Chapter 2: The Choice between "The Club" & Being a Doctor

The monstrosity of charts and papers greets Tara at the nurses' station. A headache already threatens to add to her day. Her shoulders cave and she starts to pull her hair up on the way to change into her scrubs. Once she slides her arms into the white coat, she checks her nauseousness at the door, as well as she can anyway; and begins her rounds. Her first stop is Gemma's room. Tara's been stalling her stay at the hospital, but her excuses are running thin and Agent Stahl is sticking her pointed nose into her business; quite possibly questioning her professionalism as a doctor. "There's a thin between being a doctor and being a part of "the club" and you're riding it pretty shakily Dr. Knowles." With her built up aggressions, frustrations and hormones, she was one breath away from putting a bullet between her eyes. But now, as she passes through ATF security and into Gemma's room, the gears are turning and a new plan is forming. "How are you feeling?"

"Apparently better than you look." Gemma gives her a wicked grin and slumps back against her pillows.

"Well, thanks." Tara checks her vitals and her temperature. "I don't know how much longer I can keep you here. Between Stahl and the staff, I don't have much to go on."

"I know. I got myself into this fucking shithole; I'll have to find my way out of it."

"I'll keep you here as long as I can. I promise." Tara's hand descends on the handle when a voice so fragile and delicate made its way to her.

"Thank you Tara, Clay told me about the other night. My son's fucked in the head for what he did. But please, give him time." It takes her a minute to realize the voice is coming from Gemma, the hard ass, take no prisoners, in you face woman. She sounds like a broken-hearted girl.

"I'm not going anywhere." Just as she pulls, someone pushes into Gemma's room. She tenses slightly but can't help rubbing a thumb across his jaw. She quickly pulls her hand away when she's realized her error, 'It's not my place anymore.' He watches as a fresh set of tears fill her already puffy eyes and he reaches for her, but she slams the door behind her. His hand falls against it.

"I love you son, but you really are an asshole."

"Yeah. So, I've hear. Now all you have to do is slap me or punch me in the face and it'll feel like Déjà vu." She turns his cheek towards her and survey's his jaw. It's swollen and a deep shade of purple.

"Clay?"

"And Tara. That woman's got a mean right hook, especially against the cheek."

"You look just as shitty as she does."

"I fucked up mom. I really, truly fucked up." She gives him her best, 'Duh, I already know that' look and his shoulder sways with a small laugh. "Of course you know what happened the other night. Clay can't keep shit from you."

"He can try. So, when do you leave?"

"Tonight, we leave tonight."

"Right now, you're going to promise me something. One, you bring Abel home. Two, when you get back you will get on your hands and knees gravel and beg Tara to forgive the shit you've pulled on her. Three, you tell me the truth; did you sleep with Ima Slut?"

"No, I didn't. I paid her to spend the night and make it look like we fucked. She tried real hard to make it real, but…"

"Well, I'll say it again; you are a world class asshole right now. But I get it, she gets it. But I don't make it hurt any less. You remember that. She lost Abel too. She was there when Half Sack died, she watched everything fall apart and still she sticks by you. Can't get anymore Old Lady than Tara."

"If I didn't know better, I would say you like her." She pushes air past her lips in a rush, as if to say 'Yeah, right.' But her face quickly sobers and she grabs Jax's hand.

"She's a daughter to me. She's also what's holding this family together."

Tara has already made two mad dashes to the bathroom, each time she's ended up dry heaving against the sink. Maybe three will be her lucky charm; ding, ding. She falls to her knees and grips the edge of the toilet. Her face goes flush shade of red and the burning against the back of her throat is the icing on this wonderful cake. When she feels her stomach settle slightly she turns her body to sit against the stall, the cold emanating from the floor soaks its way through her scrubs to cool her body down. She takes a few minutes for her self. No thinking of work, or Jax, Gemma or Stahl. No club, no hospital, no nausea, no thinking, just sitting, crying even. Tara's body begins to melt against the stall's door. She's about to disappear but two chatty nurses come gossiping their way into the bathroom, "Have you seen the new radiologist?" "Oh my God yes, he's soo gorgeous." "I know right. I think he has a thing for me." "How do you know?" "He, like, just gave me that look."

