Episode 2: Seeds
Donna's thoughts on Opie
Donna Winston can't sleep. She's never able to, not when Opie is gone somewhere on his bike. She knows that it would be better for her to sleep. She'd probably worry less. She's sure as hell have fewer grey hairs and wrinkles. Yet she lies awake in the bed she shares with him, waiting for the sound of his bike to come back up the driveway.
It used to mean something so different. When she was a teenager and they were dating, the sound of his bike down the street meant that she was going to sneak out, trying to avoid her parents and a grounding the next morning. It was always worth it though, the feeling of crawling out of bed, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, slipping through the window, darting through backyards to the corner where he would be waiting for her, a grin on his face and his bike ready to take her wherever they wanted to go.
When she had moved in with him, it still gave her a sense of excitement to hear him pull in. She waited up because she still couldn't contain the giddy excitement of him walking into their bedroom, peeling off his kutte and his jeans, climbing into bed with her. She wanted him near her all the time, because she wanted to feel that exhilaration all the time.
Once they had babies, she was up anyways. The sound of a motorcycle was relief that he was home safe, that she still had a husband. Someone else was there to change diapers and make bottles and maybe she could close her eyes for ten minutes and get just a few, precious moments of sleep. It was reassuring to know that he would take care of the kids and her, that her partner was back and he would kiss her forehead and cradle his son.
Then there was the night he didn't come home. She had asked him, in her usual roundabout way, not wanting to find anything about the club. He had given her his usual vague answer- maybe midnight, maybe two. He wasn't sure how long this job would last. So she had put the kids to sleep and then herself, crawling into the too big bed and waiting. Ellie had woken up once, Ken twice. She had gotten up and comforted them, promised that yes, daddy's coming home soon, he'll be there in the morning, like always.
Then she got the call. It was from Gemma. She wonders now if the club was too busy dealing with the fallout that she was an afterthought, a throwaway delegated to the queen. She'll never forget how she was standing in the kitchen in one of Opie's old tee shirts, gripping the counter and trying not to faint as Gemma told her that something had gone wrong and then her next words,
"Opie won't be coming home tonight."
He didn't come home for five years. She laid alone in her bed for five years, as her children crawled in with her and then left once more, too big and too angry to let her comfort them anymore. She always slept fitfully. It was like she was programmed to think he was still coming home, even when he wasn't anymore. She still waited for that sound.
So now she sits in her bed, upright and rigid, the sheets clenched in her fists. She will never be that teenager, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to climb on the back of his bike. Now it repulses her. It's a sign of the club, the men who don't care about her and her family, only their band of brothers.
"Mom?" A quiet voice asks from the darkness and she switches on a lamp to see Ken leaning around the door carefully, looking at his bare feet.
"Hey, c'mere." She says, patting the bed next to her and he hurries over to her, scooting close to her. "What's wrong?" She asks, as he carefully snuggles into her side.
"Is… Is dad coming home tonight?" He asks softly, picking at the skin around his nails.
"Yes." She says automatically, even though that exact thought was running through her head. "Why would you think he wasn't?"
"I haven't heard his bike." He tells her and she feels a painful squeeze around her heart. So her children have picked up on her trick too.
"He'll be back soon." She promises. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you up when he gets home." Soon Ken is lightly snoring in her arms and she is still sitting in her bed, just waiting.
The noise wakes Ken. He's shot up and is out of the bed before she can even release her grip on the blankets. She follows at a slower pace. Ken is watching through the window as his father parks the bike, hanging his helmet on the handlebars and walking towards the garage. Ken waits until he hears the click of a key shifting the lock and sneaks back to his bedroom. She watches him go with sad eyes then looks up as Opie enters the hallway.
"What are you doing still up?" He asks, clearly confused.
"I'm always up when you're gone." She says quietly.
"Are the kids asleep?" He asks, glancing at the shut doors. She hesitates for a moment then nods. He doesn't need to know that his son worries just as much as she does. "Well, I'm ready for bed." He says.
"Of course you are." She says under her breath, walking back into the bedroom. When he's done brushing his teeth, he climbs into bed and reaches for her. His hand hovers over her waist. Then he draws it back and rolls onto his side, leaving a wide gap between the two of them.
Gemma and John's Wedding
"I look like a whale." Gemma comments, frowning and turning one way and another, making faces.
"You do not." Luann scoffs, tugging her own dress on and smiling at her. "You look gorgeous, as always."
"My mother would drop dead of a heart attack if she saw me now." Gemma mutters, a smirk crossing her face as she straightens her dress over the large bump that is her stomach.
"Well, if one thing is sure, John's gonna have a hard time keeping his hands off you." Luann says and Gemma admires her figure in the mirror for a moment then turns and lowers herself into the chair Luann has dragged into the center of the room. She stands behind her, pining the veil into Gemma's hair.
"I'm just jealous that he'll be getting drunk and I'll be sipping water the entire night." She says crabbily and Luann waves a hand.
"You'll be too busy trying to take a nap to think about that." She promises and Gemma remains quiet as Luann finishes up.
