Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe, Nico and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.

A/N: Okay, peeps. Here's a big, juicy Jaxlowe-centric chapter for y'all


Monday, March 14, 2011

With the end to the chilly winter fast approaching, Charming was now enduring the transitional weather between the seasons with the constant spring rains starting a little earlier than the norm, to the surprise of most of the townsfolk. For Marlowe Guthrie—a lover of the heat and sunshine that she enjoyed growing up in Bakersfield—the seasoned sailor now turned EMT couldn't wait until the foul weather finally ceased so that the bright cheery colors of spring would usher in the hot and steamy summer.

Marlowe's first winter in Charming had been something she had to grow accustomed to. During her career in the armed forces, most of the places she had landed in were in the hot spots of the world—politically and literally. Getting used to the varying temperatures in NorCal—as much as 10-15 degrees in one day—had certainly been interesting, even though the past winter had been considered a mild one for Northern California.

Still, it's a good thing I had a hot biker keep me warm at night, Marlowe grinned as she maneuvered her rig down the streets of Charming's business district.

With the weather finally changing, Marlowe was looking forward to stripping off layers of winter clothing for good. For now, however, her current outerwear of her fleece-lined jacket bearing the insignia of the San Joaquin Ambulance Services kept her shielded from the steady downpour of rain the county had experienced over the last few days.

Suddenly rolling her eyes, Marlowe wanted to cover her ears as her partner turned up sound on the ambulance's radio as he tried to sing—rather badly—a popular Justin Timberlake song.

Damn, Avery may be cute, but he can't carry a tune for shit. Marlowe winced as he cheerfully belted out another off-key verse and then grinned and shook her head as he vainly tried to get her to join in.

By the time she completed her probationary period, Marlowe and Avery had forged a reasonably good working relationship. As a result, the Human Resources Department had decided that the two of them should become permanent partners, as it seemed that Marlowe had no problem keeping Avery in check, winning the gratitude of every female EMT who collectively dreaded being assigned to work with him.

It had taken some time to get it through the perfectly groomed and proportioned head of one Avery Dennison that Marlowe wasn't interested in becoming an on-the-job fuck buddy, but after nearly seven months of working together, the two of them were now in a solid professional working relationship. The first couple of months had been a little trying though. It had seemed that Avery had been downright determined to get into her navy blue uniform pants. Having explained initially to Avery about her somewhat over protective old man hadn't fazed her outspoken and over confident coworker in the least. Not really believing Marlowe, Avery had nearly learned the hard way just what kind of trouble messing with the old lady of an outlaw biker could get him, especially once he finally had an unexpected encounter with Jax and Happy. Meeting one ornery biker was bad enough; two of them had been life-altering for Avery. Afterwards, he would flirt outrageously with her from time to time but he never bothered to seriously push up on her again. As he had put it quite succinctly, he had absolutely no interest in catching a bullet in his ass no matter how fine she was. He was a great medic, but even he couldn't pull a bullet out of his own carcass.

Her crow tat had also been an incentive for all others to stay the hell away too. With Happy finally finishing her new ink that proclaimed that she "belonged" to a one-percenter and his small son, it put paid to any misconceptions that her other coworkers might have had in trying to succeed where Avery had failed. Marlowe proudly displayed her ink, making no effort to hide it, leading to a frank discussion about her status as an old lady and her extremely possessive old man. As an MC, the Sons of Anarchy were well known in Sanwa and the reputation of Jackson Teller, hardcore biker, was also public knowledge, and as such, her coworkers realized that it was best to treat Marlowe respectfully.

Now, after pulling into the driveway of St. Thomas' ER, Marlowe grabbed her backpack from behind her seat and quickly exited the vehicle, slamming the door shut. Avery slipped into her now vacated seat and popped his head out the open window, pop music still blaring.

"You sure you're not coming?" Avery asked as he flashed her a wide grin. "Friday's promising to be a wild night. Hot buffet and open bar, too. Come on! You know you wanna go and let your freak flag fly," he said wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Marlowe propped an arm on the rearview mirror. "As enticing as a hot buffet at a skeevy strip club sounds, I'm gonna pass."

"Prude!" Avery teased.

"Hey, I've had more than my fair share of naked ass shaken in my face, thank you very much," Marlowe made a somewhat feeble attempt to defend herself, prompting Avery to look her up and down salaciously. "Get that douchebag grin off your face, alright?! I just don't want to cramp Miller's style at his own stag party—and his funeral should he get up to some shit and his fiancée finds out. As a woman I might feel morally obligated to drop a dime on his ass."

