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

Friday, July 23, 2010

The Teller-Morrow lot was the center of the SOA universe, and this was a fact that had become quite clear to Marlowe during the early days of her stay in Charming. Anything and everything that had to do with the Club happened on what some referred to as the "Compound" and as far as she was concerned, there never seemed to be a lack of interesting shit going on. Whether it was dealing with issues regarding the Club's illegal gun business or the general ups and downs of life in an outlaw MC that actually functioned more like a very dysfunctional family, there was always something going on.

Usually hovering around the periphery of any activity, on this particular day, Marlowe would find herself front and center of a shit storm that was personal in nature, but which involved one Club member in particular.

It was a typically busy Friday for the garage, with mechanics and Chucky expediting service for clients as Gemma kept an eagle-eye on everything and everyone. On Fridays, more so than on any other day of the week, there were a significant number of hang-arounds milling about in anticipation of after-Church festivities once the sun went down. Having showered and dressed after her normal morning workout routine, Marlowe was sitting at one of the tables across from the bar sipping on a large mug of coffee and scarfing down one of Bobby's ginormous blueberry muffins. After being dragged around a three-story mall in Modesto the day before, Marlowe felt the need to indulge herself. With Jax busy and MIA, stuffing her mouth with an organic muffin instead would have to do.

It had been years since the last time Marlowe had gone clothes shopping with Amelia and Ceci and, after a morning in fashionista hell, now she remembered why. Being nagged and browbeaten into submission by the notorious Cuban tag team "Las Hermanas Lopez" would certainly never find itself on Marlowe's Bucket List, but even she had to admit that they had a point when it came to her severely-lacking and way-too-casual wardrobe.

"Chica, there's no way in hell anyone will hire you if you walk into your interview wearing a t-shirt and jeans, your Navy uniform or some nasty camouflage monstrosity. Not even if you were looking for a job driving a garbage truck," Ceci chided as Marlowe stood in the midst of several clothing racks with a one thousand yard stare on her face.

"You know I hate shopping with Ceci," Amelia started as she rifled through a rack looking for Marlowe's size, "but she does have a point."

Ceci stopped what she was doing on the other side of the rack and placed a hand on an indignantly cocked hip. "Ave Maria, Mellie, you make it sound like that never happens."

"Well, you do like sticking your nose where no one was looking for it in the first place, hermanita," Amelia responded as she pulled a sophisticated little black dress with a mock turtle neck and cap sleeves from the rack. "The point I was trying to make, however, is that if Marley is going to do this shit, then she needs to do it right," she said while draping the dress over Marlowe's front.

"Put that back!" Marlowe ordered, suddenly springing to life as Amelia gave her a look like she had just sprouted a third eye. "Tía," she started again in a less stressed-out tone. "I don't have to wear a dress. I'm not interviewing for an office job. Dark colored slacks and a simple button down will do just fine."

Just fine for what, Marlowe had no clue. She wasn't even sure she wanted the job in the first place. After all, she was still getting over the shock of hearing back so quickly from the Sanwa Ambulance Service Corps. Obviously, Shane had not been exaggerating when he said that they had been looking for someone with her qualifications for a long time. The Human Resources Director had called her personally to offer an interview, candidly acknowledging that she had been afraid that some other service would snatch Marlowe up first. If she were honest with herself, the former Corpsman would admit just how flattering it had been to hear that during her first foray into seeking employment in the civilian world.

Unfortunately, Marlowe had opened her giant pie hole and mentioned having to cut short her visit with Amelia at the Center for an interview that afternoon. Ceci had been the one to take the stubborn bull by the horns, insisting that she needed the right outfit for the interview. "This will be good practice for you for when you start looking for a job in Bakersfield."

As Amelia and Ceci started chattering away about what stores they should hit first, Marlowe didn't have the heart to mention the fact that the outcome of this "dress rehearsal" might not be what they were expecting. Instead, she let the strong-minded Latinas take the lead on their shopping excursion. However, Marlowe wasn't about to let them pressure her into wearing a dress! That was her fuckin' line in the sand. She had one dress to her name and that was more than enough for her.

Begrudgingly, both Amelia and Ceci complied, finding her a nicely-tailored designer pant suit and paired it with a simple yet beautiful white silk shirt and a pair of basic black heels that added another three inches to her already-impressive 5'10 frame.

Returning to Ceci's hotel room near the Wellness Center, Marlowe had changed into her new attire and slapped on some light make up while Amelia pinned her hair up into a neat chignon.

Closing the clasp on a pair small gold hoop earrings, Ceci turned to her sister. "Nice, huh?"

