered out into the CPD office. She stood with her hands on her hips surveying the activity around her.

"I have an announcement!" she barked, raising her voice in order to be heard over the drone of voices and clicking computer keys.

Her shout brought Che if Unser out of his office. The ailing policeman leaned against the doorway of his office, glaring at Stahl. The office fell silent as his staff waited for the agent to speak.

"Thank you for your attention. Tomorrow morning, Gemma Teller Morrow will be in my custody!"

Stahl glanced around the office before returning to her office. Some of CPD's finest were glaring openly at her, others just returned her triumphant gaze with indifference.

Stahl smiled in satisfaction as she slid into her chair. She knew that someone would try to warn Gemma. That was the sole purpose of her announcement. It would help her discover the identities of other CPD officers loyal to SAMCRO.

Unser stepped into her office, glaring intently at the agent.

"What's wrong, Wayne?" Stahl purred. "You look like you just lost your best friend!"

"That was a cryptic announcement. You sound pretty sure of yourself. Care to fill me in?" He growled.

Stahl shrugged, reaching for a file folder as she gazed sardonically at him. "Not until you tell me where you really disappeared to the other night."

"I've told you -"

Stahl held up her hand to silence him. "Did you really think that story would hold up under scrutiny, Wayne? There's no record of you having any treatment of any kind within a 50 mile radius of Charming that night or any other night for that matter!"

'Shit!' He hadn't counted on Stahl being that thorough. He decided to play a bluff and hope she didn't call him on it. "Obviously, you didn't look far enough, Stahl. I never told anyone where I go for these treatments. Besides, the Federal privacy laws protect me from that kind of snooping."

He turned as if to leave the room and stopped at the door to turn and glare at her. "Lemme give you a piece of advice. Give up making round pegs fit in square holes. Last time you did that, an innocent woman lost her life."

Stahl's blanched at his taunt over her part in Donna Winston's demise. Everyone associated with CPD blamed her for the woman's death because she'd tried to make the Sons believe Opie had ratted them out. The late Deputy Che if Hale had literally rubbed her face in the fact at the scene of the murder.

"Fact of the matter is, Stahl, Charming can't afford the high price your machinations cost," Unser continued bitingly, taking satisfaction in the knowledge that he'd scored a direct hit before exiting the office.

Stahl opened the file and pretended to peruse its' contents. She was actually watching Unser as he walked around the office, chatting with his officers. He stopped at each occupied desk, talking in low tones to his staff, but didn't linger for any length of time at any particular desk to Stahl's disappointment.

"Find some reason to come to my office so we can talk," Unser murmured softly to Eglee as he passed her desk.

"Yes, sir," Eglee replied, not looking up from her computer screen.

"Ten minutes, tops," Unser added before moving on to the coffee area. He poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and returned to his office.

'I know Unser's going to try to warn Gemma not to return. I doubt he's the only officer in CPD loyal to SAMCRO. He can't prowl the entire town on his own. I'll soon know who he trusts.'

Stahl did have to wait long. Officer Eglee walked past her office door, carrying a pile of file folders.

"Are those for me?" Stahl called out.

"No, ma'am," Eglee replied evenly, stopping in front of the open door. "Routine reports for Che if Unser."

Stahl nodded and waved the officer on her way. Once she was assured that Eglee was out of earshot, she picked up her cell phone.

"Follow Officer Eglee when she leaves," Stahl ordered one of her loyal agents. "Gemma Morrow is on her way back to Charming; Eglee's likely going to be assigned to help find her and spirit her out of town."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Stahl walked out of her office to the coffee area. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of a bag of 'Charming Pawse' coffee sitting on the table near the coffee pot. 'What I wouldn't give for 'Starbuck's' instead of this drek!'

The coffee area gave her a clear view of Unser's office. Eglee stood at ease in front of the Chief's desk, looking as if she were waiting for her boss to read through the reports and sign off on them.

"Stahl seems pretty certain that Gemma's coming back," Eglee observed while Unser held

one of the folders in front of his face as if reading one of the reports. The folder covered enough of his face that Stahl couldn't tell if he was giving instructions to Eglee.

"She likely got a tip of some kind. I want you to stake out the bus station. Heaven only knows how she's getting back to town," Unser instructed.

"Seems to me the club would want her further away from Stahl, not right back in her clutches," Eglee added. "Wasn't that the whole point of their taking off today?"

"Among other things," Unser mused wryly. "That and looking for leads on Abel."

"So if she gets off a bus, what do you want me to do?"

"Get her a one way ticket outta town on the same bus!" Unser replied. "I'll cruise the entrances to town, see if she either hitchhikes in. One thing's for certain," he added, laying the final folder on his desk and scribbling on the blank sheet of paper inside.

"What's that?"

"We can rule out motorcycles," Unser stated somberly, handing the folders back to Eglee. "Be careful, Stahl might have one of her agents tail you. Keep an eye out."

"Copy that, Che if."

Stahl watched the scene in Unser's office, suppressing a grin over the lengths the Che if and his subordinate had taken to try to throw her off.

'Nice try, Wayne! Almost believable! You don't know it, but you're going to lead me right to Gemma tonight!'

Stahl carried the loathsome cup of coffee to her desk and set it aside. She knew the janitorial service would toss it out for her when they cleaned the office later.

She watched Eglee stride calmly to her desk and slide the folders into a locked drawer, then work at her computer on some more reports. A few minutes later, Eglee logged off the computer and headed for the parking lot.

Stahl called the agent she'd tasked with tailing Eglee. "Are you in your personal car?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. I hoped you would. Less chance she'll notice the tail," Stahl nodded approvingly. "Eglee's leaving the building."

"Copy that."

"I'll drive out of the lot, making it look like I'm heading home. I'll park half way down the block and follow Unser when he leaves. I have a radio on me, use our frequency only if you see Eglee with Gemma."

"Copy that, too."

Stahl checked the portable radio to ensure it had a full charge and slipped it into her coat pocket. She turned off the light and left CPD as if she were leaving for the day.

The demotion had resulted in Stahl losing the use of a government issued vehicle requiring her to use her own car for work related travel. The loss of the government car had rankled at first, but now it was a blessing. CPD wasn't as familiar with her personal car, she'd be better able to tail Unser in it.

She exited the CPD lot just as Eglee left the building. 'So predictable!' Stahl thought, gazing into the rear view as mirror as Eglee's squad car pulled out of the parking lot, followed a few seconds later by the agent's vehicle.

Stahl didn't have to wait long for Unser. He didn't leave by the same door as Eglee and surprised her by turning in the direction opposite Jax Teller's house and the Teller - Morrow lot.

Stahl executed a quick u - turn in order to follow Unser's squad car at a discreet distance. 'He may be taking the long way around, but he'll still eventually lead me to Gemma!'

Jax's bike slowed as they turned into the Teller - Morrow lot, briefly spotlighting Gemma in the combined lights of the Cutlass and the bikes. Tara gasped as she watched Gemma collapse and fall to the pavement. She scrambled from the back of Jax's Harley before he had brought it to a complete stop and raced to her friend's side.

Jax and Clay fumbled for the kickstands and used the emergency shut off switches to turn off the engines, leaving the headlights turned on. They unstrapped their helmets on the run, tossing them to the ground in their haste.

Tara had unstrapped the borrowed helmet and laid it aside as she tried to comfort Gemma. The club matriarch had fallen on her side, then rolled onto her back, fighting for air and grabbing at her chest.

Clay ran up beside Tara, standing just behind the doctor. His eyes reflected his inner pain at his wife's helplessness.

"Gemma! Listen to me!" Tara shouted, struggling to keep her voice calm. "Follow my instructions! Breathe in - slowly! Hold it! Now breathe out!"

She had one hand wrapped around Gemma's wrist, counting the heartbeats. Gemma's skin was a pale grey and clammy to the touch. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her mind grasped on Tara's words as she struggled to control her breathing.

"What do you want me to do?" Clay asked gruffly.

Tara looked up at the club president for a moment. Though his facial features seemed craved in granite, Tara knew he was upset and concerned. "Sit behind her, let her lean against you. Keeping her slightly elevated will help her breathing."

Clay hastened to obey the doctor, settling down on the hard pavement and positioning himself so that Gemma lay between his legs, which were stretched out on either side of her. He drew her back against his solid chest, one hand stroking her hair in a comforting manner.

"Just do what Tara instructs, baby. I'm right here."

The remaining riders parked behind Jax's and Clay's bikes, dismounted and removed their own helmets. The area where Gemma lay was bathed in bright light from all the vehicle headlights, casting deep shadow to the rest of the lot.

Tig didn't wait to be told to call for an ambulance. He gruffly informed the 9 - 1 - 1 operator, Mae Lowe, that an ambulance was needed at the lot, giving the address and explaining Dr. Tara Knowles was already working on the victim.

"They're on the way, sir," Lowe advised him.

He snapped the throwaway shut and rushed up to join his brothers. They stood in a loose semi - circle in front of Gemma, watching intensely as Tara worked to calm the agitated woman.

Filthy Phil and Miles rushed outside when they heard the bikes roar into the lot. The Croweaters had followed on their heels. They gathered in a small, hushed group near the picnic table, shocked at the sight of Gemma laying helplessly on the ground.

Filthy Phil walked away from the small group to see what he could do to help. He nearly stepped on the cell phone Gemma had dropped. The hang around bent to retrieve the cell phone. It was unharmed from the fall to the pavement, and warm from Gemma's pocket.

'At least it still works!' he thought, accessing the last number received. The on screen display only showed the words 'private caller' and no corresponding telephone number. He pressed the 'callback' icon and grimaced to receive a telephone recording that the number could not be called from the phone he was using. 'Whoever called didn't want to be called back or traced. I've got a bad feeling about this!'

Clay looked up at him in annoyance when he stopped next to him. Filthy Phil held out the cell phone. "I found this on the ground, look at the display. Gemma received a call from someone who doesn't want to be traced."

Clay accepted the phone and gazed at the screen. He frowned at the words 'private number'. "I already tried calling back, it won't accept incomings. Probably one of those outbound only types."

Clay snorted in frustration at the news, but nodded his appreciation to the hang around. He pocketed the cellphone in his cut for safe keeping.

Jax crouched next to his mother, worried and frustrated over the situation. 'We've got to get her to the hospital before Stahl finds out she's in town!' Though Tara had put her career on the line to do so, she'd managed to treat Gemma after the gang rape without her being admitted.

'Maybe we can admit her under a fake name and use the emergency fund to pay for it. I hate puttin' Tara on the spot again, but what choice do we have?'

He looked up when he heard the distant wail of the ambulance. "Get those fuckin' vehicles out of the way!" he barked. Worry and tension made the fuse on his temper shorter than usual.

His brothers hurried to move their bikes over to their regular parking spots near the garage office. Piney moved the van to a parking spot near the garage wall. Miles scurried to the driver's side of the Cutlass and moved it to the spot next to the van.

As he backed the Harley into a parking place next to his regular ride, Tig spotted Cat's rice burner. It was parked on the other side of the railing, right behind his Dyna.

'Prolly time for routine maintenance. She damn well better not have ridden it here!' he thought grimly. 'Where the fuck is she? They should've been here by now!'

He pulled the two - way from his pocket as he strode back to the spot where Gemma lay. He frowned at the blinking message icon. The frown intensified as he listened to his woman's message.

'Shit! Her voice sounds down compared to how upbeat she sounded earlier!' His hands tightened into fists at his sides. His heart ached for what he knew she was thinking. It was clear in her voice that she believed she'd let him down. 'Dammit! She acted the same way when Stahl canceled the Amber Alert. What am I gonna do with her?'

The only answer came from the approaching wail of the ambulance siren. The men could see the flashing red and white emergency lights reflecting on the buildings opposite the lot.

Alex sighed in resignation, hastily forming a return message while his brothers gathered behind Clay, waiting for the EMTs to arrive. He activated the two - way and waited.

"Hey, baby! Ya know how I feel about this fuckin' phone tag. Glad yer a'right. You were right about Gem. She went to the clubhouse lookin' for the kid. She's had some kinda collapse. Ambulance is on the way, so meet me at the hospital. You didn't let me down, baby. Ya never have, never will."

His voice cracked with emotion he tried to hold in check. He could only hope his words would give her some comfort. He tucked the two - way back in his pocket before striding across the lot to join his brothers in their silent vigil.

The ambulance pulled into the lot and the siren mercifully went silent. The flashing red and white lights splashed over the riders, vehicles, and the pavement as the vehicle rolled to a stop next to the silent group.

No one paid any attention to the street beyond the lot entrance. A lone vehicle pulled to a stop on the street, nearly across from the entrance. The Land Rover's headlights went out, but the engine continued to idle as the occupants gazed out the tinted windows at the chaotic scene.

Church ended. Members of SAMTAC filed out of the chapel, relieved that the vote was finally behind them and they could get on about their business. Despite months of growing tension between the Sergeant at Arms and the charter President, no one had expected Kozik to decide to leave.

"We can't go on this way, men," Kozik explained to the group in presenting his reasons for wanting to transfer. "There's nothing wrong with admitting ya have limitations; maintaining discipline in a large charter like this one is too much for me. Ya deserve someone who can handle the job, and that's not me."

"Then step down, but stay with us!" One of the members called. His outcry was echoed by several others.

"Nah," Kozik replied when the rabble died down. "Wouldn't be fair to the man wearin' the patch. The next SAA has to be able to operate without feelin' he's bein' compared to - or bein' watched by - the one that wore the patch before. It's best to make a clean break."

The vote was slow, but was unanimous. SAMTAC's membership could see that Kozik really needed to make the change. Their president had made it clear in separate conversations with the voting membership that he wanted this as much as Kozik.

SAMTAC's President struck the gavel after the last vote was cast. "It's done," he announced quietly. "Meeting's adjourned."

Kozik and the President remained in their chairs around the meeting table, waiting for the last member to depart and close the door behind him.

Once alone with the President, Kozik fingered the SAA patch on his cut. He'd worn it for a long time; as with all SAA's, though he'd earned a 'Man of Mayhem' patch several times over, he didn't wear it, choosing only to wear his patch declaring his office. Only Clay, as one of the first nine of the mother charter, wore a second patch under his office patch. 'I'm kinda gonna miss this thing; it becomes a part of ya after awhile. I heard somewhere that 'all good things must come to an end'. It's time for a new chapter in my life as a Son.'

The President leaned back in his chair, gazing at Kozik through a haze of cigarette smoke. "Well, we both got what we want. When do ya plan to head South?"

"Next church at SAMCRO's in a couple of days," Kozik murmured, staring at the SAA patch. "Figure I'll put my transfer to the vote then."

"You know what's gonna happen, man," the President replied. "As soon as the vote gets to Tig, it's over."

"There's always a chance. We've been mad at each other for too many years; I'm willin' to let go of the past if he is. SAMCRO's been hurt, they lost a good man in Half Sack."

"True dat."

"Even if they prospect new blood, it's gonna be a year at the minimum before they're full members and of any real use. I figure Tig's smart enough to want what's best for the club. Havin' me patch in as a full member will be good for the club."

The President shook his head. "I dunno, Koz. There's a lot of shit under that bridge. Ya might not come out of it smellin' like a rose."

Kozik shrugged, then stood up to remove his cut, intending to remove the 'Tacoma' and 'Sergeant at Arms' patches.

The President put out his hand in a gesture that clearly said 'halt!'

Kozik looked up at him in surprise. "I'm leavin', makes sense that my patches stay here."

"Leave 'em on for awhile. We won't be votin' in a replacement for ya for a few weeks."

Kozik gazed intently at the President. "What exactly are ya sayin'?"

"Don't burn all yer bridges behind ya. You're a good man. Good fighter. You stand by your

convictions, even if they differ from mine. Not a lot of men like that these days. If it don't work out with SAMCRO, ya can come back here instead of goin' Nomad."

The President reached into his cut and withdrew a sealed envelope from it. Inside was Kozik's letter of transfer. The Prez placed the letter in Koz's hand, then covered the envelope with his own hand, grasping Koz's hand.

"I might not agree with everything that comes outta that trap of yers, but I don't wanna lose a good man. No matter how many number this charter, no one is better qualified to be SAA than you. As far as I'm concerned, yer on a sabbatical of sorts until ya patch SAMCRO."

Kozik looked his president in the eye, noting that the man didn't say 'if' he patched into SAMCRO. The two performed the 'bro hug double back thump'.

"Now, c'mon outside. The club wants to give ya a send off party. Afraid no chicks are gonna pop outta a cake."

"Don't need some chick poppin' outta a cake around here. Plenty of sweetbutt to go around," Kozik grinned, following his soon to be former president out of the chapel.

The Land Rover picked up speed as soon as it had cleared the accident scene and the driver was able to switch lanes. The SUV responded to his demands like a thoroughbred, speeding along the asphalt like the devil was chasing it.

The driver kept the speed locked at nearly 80 miles per hour all the way to the Charming city limits, and just a bit beyond that. Once the trees bordering Elliot Oswald's timberland started to give way to houses and businesses, the driver felt it prudent to maintain a more sedate speed.

Cat was wide awake and trying to hide her depression from her companions. She'd felt she'd let too much slip in her message to Alex. 'It just seems like I've been lettin' him down more than I've helped him lately!'

June could see all the signs of a very nasty inner demon raising its' ugly head. Her experience in the mental health field had honed her ability to see what the lay person wouldn't recognize.

'Everybody else may think she's still tired and hurtin' from the accident. That's feedin' the PTSS. She's thinkin' she failed Alex and that malady is runnin' wild with the idea. I don't know how to keep her from fallin' into a deeper funk!'

The wail of a siren behind them alerted the driver to yield the right of way to it. He pulled over to the side of the street, allowing the vehicle to idle as the ambulance screamed past them.

"It's turning in the direction of the clubhouse!" Lyla cried, her eyes went wide with fear.

"Tha' doesnae mean enythin', Miss Lyla!" Gerry tried to assure her.

"Unfortunately, she's got a valid fear, Gerry," Cat replied. "After what happened at Kip's wake, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that the Nords and the Mayans ambushed 'em!"

June laid a comforting hand on her friend's. "Y'all can't know that's the case. That ambulance could be goin' anyplace!"

"We won't know anything just sitting here!" the driver acknowledged, pulling the SUV back onto the traffic lane. "I'll take the same turn, we can follow the ambulance, fine out where it's going and put the ladies' minds at rest."

"Gud idea, mon!" Gerry clapped the driver's shoulder approvingly.

Cat and Lyla exchanged worried glances. They knew June's comment held a lot of merit, but they couldn't help being concerned for the hang arounds and croweaters.

The ambulance continued screeching along the street, followed by the Land Rover. To Cat and Lyla's dismay, the ambulance turned directly into the Teller - Morrow lot.

"Oh my God!" Lyla moaned.

Cat closed her eyes a moment, hoping whatever required the ambulance wasn't a serious matter. "At least the guys aren't there!" she exclaimed, trying to give Lyla some reassurance.