"Shit, you ain't no woman," Avery shot back. "You're a former Marine with a shit ton stories to tell—"

"Navy, asshole! How many times I gotta tell you?" Marlowe corrected, exasperated.

"Navy, Army, Girls Scouts, I don't give a shit! I just wanna hear some stories about you and some naked female ass in your face!"

Marlowe rolled her eyes. "And give you material to yank your crank to? I don't think so." She slung her backpack on her shoulders and adjusted the brim of her uniform baseball cap to keep the rain drizzle out of her eyes. "I should be done here in about 30," she continued as she took a quick glance at her watch. "Bring me back a couple of tacos and something to drink, k?"

"Will do," Avery replied cheerfully as he pumped up the volume on the radio before pulling away and heading to one of their food trucks to score some lunch.

Shaking her head at his antics, Marlowe turned and headed for the wide entrance of the ER. Despite the fact that the hospital was smaller as compared to Stockton General, it had an excellent reputation when it came to quality of care and the professionalism of its staff. Waving to a few familiar and friendly faces, Marlowe made long strides to the part of the hospital that housed its preschool.

Little Hands of St. Thomas was one of a dozen or so child care facilities for children four years of age and under in Sanwa County. After several weeks of intensive investigation of a number of facilities, Marlowe had finally decided that Little Hands was the best choice for her son.

Marlowe smiled inwardly as she thought about Abel Teller. He was such a sweet little boy. Rambunctious for sure, but with a sunny disposition. Like his father, Abel could also at times be a tad bit possessive and difficult when it came to his loved ones, but Marlowe had never felt such pride as when he would stamp his little foot and declare that she "belonged" to him.

If someone had told her while she had been doing time in the brig that one day soon she would be living a happy and fulfilling life with an outlaw biker, but would also become a brand new mother to his little boy, she would have told them they needed to get her some serious medication because she was hallucinating.

But as her Tía would say, life has a way of bringing you joy in a manner that is least expected and stumbling into domestic bliss with Jax and Abel Teller was as unexpected as it could get.

Unlike her own mother, Marlowe was determined to be the best mother that she could be to Abel. Sometimes she got shit wrong—like buying him the wrong size clothes or diapers—but other times things went pretty well in taking care of his daily needs—bathing and feeding him, reading bedtime stories and making him flan, his new favorite dessert. However, with his preschool, Marlowe was determined to get Abel set up with the best care possible. Her main concern mostly stemmed from a desire for him to develop fully and to benefit from the stimulation that interacting with children his own age would provide.

Little Hands had a great reputation. With Jax's blessing, Marlowe had thoroughly investigated several other preschools before selecting Little Hands. It had meant so much to her that her old man had not only supported her request, but had given her carte blanche to choose the facility she felt was best suited for their son. Having done her due diligence, getting and completing all of the paperwork from her employer and getting a complete list of Abel's immunizations from his pediatrician, all Marlowe needed to do was to get the hospital's Head Administrator to sign off on the paper work and her son would become the newest member of Little Hands.

Should be a piece of cake, Marlowe thought as she headed up to the administrator's office.


Stepping out of the elevator on the second floor, Marlowe stopped an orderly for directions and then made her way down the hall to the administrative wing. Turning the corner, she quickly came to an office, the signage on the door identifying the administrator as one Margaret Murphy.

Raising her hand, she used her knuckles to rap on the door firmly. Being summoned to enter, Marlowe turned the knob and pushed the door open. Sitting behind a desk was a familiar looking petite redheaded woman. St. Thomas was one of many hospitals that Marlowe had frequented as a paramedic and while she couldn't know everyone, she now recalled having previously seen the women a number of times in the hospital's corridors.

The woman's voice was cordial and professional as she glanced up to meet Marlowe's eyes. "Yes, can I help you?"

"I'm hoping you can, Ms. Murphy," Marlowe replied confidently. "I was told that I needed to see you regarding the day care, Little Hands. My name is Marlowe Guthrie," she said, holding out her hand which the administrator stood and took in a polite grip. "I understand that as the hospital's administrator I need your assistance in completing my paperwork so that I can enroll my son. That is, of course, if I'm not taking you away from your work. I could come back when you're free—"

"Not at all. I'd be happy to help. Please have a seat." Margaret gestured to the seat directly in front of her desk. Marlowe watched as the woman re-seated herself. "I think I've seen you around St. Thomas before. Are you new to SAS?"