Tara pulls her self up from the floor, flushes and rolls her eyes at the irritating noise coming from the nurses' mouths. She washes up and quickly pushes past the petite red-heads now filling the bathroom with the latest breaking news on who's banging who in the supply room and who's cheating on her husband with the night janitor. She grabs the charts form earlier this morning and makes her way to the third floor her favorite place. The Pediatric ward; it's quiet, cheery, and no gossip queens for miles. She even spends some time with the kids during their chemo rounds; they let her color with them and she hangs the pictures on their hospital walls. She picks and empty room and pulls up two chairs and stretches out and tackles the pile of papers; one by one. Fours hours later, the charts are done and her pager is vibrating against her waist; '1st Floor, E.R' She heads to the first floor, drops the charts off with reception and makes her way to the ER. Of course she's not surprised to see Juice sitting on gurney, face bloody and the rest of the club standing near him with arms crossed, full scowls on their faces. She comes to stand next to Jax who can't help but brush his hand against hers. She doesn't flinch, but the way Juice's eye is gushing, she has work to do. "Whose fists did you fall into now?" She grabs a pair of gloves and doesn't wait for an answer.

"Work your magic doc." He hisses when she pushes the wound together.

"I'm going with 42 stitches. What do ya say Juice?"

"Ah, I say 45." She sets to work; cleaning, drying, disinfecting and numbing. She threads the needle and pushes through the skin above his eyebrow. She gets 43 cross stitches and pulls the entire wound closed and sets it with 44 stitches. He was closest. "I have to say Juice, you're my best patient. And most of my patients need a step stool to hop up on the gunnery. You can do it all by yourself, most times." The two share a laugh and she leaves to clock out. No double shift this time.

Before leaving the hospital, she sneaks into Gemma's room, still in her scrubs and coat. She gently puts her bag on the chair and sits on the bed. Gemma slowly opens her eyes, "Shouldn't you be home by now, and off your feet."

"I was just on my way, but I have something I want to tell you." She waits for Gemma to situate herself on the bed before starting again. "First things first." She pulls a silver key from her front pocket and unlocks the cuff holding her to the bed.

"Where the hell did that come from?"

"The napping guards outside the door. The one didn't even flinch when I went fishing in his front pocket for these."

"That's because he probably has nothing there to tease awake."

"True." She gets Gemma out of bed and into the small bathroom without setting off the alarms. Once settled back in bed, Tara grabs her hand and holds onto it, "What if there's a way to keep you here and buy us enough time to nail that bitch Stahl at her own game."

"I'd say you're nutty hormones are kicking in quick."

"Well, they're about to get nuttier. I simulate a heart attack, schedule you for immediate by-pass surgery and get you 2 months in a rehabilitation center and we have shove a gun up Stahl's bony ass and blow her black heart clear out."

"First of all, that's something Clay would say."

"That's because he did."

"And second, where the fuck did you come up with this?"

"Stahl needs to know that she fucked with the wrong family. This is her doing and that Abel has had to pay for her grudge against SAMCRO. So, I give you a small dose of Atropine, it will speed up your heart rate, making it seem like heart attack. I asses your condition and come to find you need surgery. I deal with Margaret and we get you a fake surgery and some time in rehab. Well technically my house, but your name will be in the system with daily checkups by me and Stahl hopefully won't suspect too much."

"Are you sure?"

"Stahl told me a little while back that, 'I'm riding a thin line between being a doctor and being part of the club. Well, it's time I show her which side I'm really on."

"Which is…"

"SAMCRO." When given the choice between "the club" and being a doctor, Tara's loyalties will always, always lie with SAMCRO!