Gerry gazed across the lot, taking in the number of dark clad figures standing just inside the halo of light from the Cutlass and the ambulance.

"Um, Lady Cat, Ah wuldnae be so shure o' tha'," Gerry replied.

The Land Rover had pulled over to the curb across from the entrance to the lot for the garage and clubhouse. The women turned their heads to stare out Lyla's window.

"Oh, God!" Lyla sighed. "They're back! Please don't let any of 'em be seriously hurt!"

Cat mentally echoed the girl's plea. She strained her good eye to try to determine who might be hurt, but too many people were in the way. "Clay and Jax are right there with Tara and the EMTs," she reported softly. "But I can't see who's on the stretcher!"

"I can't either," Lyla replied, shading her eyes with her hand from the glare of the flashing emergency lights. "I see Opie and Piney! They're OK!" she squealed delightedly.

"That's four of 'em," June murmured.

"Chibs and Juice and Bobby are standing with Opie and his dad," Lyla explained. Her heart raced with delight that her man was unharmed.

"What about Tig?" Cat asked. "I can't see him! He didn't wear his cut so his dark clothing's gonna blend in!"

"I don't see him at all, Cat," June replied. "He's gotta be all right. Clay or someone would've called you if he were hurt."

Cat reached across June to open the door to the Land Rover. "I'm gonna go check!" she announced, grabbing the handle built into the roof to leverage herself out.

The two - way vibrated in Cat's pocket, signaling an incoming call from Alex. "Thank God! He's OK!"

"How do y'all know?" Lyla asked in confusion. She couldn't see Tig anywhere near the other men, and Cat's back was to the lot.

Cat settled back in the seat, struggling to dig the two - way out of her jeans pocket. "The two - way's vibratin', that's how!" The confined space in the back seat prevented her from getting to the two - way before the call went to voice mail.

"Oh, dammit to Hell!" she growled, finally extracting the phone from her jeans pocket.

"Glad ta kin 'e's a'right," Gerry offered.

"So am I, but it would've been nice to actually talk to him!" Cat growled, activating the voice mail button. A small smile lighted her face as she listened to Alex's message.

"The ambulance is here for Gemma. She had some kind of collapse," she reported, returning the two - way to her inner jacket pocket. "Tig wants us to meet him at the hospital - that is, if y'all don't mind takin' us there?"

"I hate to be an asshole at a time like this," June interjected. "Since we know Tig and the others are OK, do y'all mind detouring to the house and droppin' me off? I gotta work in the mornin', and it's gettin' close to my bedtime."

Cat laid a hand over her friends. "I don't mind, if it's OK with Gerry and the driver." She winked at her friend, thinking to herself, 'It's not like you really know Gem, much less have enough of an emotional investment in the club to sit around the ER lobby!'

June grinned back. "Thanks for understandin', chick."

"Ah dinnae mynd," Gerry added. "Let's get Miss June back ta tha' hoose."

"Please wait!" Cat pleaded. "Could we watch the guys leave? I know Tig's OK, but I'll feel much better seein' it for myself."

Gerry and the driver exchanged commiserating smiles. 'Women!' their expressions announced.

The driver shrugged his shoulders and relaxed in the seat. 'Gerry doesn't seem to mind, and the women have been pretty decent to us both all day. None of 'em got pissed about the delay. I've had passengers go off on me for things way beyond my control.'

The SUV's occupants watched out the tinted windows as another set of flashing lights announced the arrival of CPD.

"What manner of fresh Hell is this?" Cat wondered aloud.

Unser had cruised from one side of town to the other and back again, looking for any strange vehicles that might have given Gemma a ride. His search had turned up nothing but frustration for him, until his personal cell phone went off.

"Che if, thought you'd want to know dispatch received a call from Teller - Morrow for an ambulance to be sent out," Mae Lowe announced.

"Definitely. Did it go out over the radio?"

"No sir," Lowe replied. "The call came in from Tig Trager. He said Gemma had collapsed, asked that we not put it on the air. I called the fire station to request the ambulance."

"Good girl. You always come through for me," Unser beamed. "I'm on the way there."

"Want me to call Eglee?"

Unser considered it, then decided against it. "No, if she was tailed, pulling her from the bus station will alert them that something's up. I'll go by TM, then relieve Eglee."

"OK, Che if."

"Good work, Lowe. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Just hope you never have to find out," she laughed. 'Daddy was one of the first nine. You remained his friend right up to the day he died. I'll never forget that.'

Unser turned towards Teller - Morrow but ran silent, without lights or siren. He didn't want to raise any unnecessary attention. His presence with the ambulance would bring the Feds out like ants to a picnic.

The squad car pulled into a parking space along the garage. Che if Unser climbed from the driver's side of the vehicle and called out to halt Clay and Tara from entering the back of the ambulance.

"Not now!" Clay snarled. "Can't this wait?"

"Afraid not," Unser replied quietly. "I know you want to follow your wife, Clay. This won't take long." He gazed at Tara and added, "You go take care of Gemma, sweetheart."

Tara glanced questioningly at Clay. He nodded slightly, his eyes boring stonily into Unser's. Tara walked on to the ambulance and climbed into the back, bending over to check on Gemma as the ambulance driver closed the door.

Unser walked across the lot to stand beside Clay and Jax. "Mae Lowe called my cell to tell me about the ambulance request Tig made. She called the EMTs, kept it off the radio so Stahl wouldn't get curious."

"I owe her one," Clay murmured, watching the ambulance execute a wide turn in the lot and pull out of the lot. "Her dad was one of the first nine, a good man."

"Where's that lyin' Fed?" Jax growled.

"Dunno. She left CPD just before I did. I'd like to think she went to whatever rat hole she calls home, but I doubt it."

Tig led the rest of the club over join to the trio. "What do ya mean by that?" he snarled.

Unser looked at each one of the riders before replying. "Stahl announced earlier that Gemma was going to be in her custody by morning. She was practically dancing in the middle of the bullpen."

The men exchanged wary glances. Clay scrubbed his hand over his face. If Stahl knew Gemma was coming back to Charming, they felt someone between Klamath Falls and Charming had dropped the dime on her, hoping to cash in on the $25 thousand dollar bounty.

"Are ya sure she's not tailin' ya?" Clay inquired, gazing onto the street illuminated in flashing red and white. The only vehicle he saw was the parked Land Rover. 'Too high end for Stahl.'

"I've been keeping an eye out, haven't seen her car or Tyler's all evening," Unser assured them. "Been cruisin' town, watchin' for any sign of your girl. Eglee's staked out at the bus station. The only thing I knew Gem wouldn't be usin' was a motorcycle!"

"We've gotta figure out a way to hide Mom from Stahl. She's too vulnerable at the hospital!" Jax cried in agitation.

The men muttered agreement.

"If she's admitted under her own name, Stahl will circle her like a vulture flyin' over a dyin' man in the Mojave Desert!" Bobby added.

"We'll figure somethin' out," Clay replied.

"I'll try to keep Stahl out of the picture as long as possible," Unser added, turning to head back to his car.

"Appreciate what you've done, Che if!" Clay called after him, striding to his bike.

Unser waved without turning, climbed into his car and left the lot, still running on silent. He paid no attention to the Land Rover as he pulled onto the street, headed in the direction of the bus station.

"It's OK!" Cat sighed with relief when she spotted Unser climbing from the squad car. "It's Unser!"

Lyla relaxed next to her. "Thank God!"

"Ah tayke it tha Chief's a frien' o' tha club?"

"Damn straight!" Cat assured Gerry. "Damn good friend to the coffeehouse. He's a cancer survivor. I respect him for that."

The roar of Harley engines alerted the group to the club's exodus from the lot. Lyla and Cat stared intently through the passenger window, watching for their men. Cat visibly relaxed at the sight of Alex riding in his regular spot behind and to the right of Clay.

"Feel better, chick?" June grinned knowingly.

"Wondrous!" she sighed contentedly.

"Then let's git on ta tha hoose, drop off Miss June, so Lady Cat can reunyte wi' 'er mon!" Gerry stated.

The driver nodded, putting the car in gear and pulling sedately from the curb. A few minutes later, he pulled the SUV into Cat's driveway.

"I'll probably be asleep when you two get home, chick," June explained as the driver turned off the ignition. To her surprise, Gerry leapt from the passenger seat to open the car door for her.

"Ifn ye tell me which bags aire yers an' Lady Cat's, we'll 'elp ye carry 'em ta tha hoose!"

"Give me just a couple of seconds, Gerry," June replied.

"It's OK, kittenface. We'll try to be quiet when we get home. Likely Tig will send me home with Lyla and stay with Clay."

"Don't make bet on it, chick," June muttered, giving Cat and Lyla hugs goodnight. "I'd take the bet, but it's too easy a win." She scampered out of the vehicle, shutting the door on Cat's saucy retort.

She walked around to the hatch, pointed out the restaurant and shopping bags that were hers and Cat's, holding out her hands to take them from the men. "It's not that much, and I'm a grown up!"

"Ach! Anuther o' them feminists! Me mum brought me up right, Miss June. Ah'll carry 'em fer ye, an' nay buts aboot it!"

"I have to agree!" The drive chimed in.

June laughingly held up her hands in surrender. "I wouldn't wanna be the cause of gettin' y'all in trouble with yer mothers!"

She led the way across the lawn, illuminated by the recently replaced street light and the light of the moon. A warm, inviting glow from the living room welcomed them, as did three furry faces in the window.

The Siamese and the little one eyed black cat leapt from their window perch at the sight of two strange men following their Aunt June.

"Waire those tha two scaredy cats Lady Cat wuz talkin' aboot earlier?"

"Yup. Ming's the Siamese, and Misty is the one eyed critter," June replied.

"Damn! I forgot how big that one cat is! He looked like a baby black panther when he stretched!" The driver exclaimed.

"An' e's fasht on 'is paws, too!" Gerry reminded the driver. "We've gotta be careful noot ta let tha wee un oot!"

"Don't worry, guys! I know every one of Ebony's plays by heart. He won't get past me!" June unlocked the door and bent at the waist, holding her hand out as she slowly opened the door.

"In! In! Oh, no you don't, big boy!" she admonished, pushing her hand against the cat's furry head. The motion forced him backwards, though he pressed against her restraining hand with all his might. The lure of the outside was strong. He wanted to explore without restraint, and this silly human was literally standing in his way!

June continued pushing against the cat's head, edging further into the house. 'Glad I let the guys do the carryin'. Ebony might've won this battle if I'd had my hands full!'

Gerry and the driver crowded behind June, quickly stepping across the threshold while she battled the industrious feline's attempts to escape. The front door closed with a resounding thud, dashing the large black cat's hopes.

He snorted angrily at having his heart's desire denied him once again. His tail whipped back and forth over the floor of the living room entry, his ears flattened against his head.

"Sorry, pretty boy. Y'all's mom would never forgive me if y'all got out and disappeared. Black kitty in black night mixes too well!" June attempted to console him.

Ebony snorted again, turned his back on her and walked indignantly away from her. His rigidly outstretched tail and nose were pointed directly at the ceiling.

"Snub!" June laughed, leading the two men to the kitchen. Ebony hopped onto the sofa, then onto its' back, stretching out full length. His flipping tail was the only indication of his disappointment.

"Just dump the bags on the table, I'll put everythin' away."

The driver held out his hand to June. "It was a pleasure to serve you today, Miss June."

June accepted his hand, squeezing it warmly. "Thank you for a delightful day."

The driver left Gerry to a more personal, private farewell. He carefully watched the area around the door in case Ebony tried another escape. The black cat glared at the driver with glittering unblinking eyes, refusing to rise to the bait.

The driver rushed out the door, swiftly closing it behind him, feeling slightly embarrassed that he enjoyed winning a battle with the feline. 'Chalk one up for the humans!'

"Ebony give y'all any trouble?" Cat inquired when the driver returned to the front seat.

"He tried to. Your friend managed to fend him off. If I read his body language correctly, he was not very pleased with the human race!"

Cat chuckled. "Nose and tail pointed at the ceiling as he walked away, then a stare down when you were at the door."

"That's it!"

"Yup. He's gonna be snubbin' everyone for awhile. When he gets hungry, he'll turn into typical male animal, full of love and devotion!"

"Hey!" The driver laughed, "I resemble that remark!"

Gerry smiled at the diminutive June. 'Sech a strong personality inna small package! Ah'm gonna miss 'er!'

"Y'all had best get Cat to the hospital before she has kittens," June observed, a sad smile on her face as she spoke.

"Aye. T'would be a syte ta see!" Gerry smiled, holding his arms open for a hug.

June readily responded to the unspoken invitation, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing tightly for a bit.

"Oof! Nay ta hard, Miss June! Ah bruise easy!"

Gerry laughed, squeezing her lightly in return. "Thank ye fer a wunnerful day! This isnae un Ah'm likely ta ferget, fer all tha ryte reasons!"

June stepped from his embrace and smiled warmly. "You gave us quite a memorable day as well, Gerry. The Tarts will be pea green with envy when they hear of this. Most importantly, they'll appreciate knowin' that you always knew of our fund raisin' efforts on y'all's behalf."

"Ye behayve noo, an' try ta keep Lady Cat oot o' mischeef!" he grinned wickedly, striding to the living room.

"Jesus! One day spent in Cat's company, and her evil nature rubs off on y'all!" June sputtered good naturedly, following him to the door.

Gerry stopped in front of the sofa, reaching out to stroke Ebony on the head. "Since yer bruther an' sistah aire sech scaredy cats, ye'll hev ta share this wid 'em!"

Ebony forgot that he was snubbing the human race as he purred and rubbed his whiskers against Gerry's hand. He licked the man's fingers a few times, then butted his head against the hand, rubbing his ears against Gerry's palm.

"Ah thin' tha creethure lykes me!"

"He'll keep y'all at that all night if y'all aren't careful!" June replied. "And please, spare me the pussy jokes. Too many of 'em, and too little time!"

Gerry grinned wickedly again, then swiftly planted a kiss on June's cheek before racing out the front door.

June smiled dreamily, but successfully closed the door and locked it before the black cat could react to the temptation.

"Well, old sock, I suppose your stomach is meetin' yer back bone," she murmured. "Who's hungry?" she called in a louder voice.

The patter of eight feet sounded down the hallway. Ming and Misty scampered into the living room after timidly checking at the threshold to make sure the strangers were absent.

Ebony responded to the magic words by leaping from the sofa and winding his body around June's legs, purring urgently. Ming and Misty joined in the ritual. After giving her the modicum amount of feline love they could, the trio loudly protested that their food bowls were completely empty, their water bowls were nearly dry, they had been left alone all day, and that it was very difficult to find good human help these days. They didn't give a single feline complaint about their missing human parents.

June laughed and herded the felines into the kitchen, listening to them purr and encourage her to "Hurry the Hell up with the food, if you please! And don't forget to refill our bowls!"

She bowls full of mixed canned and dry food over their heads, inviting them to 'say grace'. The trio looked at her as if she'd grown a second head on her shoulder. 'Let us get this straight. You want us to beg, like dogs? What's the number to the ASPCA?' Their complaints were loud and long, and they refused to perform.

June gave in, placing the bowls on the mats. Three furry muzzles filled the bowls as the trio gobbled and smacked over their delayed dinner. They had the graciousness to reward her efforts with purrs of thanksgiving.

She stored the left overs in the refrigerator, labeling hers with a note that warned, 'June's food! Do Not Touch! Violators will be cheerfully punished!'

"Not that such a warning will deflect Alex if he's hungry enough!" she mused aloud.

There were some tempting leftovers from the dinner she'd made the night before. "Alex might accept this and stay the Hell outta my doggie bag!"

She set the food on a plate, then covered it with plastic wrap and set in the microwave to warm up. "He or Cat can always rewarm it. Won't hurt anything."

There was no beer in the refrigerator. There hadn't been any beer stored in it since Alex had left for Oregon. June retrieved a six pack of bottles from the garage and set them on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. She knew Alex would want a beer with his dinner, given all the times Cat had mentioned how beer to Alex was like spinach to Popeye.

She wrote out a note and stuck it on the refrigerator where Cat would be sure to see it. Then she set up the coffeepot for the next morning, made her lunch for the following day, and filled the cats' water bowl.

Satisfied that she'd done everything possible, she gathered the shopping bags and departed for her room. She dropped her bags inside the library before going into the master bedroom. She placed Cat's small bag on Alex's pillow, smiling at the thought of Alex's reaction to the gift his woman had purchased.

"She's certainly givin' the phrase 'I resemble that remark' a whole new meanin'! Wish I could see Alex's reaction. I'll likely hear it if his sense of humour's on the fritz!"

She gathered her things from the night before and returned to the library to prepare her outfit for the next day.

Unser's squad car cruised into the bus station parking lot, which was nearly deserted. The next bus into town wasn't due until midnight. He spotted Eglee's squad car parked far enough away from the building that she could see without quickly being seen.

Unser felt comforted by his subordinate's actions over the last few difficult days since Hale's death. Eglee was also a friend of the club. She did so willingly, because the club kept prostitution and drug trafficking from blighting the town. Compared to Lodi, Oakland, Modesto and Morado, Charming's police force didn't have to work quite as hard to keep the peace.

'I think Eglee deserves to be acting Deputy Che if until my replacement is named. I'll discuss it with her later this week, then present it to the city council.'

Unser parked his car next to Eglee's so that his front door and hers were opposite each other. He signaled for her to roll down her window.

"No sign of Gemma, Che if," she reported.

"I know. She's at St. Thomas. She had an attack of some kind."

Eglee's face paled. "Oh, no! Heart?"

"Dunno, yet. I suppose so. Tara's with her in the ambulance. I'm gonna go to the ER in a bit, wait with the guys for news. Lowe called me on the cell, kept the whole thing off the radio."

Eglee nodded in approval. "Good thinking on her part. Guess I'll go on home, unless you want me to come with you?"

Unser smiled and shook his head. "No. I'll be fine. Get some rest. Tomorrow's another day."

Neither of them noticed that they weren't alone. Stahl's trusted lackey was hiding in the shadows of a tree behind Eglee's squad car, soaking up every word the two spoke. He'd removed his tie and jacket so he wouldn't be as easily spotted. He'd never understood why Federal agents were expected to 'dress up' to fight crime. The suits made them stick out like sore thumbs.

Eglee wished her boss a good night, started her car and pulled away from the Chief's. She was tired and glad to be going home. She glanced in her rear view mirror, frowning at what appeared to be a darker shadow moving away from the tree next to Unser's car.

She keyed the mic. "Unit two to Unit one, come in Che if!"

"Go ahead," Unser replied.

"We've been found out. Just saw something moving in the shadow of that tree."

Unser stared out into the darkness, straining to see what Eglee's younger, sharper eyes had caught. At first, he couldn't see anything but darkness, then he spotted a car dome light flash on a few feet away from him.

"Shit!" he immediately recognized Stahl's lackey. "You're right, Eglee. There was an unaccounted for bug. I'll deal with it," he returned the microphone to its' holder and got out of his car, sighing with weariness.