Marlowe nodded. "Yes, I am. I just finished my probationary period and one of the benefits I'm now entitled to includes discounted child care. Little Hands here at St. Thomas came highly recommended by one of my co-workers."

The administrator beamed. "We are really very proud of our pre-school facility here. SAS is very good to their employees in that they cover 25% of our tuition, so you are very fortunate to be employed by them."

"Yes I am," Marlowe replied. "And of all the facilities I've checked out, I'm sure my son Abel will be very happy here."

"What a lovely, old fashioned name," Margaret commented genially. "Well, why don't I take a look at your paperwork, Ms. Guthrie and we can get it finalized."

As Marlowe watched with a keen eye as the administrator picked through her paperwork, she saw the exact moment when the older woman's demeanor changed. The narrowing of her eyes as she seemed to focus on something that first gave rise to surprise; the tight look that indicated shock and disbelief; and the tightening of pale pink frosted lips into a sharp thin line of discontent and anger.

Something's not right here, Marlowe mused as she watched as suddenly Margaret straightened the papers into a neat pile on her desk and then folded her hands over them, her overall posture stiff.

"Ms. Guthrie, I just remembered that I have an important matter that needs my immediate attention. I will hold onto your paperwork and get back to you in a day or two…maybe sometime next week."

Marlowe sat back in her chair and casually crossed her legs as she eyed the suddenly cold woman. Her response was quick and to the point. "Why?"

"Umm, well as I just said," the administrator started and stopped as Marlowe held up a hand preempting her from continuing.

"Ms. Murphy," she started, carefully swallowing her rising ire over suddenly getting the brush-off. "I'm getting a very distinctive vibe from you, so you'll have to forgive me for plain speaking, but I'm not one to beat around the bush. Just a moment ago, you seemed eager to help and had even indicated that there wouldn't be a problem with enrolling Abel today. All that changed once you started looking at the paperwork. Is there a problem, maybe something that I can clarify since I'm already here? Or are you simply stalling?"

"I don't know what you could possibly mean by 'stalling'," the woman replied evenly. "I'm sure you realize that this being a hospital-run facility that the staff of St. Thomas gets first priority for new placements. To be honest, Ms. Guthrie, I'm thinking I may have spoken out of turn by offering you a spot so quickly without checking with the day care coordinator regarding availability. As with many similar facilities, there is usually a wait-list and I should really check before signing off on your application."

Marlowe had to give it to the woman. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. But she wasn't buying that shit, not for one minute. Not after witnessing the recent play of emotions on the administrator's face. Marlowe slowly leaned forward in her chair as she eyed the woman's suddenly wary expression.

"Ms. Murphy, we don't know each other, but I'm very good at analyzing people and situations and right now my bullshit meter is registering off the charts. I know what bureaucratic red tape entails and I have made sure to get all the necessary documents in order and I've crossed all the 't's and dotted all the 'i's. The only thing I can imagine that might raise an issue is the fact that I am registering Abel Teller." Marlowe nodded her head in satisfaction as she read the confirmation in the woman as her eyes suddenly twitched. "So I guess you have a problem with Abel's father, right?"

"The fact that Abel is Jackson Teller's son has very little to do with my reservation. Although considering the fact that his father runs the local motorcycle gang should probably be a concern since some of the issues that have plagued the town over the years are because of them," Margaret replied coldly as she straightened her back. "The issue is that you are not Abel's mother. You might be the woman who replaced Dr. Tara Knowles as Teller's old lady, but you aren't Abel's legal guardian and as such I can only authorize the paperwork from someone who is."

Marlowe felt her face redden as if she had been slapped and her hands itched with the desire to reach across the desk in order to throttle the woman. The hoity manner in which Margaret had said "Dr. Tara Knowles" made it clear that Jax's former old lady was well regarded in the woman's eyes. Refusing to be intimidated, however, she was determined not to allow this uptight paper pusher to prevent her from getting Abel the best care possible, regardless of what the woman thought about Jax, the MC or her place as Jax's new old lady.

"I'm going to ignore your blatant bias against a young child because of who his father might be and urge that you to take a moment to thoroughly examine the paperwork," Marlowe said with as pleasant a smile as she could muster. "If you had taken the time to do so before trying to show me the door, you'll see that Jackson Teller, Abel's legal guardian, has signed all the necessary forms for registration. And since you have acknowledged that my employer does indeed provide a 25% subsidy, all that I really need is your signature and I'll be on my way."

