Part two . . .

As the light from outside beamed in through the kitchen windows of her parents' home, Gemma sipped her coffee and tried not to think of everything that had led her to this point in her life. She'd buried a husband, a son and so many boys who were more than willing to lay their lives down for hers . . . She'd helped give one of the most-if not the most- influential MCs in the world a solid foundation and a home in Charming. She'd tamed not only the Outlaw John Teller but Clay Morrow as well . . . and she'd survived an attack that should've reduced her to nothing. Used it to make her family stronger . . . and gotten her vengeance for the great injustice against her . . . Only to end up here. Right back in Rose's house playing by the old tyrant's rules when the woman was cooling in a grave she'd never visit.

She sighed, taking a drink of her coffee before turning to see Anna come into the kitchen. She knew that there was something off about the little immigrant caregiver . . . but so long as she kept her nose clean and didn't do anything stupid she wouldn't push . . . Or at least that was what she thought until Tig came in and smirked at the blushing woman, offering her an overly friendly greeting.

"Morning, Babe."

The girl blushed even darker before ducking down and to the basement with the basket of clothes she'd carried in with her. Correction: basket of sheets. Oh she was going to fucking murder him . . . He turned, oblivious to her frustration with him. Was he really so fucking dense that he would think this was okay with her? She loved Tigger to death . . . but Ripley was like her daughter. She was going to be outraged for her when she wasn't here to do so.

"Morning, Mama. Just got off the phone with Clay. Apparently there was a shoot out at Sack's wake. Fucking idiots actually rolled up and opened fire on the Sons in Charming . . ."

Gemma blinked, momentarily stunned out of her anger with him by the news. Dear God . . . someone was actually stupid enough to attack them on their home turf after the shit with Zoëbell and the Aryans? Did they have a damn death wish or something? She shook herself, propping against the counter.

"Jesus . . . everything okay?"

Tig shrugged, reaching out and taking a swig of her coffee.

"We're whole . . . but some civilians were hit. Little boy got shot . . . and Hale was killed. Run down by the fuckers when he tried to keep 'em from leaving . . ."

Gemma paled, closing her eyes. David Hale might've grown into a thorn in the Mc's side over the past year but she was still able to see him as the gangly kid who delivered newspapers to her house . . . and would occasionally study with Ripley for the classes she was taking-much to her chagrin. She sighed, shaking her head as she looked up to Tig.

"Damnation. What a waste . . . we should be there. I should be there . . ."

She turned, pouring the rest of the drink down the sink before rinsing the cup and putting it in the dishwasher. This was getting to be to much for her weary heart to handle . . . their home was changing. And there wasn't much they could do to stop it . . . but she could get to the bottom of what was happening between her favorite Son and her goddaughter.

"So . . . you sure about what you're doing with this, Tigger? 'Cause Ripley isn't really one to share her toys despite her inclination to have one of each at a time occasionally."

Tig snorted, pulling his prepaid from his pocket before navigating to the message from last night and tossing it to Gemma. She caught it, reading the message before shaking her head. She could practically see Ripley debating on this before making her decision . . . and trying to do right by the retarded man before her when they all knew he wasn't very likely to do so by her. At least not in this respect.

Would Tig love her till she drew her last fucking breath and die to defend her along with the Club? Absolutely. But she doubted the man even remembered how to be faithful without her constantly there beside him. Ripley had just proved she was smart enough to recognize that and do what needed to be done . . . But she wasn't going to make this easy for him. Not by a long shot.

The phone vibrated in her hand, causing her to look down and grin when she saw Ripley's number. She tossed it to Tig, who glanced at the screen before heading outside. She hoped the two of them could weather this . . . because if they couldn't then the Crow Rig had been so eager to sear into the girl's flesh was a waste of ink . . .

Ripley sighed as she listened to Tig, noticing he didn't sound anywhere near as tense as he had before . . . but she wasn't going to think about that. She'd given her blessings . . . and she would stick with her word. Even if it drove her fucking crazy. Mikhail had already reamed her ass and warned her that she'd done this to herself. She'd opened this door by telling him it was a Run . . . and they both knew Tig well enough that he wouldn't abstain when he didn't have to . . .

"So everything is okay up there? How bad is Nate?"

"Pretty fucking loony. One second he knows us and the next he doesn't . . . Its driving Gemma up a wall. But the sale of the house and shit is already finalized so all we have to do tomorrow is take him to his assisted living and be done with it."

She nodded, knowing he couldn't see it but doing so anyway. It made her feel better and she needed that right about now . . .

"How's everything down there?"

She took in a shuddering breath, careful not to let him hear her. She was on her way to talk with Tara at Jax's right now before he got out this morning . . . but she doubted that was what he meant.

"it's a fucking mess down here. Between all of the drama from Luanne's funeral, getting Sack's body released and everyone that got hurt during the shit last night I'm amazed Charming hasn't combusted. I felt bad for Jacob last night . . . He might be a lot of things but he loved Davie . . ."

He snorted into the phone, making her raise a brow . . . then glower at the phone for what he followed the little noise with. What the hell was wrong with him? She knew he had a heart, she listened to it almost every night before she went to sleep, had seen it in action with her and the girls. Something was going on up there . . . and she hated that she was afraid to ask.

"Oh so it's Davie now? What? You bone him before he got flattened? He was at the house when Ope came to get you . . . and you apparently rode to Sack's wake with him. At least the fucking idiots saved me the trouble of gutting him for touching what's mine."

She pulled into Jax's driveway, narrowing her eyes as she parked beside Tara's Cutlass and killed the engine on the Aston. She took a deep breath before answering him, refusing to rise to the bait. She was going to do this right . . . and if he ever came home then she would skin him alive.