Stahl's lackey saw Unser approach and locked his car door, talking animatedly into his cell phone. "Yes, ma'am. I heard it all. Gemma Morrow's being taken to St. Thomas' ER, some kind of collapse. Apparently CPD's dispatcher on duty opted to call the Chief directly instead of broadcasting it."

"I'll deal with that issue later," Stahl replied, her heart racing with triumph. "Call the others and meet me at St. Thomas. Good work!"

"What's all that about?" Tyler inquired from the kitchen sink. They'd just finished eating dinner.

"We're about to arrest Gemma. She's going to St. Thomas ER. Get your stuff, I'll explain on the way."

Tyler dried her hands and raced for her weapon holster and jacket. A few seconds later, she and Stahl were racing to the hospital.

Unser glared angrily at the agent. The Fed grinned triumphantly and started his car engine at the Chief's approach. The agent tried to drive away, but Unser stood in front of the vehicle, drew his firearm, and aimed it directly through the windshield at the driver.

The agent stopped the car and got out, keeping his hands raised. "Are you nuts, Unser?"

"Not yet, but you people are driving me there!

I'm still the brass in this jurisdiction. You were spying on Eglee, and overheard our conversation."

The agent shrugged. "That was kind of obvious, wasn't it?"

"Don't tell me you told Stahl what you heard!"

"OK, I won't tell you if that will make you feel any better," the agent snarked.

"Don't try to be funny. This isn't a laughing matter," Unser growled.

"You're right. You won't be laughing when Stahl hits you and your department with a Federal obstruction of justice charge!" the agent snarled, then he covered his mouth with his hand.

"Thanks, son," Unser smiled grimly. "You can go on about your business."

The agent slid behind the wheel and rolled toward the exit. His last act of defiance was to issue an obscene salute at the police Che if.

'No rest for the weary or the righteous!' Unser sighed to himself, climbing wearily into his squad car. 'Better warn Clay and the guys before Stahl storms the ER lobby!'

By the time Clay and his men reached the hospital, Gemma had already been whisked into the treatment room to be stabilized. Clay glared helplessly at the closed doors separated him from his wife, then resignedly accepted the clipboard of forms from the clerk.

'I feel for ya, brother,' Tig sympathized inwardly. 'Wasn't too long ago that I was in the same situation.' He moved to stand behind his friend, laying a comforting hand on Clay's shoulder.

Clay labored to fill out the forms, cursing under his breath at his inability to recall something as simple as Gemma's birth date. He glanced up at Tig in misery. "How the Hell did ya manage this?"

"It took a lot of concentration, brother," Tig replied. "Guess that helped keep me sane. Without it, there'd have been a Hell of a lotta holes in the wall to patch up."

Clay shook his head to clear it and bent over the forms again. After a few more moments, he looked up again. "This ain't workin' for me. Talk to me, Tig."

"What about?"

"The weather!" Clay snapped, scrubbing his face with one hand. "Hell, I dunno. Ya think Cat and the girls had a good time?"

"Sounded like it from her messages," Tig replied. "She didn't say much, though. Guess she was savin' the details for later."

"Understand some actor bought Opie's panhead."

Tig shrugged. "Actually, it was one of Cat's favorites."

"That narrows it down to three, not countin' the dead ones!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Watch it! Cat's not into that shit!" Tig growled amiably.

"Can't see how anyone can get into that shit, myself," Clay replied.

"Same way with a live one, just slide right in and start pumpin'," Tig explained, completely dead - pan. His eyes glinted with amusement at Clay's wince.

"Any idea why the girls didn't make it back in time to catch Gemma?"

"Last message from Cat was that they got stuck in a traffic jam. Semi jackknifed, tied up all the traffic lanes. They weren't far, but I got the impression it caused a major delay."

Tig's tone of voice alerted Clay that something was bothering his friend. He put the clipboard and pen aside and stood up. "Just what aren't ya tellin' me?"

"She's a'right. Least physically," Tig hastened to assure him. He dug the two - way out of his jeans pocket and held it out to Clay. "Listen for yourself."

Clay activated the voice mail and listened intently to Cat's message. He winced at the emotional pain in her voice. "She's soundin' just like she did when Stahl canceled the Amber Alert!" he observed, passing the two - way.

"Yeah. I don't like it. Not her fault, and I tried to tell her that. This shit doesn't happen often with her, but it's a bitch when it does."

"What the fuck are ya talkin' about? She sounds like a completely different person!"

Tig tapped his head with one finger. "It's like the PTSS some guys brought back from war. Cat's had some hard knocks in the past, they come back to haunt her."

Clay nodded. He'd served time in 'Nam, remembered how some of his own comrades in arms went completely berserk for no apparent reason and remained that way. "She takes meds for it?"

"Yeah. Religiously. I dunno if the wreck brought it out or not. Thinkin' of talkin' to her friend, June, about it."

"Shrink?"

Tig shook his head vehemently. "Nah! Just experience in the that field. Plus she's Cat's best friend. If anyone has insights, June's the to - to person."

"That's fine for tomorrow. For the moment, I'll just have to convince her that she's more of an asset than a liability to us!" Clay decreed, sitting down and returning to work on the forms. "Lemme talk to her when she gets here."

Tig stared in surprise at Clay, who returned his stare with a steely one of his own. Tig knew that expression well that told him not to ask questions, just follow orders.

The Land Rover carrying Cat, Lyla, and Gerry sailed into the hospital parking lot via the main entrance. The parking area for the ER was around the back of the building.

"My car's parked on this side of the hospital," Lyla ventured. "If you'd let me off, I can drive it around to the ER. Cat can go on in without me."

"O' course we dinnae mind, Miss Lyla!" Gerry replied gallantly. Which car is yers?"

"The grey Toyota Prius," she pointed out the aisle to the driver.

"Follow us to the ER lot," Cat announced. "It'll upset Ope too much if I show up without y'all. Best not to upset the apple cart if we don't hafta."

"I guess you're right," Lyla replied. 'God, I've got so much to learn about this life!'

The driver stopped the SUV behind the Prius, got out and opened the passenger door for Lyla.

"I'll see you in a bit," she stated, sliding from the passenger seat and walking around to the hatch for her bags.

Gerry had also exited the vehicle and gone to the hatch to retrieve Lyla's bags. He loaded them in the hatchback of the Prius, then returned to the Land Rover.

"Guess yer a wee bit excited o'er tha prospect of seein' yer mon?"

Cat shrugged. "S'pose so."

Gerry turned in his seat, gazing intently at her. 'I dinnae lyke tha sound o' tha'! She wuz all 'et up aboot maykin' shure 'e wuz a'right a bit ago, now she sounds lyke she's culd care less aboot layin' eye on 'im! Whut's goin' on wi' 'er?'

As if she could read his mind, Cat explained, "It's just that I feel like an asshat for lettin' Tig and the guys down. They were countin' on me and Lyla catchin' up with Gemma, and I didn't come through!"

"But ye told 'em aboot tha traffic jam!" Gerry protested.

"Doesn't matter. I was needed and didn't hold up my end of the deal!" she replied stiffly, staring out the window.

The driver refrained from commenting as he cruised through the parking lot to the ER. He was paid to drive, not to share his opinions on matters that didn't concern him. But if anyone had asked, he'd have been the first to mention that the woman was being too hard on herself.

A row of Harleys was parked side by side along one aisle, close to the ER entrance. Lyla maneuvered into a parking space near the line of bikes while the Land Rover cruised to a stop in the ambulance lane.

"I'll let you off here, and go get the tank filled, Mr. Butler."

"Aye. Gud idea! When ye git back, coom on inta tha lobby. Dunno how long we myte be, so ye myte as well be coomfertable."

"Yes, sir."

Gerry opened the passenger door for Cat as Lyla hurried to join them. Cat slid slowly from the seat, wincing in pain from her injuries and stumbling when her feet touched the pavement. Gerry slid a steadying hand under her good elbow. "Aire ye a'right?"

"Just wobbly. Haven't got my land legs under me yet," she assured him. "Y'all don't hafta wait with us, Gerry. We've certainly taken up more than our fair share of your time."

"Nay, Lady Cat. 'Tis me time ta gie, an' Ah dinnae mynd waitin' wi' ye. Besides, ifn yer mon don't wanna believe ye aboot the traffic, ye'll hev me ta back ye up!"

"Oh, Tig'll believe her!" Lyla staunchly replied. "She's never given him reason not to."

"Tha' may be," Gerry replied. "Boot Ah'm goin' wi' ye, an' tha's all thair is ta it!" He grabbed both women by the elbows and escorted them to the ER lobby.

Cat didn't protest as Gerry all but frog - marched her to the ER entrance. For the first time since he'd arrived in Charming, her attention wasn't on the actor. In fact, she forgot all about his presence when she spotted a certain tall, dark - haired figure standing next to Clay.

Her heart raced and fluttered in her chest like a school girl at a Justin Biebur concert. She felt as if butterflies were dancing the salsa in her stomach, as if it'd been more than just a few days since Alex had left for Oregon.

Alex's eyes brightened when he saw his woman framed in the doorway. He drank in the sight of her as if a man in the desert would look on an oasis. His stomach did a funny little dance when she returned his gaze with a longing one of her own.

His gaze wondered all over her, thinking of the delights that awaited him under the black duster, fedora, and other clothing. His fun was cut short when he spotted an unwelcome male hand on his woman's elbow. His gaze turned dark and possessive when he recognized who belonged to that hand.

'Shit! That guy may not be as buff as he was in that Spartan movie, but he's still dangerous lookin'! I don't like this at all!' Tig's frown intensified as his eyes moved back and forth from the man's green eyes to the offensive hand on his woman's elbow.

Gerry grinned sardonically at Tig's fierce gaze. To add insult to injury, he leaned down and whispered conspiratorially in Cat's ear, causing Tig's internal alpha male to roar in defiance.

"Luk out, Lady Cat. Yer mon's eyes aire turnin' a faire shade o' green!" Gerry laughed in her ear.

"Teasin' him like y'all are ain't helpin' matters!" she hissed. "I just hope it doesn't backfire on y'all!" She gently disengaged her elbow from Gerry's grasp, moving to stand protectively in front of the actor. "Hey, love!"

Alex stopped directly in front of her and glared down at her, slightly perturbed at the smile on her face. His brows were furrowed in anger and his blue eyes sparkled dangerously. "Hey back! What the fuck is this, woman? I'm leave ya for a few days and ya replace me with this pretty boy?"

His voice was a thick, dangerous growl, like the warning of a panther getting ready to attack. It stirred Gerry's protective instincts, as he couldn't tell whether Tig was teasing his woman or was seriously angry.

"Might I remind y'all that you left me so y'all could guard another man's wife?" she smirked.

Alex's response was sudden and non verbal. He seemed to fly across the remaining distance separating them while his hand shot out and wrapped around her throat. The move took Gerry by surprise, making him yelp and start to move to defend her.

Cat held up her good hand to stop him. "No worries, Gerry. This Neanderthal is my old man, Tig," Cat assured him, her voice warm and full of laughter. "Tig, this 'pretty boy' you so casually dismiss is the actor and producer, Gerard Butler."

Gerry stared at her back in disbelief. 'Whut kinda mon is this? 'E acts lyke 'e wants ta throttle 'er! Tha' way 'e mooved on 'er remynds me o' sumthin'. Ah kin Ah've seen tha' moove afore, why canne Ah remember?"

Tig glared over Cat's fedora at the actor and grunted something uncomplimentary. He wasn't impressed by the actor's obvious desire to protect Cat from him. 'What a fucktard! I can't believe he thought I was gonna hurt her!'

His anger faded when he turned his gaze back to his woman. His eyes sparkled with amusement though his voice maintained that animalistic growl. "Are ya callin' me a cave man, woman?"

She smiled up at him, her love for him clearly visible through the dark tinted glasses. She raised her uninjured hand to cover the hand that encompassed her neck. Her fingers tenderly stroked the back of his hand. "If the shoe fits, love, wear it with pride!"

While Tig staked his claim on his woman, Lyla had let out a squeal and broke away form Gerry, rushing across the lobby. She flung herself into Opie's arms, kissing him with wild abandon.

Opie's face turned slightly red from her overly enthusiastic greeting. 'It's not like we've been separated like Cat and Tig! I'm glad she missed me, but wish she'd tone it down a bit!' He knew the guys would razz him unmercifully for this latest public display of affection.

Gerry shrugged off Tig's hostile reaction. 'It isnae sumthin' unusual!' he thought ruefully. 'Sum men gie tha' way when Ah'm aroun' thair wimmin!' He continued staring intently at the couple, trying to recall where he'd seen Tig's move before. The outlaw was still gripping Cat by the throat, maneuvering her away from Gerry and up against the wall next to the lobby entrance.

Gerry turned, ready to leap to Cat's defense if he felt it necessary. "Ah dinnae unnerstand! Why doesnae tha club intervene? Ope is gettin' the stuffin' squeezed outta 'im by 'Miss Lyla while this mon is tryin' ta kill 'er right inna front o' thair eyes!'

As he continued to watch them, Gerry slowly realized that the outlaw's offending hand wasn't throttling Cat after all. The skin of his fingers wasn't white from tension, and Cat certainly wasn't struggling to breathe. Her face, which had been extremely pale when they'd first entered the lobby, was now flushed with color.

Gerry noticed that Tig's stance was relaxed, not tense like someone intending to do physical harm. Tig's hand was barely touching her throat. His thumb lightly caressed a faded scar along her neck.

His brows furrowed in thought. 'Why didnae Ah notice that scar before? Culd tha mon 'ave given it to 'er?' He performed some rapid mental calculations, based on the scar and how long she'd been in Charming.

'Nay! Ah dinnae believe she'd stay wid a mon capable of 'urtin' 'er. Tha' scar is verra auld! Tha' mon jest 'as a strange way o' showin' 'is affection. She seems ta be OK wi' it an' isna scared o' 'im! Ah kinda lyke 'er manner wi' 'im a leetle muir than Miss Lyla's wi' Opie!'

Then it occurred to him where he'd seen the move Tig had made against Cat just a few moments ago. He'd performed nearly that same gesture on Emmy Rossum during their sensual duet of 'Point of No Return'! 'We practiced an' filmed tha' moove many tymes durin' filmin' of the moovie! Tha' only diff'rence is tha' Ah reached aroun' Emmy to grab 'er by tha throat!'

He stepped quietly away in order to allow them a few moments' privacy. Opie, now sheltering Lyla under one shoulder, held out a hand in greeting.

"Thanks for including Lyla tonight. She had a good time," Opie stated quietly.

"T'was me playshure! It's nae evry day Ah git ta be inna compny o' three foine ladies an' noot hae a bunch o' cameras in me face!"

Opie grinned slightly. "I can see where that might be a problem."

"Aye. Tha panhead is safe un sound inna tha 'otel garage. She rydes lyke a dream!"

"C'mon over, I'll introduce you to the guys."

Gerry shook his head. "Ah'd rather wayte a leetle, let ye 'ear aboot yer leader's wife furst. Ah'll jest tayke meself off to an oot o' tha way corner."

Opie nodded and returned to the group sitting in one section of the lobby. Lyla sat on his lap while he explained Gerry's presence to the club.

Cat's heart started to race the moment Alex's hand touched her throat. She was certain he could feel the effect his touch had on her; her blood felt like lava running through her veins.

She was so relieved to see him that she began shaking.

Alex smiled wolfishly when he first noticed Cat's reaction to his touch, but the grin faded into concern when he felt her shiver. "I know you're not shaking outta fear of me, baby," he whispered. "Are ya a'right?"

"I am now," she assured him, reaching under his open jacket to circle his waist with her arms and nestle her head on his chest. She could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, and breathed in his familiar scent of tobacco and the outdoors that stirred her senses.

Alex's arms wrapped around her, reaching inside her duster to place his hands on her buttocks, drawing her close to him. There was no space between them but he couldn't get her close enough to satisfy him.

'It'll hafta do 'til we get home!' He found some consolation in stealing a long, slow kiss from her. When he finally came up for air, he rested his chin on her head, breathing in her own clean scent.

"Shit!"

"Missed you too, love," she agreed softly, leaning tiredly against him.

Alex released Cat from his embrace, moving her to the shelter of his uninjured shoulder. "C'mon over and sit down next to Clay, baby. You need to rest, and he wants to talk to ya"

That was the last thing she wanted to do, but she reluctantly allowed Alex to lead her over to the chair next to Clay's. 'Probably to read the riot act to me,' she thought wryly.

Alex sensed her reticence, squeezed her shoulder encouragingly and whispered, "Relax, baby! He's not gonna bite ya! That's my department!"

"If y'all were tryin' to be comfortin', y'all failed, big time!" she murmured wryly, unable to hide her nervousness at the idea of facing Clay's anger.

Clay rose at her approach, reaching out to give her a light hug of welcome. "Thanks for comin', Cat. Sorry to cut into your girls night out."

"Not that it did any good," Cat responded dryly, lowering herself gingerly into the chair next to Clay's.

Clay glanced over her head inquiringly at Tig. The SAA shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that plainly stated, 'I warned ya!'

Clay sat next to her, his normally steely gaze softened by concern. "What's wrong with you, Cat?"

"Somehow, I don't think y'all are referrin' to my injuries," she observed.

"You've been mopin' around like this since the night Sack died. You're not normally so down in the dumps!" Clay growled.

"What do you expect?" she snapped. "We lost a friend that night, and everythin's gone to Hell in a hand basket ever since!"

"Not from anything ya did or didn't do!" Clay retorted coldly. "Lissen to me. Ya weren't responsible for the Alert gettin' canceled, and it's not yer fault that Gemma's in that room!"

"Yeah, right! If I'd stayed put instead of gallavantin' all over, maybe Gemma would be OK!"

"Bullshit!" Tig roared, forgetting for a moment that they were in the ER waiting area where people normally spoke in hushed tones. "No one faults ya for takin' a day to yerself! How the fuck were ya to know anythin' like this was gonna happen?"

"Damn straight!" chorused the Sons. Gerry added his own forceful acknowledgment to the chorus of support.

"Ye ain't Sooperwoman!" The actor cried.

Tig glared at the actor's audacity in speaking up, but nodded agreement with his assessment. "Ya might pass for Wonder Woman, baby. But ya can't do everything and be everywhere, no matter how hard ya try. Trust me, baby, ya do one Hell of a lot more good than ya think!"

Cat's shrug spoke the 'Whatever!' that was in her mind. The shrug was very eloquent, as was her silence.

"Cat, this isn't like you, and I don't like it!" Clay growled.

"Tough! I'm not in a rah - rah cheerleader mood!" She deliberately turned her gaze from the club president, starting intently at the floor tile in front of her.

Alex winced, anticipating one of Clay's classic explosions of cold anger. He moved into a defensive position between his woman and his president, ignoring Clay's glare.

Instead of lashing out at her for talking back to him, Clay placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "I'm only gonna say this once, so ya better lissen close, woman," he stated calmly.