Try to wriggle your way out of that, you coldhearted bitch!

Margaret cleared her throat as she confirmed all the necessary signatures in all the necessary places. "I see," she conceded. "But, be that as it may, I first must confirm there is space available—"

"So you've said," Marlowe interrupted. Moving towards the edge of her seat, she made sure Margaret was looking her in the eye. "Just know that I spoke to Denise Maxwell, the daycare's managing director. She was quite helpful and confirmed that there are actually enough openings for five Abel Tellers. Hearing otherwise from you would make me extremely . . . suspicious, so please, just sign the papers now so I can return them to Denise and get my son situated."

"Ms. Guthrie, you should know that I don't respond well to intimidation."

Marlowe chuckled as she thought of the KA-BAR strapped to her ankle. "Speaking firmly in defense of Abel is not intimidation, Ms. Murphy. But if you'd rather do it the hard way, I'm sure that with a quick call I can get someone down here with the authority to resolve this situation—"

"So you are threatening me by siccing that pit bull of an old lady on me!" The admin's cold and stoic demeanor radically changed as her voice became dangerously high pitched, fear and stress plainly evident.

With confusion plainly casting a shadow on Marlowe's features, she slowly came to the realization of what the woman was talking about.

Damn, Gemma! What the hell did you do to this one? Marlowe bit the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from smiling as she took in the woman's now terrified expression.

"I don't know what or whom you're talking about," Marlowe lied easily, "but I'm not a school yard bully and I fight my own battles. I was merely referring to filing a complaint with your direct supervisor, who I happen to know also sits on St. Thomas' Board of Directors. As I'm sure you know, even though St. Thomas is a private facility, it does receive millions in subsidies from the County. I don't think the Board would take kindly to having that funding jeopardized by a discrimination lawsuit filed by a recently returned combat vet. I'm just saying," she said folding her arms across her chest. "So how about we hit the reset button. Look over the papers, confirm that everything's in order and sign off on the application," she paused for a beat. "Like right now."

It was ten humming seconds before the administrator unclenched her hands and did as she was told, finally reaching for a ball point pen and shakily signed the papers.


It was an exuberant old lady who pulled onto the T-M lot after a long hard day of work.

After dealing with St. Thomas' administrator, Marlowe had made her way to Little Hands with her newly signed paperwork, triumphant and yet still smoldering with indignation. Fortunately, it seemed that Denise didn't have a problem admitting the son of an outlaw biker. In fact, the young woman was quite affable as Marlowe presented the completed forms and was quickly able to wrap up Abel's admission so that he would start the following week.

With Avery picking her up, Marlowe had a few minutes to quickly inhale her lunch before their break was cut short for an emergency call involving a gunshot victim in Lodi. The rest of the afternoon was a blur of activity before calling it quits for the day.

It was during the drive home that Marlowe had time to fully process her unexpected run in with the hospital admin and consider its implications. With the introduction of Tara Knowles into the conversation, Marlowe had quickly connected the dots between all the players and was starting to wonder whether enrolling Abel in the hospital's preschool was such a good idea after all. Marlowe vaguely recalled a conversation with Gemma in which she had implicated Margaret Murphy in playing a role in Tara's abortion that ultimately ended her relationship with Jax. That bad blood had the potential to blow up on her, but Marlowe refused to let a grudge she had nothing to do with interfere with what was best for Abel.

After parking her SUV, a brand new, tricked out kid-friendly vehicle that Jax had surprised her with a couple of months ago to replace Donna Winston's jalopy, Marlowe exited the car. Grateful that the rain had finally stopped, she eagerly made her way into the Clubhouse on the hunt for her "boys" to share the good news and discovered that the youngest was having a "Grandma and me" break.

Marlowe smiled as she observed Gemma and Abel. Perched on the edge of the coach, Gemma was handing blocks to her grandson and encouraging him as he stacked them up in his current attempt to build a garage bay.

"See, Grandma," Abel babbled. "This is where the cars go." Turning to give his grandmother some further instruction, Abel's blue eyes widened happily as they shifted to Marlowe. "Arlo!" he hollered and, knocking over his project in the process, made a beeline to the woman who had become a very large part of his life.

Bending down, Marlowe scooped the little boy up in her arms. "Hey there, buddy," she found herself crooning before smothering his face with kisses. "Did you miss me?"