Amelia nodded. "Who knew she cleaned up so well?"

"I feel like a phony in this monkey suit," Marlowe muttered as she examined herself in the full-length mirror, refusing to admit that she actually did look quite decent.

"Tell me you are not comparing a Michael Kors to a monkey suit? Who made your Navy uniforms, chola, Armani?" Ceci admonished sarcastically. "You look like a woman who is out to get herself a job. Now go get it."

Thanks to the impromptu make-over party, Marlowe had to gun the Impala all the way to Stockton in order to get to the interview on time. In spite of running the risk of encountering a speed trap on the way, she had been pleasantly surprised by how well the interview had gone. The Director of Human Resources had been impressed with not only her perfect score on the state exam, but with Marlowe's extensive military experience as well as with her wide range of medical knowledge.

Now it was all a matter of waiting it out. Although Marlowe had been given the impression that she was at the top of their candidate list, she was told by the Director that there were several other applicants left to be seen before a decision was made. The HR Director did have Marlowe sign a consent form in order to start the process of a background check as well as a verification of employment process. After all the standard checks came back clear, all she would have to do was take a thorough medical exam as well as drug test, that is if she was offered the job. Marlowe had left the corporate offices of the San Joaquin Ambulance Service Corps that afternoon confident that seeing other candidates was just a technicality and that the job was hers.

Still, Marlowe refused to acknowledge that submitting herself to the entire process meant that she had already made up her mind to stay in Charming, or that she even wanted to.

I'm not obligated to take the job if they offer it, Marlowe reasoned with herself as she continued to sip her coffee. Ceci's right. Going through the whole process is a good way of getting familiar with what I can expect on interviews back home.

But, Doc, Charming is your home, her inner voice gently chided her. And to her surprise, that voice sounded a lot like Jax Teller's.

Finishing her breakfast, Marlowe got up from the table and took her dirty dishes into the kitchen to wash before heading out. Drying her mug and plate after washing, she decided to put them away, along with the other dishes in the dish drainer. Opening a cabinet, Marlowe stopped and turned her head as she heard loud clomping footfalls coming down the corridor and spotted a biker heading her way.

"Hey, Tigger," Marlowe said as she turned completely around to lean against the counter. "Where's the fire?" she asked as she noted the man's harried expression.

"Hey, Doc," he replied absently. "Running real late today of all days when I got an important errand to run for the Club."

Knowing better than to ask what that errand might be, Marlowe went back to organizing the cabinets. "Well, that's what you get for spending the night plowing more than one Club groupie at a time. Ever consider that you might be getting too old for that shit, old man?" she teased over her shoulder.

"Never, doll. You'd know for yourself just what this well-oiled vintage machine is capable of if you just let me give you a ride." Tig offered, wriggling his eyebrows lasciviously.

"You still working on getting into my pants?" she laughed as she shut a cabinet and opened another. "I thought you had given up on pursuing the impossible," she teased.

"Hey, quitters never win, baby cakes. 'Sides, I figure that eventually, one of these days you're gonna see the error of your ways and let me slip ya the full ten inches," he said with a sigh as he wistfully stared at her pert ass.

Jesus Christ! Are huge cocks a pre-requisite to being a biker? Marlowe thought with a grin as Jax sprung to mind. If so, hallelujah!

"It's a good thing to keep hope alive, Tiggy," Marlowe said sincerely as she continued rifling through the cabinets. "Just keep your hopes off of Hap's radar, okay? I'd hate for that Neanderthal to rearrange your face for ya. I kinda like it the way it is."

"Eh, who knows, maybe if I was higher up on the food chain like Jax," Tig started, the gleefully evil smirk on his face unseen by Marlowe. "I'd get a pass from Hap too—"

Suddenly forgetting what she was doing, Marlowe almost dropped the plate in her hand as she spun around to face Tig. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She glared at him.

Tig held up both of his multi-ringed hands. "Nothing, Doc, nothing at all. Sometimes, I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. Maybe I got Tourette's or something," he said with innocently wide yet crazy-looking eyes. "Anyways, I'm running late and don't even have time for a jolt of caffeine." Tig watched as Marlowe rolled her eyes.

"Hold on a sec, I think I saw some disposable cups and lids in here," she said, finally finding the right cabinet. "I'll make you a cup to go."

"You're a lifesaver, Doc," Tig grinned as he watched her pour rich coffee into a Styrofoam cup and handed it to him. Quickly gulping down a couple of sips, he winced as he seared his tongue. "Shit! This fucker's boiling."

"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" She grinned. "So where are you off to?"