"I'm all attention," she replied quietly, her eye shooting green sparks of annoyance.

Alex drew a sharp, quick breath. 'This could get real dangerous, fast!'

He crossed his arms to hide the trembling in his hands. He was well acquainted with her use of that phrase, and the sarcasm that always followed it.

Clay would only tolerate so much backtalk from Cat before he'd go off. What made Alex feel worse was that he'd have to let his president get away with it.

"Gem's been upset all day; puttin' Nate in the nursin' home was hard on her. She got more agitated when she got to Jax's and found an empty, dark house. Neeta didn't answer the phone, which upset her more. I'm pretty sure the last straw came from a call she got on the throwaway just before she collapsed."

Cat's eye narrowed to hear about a phone call coming in before Gemma collapsed. "Any idea who called her?"

Clay sighed. "We don't know. The number was blocked. Tried to call it back but get a recordin' that it can't receive incomin' calls."

Cat whistled soundlessly. "So you're sayin; that even if Lyla and I had been in town things would've ended up the same way."

"Ya catch on fast, baby!" Alex interjected, determined to lighten the atmosphere. 'Better she direct her temper on me than Clay!'

She favored him with 'the look', but refused to dignify his comment with a reply. She turned her attention back to Clay to inquire at long last,

"Any word on how she's doin'?"

She felt like a heel for selfishly wallowing in self - pity when there were more important matters to consider. 'As if I don't feel miserable enough!I'm doin' a great job of bein' a total fucktard!'

"Not yet," he replied with a sigh, retrieving the clipboard. "Dr. Gallagher's in there helpin' Tara."

Cat laid a hand on Clay's arm in a gesture of support. "I'm sorry, Clay. Y'all must be scared to death."

Clay patted her hand and smiled wanly. "That's an understatement. I dunno how Tig managed. At least Gem's conscious!"

Alex felt the tension drain from him. The crisis had been averted. He sank into a chair next to his wife as she reached for the clipboard and removed it from Clay's lap.

"Lemme fill out the financial responsibility form, Clay."

"Gem's got insurance through the garage, Cat. There's no need - "

"There is need, Clay. Please, let me do this," she pleaded.

Clay nodded in assent. He knew any further protests would fall on deaf ears.

Cat glanced at the top form and frowned again. "Why is her name blank? What's goin' on?"

Before Clay or Alex could reply, Juice let out a loud moan. "Guys! We've got trouble!"

The trio looked up at the lobby doors in time to see Agent Stahl storm into the ER lobby. A small army of ATF agents followed in her wake just as Tara and Dr. Gallagher stepped out of the treatment room.

"Shit!" The moan rose in the air from Cat, Tig, Clay, and all the rest of the Sons.

'Ah've gotta bad feelin' aboot this!' Gerry thought, staring in dismay at the crowd of agents stalking towards the group.

Lumpy Feldstein's boxing academy stayed open late one night a week for an evening beginners' class. Boys and girls from age eight to thirteen came in each week to learn the basics while their parents kept watch from the sidelines.

The last young pugilist and doting parent had finally left the building, leaving Lumpy free to clean up for the next day. He picked up a broom and started sweeping the floor, waiting for his bi - monthly late night visitor to appear.

The visits had started soon after Jacob Hale Jr. had brought Ethan Zobelle and LOAN to Charming. All the business owners on the block had gotten after hours visits from a well dressed man offering above market prices for their property. All the others had turned down the man's offer. When Lumpy heard of the offer, he didn't intend to be the first to accept.

He wasn't surprised by the after hours visit, but acted as if it were unexpected when the expensively dressed man walked through the front door.

The bell set over the door tinkled merrily, announcing the entrance of a customer. Lumpy was in the back, sweeping around the boxing ring.

"Sorry, closed for the day!" he called towards the front. "Come back tomorrow!"

A large framed, well dressed man stepped into the dim light of the front lobby from the door. "What I have to tell you won't wait until regular business hours, Mr. Feldstein," the man replied quietly. "I also know that you know why I'm here."

"News does travel fast in a small town," Lumpy agreed. "So yes, I do know vhy you are here. I'm not interested. None of us are interested in selling."

"So you all say now," the man countered. "Everyone has their price. Some may hold out longer than others. There is a conglomerate interested in this area for development. I'm authorized to offer whatever it takes to buy the buildings on this block, including your gym."

"That's your problem," Lumpy retorted, leaning against the large floor broom. "Not mine. Mine is teaching the elements of boxing. It's vhat I do."

"We'll see, Feldstein," the man left a business card on the glass topped counter, smiled coldly at Lumpy, and departed. The merry tinkling of the bell was a stark contrast to the man's cold, dark demeanor.

'He reminds me of one of the guards at the camp all those years ago!' Lumpy shuddered at the memory, then shook his head and returned to his chores.

That night, just as every other week, the same well dressed man appeared after the last student had departed. The same scenario played itself out each time. The man would enter Lumpy's boxing academy when no one else was around to witness their conversation. He would make a new offer, higher than the one made on the last visit.

Most of the other business owners had been 'persuaded' to accept the man's offer. Some capitulated sooner than others. Soon, Lumpy was the only hold out, and the man's 'persuasion' was becoming more vicious. Most of it was confined to petty and annoying vandalism.

'I think it's only a matter of time before he starts using me for a punching bag!' Lumpy mused, watching the man roam about the lobby, looking at the trophies and medals in the display case.

"Evening, Feldstein. You know why I'm here," the man stated sarcastically.

"Yes, I know vhy you are here," Lumpy replied. "And you know vhat my answer is. The same as last week, and the week before that! Vhy don't you save yourself the trouble and accept that I vill not sell?"

"You'll sell. Every man has his price. Figures you'd turn out to be one of those greedy Jews, holding out for top dollar," the well dressed man sneered.

'His outfit may speak of money, but his attitude stinks like a trash bin!' Lumpy snorted derisively. "My religion has nothing to do vith it! This is my vay of life! Teaching boxing is vhat I do! You expect me to give this up for money?"

"Why not?" the man inquired. "You've held out longer than the rest of the business owners on this block. It's your turn to give up, Feldstein. You don't have the strength to outlast us. We want your property, and we're going to get it."

"Over my dead body!" Lumpy spat. "Now get out of here! I have better things to do than chew the fat with you!"

"That's a very good idea, Lumpy," the well dressed man drawled. "It would certainly solve a lot of problems."

The man spun on his heel and stalked towards the door. Lumpy climbed from the ring to lock the door after the man. As the well dressed messenger passed the glass counter, he swung his meaty arm over the top of it, swiping everything on top of it to the floor.

"Is that the best you can do?" Lumpy nearly laughed at the man's attempt to intimidate him.

"That's just a small taste of what I will do if you keep turning down our generous offer!" The man snarled. "You think on that during the couple of weeks, Feldstein!"

Lumpy quickly crossed the floor to the door, locking it after the messenger. He raised his hand in a rude gesture, swearing Yiddish curses through the glass.

The well dressed messenger grinned maliciously, opening the door and stepping out to the sidewalk.

Lumpy sighed tiredly. "I'm getting to old for this shit! Bullies like him think a little muscle

and a lot of money vill get them vhat they vant. I have news for them! It von't svay me!"

The messenger smiled sardonically at Lumpy's back. Then he crossed the sidewalk and slid into the passenger seat of the Mercedes idling at the curb.

Lumpy returned to his work, muttering more Yiddish under his breath. He glanced at the phone, weighing the pros and cons once again of calling Tig for help.

'No. The club's got enough trouble vithout vorrying about me. The CBA von't be able to help me, either. For better or for vorse, this is my battle to vin or lose on my own.'

Tara and Dr. Gallagher worked seamlessly together, along with the ER nurses on Gemma. The oxygen therapy begun in the ambulance was continued without interruption. The nurses quickly and effortlessly moved the clear tube from the ambulance's portable tank to the wall unit of the treatment room.

Blood was drawn for tests, and an IV started in Gemma's arm. The IV was a standard Ringer's solution, to supply hydration to her. Dr. Gallagher listened to her heartbeat, and ordered an IV push of heart medicine.

"It's not an MI," he assured Tara.

"What is it then?"

"Arrhythmia. Her health record indicates she on medication. Has she been taking it?"

Tara shook her head. "I don't know. Can't recall seeing her take it, but can't say she hasn't."

Dr. Gallagher nodded. "We'll know more from the blood work." He glanced at the heart monitor, the digital display confirming his suspicions.

A nurse hustled in with the results from the blood work, which cemented what he'd determined. "She's not been taking the medication for a few days," he announced. "Now we know how to treat her."

Medications to correct Gemma's heartbeat were administered intravenously, along with a sedative to calm her. The scared, wild look faded from Gemma's eyes as her heartbeat returned to normal and breathing became less difficult. Then her eyes drifted shut as the tranquilizer calmed her and sent her to sleep.

"We'll put her in ICU overnight, then move her to a private room if she continues to improve," Dr. Gallagher noted. If he knew Gemma was a fugitive, he gave no indication of it. As far as he was concerned, the only thing that mattered was that Gemma was his patient.

The two physicians stepped out of the treatment room, intending to give Clay the news about his wife. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of a small platoon of ATF agents striding into the lobby.

Tara's eyes narrowed as Agent Stahl walked up to her and Dr. Gallagher. Stahl and her stormtroopers wore their trademark blue windbreakers with yellow lettering on the back of them.

"Gemma's in there," Stahl indicated the treatment room.

Tara and Dr. Gallagher neither confirmed nor denied it. They glared at the agent, wondering how she'd found out that Gemma had been brought to St. Thomas.

"Don't bother to deny it," Stahl added, ignoring the angry glares from the Sons and the doctors. She withdrew a folder paper from her inner jacket pocket and handed it to Dr. Gallagher.

"What's this?"

"An arrest warrant. Gemma Teller is now in my custody!" Stahl announced, casting a triumphant look at Clay.

"She may be your prisoner, but she's first and foremost my patient!" Dr. Gallagher retorted, allowing the arrest warrant to fall to the floor in disdain.

"What's her condition?" Stahl inquired.

"Serious," Dr. Gallagher responded carefully. "We're moving her to ICU overnight"

"You're moving her to the jail ward," Stahl ordered.

"The Hell they are!" Clay roared at last, moving threateningly towards the agent. His men backed him up, while Stahl's cadre of agents stood solidly behind her, hands on their holstered guns.

"I'll remind you that this is a hospital!" Dr. Gallagher roared. "I won't hesitate to have all of you removed from here if you don't settle down!"

Gerry rose from his corner seat when SAMCRO moved to confront Stahl. His plan was to keep the women company and prevent Cat from getting into another hissy fit with the agent.

Stahl, ever on the alert to changes in her surroundings, immediately recognized the actor. She opened her mouth in surprise but nothing but an outraged squeak came out. 'I can't believe it! Gerard Butler hanging around with an outlaw motorcycle gang?'

Cat literally had her eye on Stahl the minute Juice had warned them of the Feds' presence. 'Well! This is an intererestin' development! Stahl's a fan! Might be useful.' She turned towards Gerry so Stahl couldn't make out what she was saying.

"You remember Stahl from the coffeehouse?"

"Aye. She luks a wee bit lyke 'er best frien' left 'er!"

"Almost," Cat replied. "She's a fan, and right now, feels a little betrayed that y'all are hangin' out with us."

"Ach! Yer up ta sumthin', Lady Cat!" Gerry admonished, the twinkle in his eyes belying the severity of his tone of voice.

"Damn straight! Just follow my lead; we'll see how good y'all are at improv!" She carefully rose from the chair as Gerry slid his hand under her elbow for support.

"Well, well, well! I never would've expected y'all to be a Gerry fan, Stahl!" Cat purred insolently.

Agent Tyler cast a startled glance at her lover. 'I didn't know it, either!'

"Wh - what's not to like?" Stahl replied, ignoring Tyler's expression. She was getting over her initial shock. "Except for that movie Law Abiding Citizen, that is. I didn't think your character was very law abiding."

"Tha's tha booty o' tha film, lass," Gerry replied, turning his charm on full power.

Though it made her sound younger, which appealed slightly to her vanity, Stahl yearned to hear him call her by her given name. She held out her right hand and stepped toward the actor. "We haven't been properly introduced," she purred. "I'm June Stahl."

Gerry clasped her hand, turning his mega - watt smile on her. "My playshure, Agent Stahl."

"June. Please," she smiled.

'Christ! The woman's damn near simperin' like Scarlett O'Hara! That smile makes her look almost human!' Cat thought uncharitably. She slid next to Alex and whispered, "Tell Clay to be ready to sneak into the treatment room while Stahl's attention is elsewhere."

"What are ya up to, woman?" Alex whispered back. 'Whatever it is, I gotta bad feelin' about this!'

"Relax, love. Look at Stahl, she's salavatin' like one of Pavlov's dogs. I'm just gonna use that as a distraction."

Alex glanced at the Feds. "Looks like some of the boys with her are a little star struck. At least they've seem to have forgotten about Gem for the moment."

"That's the idea, love," she grinned, squeezing his arm in reassurance.

Stahl explained to Gerry that she'd enjoyed his role in 'Timeline' out of all of his roles that she'd seen. "Not that I get a lot of time to go to movies. When I can catch them on television, though, I'll watch what I can."

"Ah imagine ye dinnae gie a loot o' down tyme," he mused while scribbling a few words for her. Stahl had handed her notebook to him for an autograph.

"I manage to stay busy," the agent drawled, glancing over her shoulder at SAMCRO. "Guess that's why I was a little shocked to see you with this element."

"Ah'm doin resarch fer me next role," Gerry replied. "A former biker turned minister. Tha film is called 'Machine Gun Preacher'."

"Catchy," Stahl mused.

Cat limped over to join them. "Kinda surprises me to find out we have somethin' in common, Stahl. What did y'all think of 'Phantom of the Opera'?"

"Never have seen it," Stahl replied warily. 'What's with the sudden change in attitude in her? One minute she's glaring daggers at me, the next talking to me like we're comrades? I smell a rat.'

Cat shrugged. "Too bad. Gerry's got a good singin' voice, and made a great Phantom. I never subscribed to that hoopla about usin' the stage actors that originated the roles. Not that I don't like Michael Crawford, who was the Broadway Phantom. Gerry was the right age for the role when it was filmed."

"Hmm. You may be right, Marshall. I read the original LeRoux story, and always thought the Phantom was twice the heroine's age; Crawford would've been too old." Stahl acted like she was accepting their shared interest in the actor at face value. 'I'll just play along with Marshall. I know she's up to something, probably trying to keep me distracted so the club can spirit Gemma away and hide her.'

"Gerry, I hate to ask, but Stahl's not the pushy type," Cat glared at the men, who were grinning and doubled over with coughs that masked the word 'bullshit'. "Would y'all be willin' to pose for a picture with her?"

"It's be my playshure!" Gerry smiled, making Stahl nearly go weak in the knees. "Ifn sumboddy 'as a camera, that is!"

One of the agents quickly supplied a camera phone and handed it to Gerry. He hid a grimace at the speed the phone was produced.

"Lady Cat, wuld ye be willin' ta do the honors?" Gerry added, passing the phone to her.

She nodded, then glanced at the other agents. "I've got an idea, as a 'thank you' for their work, why not take a photo with the whole gang, too?"

Alex rolled his eyes to the Heavens. 'God, woman! You're really layin' it on thick!'

"What the fuck is she up to, Tig?" Clay whispered.

"Clearin' the way for you to get into that treatment room and get Gemma outta harm's way," Tig replied quietly.

The other agents brightened at Cat's suggestion, which Gerry agreed wholeheartedly to.

"Ah kin the verra playce ta pose!" he offered, gesturing to the very corner he'd just vacated. It was well away from the treatment area entry and didn't provide for a very clear view of them.

"Excellent choice!"

"I disagree," Stahl replied. "How about in front of the lobby doors?" She preferred that locale because of the uninhibited access and direct line of sight.

"Sorry, Stahl. Y'all want pictures, y'all do it my way. I do have some experience in this kinda thing!"

"Oh, really?" Stahl sniped. "Since when?"

"Surprised that's not in my dossier," she retorted. "I worked as a photographer/reporter for a small town newspaper. I'm no Annie Leibowitz, but know what's esthetically pleasin' on film."

"Ah hafta agree wid Lady Cat," Gerry added. He moved to stand in the corner he'd chosen. "Ah lyke this area better. Less chance o' blockin' tha lobby duirs."

The other agents glanced pleadingly at Stahl, but wisely refrained from verbalizing their wish. Several of the male agents were fans of '300' and 'Lara Croft: Tomb Raider, Circle of Life.' They wanted nothing more than to have a picture taken with the actor, even if it were a group picture instead of individual ones.

Stahl made an upwards slashing motion with one hand. "All right! All right! We'll do it your way!"

Cat took her time to arrange the agents 'just so' for the pictures. She wanted to give Clay plenty of time to slip into the treatment area. She tried out several different poses before settling for having Tyler and Stahl flank Gerry, with the males kneeling in front of them.

Gerry smiled his mega - watt smile, wrapping his arms around the female agents' shoulders. Tyler stiffened at the contact and her smile was forced. Stahl actually melted against the actor and smiled that same genuine smile that made her appear quite pretty.

"Now's your chance, Clay," Tig murmured when Cat started arranging the agents for the picture.

Clay moved slowly towards the double doors leading to the treatment rooms. He cast a quick look over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, then raised his hand to push open the door.

"Get away from that door, Clay!" Stahl's authoritative voice called across the lobby. "You and your gang move over to where I can see you!"

Clay whirled around to glare in Stahl's direction, wishing for the umpteenth time that he could blow the agent's brains out. He signaled to his men and they walked slowly into Stahl's range of vision.

Stahl smirked and turned a haughty glare at Cat. "Did you really think I'd let you get away with such an obvious distraction?"

"It was worth tryin'," she replied dryly. Inside, she wanted to cry with frustration. 'It was a half assed idea, anyway. She saw through it right away!'

Clay snorted with anger, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He glared icily across the lobby at the agent.

Alex stood next to Clay, his own hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He felt disappointed for his woman. 'Shit! It was a good try, baby. That gash is smart!'

"Let's get this done so I can secure my prisoner!" Stahl ordered briskly. Her manner was completely professional, replacing the previous 'fan girl' behavior.

Though she was disappointed enough not to care whether she captured the shot properly, Cat's professionalism won out. 'It's not the other agents fault that Stahl's such a fucktard!'

She snapped off a few pictures from several angles, then checked to make sure they came out OK before handing the camera phone back to its owner.

"Thank you, ma'am," the agent stated. "I'll see to it the gang gets copies."

Cat nodded, turning and walking away from the club and Alex. She was too distressed to go near them and slid tiredly into a chair in a far off corner. She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned her head against the back of the chair, lower the fedora over her eyes.