"How does it look?" She asks.
"You look stunning, sweetheart." She says, kissing Gemma's cheek. Gemma gets up and while Luann busies herself gathering the flowers, she looks out the window. She feels a swell of pride at the sight of bikes lining the dusty road. Sons, here for her. She feels the nagging voice in the back of her mind reminding her that her family is absent, even her beloved father. She pushes it away. Nate would bring Rose and Rose would bring judgment.
"Thanks." She says quietly when Luann hands her the large bouquet of white flowers.
"Not getting cold feet are you?" Luann teases.
"They're too swollen to get cold." She complains but the baby kicks in protest and she smiles at her belly. She knows, somehow, that the person within is a boy. She's never doubted that.
"C'mon, it's almost time." Luann coaxes and Gemma takes one final look in the mirror before following her best friend. They wait in a side room, Luann fixing Gemma's dress and hair for the thousandth time. Gemma lets her fuss. She stands and feels her son moving within her. The wedding march begins and Luann is first out the door, her golden hair practically glowing in the warm sunlight.
The log hotel is fairly far off the beaten path. It's small and the owner gladly rented the entire thing to the Sons, in exchange for some deal Gemma didn't feel the need to ask about. That had been her one fuss about the wedding. She was not getting married in a church.
She didn't plan on being 8 months pregnant when she got married either, but she doesn't mind it now. She wants to be married before she gives birth though so her child isn't one of wedlock- apparently old habits die hard. But she's glad for her pregnancy. It's a sign of her loyalty to the club and John. She is their queen and she has their heir. It's her job and she didn't know how badly she wanted this baby until she found out she was having it.
When the doors open for her to walk down the little makeshift aisle, she feels a rush of pride to see the open awe on the faces of those in the chairs. Men in kuttes admire her as she steps, slowly and deliberately, down the aisle. The women are nodding respectfully. Gemma Madock is about to become Gemma Teller and take her rightful place as the queen.
John is watching her with blatant love and lust. She smiles at him, then notices Piney and Clay at her side. Piney looks happy for them, but Clay's expression is far more closed. He looks at her and for a moment, a surge of hunger flashes across his face. She smirks and joins John at the alter.
He looks so handsome, with his long hair and his kutte. That had been his one point to make in the whole wedding planning. He and the rest would wear their kuttes and Gemma had never dreamed of stopping him. On the contrary, she prefers it. Another way to prove that she will never marry someone like her father. His hair is long and beard full. He is smiling that half smile she so loved, the first time she saw it when he made a comment to her and she had snapped back, the wild streak in her apparent from the very first second.
The ceremony is brief. She knows better than to try and confine all these men in one small space for too long a time. Besides, she's too pregnant to stand for long amounts of time. Their vows are traditional, with the extra biker line thrown in. She doesn't blush, just straightens up with pride. The wedding bands are equally simple, but when John slides it on her finger, the child in her gives a hearty kick and she laughs.
"I love you." He whispers when he draws her in for their first kiss and it's sweet, how he rests one hand on her next and the other on her belly. He tastes like he always has, like cigarettes and mint, his beard scratching her as she kisses him back passionately.
She's done it. She's John Teller's wife. No more is she Gemma Madock, Pastor Nate's innocently little girl. No more 'my, how big you've gotten. What happened to that little brother of yours? Well, I simply didn't think Rose's daughter would act like this'. She's Gemma Teller from here on out and she's the queen of Sons and of Charming and everyone will know.
After the ceremony, they take a few pictures. John and Clay insist that they go take some by the bikes, because the women are loved only slightly more than the bikes and Gemma agrees. She takes John's teasing that she can no longer ride behind him, for fear that her stomach would take up too much.
She feels happy in this moment. Blissfully happy. She doesn't need her old family. She has this one. Men that would kill to protect her and women that look up to her. She rests her left hand on her stomach and feels the gold on her stomach. She laughs as someone takes a picture; unable to stop the giddiness that she's finally gotten away from the list she thought she would live forever.
She was right to predict an access of drinking. It's hardly an hour in when two men start fighting and John wades in to break them up, emerging with a cut on his forehead and an amused grin. Gemma rolls her eyes, but she knew it would happen. It's rough, this crowd.
"You look amazing." Someone comments behind her and she turns to look. Clay has a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She smiles at him, subconsciously rubbing her bump.
"Just glad no one is calling a mammoth." She says ruefully and he shakes his head quickly.
"No one would ever call you that." He promises and she just smiles a little wider. He toasts her with his drink and wanders off.
"C'mon, I want to take you home." John whispers in her ear, grabbing her waist and giving a tug.
"For what? You're too drunk to do anything for me." She appraises and he chuckles heartily, kissing her neck.
"Doesn't mean I can't try… Wife." He says and at that word, he rubs her belly, making their child move.
"Then take me home… Husband." She responds and leads him away, to the cheers of everyone gathered.
AN: Well, a short little two stories not focused on Jax or Tara (sorry I love them) but a little something on Opie and then a little bit more on the wedding photo. Please leave me reviews, I love to hear what you guys think on this stuff!