"Lots and lots!" Abel replied. "I was building a garage like Daddy's, but I felled it. You gotta help me, Arlo."

"Of course, my love. Let's check it out," she replied and putting him on her hip, strode towards Gemma. "I see Grandma's been working hard."

Gemma Teller-Morrow stood up, placing her hands on the small of her back to stretch. "This was my idea. Much better than pushing my baby on the swing in the rain no matter how much he wanted to. Still worn out, though."

"Getting old, are we?" Marlowe snarked.

"Bite your tongue before I rip it out and strangle you with it," the old lady warned good-naturedly.

Marlowe laughed as Abel's eyes widened and his tiny mouth formed into a perfect circle. "No, Grandma! You can't do that to my Arlo," he insisted with all the seriousness a three year old could muster.

"Don't worry, Abel," Marlowe soothed him. "Grandma's bark is worse than her bite."

"Yeah, right," Gemma laughed. "You keep believing that, baby girl."

"Oh, I know better, but no sense in giving my baby nightmares," Marlowe explained. Looking around the quiet and otherwise empty clubhouse, she asked, "Where is everyone?"

"By 'everyone' I'm guessing you mean your old man. He's with Opie and Happy." Gemma cocked her head towards the chapel. "You need him for something?" she asked with a knowing grin.

"I always need my old man for something," Marlowe grinned as she nuzzled Abel's hair, "but in spite of your dirty mind, right now I just wanted to share some good news."

"Hot damn!" Gemma shouted causing her grandson to start. "You're pregnant!"

"What?!" Marlowe yelped, looking absolutely floored. "What the fu—hell, Gem? NO!" She watched as the old lady's shoulders slumped in apparent disappointment and she practically pouted.

"No need to jump down my throat, baby girl. You can't blame me for hoping," she replied. "So what's the good news then?"

Having realized that in her excitement that she had just put her foot in it, Marlowe bit the inside of her bottom lip. Having approached her old man on the subject, she had had a pretty good vibe from him that his mother might not be too thrilled about her grandbaby going to preschool. Jax, however, was fully supportive of the idea. It had been her plan however, to carefully set the stage before dropping the bomb on the woman who was probably the closest she would ever come to having mother-in-law and now Marlowe realized that she had lost that advantage by shooting off her big fat mouth.

Well, no help for it now, Marlowe thought as she noted Gemma's narrowing eyes. "The good news is that little man here is going to get himself some new friends," she said taking her eyes off of Gemma to focus on her son. "Whatcha think? Would you like to play with some other little boys and girls?"

Keeping her focus firmly fixed on Abel, Marlowe watched as her son's eyes widened with interest. "I gonna go school?" he said hopefully.

"That's right. You get to play with other little boys and girls, and with toys and computers, too."

"When I goin'?" he asked excitedly.

"Soon, baby," Marlowe promised. "And you're going to have a really good time," she continued completely ignoring the "What the fuck?" that Gemma muttered angrily.

Instead, Marlowe turned to the Clubhouse door to focus on the newcomer that happily skipped inside. "Hey, Chuck," she called out.

"Hey, Doc," Chucky replied cheerfully and then came to a sudden stop as he took in the smiling faces of the woman and child before eyeing the tight-lipped expression and heaving bosom of his boss.

"Uh, I was just going to grab something to eat," he said tentatively.

"That's a good idea. While you're doing that why don't you take Abel and get him something to drink too?" Marlowe said as she lowered Abel to the floor. "I think Gemma and I need to have a little talk."

"Uh, sure, Doc. No problem," he replied slowly as he eyed both women. "C'mon, sport. Let me hook you up with a juice box."

Marlowe watched as Abel followed behind the strange man and waited until the two were settled in the kitchen before turning back to the seething old lady.

Here's hoping that the chapel doors are thicker than the dorm walls, she thought grimly as she eyed the battle glint in Gemma's eyes. "Okay, so I'm getting the vibe that some animal just crawled up your ass to die."

"Yeah, you when you decided to farm out your responsibilities to my grandson by signing him up for daycare," Gemma retorted as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Immediately, Marlowe felt her hackles rise. "That's bullshit and you know it, Gem. First, you of all people should know how much I love that little boy, so you even suggesting that I'm farming out his care is offensive. Second, it's more a preschool than it is a daycare. It'll prepare Abel to be around adults outside his circle as well as children his age so that his transition to a regular school setting won't be so off-putting. And third," she barely paused to take a breath as Gemma seemed keen on interrupting. "Elyda has been a part of Abel's life ever since Jax went inside and long after Tara left. She's a wonderful caregiver, but aside from some broken Spanish, what is he learning that will benefit him when he does go to school?"