'Ach! Puir Lady Cat! She's oopset, an' Ah cannae blame 'er! She wanted ta 'elp an' it blew oop in 'er face!' Gerry graciously signed autographs for the male agents that crowded around him, though he kept a worried watch on her.

Alex left Clay's side to sit next to her, his heart echoing her pain. He knew her body language well enough to know she'd fallen back into the same funk she'd been in earlier. He slipped a comforting arm around her shoulder, placing his hand on the nape of her neck.

"Y'all might not wanna sit with me, love. I'm not in a good place at the moment."

"Baby, this isn't the best place for anyone!" he quipped half - heartedly. "No wonder ya got the blues!"

She pushed the brim of her fedora up with the middle finger of her hand. She didn't speak, choosing instead to favor him with a sideways version of 'the look'.

He grinned slyly at her. "Shootin' the bird at me don't mean nothin', except I got ya to pay attention to me!"

She snorted and allowed the fedora to fall back over her face. She wished the earth would just open up under her chair so she could disappear from sight.

"Dammit baby! Would ya quit thinkin' ya let us down again?"

"Kinda hard not to feel that way when it's just smacked me upside the head!" she retorted.

Alex was frustrated for the first time in a long time with her. 'Dammit, baby! What the fuck is goin' on in that head of yours? You've never been this far down in the dumps before! Christ, how do I help her get outta this funk?'

The answers eluded him. Cat wasn't talking, and the Son wasn't providing any illumination, either. The only thing he could think to do was give her as much comfort as she'd allow. He wasn't sure that was going to be enough.

Stahl returned to her interrupted conversation with Tara and Dr. Gallagher. The two physicians had watched the proceedings in the lobby with bemusement.

'Wish Cat had been successful,' Tara thought. 'That was the best chance we had to move Gemma somewhere safe. She's takin' the failure to much to heart.' She made a note to ask her psychiatrist friend the following day about Cat's behavior.

Stahl stared at the arrest warrant that lay on the floor where Dr. Gallagher had dropped it. "You can throw that warrant into the shredder for all I care. It won't change the fact that Gemma Morrow is now a Federal prisoner!"

"And I said she needs to be in ICU!" Tara snarled coldly. "She's not out of danger yet!"

"Really?" Stahl smirked. She turned to Dr. Gallagher. "Do you share that prognosis?"

Dr. Gallagher glanced from Tara to Stahl. He didn't like the agent's high handed behavior. It made him want to be less co - operative with her. He wasn't about to put his patient in jeopardy, but he also wasn't willing to put his career on the line.

"While Mrs. Morrow isn't in any immediate danger, her condition is still very serious. She needs quiet and rest," he admitted. "I think it's better for her if she spends the night in the ICU."

"But you don't mandate it." Stahl replied.

Dr. Gallagher's gaze turned away from Tara to rest on a spot on the floor. "No, I don't mandate it."

"It won't kill her to be put in the jail ward, where she can have rest and quiet in a private room, will it?" Stahl pressed her advantage, sensing the win was within reach.

"No," Dr. Gallagher admitted reluctantly. "It won't kill her to be admitted to the jail ward."

Clay strode up behind Stahl. His face paled when he overheard the conversation. His eyes blazed angrily as he roared, "Like Hell it won't! That fuckin' gunman from the drive - by is on that ward! I'll be damned if I'll allow her to be on the same floor as that asswad!"

Stahl turned to glare at him. "You don't have any say in this matter! Besides, there's a Sanwa Deputy guarding his door. Surely you have faith in the sheriff's department!"

Clay's response was to glare icily at the agent. Stahl smirked triumphantly and nodded at one of the male agents. "Go put the cuffs on Gemma. One to the wrist, one to the bed. Whichever arm isn't plugged into an IV."

"Yes, ma'am," the agent scurried off to carry out her order.

Chief Unser walked into the lobby just in time to witness Clay's tirade. He winced at the idea of Gemma being shackled to her bed. He didn't like the idea of her being in any proximity to Pozo, either. "Is it really necessary to cuff her to the bed, Stahl?" he growled. "Seems like overkill to me."

"You shouldn't be questioning my procedures, Wayne," she retorted icily. "Not when I intend to charge CPD with obstruction of justice!"

Unser crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, smiling sarcastically. "Have you been inhaling some of the chemicals around here? You're not making much sense."

"C'mon, Wayne! Don't play innocent with me! We both know your dispatchers called you about the ambulance run to Teller - Morrow instead of using the radio!" she snapped.

Unser's grinned widened as he withdrew a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. "I'm sure it seemed suspicious. Turns out we suffered a radio malfunction. Here's the log sheet to prove it."

"You expect me to believe that?" Stahl snarled, snatching the sheet from Unser's hand and running a disbelieving eye over it.

Though she scrutinized it carefully, the log appeared legit. It showed there had been a period of fifteen minutes where the radio had been out of service, unable to make contact with the patrols. All calls out and in to the dispatch center had been made by phone.

Unser's gaze remained neutral as Stahl examined the log sheet. 'Too bad I can't give Lowe a commendation for tripping the circuit breaker to the radio system! Smart of her to write up that log for us, just in case we needed it. It was worth the delay in getting here to retrieve it.'

Stahl glared across the top of the log sheet at Unser. "You really expect me to believe a circuit just happened to trip at the right time?"

Unser shrugged. "I don't give a shit whether you believe it or not. I'm sure the idiots in charge will believe it. It's legit, darlin'. You might've won the battle, but you'll lose this particular skirmish."

Stahl threw the log sheet into Unser's face then turned to bark orders to her agents. "Estevez, you'll take first watch. Each of you will take four hour shifts. Search everyone that enters her room -"

"You will not impede medical personnel entering the room by searching them!" Tara interjected hotly. "It's not like any of the medical staff is going to try to break Gemma out!"

"Present company excluded," Stahl retorted wryly. "Fine. I'll amend that order to searching only her visitors - until one of your medical professionals gives me a reason to change my mind!"

Stahl continued to bark orders at her agents. Some of them still clasped their autographed notebooks in their hands.

Gerry took advantage of the opportunity to find out more about the special fund Cat administered for the club's medical needs. He walked to the counter and flashed his mega - watt smile on the clerk. She immediately melted, and gave him a copy of the financial responsibility form.

"I'm really taking a big chance, Mr. Butler -"

"Gerry, darlin'," he flashed the smile on her again.

" - Gerry. HIPPA rules are pretty strict, and the hospital is really tight when it comes to financial information."

"Ah kin, lass. An' Ah dinnae want ta cayse ye ta loos yer job. Tha's why ye need ta keep this twixt us."

"Since it's you, and you seem to be a friend of Miss Marshall's, I'm glad to help!" she simpered.

Gerry cemented the deal with a hug, an autograph, and posed for a picture with the clerk, who used her own camera phone. Gerry was surprised that she was able to get a good shot without having someone else take the picture.

While the actor was otherwise occupied, Tara moved away from Stahl to talk with Clay. "I'm really sorry about this," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault. How's Gemma?"

"She's stable. It was arrhythmia. She's not been taking her medication to prevent a flare up," Tara reported. "That and the stress over the last few days brought on the collapse. Dr. Gallagher ordered a sedative, so she's bound to sleep through the rest of the night."

Cat remained stretched out in the chair. She wasn't asleep and was well aware of all that was going on around her. Nothing aroused her interest. She paid no heed to Unser's confrontation with Stahl, and didn't seem to be concerned about Gerry's whereabouts.

Alex tried to comfort her, but she refused his efforts. She even rebuffed his attempt to draw her head to rest against his shoulder so she'd be more comfortable.

"C'mon, baby! Lemme help ya!" Alex pleaded with her. He hated pleading. Her rejection wounded him to the core. "Don't shut me out!"

"Ah 'ave ta agree wid yer mon," Gerry added, dropping with a sigh of relief into the chair next to hers. He rubbed his writing hand to ease the ache from signing so many autographs. "Ah thot it was a gud idea, considerin' hoo liddle tyme ye had."

Cat shrugged morosely. "That's nice of y'all. My battin' average seems to say otherwise!"

"Fuck that, woman! Ya did somethin' to help, which is more than a lot of people would do. Why the fuck do ya think I trust ya so damn much!" Alex growled.

"Humpf!" Cat snorted, though Alex could sense a bit of her wicked humor beginning to rise to the surface.

Clay gave Tara's shoulder a brief squeeze before turning to walk over to his SAA. "Gemma had arrhythmia. She's gonna be in the jail ward. I'll stay with her tonight. I'm sending you boys home for a much deserved rest."

"You sure, Clay?" Tig inquired. If Clay wanted him to stay, he would, despite his desire to be with his wife.

"Yeah. Take some time to be with your woman. I owe it to ya. Besides, Gemma'll sleep for a few hours; Dr. Gallagher gave her a sedative. I'll see ya later in the mornin'."

Tig nodded, inwardly sighing with relief that he didn't have to battle his two persona's again. He was free to concentrate on being a supportive husband instead of SAMCRO's SAA.

Clay tapped Cat's fedora to get her attention. "Would appreciate it if ya'd look at me, kitten."

She lifted her head to glare at him, waiting for him to deliver a scathing opinion of her effort. Her face was pale under the harsh light of the lobby. Her black attire emphasized her tiredness and the scar on her throat was vivid against her pale skin.

"Thanks for tryin' to help protect Gemma," Clay stated simply. "It was a stroke of genius to use Stahl's interest in your actor pal to distract her."

He turned his attention to Gerry and held out a large hand. "Clay Morrow. SAMCRO president. Thanks for helpin' us out."

Gerry clasped the hand held out to him. "'Tis glad Ah am ta 'ear that yer wife is OK."

"You and me both, fella!" Clay replied. He stared at Tig and added, "Take yer girl home, Tig. Have a good night." He turned away and walked back to the treatment room doors, where Gemma's bed was being wheeled out by two male attendants.

"That sounded like an order," Cat observed as Clay strode back to the treatment room doors.

"It was," Alex assured her. "C'mon. Let's get outta here. I've seen too much of this place lately!"

He stood and held his hand out to her to help her up. Gerry stood at the same time, but wisely kept his hands at his sides under Alex's intense glare.

Cat stood up and nearly fell over from fatigue. Alex quickly reached out to hold her steady. He drew her against his side, relishing the momentary closeness. "The sooner I get ya home, the better!" he rumbled, leading her towards the lobby doors. Gerry followed a step or two behind.

The SAMCRO men stopped Alex and Cat's progress to the parking lot just in front of the lobby doors. They wanted to say good night and thank her for helping protect Gemma.

Normally, Tig would've scowled over the delay. He knew his brothers were as concerned about his woman's depression as he was. 'Maybe the combined attention will do the trick. God knows my assurances haven't!'

"Ye did gud, me girl," Chibs informed her, ignoring her skeptical expression. "Ye kin Ah wuldnae bullshite ye!" Disregarding Tig's alpha male protectiveness, he embraced her and kissed her cheek. "Dinnae be 'ard on yerself, lass. 'T'wasn't meant ta be this tyme."

"Maybe you're right, brother," Cat sighed.

Chibs' eyes twinkled mischievously. "O' course Ah'm rite! Airen't Ah always?"

"Do y'all really want me to answer that?" she replied wryly.

Chibs dramatically placed a hand on his chest, releasing her from his avuncular embrace. "Ach! Ye wounded me, gurl!" He kissed her cheek again and whispered, "Oncet tha' un allows ye ta git sum sleep, thin's'll look better ta ye!"

Cat swatted him on his arm. "Go on with y'all! And be careful on the road, brother dear!"

"Ah luv ye, sis!" he chortled. He gave Tig the bro hug double back tap. "Tayke gud care o' 'er, Tig."

"Ya know I will," he growled.

While Lyla embraced Cat and thanked her for including her, Opie issued an invitation to Gerry to stop by the clubhouse on his way out of town.

"I'd like to talk with you about this movie of yours, if you don't mind."

"Ah'd lyke tha' Opie," Gerry replied. "Maybe ye kin gie me sum muir informaythun on MC's lyke yers."

'And put my mind at rest that your movie's not going to paint the wrong picture about bike clubs,' Opie thought. So many movies made biker clubs out the wrong way. He could count on one or two fingers the number of movies that Hollyweird portrayed bikers and bike clubs close to reality.

Lyla also embraced Gerry and thanked him for the day before she and Opie headed towards the lobby doors. "Thanks again for including me, Cat. Rest well." She shot a significant look at Tig before following Opie to the parking lot.

"What's the deal?" Alex inquired. "First Chibs, then Lyla gives me the hairy eyeball!"

"Your reputation, love," Cat explained with a slight grin.

"I resemble that remark," his eyes glowed as he considered all the things he wanted to do. Sleep wasn't high on the priority list.

Gerry raced for the door and out into the parking lot just in time to see Lyla's Prius speed away behind Opie's Harley. He'd intended to try to flag down Lyla to inquire into a ride home for Cat. 'Ah dinnae thin' Tig will tayke kindly ta me taykin' 'er hoom!'

"What's gotten into him?" Alex asked, staring after the actor's hasty departure. Though he wasn't pleased that the actor had left without saying a goodbye to his woman, Alex was just as happy Gerry was out of the picture.

"Dunno, love. I'm surprised y'all care," she grinned wickedly. "Figured y'all would be happy to see his back."

"I am! That man should stay on the screen where he belongs!" Alex growled, throwing a casual arm around her shoulder.

Cat grinned up at him, a shadow of her usual impish grin lighting her face. "Love, y'all got nothin' to worry about! Y'all have my heart, soul, and body!"

Alex felt his insides heat up from her words. 'She's not tellin' me anything I don't already know, but it feels good to hear it from her own mouth!" His relief at the actor's departure was short lived as Gerry returned to join them at the lobby door.

"Ah tried ta catch oop wi' Miss Lyla so ye wuld 'ave a ride hoom," Gerry breathlessly explained. "Ah wuz a liddle ta late. Ah'll gie ye a ride back ta yer hoose."

"The Hell you will!" Alex roared, his arm tightening possessively around Cat's shoulders. "She's goin' with me!"

"On yer bike?" Gerry asked incredulously. "In 'er shape?" He remembered how Opie, June, and Chuckie had vehemently objected to the idea of Cat riding behind him on the panhead. "Aire ye daft, mon?"

"Maybe. Hell, she's ridden with me before when she's not felt so hot. Didn't kill her then, won't kill her now." Alex replied, his voice hard as granite. 'Ain't no way I'm lettin' her get in the same car alone with you!"

Cat stirred in protest against him. "Take it easy, love! He has a driver, so I'll be perfectly safe!"

Alex glared at her, intending to protest further at the idea of her riding in close proximity to his worst nightmare. Then he noticed that her cheeks were flushed with color. It was another small, positive step away from the gloom that possessed her.

'My 'Neanderthal' behavior must gettin' under her skin. I know what'll get a rise outta her!' He smiled wolfishly. "I know ya are. You're goin' with me, and that's final!"

Cat drew herself up to her full height, righteous indignation giving her a burst of energy. "Ex - cuse me?" she growled.

"Did ya fart?" he grinned a wide superior male smile that he knew would get under her skin. "You heard me, woman! You're goin' with me!"

"Ah 'spose 'e's right, Lady Cat," Gerry added. He was quite used to men jealously guarding their wives and/or girlfriends from him. 'It's rare fer a mon ta noot gie anxious aboot 'is woman when Ah'm around!'

"She knows I am!" Alex replied haughtily.

"Hey! I'm right here, y'all! Quite talkin' about me like I'm not!" she nudged Alex in the side.

"Ow! Damn those elbows of yours are sharp!" he yelped.

"Good! It'll remind y'all to behave yourself!" Cat hissed. "I already told ya -"

"Just enforcin' it, baby!" Alex interjected. 'He doesn't need to hear that he has me worried!'

Cat snorted in response, but nestled against his side. She smiled ruefully at Gerry. "Well, the bard wrote that 'all good things must come to an end'. Guess we've reached that point."

"Ah'm afraid so, Lady Cat. T'was bound ta happen, ennyway."

Cat steeled herself to say goodbye to the actor. She felt they might have forged a good friendship in the short amount of time they'd spent together. Like with any friend, she hated saying goodbye to them. Unlike most friends, she wasn't sure that Gerry would maintain contact in the future.

"Alex, love," she whispered so only he would hear. "I really need for y'all to harness the 'green eyed monster' for a bit. Could y'all please do that for me?"

"It means that much to ya, baby?" he replied softly.

"Yes, please," she snuggled against him for a moment to assure him he had nothing to worry about. "I am goin' home with y'all!"

His heart melted at her wistful request. "OK, I won't kill him if he hugs ya."

"Damn nice of y'all!" she grimaced, nudging him more gently in the side again.

"Why dinnae Ah walk wi' ye oot ta tha parkin' lot? Me car's oot there, ennyway," Gerry offered. He, too, wanted to hold off the leave taking awhile longer.

'Shit!' Alex sighed inwardly in exasperation. He put his arm around Cat's shoulders again and strode out to the parking lot, being careful to match his long stride to her shorter one.

They walked quietly to the vehicles. Alex saw an idling Land Rover sitting next to his Harley. "That your ride?" he asked Gerry.

"Aye."

Alex grunted and released his hold on his woman. "Better stow your coat and hat in the saddlebag, baby."

He turned to mount the bike, then remembered she might need help with removing the duster. He turned back to help her but Gerry had stepped forward to lend assistance. His eyes flashed in annoyance.

Despite his promise, Alex was finding it difficult to keep his 'green eyed monster' leashed. 'Better enjoy it while ya can, brother! That's the only clothin' ya get to take off her!'

Gerry smiled at the outlaw. He was secretly enjoying himself. "It isnae offen tha' Ah gie ta 'ave this mooch fun!" he explained to Cat, who had turned the patented 'look' on him.

"What is it about you men that y'all love to live on the edge?" she growled. "And for the record, I coulda managed gettin' outta my coat perfectly well on my own! "

Alex heard her comment and grinned in appreciation, keeping his back to the actor. 'That's more like it! She's always got my back!'

She stowed the outer garments in the saddlebag, surprised not to find Alex's duffel inside. 'Might be in the other side.' She gathered herself to offer a farewell and turned to find herself suddenly swept into a strong embrace.

Mindful of Tig's possessive attitude, Gerry was careful to keep some space between his body and Cat's as he hugged her. "Thank ye fer a memurable day, Lady Cat," he murmured.

"Yeah, it certainly turned into quite a memorable one!" she replied ruefully.

"Ach! Nun o' tha' nonsense!" he scolded, placing one finger under chin to force her to look up at him. "An' no muir o' this 'angin' yer 'ead. Ye huld yer 'ead oop, me girl! Ye got nuthin' ta be ashamed aboot."

"We agree on that one, baby!" Alex added.

"Aye. We do. Ye mayde this day memurable fer me jest by treatin' me lyke un o' tha' lads, instead o' lyke an idol. Ye cannae kin wha' tha' means ta me."

She shrugged off the praise. "Considerin' that small town TV people get a little taste of the 'star treatment', I do empathize. The mundanes don't realize how much is asked of y'all all the time."