"Regardless of how petty he could be, Alex, I did grow up with him. And riding with him was an order from Clay . . . to make a statement about the new regime being at least semi-Son-friendly. The man practically died while Tara and I tried to save him . . . painfully. He kept me out of the way of Stahl as long as he could . . . and helped Tara navigate the Feds. You could show him some respect for that . . ."

He huffed into the phone and she suddenly wanted to scream. It was like he was trying to pick a fight.

"So you being all distraught over your little boyfriend why you didn't answer my calls last night? You killed a motherfucker and buried his damn body before, Ripley. I'm supposed to believe one little hit-and-run rocked your world enough for you not to call?"

"NO. My prepaid phone got slaughtered in all of the confusion last night and I just got the new one this morning. It took Juice a while to program the same number and all of the contacts . . . I'm actually not supposed to use the damn thing until its completely charged but I wanted to talk to you. I miss you and I just wanted to make sure you and Gemma were okay before I was without a way to contact you . . . My regular cell got trashed too . . . But you apparently could care less."

The silence on the line told her he probably wasn't even listening anymore so she decided to go ahead and end the call.

"Look. I love you and I miss you. I've gotta go."

And with that, she hung up . . . because she knew he wasn't going to tell her he loved her back. Not if he really thought she'd slept with Hale . . . God he was so fucking stupid! And these men gossiped more than little old fucking women!

Tara wept into Ripley's cardigan, hating that she was soaking the very soft faded black cashmere but she couldn't stop herself. She'd needed someone to confide in and with Gemma gone Ripley had been her only other option. And even though she could tell that the other girl was dealing with something of her own, she'd turned off her prepaid and tossed it-and her huge faded slate blue leather hobo purse- onto the couch and opened her arms. Which had been all of the invitation Tara had needed.

She knew that things weren't the way they'd been before . . . but she was so thankful that she and Ripley had at least made this much progress. When she'd first moved back, she would've been nursing a black eye by now. Not sobbing into the heathered slate blue tee shirt beneath the other girl's cardigan.

She drew back, wiping her eyes as she looked over Ripley. She had dressed in dark washed skinny jeans that were crunched over one of her many pairs of shoes-though these were remarkably blue flats with only small bronze buckles to match those on her purse- with the tee shirt and cardigan. And the glittering long necklace with the black feather she'd taken to wearing recently. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her hair was in a high ponytail of wild ringlets; her bangs pinned back in a pomp.

Tara looked down to her own white tank top, faded and worn jeans and one of Jax's plaid flannel shirts and felt under dressed. Why did the other girl always dress so damn well? She shook herself, trying to get to the reason for her tears.

"Jax told me to leave. To go ahead and get out before the Club consumed me like it was him or some bullshit like that. Can you believe it?"

Ripley blinked, shaking her head slowly before sighing. She reached out and got Tara's hand, holding it as they sat in the floor of the powder blue room. Jax had already been here . . . and Tara had pretty much destroyed Abel's nursery after he'd cut her heart out . . . the first time. It wasn't something she was proud of but she hadn't been able to stop herself. She was so angry it was either trash something or hit something . . . and she wasn't too sure of Jax's mental state at the moment.

Ripley's voice brought her back to the present.

"He's in a bad space now, Tara . . . and while it does not excuse his behavior it is attributing to it. Give him the space he thinks he needs but still be there for him. It's the only thing I know to tell you to do . . . other than knock him in the head with something really hard and hope when he wakes up he's fixed."

Tara laughed, shaking her head. She wondered how many times Ripley had tried that on Tig already . . . she sighed, shifting in the floor.

"Do you think Margaret's right? Or is Jax? Should I take a leave or keep working?"

Ripley shrugged, her ponytail slipping over her shoulder and glittering in the light of the nursery. Suddenly, Tara felt like they were sixteen again and gossiping about boys and clothes . . . not life chaning decisions.

"I think it should be up to you whether or not you work. Margaret is right however . . . a leave looks bad on a practicing physician. For someone in my position, mental health absences are kind of an occupational hazard. Everyone needs them eventually . . . and I am definitely going to take mine. I think you should take a few personal days like she suggested, gather your head and try to keep yourself together. And if Jax can't get behind that then you tell me and Clay and we'll make him get behind it. This family has survived too much to start tearing itself apart from the inside out again . . ."

Tara nodded, feeling better having an outside opinion on everything. But something Ripley'd said was bothering her.

"You're going on leave? When?"

She shrugged, twirling her curls around a finger as she looked at the floor. Something Tara knew she did when she was thinking . . .

"As soon as Unser can sign the forms. I'm out today on personal because of what happened . . . but I know I can't do this right now. Normally, this wouldn't bother me so badly but . . . I've had to opend three people I cared about in as many weeks. I don't want to have to do Hale's autopsy. Or deal with Stahl's bullshit. So I'm probably going to go and pack up London's place in Long Beach . . . see some friends and just try to unwind . . ."

Tara nodded, seeing the logic there.

"What's Tig think about it? He okay with you taking off?"

Ripley snorted, folding her arms and looking to the side as she grumbled. Tara knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help laughing at the pathologist as she rolled her eyes. It made her feel better to know that her Son wasn't the only one being weird and difficult. But she really couldn't think of another way to describe Tig Trager . . . or the relationship he had with the girl before her.

"Oh he could care less. Clay's asked me to help sway him to Kozik's side so I made a really stupid decision. I told Tig 'I'm all about the pussy' Trager to treat his little vacation like a Run . . . and I swear if he brings anything home other than Gemma and a smile I will fucking kill him."

A few moments later, whoever passed by the Teller house could hear Tara Knowles's laughter from the sidewalk as she finally gave up trying not to laugh at her friend . . . and-if they listened closely- Ripley Shaw's good natured grumbling about how she was happy she could make somebody's day.