"At this point in his life, the only thing that's important is that my grandson is being watched in the safety of his father's home. Elyda has been thoroughly vetted and I trust her. Having outsiders who we know nothing about caring for Abel is out of the scope of reasoning and totally unacceptable," the matriarch argued.

"Are you serious?! We can't keep Abel in a plastic bubble. At some point, he is going to have to interact with the outside world and it is our responsibility to prepare him for that," Marlowe countered. "I may not know the staff personally, but I do know they're properly licensed. Little Hands is not a fuckin' coven!"

Gemma practically choked on her indignation. "Your plan is to send my grandson to the daycare at St. Thomas?!" She fumed.

"Yes. He goes to his doctors at St. Thomas too. I don't see an issue," Marlowe responded.

"Maybe the issue is that if you in fact love my son as much as you say you do, that you'd consider staying home to raise Abel full time!" Gemma countered.

Oh no, she didn't!

Although she had a tenuous hold on her growing anger, Marlowe managed to retain her composure out of the respect she had for Gemma and her love of family. "Gemma, because I know of the bad blood between you and Jax's former old ladies, I'm going to ignore the venom in your last statement and not shove my boot up your well-toned ass. But please, do not question my love for Jax and Abel just because I choose to work. In spite of what you may think, love and loyalty do not equate with me having to live my life entirely for the Club, but it does mean that I will do what I think is best for my family," she retorted.

"So now what I think is best for my family is irrelevant?" Gemma replied bitterly.

"In this case, maybe it is," Marlowe said soberly and watched as deep brown eyes widened in shock. "Gemma, you did your fair amount to push me and Jax together. I have to believe you saw something in us that made us right for each other and if that's the case, you have to trust that as a couple, Jax and I know and want what is best for Abel. Sometimes—like now—you and I will butt heads and disagree. That doesn't change the love and respect I have for you, but as Jax's old lady, I get final say. So pull up your old lady thong and deal with it," Marlowe finished, grateful that the older woman seemed shocked into stunned silence. With a sigh, Marlowe ran her hands through her hair. "I better go see what Chucky and Abel are up to."


The atmosphere in the chapel was one of contemplation as the three SAMCRO officers decided to take the opportunity of a somewhat empty clubhouse to discuss their current situation in the wake of their recent exchange with the Galindo cartel.

"Have you given any more thought as to how we're gonna get the Club out of this shit with the Irish?" Happy asked as he stubbed out his cigarette. He watched as Jax leaned back in his chair.

"I've got a couple of ideas brewing. I think I'll know more, however, after Chibs trip to Belfast. I'm hoping that he'll bring back some Intel that will help us craft a workable scenario," Jax replied.

"We can only hope," Opie said quietly as he eyed his best friend. "I'm getting the feeling that finding a solution to this problem is going to be a hell of a lot harder than we initially thought."

"It's not only that," Jax replied as he tapped the ash off his cigarette into an ashtray. "I think the sitch may come to a head a little sooner than we anticipated."

"Whacha talking 'bout, Pres?" Happy asked his expression grim.

"I think I got a little heads up from Luis, and if I'm right, shit between the two cartels may be wrapping up sooner than we hoped."

"Luis actually told you that shit?" his SAA said skeptically.

"Not in so many words," Jax replied, "but he was a little more talkative than usual at our last meet and he said a couple of things that made me look into some shit." Sliding his hand into his kutte, Happy and Opie watched as Jax pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Unfolding it, Jax placed it on the table for his officers to see. "I did a little homework after the run, asked Juice to get this for me, quietly. This is a map of Mexico. Now, according to Luis, the Galindo Cartel occupied the Northern part of the country, with Lobos Sonora in the south before disputes over territory ignited an all-out war," he explained. "Now, almost a year later, Galindo has taken over a number of Lobos territories, obliterating the enemy. According to Luis, Galindo has taken over their coke factories and private air strips, and in some cases, even the local government. I've marked them on the map."

"Shit," Opie murmured as he used a large index finger to trace the line of dots that Jax had outlined on the map with a marker that went deep into the rival cartel's territory. "It looks like they have seriously fucked up the Lobos' infrastructure."