"Aye," Gerry agreed vehemently.

"I'll admit it was a bit difficult to control my inner fan girl when y'all got outta the car," she confessed. sheepishly.

"Weel, ye did a gud job o' it!"

"So are ya headin' outta town?" Alex inquired. he was getting anxious to get home.

"Nay. Opie ahsed me ta stop at tha clubhoose ta talk aboot me new moovie. Aire ye coomin' oot?"

Alex grinned wolfishly, his gaze settling on Cat as he replied, "Nah. We're goin' home. As soon as somebody get her ass on my bike!"

"I believe I'm bein' summoned," she replied ruefully.

"Ah kin yer bein' summoned!" Gerry hugged her one more time, then kissed her cheek again before stepping forward to the bike.

"Ya ain't gonna kiss me, I hope!" Tig growled good naturedly. He felt he could afford to be gracious, as it looked like he was finally going to get his woman to himself.

"Nay. Noot me thin', despite whut ye Yanks seem ta believe aboot us Islanders!" Gerry held out his hand. "T'was an honour ta meet ye, Tig. Yer a lucky mon."

Alex returned the handshake, appreciating once again that Gerry didn't feel the need to prove anything through his grip. Though firm and strong, he didn't attempt to out grip Alex. 'Doesn't have one of those 'cold fish' grips, either. If he weren't so fuckin' dangerous to my lifestyle, I could like the guy!'

He held out his helmet to Cat, his expression clearly indication that he intended her to wear it home.

"C'mon, love! It's only a short distance!"

Alex just stared at her in response. She sighed and accepted the helmet, adjusting the straps so it would fit her head.

"Do ye need 'elp gettin' on tha bike, Lady Cat?" Gerry inquired, holding out his hand in an offer to assist her.

Alex scowled darkly. "I can hold my bike for her and help her get on it if I have to!"

"Oh for the -!" Cat snorted. "As if I need some man help me get on the back of a motorcycle!"

She removed her arm from the sling in order to use her cast encased arm to steady herself against Alex's rigid back, swung her leg with practiced ease over the saddlebags, and lowered herself onto the seat.

Alex grinned at the feel of her breasts pressed firmly against his back. He could feel the taunt nipples through both their shirts and his jacket.

His cock rose to attention, pressing against his jeans. 'Now's a fine time for ya to wake up!'

He started the bike, deliberately revving the Harley's engine. The thunderous roar filled the parking lot before it diminished to a rumbling purr of power.

Gerry waved at them as Alex put the bike in gear. Cat waved back, then wrapped her arms around Alex's waist, pressing her cheek against his back. She was careful to keep her hands above his belt.

Alex grinned with relief at the sight of Gerry's form rapidly growing smaller in the rear view mirror. He reached up with his brake hand to grasp his woman's hand and bring it down to his crotch.

She started to move her hand away, but he pressed her hand against the bulge in his jeans. "Leave it there!" he shouted back to her.

"Can't hear y'all!" she called back. "Y'all want me to move my hand?"

"Your hand is fine right where it is, woman!" he growled, leaning back against her to ease some of the strain against the material.

The trip home didn't take long. Alex felt a sense of security as he turned onto the street that led to the house. He pulled into the driveway and stopped the bike next to the black PT Cruiser. A Chrysler 300M, undoubtedly June's rental, was parked in front of the PT.

"I see ya got yer replacement," he observed once the Harley was shut down.

Cat scrambled from the back of the Harley and removed the helmet while Alex dismounted. He accepted the helmet from her and placed it on the rear view mirror.

"Yeah. This is 'Black Beauty'," she replied.

"How's it run?" he inquired.

"Pretty well. I just drove him for the test drive. Lyla and the kids took me to Lodi to try him out," she supplied hurriedly so he wouldn't have a temper tantrum.

"How'd it get here, then?"

"The guy from the dealership lives in Charmin'. He drove it home and his wife picked him up. Nothin' for y'all to worry about. Opie took Blackie II back to the garage when he delivered the panhead, just in case y'all were wonderin'."

Alex nodded approvingly. It meant a lot to him that Cat had behaved and didn't try driving or riding while he was away.

"Where's your duffel?" she asked after retrieving her coat and hat from the saddlebag.

"Back in Klamath Falls. We kinda had to leave in a hurry. Left all our shit back at Gem's Dad's house."

"Guess we need to figure out how to get my laptop home, don't we?"

"Yeah, guess so," Alex grinned sheepishly. 'She took that better than I expected!'

The light from the living room flowed softly onto the porch. June had thoughtfully left the porch light turned on for them before she retired for the night. The cats could be seen through the curtains, snoozing on the furniture.

Alex basked in the feeling of anticipation that washed just from standing on his own front porch. The home he shared with Cat was his safe haven, a constant as important to him as the club. 'No matter how fucked up things might get, I always have this to come to!'

"Damn it's good to be home!" He snuggled up against her back as she unlocked the door. His hard cock pressed against her bottom. He couldn't resist placing his hands on her breasts and kneading them. Her nipples immediately erupted into twin, hard nubs against his palms.

"Yeah, I missed y'all, too!" she observed wryly. "But could y'all hold onto that thought 'til we get into the house? I'm not in the mood to give the neighbors a free show!"

"Then hurry up and get that door open, woman!" he growled, nuzzling her neck right where she was most ticklish.

She squeaked and thrust the door open, nearly falling into the house. Alex held her close to him so she wouldn't fall down, and shoved the front door shut with the heel of his boot. They got inside so fast that Ebony barely had time to notice their entrance.

The black cat gazed sleepily at them, blinked his emerald eyes at them, then sighed contentedly. His humans were home and all was right with the world. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Alex smiled wolfishly as he shepherded Cat towards the bedroom. He'd waited long enough to get her all to himself. He intended to enjoy every minute of it.

"When's the last time y'all ate, love?" she inquired as a way to put up token resistance against his efforts to get her to the bedroom.

An ominous rumbling met her inquiry. The noise woke all three cats, who stared at their humans' antics. They closed their eyes and curled up into furry balls, tails over noses.

"Dammit! Did ya hafta mention food?" Alex complained bitterly.

"Y'all know what they say, love! The way to man's heart is through his stomach!"

Alex's stomach rumbled again as if it agreed wholeheartedly.

"Damn fine thing when a man's gut gets in the way of his cock!" Alex grumbled.

Cat grinned as she walked to the kitchen. She found June's note on the refrigerator door and removed a cold bottle of beer from it. "Here's yer appetizer, love!"

She then removed the covered plate and set it in the microwave while Alex settled at the table with his beer.

While his meal heated up, Cat removed her own leftovers and set them on a plate. "Got a treat for y'all for dessert," she stated.

"Baby, my dessert is standin' right there!" he leered.

"Then I guess the Snicker Bar Cheesecake will just have to wait."

Alex's eyes lit up with delight. "Cheesecake can be made with Snickers?"

Cat smiled at him. "Y'all are gonna turn into a Snickers bar if ya aren't careful!"

"Hmmm. Gives a whole new idea to the thought of ya eatin' me!"

Cat's eye raised to the Heavens in supplication. "You are a fiend, love. A complete and total fiend!"

"Ya wouldn't want me any other way," he hefted the bottle in a semi - mock salute.

"Wanna bet?" she growled as the microwave bell pinged. She set the steaming plate in front of him. "Eat it while it's hot!"

The contents were simple leftovers, but the plate looked like a feast to Alex. Except for the cooking Gemma had done at Nate's, he'd had nothing but take out since leaving home. He wanted to dig in, but didn't want to start without Cat sitting opposite him, where she belonged.

The microwave pinged again, and Cat removed her own plate. She set it at her place and frowned to see that Alex hadn't touched his meal. "Anythin' wrong, love?"

"Just waitin' for ya, baby. Missed seein' ya sittin' across from me at meals."

Cat slid into the chair next to his, giving him a small smile. "Now y'all don't have an excuse not to eat!"

Alex set to his dinner, remembering not to wolf it down like a starved animal. Everything tasted as good to him as if she'd spent a lot of time planning and preparing it instead of just warming it up.

Cat wasn't really hungry. She'd warmed up her leftovers from the restaurant as a way to keep Alex company. She pushed the food from one side of the plate to another, an action that Alex noticed but wisely refrained from commenting upon.

'That damn surgery might've been good in one way for her, but sure left her with some strange eating habits!' He took a pull from the beer, emptying the bottle.

Cat eyed the empty plate and made a show of looking at her watch. "Damn! Did y'all taste any of it?"

Alex grinned in satisfaction. "Sure as Hell did! Why?"

"I think y'all just set a new world's record for speed eatin'!" she retorted, taking both plates to the counter. She placed plastic wrap over her untouched plate and set it in the fridge, then rinsed Alex's plate and set it in the dishwasher.

"Not really. Why waste time eatin' when there's more important things to do?" he leered.

"Y'all have a one track mind," she snorted. "Sure I can't tempt y'all with your cheesecake?"

Alex stood up and advanced on her. Cat started laughing and backed away from him, holding up one hand to ward him off. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his arms.

"Yeah, ya can tempt me with cheesecake a'right, but I've got a diff'rent type in mind!" He growled, nuzzling her neck. "If ya don't get your ass in that bedroom, I'll have my cheesecake right here and now!"

Cat squeaked from the tickle of his beard and mustache along the side of her neck. "Wh - what if June happens to pass through!"

"Fuck June!" he growled, still working on her neck.

"I wouldn't advise it, buster!" It was Cat's turn to growl at him. "You aren't the only person who got poor marks for not sharin' well with others!"

Alex grinned, his heart racing to discover that his woman had a 'green - eyed monster' of her own where he was concerned. He grabbed her good hand and pulled her down the hall into the bedroom.

The bedside lights were already turned on, making the room glow invitingly. Alex kicked the door closed with his foot, right in Ebony's face.

"The only pussy I want in this room tonight doesn't have four feet!" he growled, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans as he prowled across the bedroom, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw the small plastic bag lying on his pillow.

"Ah, shit! What the Hell have ya done, now, woman?"

Cat smirked at his inquiry. "Just a little somethin' I saw at the museum gift shop in Stockton, love. It made me think of y'all, so I bought it for ya."

"Dammit! I didn't have time to find anything for ya in Oregon!" he muttered. He'd intended to get her a small gift during his trip, just like he'd picked up the Harley Davidson plush cat in Indianapolis. Circumstances hadn't given him the opportunity."

"That's OK, love. You came home. That's the best present of all!"

He peered inside the bag, then withdrew the small, square velvet box inside. "So what is it?"

"Open it up and find out, you big lug!" she retorted, leaning against the wall near the bathroom.

Alex's fingers fumbled with the opening. It should've opened easily, as it was just a standard hinged jewelry box. He finally managed to lift the lid and removed a fine gold chain with a small gold charm attached to it. The charm was a Neanderthal dressed in fur lion cloth, holding a club over one shoulder.

"Woman, you are definitely gonna pay for this!" he growled, swiftly crossing the distance between them. He placed both hands on the wall to either side of her, trapping her in place.

"I certainly hope so," she grinned. "What do y'all think?"

"I could probably grow to tolerate it," he replied gruffly, his voice thick with emotion.

"Good. Put it on. I wanna see how it hangs."

He grinned slyly at her comment. "Ya already know how it's hung, baby!"

"I'm talkin' about the necklace, you sex fiend!" she laughed.

He drew his shirt off and tossed it in the general direction of the dirty clothes hamper and handed the necklace to her. "Here. You do the honors," he bent his head so she could easily draw the chain over his head.

Unable to resist, she ran her hand through his dark curls, then placed the necklace over his head. He shivered as her fingers brushed against his head and the back of his neck.

He raised his head and looked down at his chest. The chain was long enough to allow the golden cave man to rest on the fine, dark hair of his chest.

"Yeah, looks tolerable after all. This made ya think of me, eh?"

"Sure did. Y'all have an alarmin' tendency to slip into cave man mode when I least expect it."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! How would you feel if some actress I drooled over appeared in front of ya holdin' onto my elbow?"

Cat wrinkled her nose. "Hmmm. Guess I see your point, love."

"I see both of yours, baby! And they're makin' me feel like a compass."

"So are y'all gonna stand there talkin' about it, or are y'all gonna do somethin' about it?"

"Baby, if you're gonna give me the name, I might as well play the game!" he growled, scooping her in his arms and gently depositing her on the bed.

Clay stopped in his tracks as the double doors leading to the treatment rooms burst open. A burly male nursing assistant piloted his wife's bed through the doorway, followed by a male nurse.

He closed his eyes against the sight of Gemma's slender wrist shackled to the bed. Though Stahl had ordered against it, Clay noticed an IV stuck in the same arm that was cuffed.

Gemma was sound asleep from the sedative. Wires snaked out the top of her hospital gown leading to monitors. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around her upper arm and an thin oxygen tube rested under her nose. Portable monitors and oxygen tank rested on the bed at her fed.

His steely gaze lighted on Agent Estevez, who returned Clay's stare unflinchingly. Estevez fell into step beside the bed, while Clay paced along the opposite side.

The nurse, Steve Hammer, glanced from the two men to the assistant, Jeff Culver. The two medical professionals shared expressions of commiseration over their situation and were as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

The small entourage paused in front of the elevator banks, waiting tensely for a car to answer the call button's summons. Neither medical professional dared to say a word for fear one or both of the men would lash out at them.

The elevator doors slid open. Clay stepped into the empty car and took a position next to the control buttons. Steve and Jeff maneuvered the wheeled bed into the car, taking up positions at the foot of the bed, as far away from the door - and Clay - as the car allowed.

Clay smiled grimly and pressed the 'door closed' button before Estevez could step into the car. The agent didn't realize the doors were closing on him until the last moment. Just as the doors started to close, he ducked into the car, nearly colliding with the bed.

"Hey! Watch the lady!" Clay growled warningly.

Estevez glared at Clay, who leaned innocently against the wall near the control panel. "Quit playing games, Morrow!"

Clay grinned icily. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, man. Not my fault you're slow on the uptake! Thought you Feds were trained to be aware of your surroundings!"

Estevez didn't respond to Clay's taunts. He could tell the outlaw was in a mean mood and trying to pick a fight.

Steve and Jeff gazed at each other in abject terror. The tension between the other two men wasn't hard to miss, especially in a close quarters like the elevator car. They both nearly sighed with relief when the elevator doors slid open to reveal the floor that housed the jail ward.

The pair wheeled the bed from the elevator and towards the jail ward door. The CPD officer on duty activated the electronic lock to allow them inside. The SJSD deputy looked up at them from his perch on a straight backed chair in front of Pozo's room, then turned his gaze back to the wall in front of him.

Estevez pointed to the door next to Pozo's room. "That one empty?"

Steve Hammer nodded in reply.

"Then put her in there. I'd rather be close to the guard's desk," Estevez ordered briskly.

"The Hell you will!" Clay growled menacingly. "It's bad enough she has to be on the same floor as that asshat! I'll be damned if I'll let you put her in the room next to him!"

"Your opinion doesn't matter in this instance, Morrow!" Estevez snarled quietly. "On this ward, my word is law, and I say she goes into that room right there!"

Steve cleared his throat. "Actually," his voice squeaked like Mickey Mouse's. He coughed to clear his throat and tried again. "You're barking up the wrong tree, there, agent. On this floor, as on any other floor of this hospital, the medical staff's word is law!"

Jeff found his own courage to speak up and added, "Unfortunately, Mr. Morrow, this is the only room available on the ward." Jeff was pleased that his voice didn't break.

"I wasn't aware there so many ill criminals in Charming," Clay mused.

"It's a small ward, sir," Steve replied. "Not many rooms. A couple of them are being renovated at the moment, leaving just the two available."

"So you have no choice in the matter!" Estevez sneered, watching as Steve and Jeff maneuvered the bed into the room.

Estevez stood in the doorway, partially blocking Clay's sight as the two medical workers got Gemma settled in the room. They quickly set up the IV on a pole near the bed and hooked the leads from wires attached to Gemma's chest to the monitors for her pulse and blood pressure. The oxygen feed was switched from the portable unit to the wall unit between Gemma's deep breaths.

Once they were assured she was settled and comfortable, Jeff wrote some information on a dry erase board across the room. Then he and Steve departed from the room. They maintained a dignified gait to the locked doors. Once the guard released the lock, they scurried out into the hallway, breathing sighs of relief to out of the line of fire between the outlaw and the agent.

"I don't want to go through something like that anytime soon!" Jeff noted, placing one hand on his heart.

"I agree, friend! I thought they were going to come to blows right there in the hallway!"

Their pagers buzzed, summoning them to new assignments. They didn't look back as they scampered off to answer their individual summons.

Jacob Hale gazed in satisfaction around his study. Everything in the room, from the leather wing - backed chair to the sound system, reeked of power and money. Hale came from a family with both, though his younger brother had turned his back on the family way to marry law enforcement.

'Not much comfort in a uniform and a radio if you ask me,' Jacob thought, staring into the fireplace. The weather was never cold enough to need a true fire. Hale liked the atmosphere a roaring fire created in the room, so he had a gas fireplace put in.

The log that glowed behind the glass panel was ceramic, the glowing red and orange tones on the wood painted on. The flames that leapt and danced from the log were real, coming from gas jets. It was clean, cold, and efficient. Much like Jacob Hale's demeanor.

The only thing that touched Jacob's heart was his family. He didn't have a wife or children, a fact that his father constantly threw in his face as a failure. With David dead and buried, Jacob Sr. would be more insistent that his oldest son settle down with a good woman and sire a grandson to carry on the family name.

Jacob gazed up at the portrait of his father that hung over the mantle, lifting his glass in a mock salute. "Here's to keeping the family line alive, Dad. Though at this rate, I don't think any woman in the five county area is looking to hook up with me! Not sure I want one of those contract marriages you've been hinting at. Is it so bad to want a woman who wants me, not just the power and money that comes with it?"

Jacob Hale Sr's countenance stared silently down at his eldest son. Hale snorted and sipped from his drink, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the taste. He preferred whiskey or bourbon, but in his line of work, the men he associated with preferred scotch. Hale couldn't stand the stuff, but was determined to overcome his aversion to it. That determination is what made him a success in business.

His cell phone rang on the table next to him. He set the crystal tumbler down on the table and picked up the cell phone. "Hale speaking."

"Feldstein wouldn't budge again," a deep voice rumbled in his ear. "It's time to escalate."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hale frowned. "Isn't that part of your job?"

"I've talked to our friend," the voice replied tonelessly. "He says it's time for you to do a little of your own dirty work."

"And just how am I supposed to accomplish that? I've got a campaign to plan!" Hale sputtered. "I can't be bothered with one stubborn old Jew! Can't you wave a Nazi flag in his face, for Christ sakes?"

The silence that met his poor attempt at humor made Hale's blood run cold. "You know we don't operate that way," the voice replied quietly. "That kind of behavior is embraced by the radical element. Remember, ours is a more civilized faction."

