Disclaimer: I won Brenna…That is all! Kurt Sutter created all other recognizable characters and places within the story. He is a genius!

Chapter 1:

I keep my eyes closed, but I feel the change—the soft, yet very hard surface beneath my body, the warm fingers brushing my forehead, the loving tone of my badass mother's voice. "Come on, baby. You're too hardheaded to give up now." I've missed her. I've missed them all, but she was always my rock.

My eyelids flutter open and I groan at the lights above the pool table where they have laid me to recover. When I see her face, stricken with worry, I have to hold back every urge within me to cry. I am a Morrow, I will not show weakness, even when my body has been beaten and broken so viciously.

"I should kick your ass for scaring me like that." That's my Ma, showing her attitude to hide her worry. It's almost her way of saying she loves me. Despite the show of dominance, she leans down and kisses the bruise on my faces. "I love you, baby. We are going to take care of you. That's Gemma, brute and badass to boot, but the most caring mother you will ever meet.

I hear her shuffle to the door to let the others know that I am awake. I try to sit-up. My ribs won't have it, not without assistance anyway. As she walks back in, "You should be taking it easy. But you are just like your father." So she helps me sit-up, feet dangling over the side.

I look down; my bloody, torn jeans and tank top have been replaced by sweat pants and a SAMCRO tee. The blood has been washed from my body.

Tara is the next one through the door. She approaches me with a worrying eyebrow. "You should probably be resting."

I crack a pfft in her direction. "Thanks for the concern, sweetheart; but this pool table ain't exactly a place for resting. In better condition, I could probably kick your ass at pool on it though." She is in scrubs, so I deduce that she is the one who helped me. "Thanks, doc." She gives me a weak smile.

Slowly, other familiar SAMCRO members make their way inside. I recognize Tig, Chibs, Bobby, Piney, Opie, Juice, Happy, and Jax, my brother. I haven't seen any of them in 4 years, yet one of them had changed a bit, besides a few more gray hairs and longer beards.

Clay is the last through the door, but the first to approach me. His large, calloused hands cup my face as he examines the visible damage. His head tilts to the side. "Who did this to you?" silence. "What happened exactly?"

I close my eyes from his hard look. "Could we do this somewhere else? I want some privacy for this." When I open my eyes, I can feel the tears pooling while I attempt to blink them away. Dad sees this. He knows my deep seated need to stay strong—just until I'm alone.

"Okay, princess. You and me, we can sit down in Happy's dorm. He's the only one with sense enough to clean up after himself. And I don't want my baby girl recovering a room full of dirt and condom wrappers." He's trying to lighten the mood—calm me enough to face the others without fighting the need to cry. I reach up to his hands cupping my face and give his a gentle squeeze, just to say thank you in our special way.

Clay moves to help me stand when Tara speaks up. "There's a stab wound in her side. I stitched it up, but I don't want her walking. The bruising is deep and pitch-black along her abdomen as well. She shouldn't move unless necessary."

With that, Happy steps forward and picks me up bridal style to carry me to his dorm. No one expected him to volunteer for this, but no one would dare say a word.

After I settle into the bed and happy has taken leave, Clay and Gemma step through the door. This is going to be a long conversation.