"That they have. So if what Luis says is true—" Jax started.

"—then the Lobos have lost more than half of their territory to Galindo," Happy finished. His dark eyes focused on his president. "And that means—"

"That means Galindo is not looking for a compromise. Sooner or later, Lobos Sonora will be wiped off the map altogether and Galindo will be the biggest cartel operating out of Mexico," Jax explained.

Opie nodded as he grabbed on to Jax's train of thought. "And that means the cartel war will come to an end. Galindo won't be needing the Irish's heavy and expensive artillery anymore."

"Exactly," Jax sat back and eyed his brothers grimly. "With the police and federales in their hip pocket, they'll have all the military-grade weaponry they could ever need at their disposal. Shit, they'll have their own personal cartel militia all paid for by the Mexican government."

"So how long before the Irish see their Mexican pipeline evaporate?" Happy asked.

"Five, maybe six months," Jax replied.

"Shit, Jax. That doesn't really give us much time to get our shit together," Opie stated with some concern.

"That's why we have to step it up a notch, brother," Jax replied. "I think it's time we reached out to our new best friend, especially after this showed up in the mail today." He withdrew an envelope from his kutte and handed it to Happy. "I had Chucky keeping an eye out for it in the mail."

"What's this?" Happy asked as he pulled out the contents of the envelope. His eyes widened in stunned surprise. "Shit a brick!"

"What is it?" Opie asked excitedly and reached over to take the envelope from his brother and quickly perused the document. His whistle was long and low before looking at his best friend. "This shit's legit?"

Jax nodded. "I had Ally Lowen look into it and every single zero on that check is straight up legit," he said referring to the six-figure settlement check Opie was holding from the insurance company for the fire that destroyed Cara Cara two years ago. "Not that I needed further proof, but this does confirm that Nico Torelli is definitely the real deal."

"Wow, and I really thought she was blowing smoke up our asses," Opie chuckled. "I stand corrected."

"So am I right in thinking that it's time we pulled Ms. Torelli in and see what she can do for us?" Jax asked. "With the cartel deal in the homestretch, we can't afford to keep our asses on the fence. Either we go hard, or we go home."

Opie nodded slowly. "I say we go for it. She's already proven herself more capable than Rosen has these past two years in dealing with the insurance company. I say we give Lady Mob Lawyer a shot."

Jax stubbed out his cigarette. "What do you think, Hap?"

Happy shrugged. "You know me, Pres. Anyone that can help the Club pull this kind of money in is golden in my book."

"It's settled then," Jax confirmed. "I'll reach out to her as soon as possible. I want Opie there with me, but I want you there too, Hap. You've made a good impression on Nico and good old Uncle Jimmy so far by how you handled their internal problem. I think having you by my side when I reach out to her is a good play."

Happy nodded. "If you say so, brother." After all, any opportunity to see Tiny wouldn't be wasted on him.

"Good. I'll let you know when," Jax said, about to call their meeting to an end when one more matter popped into his head. "Before I forget, City Council was meeting this morning to vote on pushing Charming Heights through. If it's a go that means Nico can start working on our next expansion efforts ASAP."

"And we need that shit to happen ASAP," Opie stated.

"And it will. When it does, things are going to start moving pretty fast. Oswald has already cleared a good deal of the acreage and Hale is gonna want to get shit up and running soon. His development company is all set to start sending out requests for contract proposals for landscaping, plumbing, electrical, concrete and other building materials."

"What's that have to do with us?" Happy asked.

"Nothing, but I see a possible advantage," Jax replied. "Didn't you tell me that during your cover for the hit that you heard some of the family talking about their construction supply business?"

"Uh, yeah. I think they're into cement and some other shit."

"That's what I thought. I'm going to get Juice on that. I think that there could be all kinds of mutual love going on between us and the Torelli family." Looking at his prepay, Jax stood up. "I think this is good for now. I'll put Juice on digging up some more shit on the Torellis before I call to set up a meet with Nico."

"Sounds like a plan," Happy replied standing up as well.

It seemed that Jax was fully invested in Tiny being the key to helping the Club go legit and Happy was confident that she would succeed. How her involvement in SAMCRO business would affect her status as his side piece was anyone's guess, but Happy knew one thing for damn sure.

He was looking forward to finding out.


Opening the doors to the chapel, Jax stepped into the main room to find his mother pacing anxiously back and forth.