'And just as racist as the radicals. The only difference between you and them is the fancy assed suits you wear!' Hale thought derisively.

Mistaking Hale's continued silence for assent, the voice continued. "This comes directly from Zobelle. If you're squeamish about doing the job yourself, find someone local willing to make a few grand to get his hands a little dirty. No killing. Just dirty enough to make a lasting impression on Feldstein. Make him see the light in the Biblical sense, as it were. Do you understand?"

Hale's mouth had gone dry. It was obvious that he was being given the go ahead to hire muscle to intimidate Lumpy. The idea of escalating against Lumpy made Hale nervous. The former boxer wasn't just a friend of SAMCRO; he was a close personal friend of Tig Trager's, the club Sergeant at Arms.

"Yes, I understand."

"We'll be waiting for word that the deed - no pun intended - is done. Zobelle will see to it that you have sufficient funds available to make the transaction happen. Don't bother getting in contact with me until you have secured the property."

The call was abruptly cut off, silencing the phone. Hale tossed it onto the table and picked up the tumbler, which shook in his hand. Some of the amber liquid sloshed onto his pants leg.

'Sometimes I wish I hadn't been so fast to bring Zobelle here. He'd made it sound so easy to get rid of SAMCRO and open the doors for Charming to enter the 21st Century! Now Weston's dead, LOAN is nothing but a dim memory here, and Zobelle is safely calling the shots overseas.'

Hale stood and paced from one end of his study to the other, annoyance and aggravation seething inside of him. He was already facing backlash for bringing Zobelle and LOAN to town. The subsequent attacks on SAMCRO that had led to Zobelle bringing a rival MC to town to protect him hadn't helped make Hale any more popular.

'If I don't play ball with Zobelle, I lose, and if I play this game his way, I could lose even more!'

Jacob sunk into the large padded leather office chair at his desk and laid his aching head in his hands. He glanced at his father's stern visage over the mantle. "What would you do, Dad?"

The portrait stared unsmilingly back at him. It felt to him like his father's portrait held the same opinion of him that Zobelle had shown before he fled Charming. Like he'd spotted a cockroach in his immaculately clean presence.

Hale sighed heavily, sat up straight, and removed his keyring from his pocket. He unlocked a drawer in the desk and withdrew a thin file folder. He knew he'd find a name in that file to 'persuade' Lumpy Feldstein to see things his way.

Alex stretched luxuriously, enjoying the fact that he was home at long last. It felt good to be able to lay full length on the mattress without his ankles hanging off the end of the bed or having to sleep diagonally across the mattress to accommodate him.

His wife lay curled up beside him, one hand rested over his balls and cock, the other on his thigh. Her head was on his stomach, her breath breezed lightly over his cock, making it shiver in response and nudge against her hand.

He fondled his latest gift from Cat with one hand, which lay on his chest. His other arm was firmly wrapped around her body. A vague sense of unease had stirred him from a sound sleep. He lay still, listening for any sounds of trouble. Everything outside the bedroom door was peaceful.

Alex turned his attention to Cat. His stomach where her head lay was wet. At first he thought she'd been drooling in her sleep, but a gentle examination of her face showed that both cheeks were wet with tears.

'Damn! Could she be in pain from our reunion, or is it somethin' else? Should I wake her up and make her take some pain pills, or just let her sleep naturally? What the fuck's the best thing to do?' He frowned at the ceiling, seeking answers that eluded him.

The sex with her had been everything he'd anticipated. He'd tried to be gentle, keeping her injuries in mind. Her own hunger had made that difficult. When he'd first realized she was crying after they came, he'd been afraid he'd hurt her.

She'd chosen a very eloquent, non verbal method to reassure him. Her slick, wet, hot muscles clamped down on him so there was no doubt that she was in physical pain. The move left him gasping for breath.

He lay on top of her, gazing intently into her eye and stroking her body all over, trying to give her comfort. "What's wrong, baby?" he murmured in her ear. "If I didn't hurt ya, why are ya cryin'?"

He'd never had a woman cry after sex before. Having women cry for him to give it to them was one thing. This was a completely different experience, and it unnerved him. He'd read somewhere that the act could make women cry from enjoyment, but he had a feeling this wasn't the case.

Tears ran down Cat's cheeks, saturating the gauze covering the injured eye. She didn't sob, but her body shook with emotion, which did some pretty delicious things to him. Though he tried to get her to tell him what was wrong, she remained silent.

Without withdrawing from inside her, Alex turned onto his back so she was on top of him, holding her tightly against him. "Guess ya just need to let it out, whatever it is," he observed quietly. "Go on and get it out of yer system, baby."

Eventually, the tears dried up. She lay quietly on top of him, unwilling to meet his gaze. She started to roll off him, intending to curl up on her side of the bed. He clamped his hands on her buttocks, forcing her to stay where she was.

"Ya ain't gettin' away, woman!" he growled.

"Y'all aren't makin' this easy, love!" she protested weakly.

"So many jokes, but this ain't the time," he replied. "Just tell me what's wrong, baby. Let me help."

"Why would y'all wanna help me when I've fucked up so much?" she cried.

"Shit! Are ya still goin' on about tonight?"

Cat sighed and laid her head on his chest so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. "It's not just tonight, love. It's a lot of things that I've fucked up since leavin' the hospital."

He stroked her hair and thought over her comment. "I don't get it. The only thing I considered a fuck up is that ya left the hospital so damn early."

"Yeah," she grinned reminiscently. "Y'all made your feelin's on that obvious that night!" The grin faded as she added, "There's been a whole bunch of 'em since that night, Alex."

"Such as?"

"The Amber Alert gettin' canceled -"

"Dammit to Hell! That was Stahl's doin'! We all told ya that!" he growled.

"Yeah, all y'all did, but if I'd let her have a look around, Abel could've been found and returned home by now!" She retorted, shifting slightly against him.

That movement did delicious things to his cock, which throbbed in response, making her warmer and wetter. Her body was obviously receptive, but her mind and heart wasn't.

It took a lot of effort, but Alex managed to curb his rising desire. He knew she wouldn't enjoy another round at the moment, and that would dampen his own enjoyment.

"Ya have no way of knowin' that, baby. You could've let her search the joint, and she might've still canceled the Alert!" he observed. "Shit, woman! Don't ya realize that everything ya did the night Sack was killed means a lot to me?"

"Oh, yeah?" she retorted challengingly. "How so?"

Alex sighed in resignation. "You're not gonna let me off the hook this time, are ya?"

She didn't bother to deny it. Her body slumped dejectedly against his.

'She's doesn't usually play those fuckin' female mind games. Guess this is one of those times that she needs to hear more than I'm usually comfortable with sayin'.'

He forced her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. "We - fuck it! - I was a mess that night.

Everything had gone to Hell, then Piney brings us here, the last place I expected to be that night!"

She frowned at him. "You make it sound like I did somethin' special!"

"It was, baby. You gave us a safe place to mourn. You fed us, kept the booze flowin', and kept Stahl from fuckin' things up. Hell, Gem couldn't have done any better!" he replied emphatically.

"It wasn't just me, remember. Mary and Lyla helped."

"But it was your idea, baby," he insisted. "When I hooked up with SAMRRO in Oregon, SleevedBiker told me you were Hell bent on gettin' outta the hospital as soon as ya heard about Sack on TV. Said that you needed to attend to certain 'things'. You might've needed help to get it done, but your heart and soul helped us get through that God awful night!"

"Just lookin' out for all y'all, like a good wife should," she replied. "It's nothin' special."

"Don't make light of it, baby. It's too important to me!" he growled.

"Sorry," she muttered, a flash of her usual spirit flared momentarily, but the embers refused to spark into a roaring fire of indignation. Her shoulders slumped again as if the weight of the world rested on them.

"Would you just spit out what's got ya troubled for fuck's sake?" he ordered.

She remained quiet for awhile, her mind trying to find the right words to explain what bothered her most.

"Cat?" he prompted gently. "C'mon. Just spit it out!"

"Remember when y'all called needin' all that money?"

"Yeah. What about it? Ya came through for me as usual."

"But it wasn't easy, love. I - I had some serious reservations at first about it," she admitted softly, her face turning red with shame. She hung her head, waiting for the inevitable explosion to erupt.

To her surprise, he didn't smirk or ask if that was all that was bothering her. He didn't tell her to get over it. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Ya had a flashback to another time and circumstance, didn't ya? I wondered about that when ya got so quiet after I asked."

"I'm sorry, love," she couldn't raise her head to look at him. She was afraid of seeing how much her failure to trust him had hurt him.

"Don't be," he replied softly. "Ya can't help feelin' like you'd been down that road before."

"But you're not him," she insisted. "I knew that in my heart, but my brain wasn't listenin'!"

"Not your fault," he assured her, forcing her chin up to meet his gaze. "I blame that fucktard for hurtin' and usin' ya all those years ago. Those scars run deep and take awhile to heal."

Even though her wasn't wearing her glasses, Cat was close enough to him to be able to see his face. She was relieved that her admission hadn't hurt him. "You know I trust y'all," she whispered.

"I know, baby. That kind of trust is hard to come by after someone hurt ya the way that fucktard hurt ya. And it's a two - way street. I trust ya enough to close my eyes around ya."

He felt her body relax against him and noticed some of the sadness had left her eyes. 'I don't think she's outta the woods yet.' She surprised him by kissing him hungrily and moving her lower body in a seductive rhythm. Her muscles squeezed him with every down stroke until he was thrusting up in perfect monotonicity with her.

He allowed her to ride him like a champion stallion. It amazed him that her bruised and battered body could bring him so much pleasure. "Am I hurtin' ya, baby?"

"Shut up and give yourself over to absolute pleasure, love!" she growled, nipping his chin for good measure.

"Ya don't have to tell me twice!" he grinned wickedly.

Cat stirred and moaned in her sleep. Fresh tears dropped onto his stomach. Alex turned onto his side in order to embrace her with both arms. He felt the full skin to skin contact would comfort her.

"Don't deserve it!" she mumbled, turning her back to him and curling into a fetal position.

Alex wasn't willing to let her shut him out. He snuggled up against her back so that they nestled like spoons in a drawer. His cock fit perfectly in the crack of her bottom. His arms went around her, one hand closing over one of her breasts. The nipple rose into a taunt peak against his palm.

"You do deserve it, baby!" her protested in her ear before nuzzling her neck. She moaned in protest, but her body relaxed as she slipped into a deeper sleep.

'That does it! There's gotta be something I can do to help her! It's about time June and I meet face to face. I'll track her down at the hospital before hookin' up with Clay. June's the only person who can help me sort out this shit. She knows Cat as well as her father; maybe even better!"

Alex closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction. He felt better having a plan of action to battle the unseen foe tearing his woman emotionally apart. His breathing soon matched the pattern of hers and he drifted back to sleep.

Gerard Butler walked into the SAMCRO clubhouse for the second time that day, eager but somewhat nervous about discussing his upcoming role with the club.

He'd enjoyed the brief tour Cat Marshall had given him earlier that day, while the club was out of state. Except for the decorations that were unique to the club itself, the clubhouse reminded him of many pubs back home in Scotland.

The SAMCRO men were lounging all around the clubhouse, some at the bar, others at tables. Some were shooting pool. The hang arounds and Croweaters were gone.

"I sent them home," Opie explained. "Thought you'd be more comfortable with fewer people around."

"Aye, thank ye," Gerry replied.

"Name your poison," Opie continued, signaling to Chuckie to take Gerry's order.

"Beer, ifn' ye don't mynd."

Chuckie reached into a cooler and removed a brown bottle of beer, the club's chosen brand. He placed it on the bar in front of Gerry with a nod, then returned to wiping down the bar and cleaning glassware.

Opie continued acting as host, taking Gerry around to make the introductions. He found the club members to be friendly enough, but a little guarded towards him.

"This is Chibs," Opie continued. "He transferred from SAMBEL a few years ago. He often treats our minor wounds."

"Ah'd dare say ye wuld gie a few besides road rash," Gerry remarked, holding out his hand to Chibs. He wisely refrained from mentioning the Scotsman's 'Glasgow Smile', as he doubted the man would want to relate how he got it. 'Tis a nasty way ta mark a mon. Verra payneful an' noot somethin' a mon wants ta talk aboot.'

"Since me heart sistah thin's so much o' ye, welcoom ta our liddle abode, friend!" Chibs remarked, clasping Gerry's hand in a warm grip. "Do ye fancy a wee spot o' Jameson noo an' agin'?"

"Aye. Whut Scotsmon wurth 'is salt wuldn't?"

"Ye'd be surprised," Chibs replied. "Whut's this Ah 'ear aboot ye playin' an ootlaw?"

Chibs motioned to the leather sofa where he'd been sitting, indicating Gerry should sit and relax. The other club members slowly joined them, settling into nearby chairs with their drinks.

'Ach! Now cooms tha grillin'!' He took a reassuring pull from the beer as he sat down, gazing over the small audience. He briefly explained the plot of 'Machine Gun Preacher'.

"Tha mayne purt o' tha moovie centres aroun' 'is werk as a minister, an' 'is crusade in tha Sudan ta save tha chilren thaire. Ah certainly dinnae wanna 'glamourize' tha life ye live. or gie tha pooblic tha wrong idea," Gerry added. "Tha's why Ah've dun tha research."

"That's good to know, brother," Opie intoned quietly. "How can you be sure that some idiot doesn't try to portray Childer's MC past as something it's not?"

Gerry's eyes twinkled. "Ah'm tha executive producer!"

"Tis gud ta be tha king!" Chibs laughed, tilting his glass in Gerry's direction.

Clay stepped into Gemma's room, shoving his way past Estevez, who had planted himself directly in the middle of the doorway.

The jail ward rooms differed little from other hospital rooms. There was a closet, a chair for visitors, a television attached to the wall near the ceiling, and a door. The room also had a private restroom with shower. The only thing that differed was the presence of guards at each door,

Clay shoved the chair next to Gemma's bed, then lowered the railing so that he'd have better access to touch his wife. He sat on the edge of the chair and held Gemma's hand in both of his.

"Damn, baby! What were ya thinkin' in comin' back here?" He wished with all his heart he'd taken a little more time to support her while she dealt with committing Nate to the nursing home.

'I knew that was gonna be traumatic for her. Yet I backed off when Nate lashed out at her. I don't get that shit about us killin' Rose. That makes no sense to me at all!'

He wished with all his heart that the needs of the club hadn't interfered when it had. At the time, he'd been thankful to have something constructive to do and welcomed the call from Happy for rescue from the peckerwoods. Had he known then what would happen in his absence, he'd have sent Tig and Jax on out and stayed with his wife.

'Guess that's why it's called 'perfect hindsight',' he thought wearily, resting his forehead on the back of Gemma's hand. 'I'm gettin' too old and tired for all this drama shit!' He closed his eyes, intending to rest them for just a few seconds.

Nurse Cindy Walton glared in annoyance at the Fed standing resolutely in front of the door to Gemma's room. 'I'm going to have to nip this in the bud! These Feds are not going to inhibit our free access to this room!'

Agent Estevez ignored the nurse's glare, staring straight ahead at a point on the wall opposite him. He stood right in front of the closed door, so that anyone entering or exiting had to squeeze past him, or ask him to step aside.

Nurse Walton intended to do neither. 'If standing to either side of the door is good enough for the Sanwa deputy, it's good enough for the Feds!' She continued to stare intently at Estevez, her arms folded over her chest.

Estevez broke the silence by politely inquiring if the nurse wished to enter the room.

"Of course not! I've got nothing better to do except to stand here and look at you!" she snapped, shoving him forcefully to one side.

"From now on, you stand to either side of the door, not in front of it! Do you understand me?"

Estevez rubbed the spot on his arm where she'd pushed him. 'I'll probably have a bruise there by tomorrow!' he mused ruefully. "Yes, ma'am!" he replied, moving to one side of the doorway and standing at attention.

"Good! I don't like repeating myself!" Nurse Walton retorted. "See to it your fellow Feds get the same message!" She pushed open the door to Gemma's room to check her patient.

As the door closed softly behind her, Nurse Walton gazed sympathetically at the patient's husband sitting slumped forward in the chair he'd placed next to the bed, his forehead resting on the mattress.

'Poor man, probably worn out from worry, and likely hasn't eaten anything in hours!' She checked Gemma's vital signs and nodded approvingly, noting the readings on the PDA she carried. The readings would be added to Gemma's chart later.

Nurse Walton exited the room, glaring warningly at Estevez before turning towards the nurse's station. She picked up the phone and dialed the number to the cafeteria.

"Cafeteria, this is Stephanie."

"Cindy Walton calling, Steph. I know you're getting ready to close down for the day. I need a big favor."

Stephanie Bailey sighed inwardly. ' Cin rarely makes after hours requests like this.' The cafeteria had already closed to business, but there was still a great amount of cleaning and prep work for the following day to do. "What can I do for you?"

"Gemma Teller Morrow was admitted tonight with arrhythmia. She's on the jail ward."

"Damn! I was hoping she'd stay out of town!" Stephanie replied. "I didn't believe any of that story about her killing people. She's got a temper, but she's not a killer."

"I agree. Clay Morrow's sitting with her. He 's asleep at the moment, and probably starved to death. Any chance of getting a sandwich sent up for him?"

Stephanie smiled, the warmth of that smile echoing in her voice. "I can do better than that. I'll have a hot plate up there in fifteen minutes!"

Fifteen minutes later, one of the cafeteria employees appeared at the nurses' station, carrying a tray laden with a covered plate and a carafe of coffee.

"What do I owe the cafeteria?" Cindy inquired of the employee, reaching into her pocket for the money she always kept on hand during work hours.

"Nada. Ms. Bailey said it was on the house. Hope Mr. Morrow enjoys it."

Cindy picked up the tray and carried to the jail ward doors, waiting patiently for the CPD guard to unlock them. He waved at her as she passed the window and she nodded in return.

Estevez moved in front of the door to Gemma's room as she approached with the tray, his hands folded protectively across his chest.

"I have to look at the contents before you take that tray inside," he informed her.

Nurse Walton was gratified that his tone of voice was less haughty than it had been earlier. 'He's learning!' She nodded stiffly, holding the tray steady as he lifted the covering from the plate and used the utensils to poke at the steaming food.

Once satisfied there were no hidden objects in the food, he checked the contents of the carafe by shaking it, listening for any tell tale signs of hidden weapons. He heard nothing but the sound of liquid sloshing around inside.

"Thank you for your co - operation, ma'am," he stated quietly, leaning forward to open the door for her and moving out of her way.

Cindy strode triumphantly into the room and set the tray on the rolling tray table. She guided it to the side of the room opposite the bed, where Clay could eat and watch the television if he desired but not disturb his resting wife.

She lowered the table to chair height, then quietly crossed the room to rest a light hand on Clay's shoulder. "Mr. Morrow!" she whispered loud enough for him to hear. "Mr. Morrow, wake up, sir!" she gently shook his shoulder.

