A/N: YAY! I'm BACK! Ahem, anyways... So yes, I'm back from hiatus, with a new chapter... Little stiff, but I'm still getting back into the swing of things, so bear with me a bit. :D Hope you enjoy!

"Fuck!"

Filip –who had been half asleep in the chair –shot up at his wife's expletive.

"Nick? What's wrong? Oh Christ, lassie," He exclaimed.

Nick stood over the sink, grasping her wrist tightly. "Shit, I was just… I was tryin'…"

"Open ya hand, luv," He ordered, forcing her fingers back to get a look at her hand. "Oh Jesus, luv. How the hell…"

Nick grimaced as she dared a glance at her palm, cut straight across the palm, all the way to the bone. "I was uh… Tryin' to chop the chicken."

"With what, a fuckin' machete? Here, wrap this around it. Ya keep pressure on it, aye?" He ordered, grabbing his jacket and cut from the back of the chair, and throwing them on, before helping her into her jacket.

"What the hell are we doin'?"

"Gettin' ya ta the hospital."

"Jesus, Filip!" She exclaimed, pulling away from his grip. "Can't you just throw some stitches on it, and call it a day?"

The look on his face was one of sheer shock. "Ya fuckin' kiddin' me, yeah? Did ya not see how deep that is? We don't have time for discussion, lovey. The way that thing's gushin', ya bleed out in an hour, tops. So let's go."

It was less than twenty minutes later that the ER staff was wheeling her away. Filip had tried following her back, only to be shoved away by one of the nurses. As they lead Nick through the double doors, she called out, "Call my mom!"

Sighing, Filip obeyed, digging his cellphone out of his pocket, and holding a finger up to the nurse who was staring at him expectantly. The phone rang twice, before Gemma answered.

"Teller-Morrow Automotive."

"Gemma? It's Filip. We're at the hospital; Nick asked me ta call ya."

"Is she all right?"

"Uh… Well… She's not dyin'. But she sliced her hand open pretty bad. Docs got her in the ER right now."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Alright. I'll be waitin'." Filip sighed, and turned back to the nurse. "What?" He growled, not liking the way she was staring.

"We're going to need to know what happened. Who you are, what your… relationship… is, insurance information, all of that," The woman said haughtily.

"My relationship? I'm her fuckin' husband," Filip spat, annoyed at her implication. "We don't have insurance. What's it matter, how much can two dozen stiches cost?"

"Mr… ?"

"Telford."

"Mr. Telford. These are all routine questions. I have some paperwork here that I need you to fill out, and I'm going to require some paperwork proving that you're her husband."

Filip growled. "Ya fuckin' kiddin' me, aye? I don't exactly carry our fuckin' marriage license around in me wallet, an' I ain't leavin' ta go get it. Take a look at her fuckin' license, and you'll see it. Nicole Rose Telford, born April 19th, 1980."

The woman didn't look convinced. "Alright, here's the paperwork. You said the girl's mother was coming in?"

Filip didn't dignify her with a response, simply yanking the paperwork out of her hand, and stalking over to a chair to fill it out.

Six hours, and twenty seven stitches later, the Telfords finally arrived back at their small cottage home.

"Ya know, ya lucky ya didn't do any serious damage ta ya muscles or nerves," Filip said, for what seemed like the millionth time, as he helped Nick off the bike.

Nick sighed, rolling her eyes as she sat down on the bench in front of the house. "I know, I know. It's not like I did it intentionally, alright?"

"Who the hell taught ya ta use a knife? Forest fuckin' Gump?" He grumbled, sitting next to her, and wrapping one arm around her, using the other one to pull her cut hand closer, and examine the cut again.

"Nobody, alright? Jesus, I was chopping chicken, not having a knife fight!"

Filip took a deep breath, and released her hand. After a moment of tense silence, he said, "Ya right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean ta get upset. Jus'… Jesus, Nick, ya fuckin' scared me, aye?"

Nick hesitated a moment, before smiling, and laying her head on his shoulder. "I know. I'm sorry, I just… I don't like knives. Trust me, this isn't the first time I've accidently cut myself making dinner. Probably the worst, but not the first."

Filip laughed. "Jesus. Do ya know anythin' 'bout protectin' ya self, pet? Obviously ya don't know anythin' 'bout knives, but anythin' else? Guns, ya fists… hell, a fuckin' baseball bat?"

Nick shook her head. "No. Never really seen much use for it. Tig tried teaching me to fight when I was younger, but I wasn't much good at it."

"No reason not ta learn, luv. Anyone else try an' teach ya?"

"Not really. The common line of thought was, when would I ever need it? I didn't go anywhere without my mom, Jax, or one of the guys, so when what would be the point?"

Filip rubbed at his eyes. "Ya kiddin' me, right? So the great master plan was for ya ta never be alone?"

Nick grimaced. "Well, when you put it like that, yeah, it seems a little dumb."

"An' exactly what other way would ya put it?"

Nick smiled up at him, and rubbed at the light stubble on his face. "Look, I know you're worried. But really… What're the chances that something's ever gonna happen, huh?"

Filip shook his head. "First thing on the morrow, pet, we're teachin' ya how ta defend ya self. Ya can pick what we use, but it starts tomorrow. No wife o' mine is gonna be defenseless, ya hear me?"

Nick looked at him as if he were stupid. "Uh… Honey, in case you don't remember, I just had twenty-seven stitches put in my hand. Don't think I'm gonna be up to it."

Filip was silent a moment, before speaking. "Do ya ever want kids, pet?"

She looked up at him in surprise. "Um… Yeah, I guess. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Say you're up in Lodi with our child. Ya tryin' ta get him or her outta the car, when a man comes up behind ya, and tells ya ta get in the car. Or ya in the mall, an' someone runs by, an' snatches our baby right from the stroller. What are ya gonna do, Nicole? Wait for me, or ya brother, or the other Sons ta come an' find the bastard? By then it would be too late.

"Or how about this: no kids. We'll take 'em out of the picture. How do ya think I would feel if somebody kidnapped ya? Raped ya, tortured ya, murdered ya, all of it… An' ya couldn't do a damn thing about it, 'cause I never taught ya what ya needed ta know. Jus' how that think that would make me feel, lovey?

"As far as ya hand… Guess what? There are times, when you're gonna have ta fight wounded. It's a part o' life. I won't push ya hard, but first thing tomorrow mornin', we're startin', ya hear me?"