Gemma turned to face her son, relief flooding her face. "Baby, can I speak to you for a sec?"

Eyeing her for a moment, Jax approached his mother. "Sure. Everything okay, Ma?"

"No. No, everything is not okay. What's all this bullshit about daycare for Abel?" Gemma crossed her arms over her chest as she eyed Jax. "We Tellers look after our own." She watched as her son's face hardened into a tight mask.

"Yeah we do, and Marlowe is doing what Tellers do best, which is looking after her family. She's looking out for our son's best interest, which is why she wants him in preschool. I trust her judgment on this, Ma."

"Do I have to remind you what happened the last time you put your trust in a woman?" Gemma asked sardonically. "That doctor bitch killed my unborn grandchild," she said in a fierce whisper. "I think that gives me the right to question your judgment, Jackson."

"Whoa! Back it up, Gemma," Jax warned his mother. "Even you should know better than to go around comparing Marlowe to Tara. They're not even in the same fuckin' league."

Opening her mouth to argue, Gemma was startled when her son put his hand firmly over it. "Don't make me pull rank, Gemma," Jax said evenly, looking into her wide-with-surprise eyes. "I run this Club and I run my family. I love you, Ma, but it's time for you to take a step back and cut out this sense of entitlement you feel you have the right to as Club matriarch. In the grand scheme of things, you're just an old lady and you need to start respecting Marlowe's decisions as my old lady, you hearing me?" he said with quiet seriousness.

Pushing his hand from her mouth, Gemma sighed and rolled her eyes to avoid his gaze. Jax simply grabbed her by the chin and gave it a firm tug with a cold, hard stare which finally melted into a teasing grin. "You hear me?" he repeated.

"All right already, you little shithead. I hear you and I'll obey," she whispered sarcastically.

"Can I get that in writing?" Jax joked, but not really.

"Asshole," she said reaching over and giving his ear a good tweak.

"What the fuck, Ma!" he yelped.

"Hey, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't all that long ago that I was wiping your shitty ass. You may outrank me as Club President, but I am still your mother, so don't you forget it," Gemma warned, before running a loving hand across his bearded chin. "I've earned the right to meddle as a mother."

"A serious control freak of a mother," Jax grinned and suddenly winced as she gave the hair on his chin a violent tug.

"I am not my mother. How many times I have to tell you that shit?"

"As many times as it takes to convince yourself," Jax teased. "I know the truth and still love your cranky ass anyways." He flashed her a big shit-eating grin.

It would seem that her son was maturing in more ways than she could possibly handle. Jackson Nathaniel Teller had made it crystal clear what the new pecking order was. It was the first time that Gemma realized that she truly was no longer first on her son's list of priorities although she knew that she would always have his love. It was something she knew that had to happen eventually—the separation between mother and son—and she had to an extent stepped aside for Tara to take the role as the new HBIC, one that the younger woman had been unwilling and unable to perform. But it seemed that with Marlowe Guthrie at his side, Jax was determined to fully support his old lady and to keep her counsel first in mind.

Gemma was never the type of person who ever made a habit of apologizing for shit she did wrong. It simply was not in her nature. As she watched her son lovingly interact with Marlowe and Abel as they returned from the kitchen, however, she realized that in this one instance, maybe a mea culpa was warranted.


A/N: First off, many thanks for the warm welcome. The reviews were really appreciated and HUGE thanks to my beta, Miss Harlee Quinn. This role reversal is really interesting to say the least, but I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Hopefully, I can carry the ball until such time as Harlee-girl gets her mojo back, which I hope will be really, really soon.

As you can see, just because Marlowe's in the family doesn't mean everything is all unicorns and rainbows. She is trying to find her way as a new old lady and mother and has to deal with outsiders like her coworkers and people like Margaret Murphy. She also has to set boundary lines for Gemma Teller-Morrow who is clearly not used to that at all. All-in-all, I think she's got the sitch under control. It also helps that she has a supportive old man who has no problem putting his mother in check.

Meanwhile Jax has already seen the writing on the wall and is moving his chess pieces in order to put the Club in the best possible place when the Cartel business finally dries up.

Next chapter: With things starting to move in the right direction, the SAMCRO Pres and his officers end up in the bustling town of Reno to see a certain short, blue-eyed Italian lawyer, and Jax and Opie get a bird's eye view of the sparks between Happy and Tiny.

Reviews mean love, so the more you post the more chapters I will try and churn out!

Hugs, WebStar