Clay started awake, his eyes immediately checking on his wife. His body tensed momentarily under Cindy's hand. When he realized that Gemma was still peacefully asleep, he gazed over his shoulder at the nurse.

"Sorry. Guess I fell asleep," he murmured.

"Nothing to apologize for, Mr. Morrow," Cindy replied warmly. "You've been through quite a bit this evening. I thought you might be hungry," she stepped aside and gestured at the table she'd set up.

Clay's stomach rumbled noisily at the mention of food. "I guess I could stand to eat something," he admitted with a wry grin. He stood and stretched, gazing fondly at Gemma.

"She's stable, Mr. Morrow. She'll sleep most of the night from the sedative, but her readings are looking good." Cindy assured him.

Clay nodded and slid the chair over to the table, lifting the lid from the plate. Stephanie had sent up a man sized portion of mashed potatoes with gravy, peas and carrots, and a large hunk of meat loaf. A large biscuit was wrapped in plastic to keep it fresh and warm. Pats of butter, small packets of salt and pepper, creamer cups and sugar packages sat in a small bowl.

"This wouldn't be 'Charming Pawse' coffee would it?" Clay inquired while pouring a cup of brew for himself.

"Afraid not, Mr. Morrow. Not sure what brand the cafeteria uses. At least it has caffeine in it!" she grinned.

'The very least!' Clay grimaced after taking a tentative sip. Though it was freshly made, it tasted industrial. "Guess I'm spoiled by Cat's blends!"

"I know the feeling. We have some of the gourmet coffee in the nurses' station, if you'd like some of that."

Clay shook his head. "This is fine. You seem familiar. You definitely know my name."

"I'm Cindy Walton. You probably know my MG Spider better than me. It seems to think Teller - Morrow is its' second home!"

Clay nodded. "It has been visiting us quite a bit this year! Brakes, water pump, differential replaced so far. Have ya thought about replacin' it?"

"Every time he breaks down!" Cindy grinned. "But I love that car. It was my first, and I've tried to keep it in good running order. Usually your guys are good at keeping him running. Lately, it just seems like he's falling apart!"

Clay forked some of the meatloaf into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as Cindy related the latest problem the car was having. "I suspect I'll have to get a jump start when my shift ends. He just doesn't keep a charge."

"If that happens, call the garage, ask for Dog, and tell him I said to haul it in and check the entire electrical system. Might be voltage regulator or alternator. Might be your timing belt as well," Clay replied.

"I appreciate that."

Clay gazed thoughtfully at her. "The problem will be finding parts. It's gonna be difficult to find parts for that make and year. Vintage imports are often harder to get good replacement parts. We'll do our best."

"That's why I trust your garage to keep him in shape," Cindy replied. "In the meantime, you be sure to eat every bite! We don't need you running yourself down!"

"Thanks, Nurse Walton. I appreciate this."

"You're welcome, Mr. Morrow. I'm sorry they caught your wife."

"So am I," he replied gruffly.

June sensed that someone watching her from the door of her borrowed office. She had her back to the door, reading an email she'd just received from the hospital pharmacy. 'Wonder what's on Margaret's mind now?'

She turned around to find a tall, dark - haired man with his arms crossed over his chest leaning against the door frame instead of the hospital administrator. The man wore a black leather vest with patches that read 'Sgt at Arms', 'Redwood', and 'Original' on both sides of it.

June recognized him immediately from pictures Cat had shared with her.

"Hey, Alex," she grinned, getting up from her chair to properly greet her best friend's husband. "Nice to finally meet y'all in person!" She noticed the gleaming gold chain peeking through his unbuttoned shirt front. "See y'all got your gift. Thought it quite appropriate."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! I'm not that bad!" Alex protested, moving from the door frame straight into June's hearty embrace. He grinned slyly at her when she released him. "Did my girl give ya much trouble?"

"No more than usual," June grinned, settling back behind the desk again. She pointed to a chair across from her desk. "How's our girl this mornin'? I figured best to let all y'all sleep in."

Alex winked wolfishly as he settled in the chair. "Good thinkin' on your part, sweetheart!"

"I have my moments," she gazed at him, noting the worry evident in his eyes. "What's wrong, Alex? Is she hurtin' from yesterday?"

"Not physically," he replied, his expression turning serious. "Emotionally, she's in a major downer. That's why I came to see ya. I'm worried."

June leaned forward in her chair, crossed her arms on the desk and locked her eyes with Alex's. "She had some ups and downs since I got here. What the Hell is goin' on? Did all y'all quarrel before ya took off?"

Alex vehemently shook his head. "No way! She was OK with me leavin', and we had a great reunion last night!"

"Oh, really?" June drawled knowingly.

Alex nearly blushed. "Were we that loud?"

June smirked at him. "Relax, Tarzan. I packed earplugs and put 'em to use last night. Y'all could've had wild vampire sex on the ceiling and I wouldn't have noticed."

"Wild vampire sex on the ceiling?" His eyes lit up for a moment. "Sound like fun. Not sure how one could stay on the ceilin' without gettin' sticky! Cat'll tell ya I'm not against a little nip every now and then."

"Hmph! From what I hear, y'all consider that mild foreplay!"

'Shit! That girl's as evil as Cat!' He mused wryly, relaxing against the chair back. "Just keep the ear plugs handy for the rest of your visit, sweetheart!"

"I fully intend to!" she assured him, her eyes twinkling merrily. She sobered quickly and continued, "Gonna put your sex life on the back burner and get back to the main subject. What did y'all say to Cat last night to put her in an indigo funk?"

"Nothin'! Things went to shit the minute she showed up at the hospital!"

"Actually, she was moody before we reached the town limits, thanks to that semi jack knife," June explained.

Alex sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose with one hand. "Yeah? Well, all I know is that things got worse as the night went on."

"What happened?"

Alex related everything that had occurred from the moment Cat had entered the ER lobby, including waking him by crying in her sleep. "I've only seen her cry one time since we've been together, June. She broke down tellin' me about her battle with depression. She feared I'd turn tail and run when I found out."

"Glad y'all didn't do that. It would've crushed her," June replied. "The combined PTSS and depression are rearin' up like a cobra warnin' off a threat."

"What's makin' this happen to her? Could it be the pain meds messin' with her regular drugs?"

June shook her head. "I thought about that last night, and inquired to the hospital pharmacist. Just got an email reply from him. That's not the problem."

"Then what the fuck is it?" he roared, slamming both hands to the arms of the chair in frustration.

"I think she's both emotionally and mentally exhausted from everythin' that's been goin' on the last few weeks."

Alex frowned intently. "Are ya sayin' it's my fault that she's fallin' apart?'

"Your absence continued some what to it, hon. All this shit that's been hittin' the fan since the rally has contributed to it a lot. Hell, I'm surprised that all y'all aren't bouncin' off the walls!" she replied.

Alex laughed derisively. "What makes ya think we aren't?"

"I dunno what kinda weird shit all y'all have inside that clubhouse!" she retorted. "For all I know, there's a rubber room constructed for that kind of thing."

"That's the sex room," he joked. "We use the boxin' ring to let off steam!"

June winced at his wry humor. 'Just like Cat in that respect! Maybe that's one of the reasons they get along so well!'

"This kinda defeatist attitude ain't normal for her," Alex noted.

"It's not. It takes a lot to stress her out. She'll internalize things. Usually she uses tai chi as an outlet for that build up. If she doesn't, it's gonna find another method, and its' usually not pleasant for her or anyone around her."

"Like this dumb ass idea she has that she's failed me?"

June nodded. "Given her injuries, I don't think she's been able to use tai chi as an outlet. I'll tell y'all how I see it, but it's not pretty."

Alex sat forward in the chair. "Lay it on me, June. I can take it."

'You sure about that, sport?' she glared intently at him, not sure he would be able to take her opinion. He didn't flinch from her gaze, so she decided to lay it all on the line. "Cat really needed y'all with her after the wreck. Your attention was divided between her and the club."

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but June put up her hand to stop him. "Let me finish, Tarzan! I'm well aware that you were there by her bedside the whole night of the wreck. But as soon as things seemed to stabilize, y'all took off on club business."

"I came back to her every time!" Alex protested.

"Big - fat - hairy - deal!" June spat each word as if it tasted like sour milk. "Y'all were in and out so much the hospital considered puttin' in a fuckin' revolvin' door, Alex! Cat's been ridin' a non - stop emotional roller coaster for weeks! It was bound to hit her, and it's hit her hard!"

"A'right, you're so God damn all knowin', answer this for me. If Cat needed me so much, why did she act OK about me goin' North?" Alex challenged.

"Would you have stayed if she'd protested?" June countered. "Could you have stayed if she'd asked y'all to?"

Alex couldn't give her an immediate answer. His hand massaged the bridge of his nose as he thought over her question. 'It never occurred to me that she would protest. I just left, takin' her acceptance at face value. Shit! Cat's never said or done anything to indicate she doesn't like things as they with us! She walked in with her eyes wide open. Hell, she's the one that thought of the cover story for my absence!'

He finally spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I dunno, darlin'. It's not like I had much choice about goin'."

"Bullshit! Y'all always have a choice!" June spat. "Y'all just won't admit the truth!"

"And that is?" Alex growled angrily, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

"That y'all took it for granted that she wouldn't protest you leavin' to look after another man's wife!" June hissed. "I always knew that her embracin' Coach Knight's rape theory would bite her in the ass eventually!"

'I'd better not ask about that, June might haul off and stick the letter opener in my ribs!' Alex couldn't help being intrigued by June's reference. 'Maybe I'll have Juice look that up for me.'

Alex stared intently at June. "Ya talk like ya know somethin' I don't. Has she told ya how she really feels about the club?"

"Cat doesn't need me to speak for her, and she's not said one word against her life with y'all! I'm expressin' my own opinion!" June exploded. "Fact is, I doubt she'd voice any complaint, anyway!"

"She knows damn good and well she can tell me whatever's on her mind!" Alex retorted. "Even if she disagrees with me!"

"Yeah, as long as she doesn't do it in public!" June retorted. "I might not be an old lady, but I've been Cat long enough to know how the life works!" Her eyes grew wide as she realized what she'd said in a moment of heated, unguarded anger.

She drew deep, steadying breath, moving her arms in the 'cloud hands' pattern to calm herself. "Alex, how much of her history has Cat shared with y'all?"

"All of it, sweetheart. Not all at once, but she's told me everything. I know that her biggest fear is of turnin' out like her mother," Alex replied. "That's why I'm worried, sweetheart. It seems like nothin' that I or anyone else told her last night made an impression. She didn't even believe that fuckin' actor when he told her the same shit!"

'Jesus! That's not good if she refused to believe both Alex and Gerry!' June drug a hand through her short cropped hair. "She heard y'all, allowin' herself to believe it is the hard part for her."

"You can't imagine how it felt to hear her say she didn't deserve me and have her turn away form me!" Alex whispered. "She refused to let me comfort her!"

"I doubt y'all let that stop you!" June retorted.

Alex nodded, a slight grin taking some of the stress from his face. "'Course not! Weird thing was that she didn't remember any of it this mornin'. She looked at me like I'd been smokin' the catnip when I mentioned it, so I dropped the subject. Is that normal?"

June settled back in her chair. "Afraid so, Alex. Her subconscious was in overdrive last night. Keep in mind I'm not a mental health pro. Just a paper pusher who's worked in the field long enough to know my way around."

"I know that! You're the only person I can talk to about this!" he moaned. "Do ya think she's losin' the battle?"

"No, but it's wearin' her down. No one can go through everythin' she's experienced in the last few weeks and not be affected by it."

Alex's hand massaged the bridge of his nose as he thought over June's statement. "Does that means she has to be put away somewhere?" His gut clenched in protest at the idea.

"No, Alex. Nothin' that drastic. When's the last time you two got away for a jaunt?"

Alex shrugged. "Sometime before the rally I think."

"That long, eh?" June tapped her finger against her chin for a few moments. "I think what Cat needs is more time away from the club - and she needs that time with you. You two both need some down time from the demands put on both of you."

'Demands on me? I'm worried about my woman, and her friend is thinkin' about all the demands bein' made on me? Now I'm the one who doesn't feel deservin'!'

Mistaking the reason for his silence, June added, "I know all y'all are tryin' to find the VP's son, and you have responsibilities withe club. But y'all have important responsibilities at home, and this is not somethin' that can wait long - unless y'all want that more drastic measure to happen."

"Ya must know better than that!" Alex sighed tiredly. 'Shit! I wanna do what's good for my girl. How the fuck can I get time away with all this shit goin' on?'

June could easily see the inner pain he felt for Cat and the battle between his conflicting loyalties. "I know that's the last thing y'all want, hon. I also know y'all will do what you've gotta do. Just don't let this simmer on the back burner too long, or the pot'll eventually boil over."

"I hear ya, sweetheart. You've given me a lot to think about. Guess I'll see ya at home later," he stood up, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world was on them.

June stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of him, her gaze filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry if I was rough on y'all, Alex. I love Cat like a sister and want what's best for her."

"And ya think I don't?" he snarled.

"Ya obviously do, otherwise y'all wouldn't be here!" she shot back. "You asked what you could do to help her. I've given you an honest answer. What y'all do from here is yours and Cat's beeswax."

Alex gazed down at her fierce countenance. "What is it about you Indiana wimmin that ya walk where angels and devils fear to tread?" he inquired softly, placing one hand on her shoulder and squeezing it gently. "The only other woman to ever get away with standin' up to me like this is Cat."

"I consider myself in good company," she grinned. "Just think on it, and see what ya can do. Y'all don't hafta go to Niagara Falls, for cryin' out loud, just get outta Dodge for a few hours."

Alex turned and strode from the office. June had definitely given him some things to think about. 'The guys'll be gatherin' in the waitin' area for news on Gem. Clay's gonna wanna plan strategy. Dependin' on how things go, maybe I can get some time away before Kozik arrives and stirs up shit.'

The insistent ringing of a phone drug June Stahl from a sound sleep. She and Agent Tyler had celebrated Gemma's arrest on their return home, certain that Stahl's demotion would be rescinded.

Stahl frowned at the phone on her bed table, then stared at the slender arm resting on her waist. 'I'm not on duty for a few hours yet! Should just let the damn thing go to voice mail. Unless -"

Unable to stand the suspense, she lifted the phone and barked, "Stahl!"

"Good morning!" Agent Sullins replied. "Hope I didn't wake you."

"Had to answer the phone anyway," Stahl retorted, taking refuge in an old joke to cover both her annoyance and fear. Sullins always brought out the worst in her, and she feared he was calling to tell her Gemma had somehow slipped out of her grasp again.

"Good work getting Gemma Morrow in custody," Sullins continued. "Doesn't make up for your letting her escape in the first place. That means, my dear, your demotion remains in effect. Have a nice day."

Sullins terminated the call much in the way he wished he could terminate Stahl. He knew her story about Gemma Morrow's escape from the safe house was full of more holes than a wedge of Swiss cheese. The problem was that he hadn't managed to gather enough hard evidence to support his instincts.

'All I have to do is wait. Stahl will eventually slip, and I'll have her right where I want her!'

Stahl glared at the silent phone, stifling the urge to throw it against the wall. 'If I break it, the replacement comes out of my wallet. Damn demotion is more trouble than its' worth!' She really missed that government expense account.

"Who was that, June?" Tyler murmured sleepily.

"No one important. Just Sullins."

"Good news?"

"Gemma's still in custody. That's the only good thing to come out of the call. Sullins won't lift the demotion," Stahl replied flatly.

Tyler yawned and snuggled closer to Stahl. June's body initially tensed in response to the contact, then she relaxed and returned her lover's embrace.

"I'm sorry, June. Dunno why Sullins is being such a dick."

"Cause he can," Stahl replied. "Don't worry about it. I'll be OK."

Stahl lay quietly listening to Tyler's even breathing and thinking over what she could do to regain her original status with the ATF. Chaz wouldn't rescind the agreement, though Gemma wouldn't technically turn herself in to CPD.

'I can use the possibility that the US Attorney could rescind the agreement to get her to work for me. Dr. Knowles more than she's telling about Epps' murder. If I can use leverage on Gemma to make Tara open up to us, tie the Sons to the IRA for certain, that's bound to work in my favor!'

Stahl's eyes brightened manically. 'No one's going to be able to tell Gemma otherwise for awhile. By the time she learns the US Attorney never intended to rescind the agreement, it'll be too late. She'll have already talked to Tara! It's bound to work!'

Nurse Walton had arranged for a cot to be brought to Gemma's room for Clay to use. It wasn't the most comfortable bed, but it beat sleeping in a chair. Gemma slept through the night without incident. Nurse Walton and other staff quietly went about their business during the overnight hours, giving intravenous meds and checking Gemma's vital signs.

Though the cot was narrow and his feet hung off the edge, Clay managed to get a few hours' sleep. He didn't even wake up when the nursing staff slipped in and out of the room. He did eventually stir when the breakfast trays were brought into the room.

"I ordered a breakfast for you. Gemma can always eat later, Dr. Gallagher would prefer her to sleep as long as possible," Nurse Walton explained. She shook a warning finger in front of Clay's nose. "You, however need to keep up your strength. So eat!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Clay replied with a tired smile.

One of the nursing assistants trundled the cot from the room, bedding and all, while he ate. The coffee wasn't from Charming Pawse, but it was fresh and hot. 'At least it'll clear the cobwebs outta my head!'

He opted not to turn on the television, lest it disturb Gemma. Nurse Walton had brought a copy of the San Joaquin newspaper for him to read.

Clay felt more hopeful about Gemma. Her color looked much better than it had hours earlier. His gaze rested for a moment on the silver handcuff attached to her wrist. He frowned, shook his head, and sat down in the chair, reaching for the coffee to steady his nerves.

The headline on the front page of the paper screamed of Gemma's capture by the ATF. He smirked as he read the story, which glorified Stahl's part in the capture. 'Trust her to bend the story to make her look good! Guess that demotion is really ranklin' her!'

He tossed the newspaper aside, determined not to let the story ruin his appetite. The breakfast was bland, but filling, and there was plenty of it to satisfy him. By the time the nursing assistant returned to collect the tray, he'd finished every morsel and was working on another cup of coffee.

"You can keep the cup and the carafe if you like," she offered as she hefted the tray in both hands.

"Thanks, doll," Clay replied, getting up and moving to open the door for her.

"Thank you, Mr. Morrow," she replied, slipping past the startled ATF agent.

Clay glared at the agent, who turned back to stare at the wall opposite him. Estevez had been relieved hours ago. The only difference between the new guard and Estevez was this guard was a little shorter.

'Same outfit, same lack of expression. Like they're stamped outta a mold of some kind!' Clay thought dismissively. He returned to the chair and turned his attention to the sports page.

He'd just opened the paper when he heard Gemma stir. She'd moved a few times in her sleep, so at first he thought nothing of it. Then he heard her voice call out a greeting to him. His heart leap as his eyes met her wide open ones, a slight smile of welcome and relief brightened his face.