"Gotta make a run to Oakland," he replied nonchalantly. Jimmy Cacuzza was looking to the Club to fill an unexpected order of Glocks for one of the families in Reno and Jax had tapped him to make the delivery. "I better bounce," he said as he headed towards the door and stopped. "Chicken fucker!" he growled as he deliberately banged his head against the doorjamb.

"You still need reminding that the coffee's hot?" Marlowe asked bewildered.

"Nah," Tig turned to face Marlowe. "Kozy's been nagging me like my ex-gash to bring him some shit from his dorm, but I keep forgetting. I was supposed to drop it off before heading out today but I over-fuckin-slept."

"No worries. I'm heading over there now, so I can take it. What does he need?" Marlowe offered.

"Really, Doc? You'd be doing me a solid," he said gratefully before quickly running down the list of Kozik's requested items. Tossing her a set of keys, Tig shouted his thanks and headed towards the Clubhouse exit.

Making her way to Kozik's dorm, Marlowe shook her head as she thought about Tig and his off-handed comments. In spite of what he said about knowing nothing, she knew better than to think that Tig was the only one aware of her relationship with the SAMCRO President. After his alpha male hissy fit of jealously in the Clubhouse over Kozik, Jax had deliberately gone out of his way to brand her in front of the injured patch with an intimate kiss. It would come as no surprise to her if she learned that the Gossip Girls had compared notes with each other, coming to the totally reasonable conclusion that she was indeed polishing Jax's knob on the regular.

What did surprise her, however, had been Tig's implication that Happy knew about her and Jax and had given the SAMCRO Pres a pass.

A pass? What the fuck does that even mean? Marlowe thought a little disgruntled. As if she would even let her brother entertain the notion that he had a say in her love life. But then again, who knew what secret deals sealed by secret handshakes were being made between Club brothers behind her back.

As far as Marlowe knew, the only thing Hap had been aware of was their little tango in the sheets on the night Jax discovered the truth about Tara's "miscarriage". Living in the same Clubhouse, brother and sister interacted every day and so far Hap had not deigned himself by bringing it up again, which Marlowe had been more than grateful for. But just because she hadn't noticed anything off in his attitude towards her or Jax didn't mean that he hadn't been clued in about her little "ongoing arrangement" with the SAMCRO Pres. She knew enough about her brother to know that he wouldn't be thrilled about it. It was just another way Happy was so much like his mother Amelia. Either be it breast cancer or the fact that Marlowe was heartily enjoying an active sex life with Jax Teller, if they didn't acknowledge it, it wasn't happening.

"Fuck my life!" Marlowe growled to herself as she approached Kozik's door. The only way to know for sure would be by approaching Happy about her relationship with Jax. However, she had learned plenty about self-preservation in the Navy and was not about to poke a pissy-to-begin-with bear by asking.

Instead, Marlowe decided to focus on the task at hand, which was retrieving several personal care products from Kozik's room at the far end of the hallway between the Club's gym and the public bathroom. Using the keys Tig had provided, she unlocked the door and let herself in.

After being taken to St. Thomas for treatment of his injuries, Kozik's dorm had been thoroughly cleaned by a couple of Prospects. It was definitely bigger than her own and not only had a bathroom, but a nice sized window as well. It certainly had more character than either hers or Happy's dorms, both of which were pretty Spartan, true to the nature of its occupants. The walls were decorated with SAMCRO memorabilia, including framed photographs of Kozik's early days with SAMCRO and during his time as SAA with the Tacoma charter, as well as several naked centerfolds on Harleys for the prerequisite sleaze factor. A small flat screen TV was mounted on the wall opposite the neatly-made bed. On the other side of the room, against the wall next to the bathroom, stood a lone chest of drawers covered with a collection of souvenir shot glasses from around the world, two unopened cartons of cigarettes, an opened (and nearly empty) box condoms and a loaded hand gun.

"Yep. Once a Marine, always a Marine," Marlowe murmured under her breath as she eyed the room thoroughly.

Suddenly narrowing her eyes curiously, she crossed the room over to the desk that was tucked away in the corner and noted the government-issued footlocker resting on top. Running her hand over the smooth, cool khaki green-colored metal, she was tempted to take a peek inside but stopped herself out of respect for her friend. Instead, she turned around and headed to the bathroom where she found a small black bag sitting on the sink. Opening it, she nodded to herself as she eyed the contents of what was Kozik's shaving kit.

"Poor man's losing his mojo with the ladies the more he starts to resemble a hermit," Marlowe smiled to herself as she opened the medicine cabinet and retrieved a can of shaving cream and a bottle of aftershave, stuffing both into the bag before zipping it shut. "After over a month without some 'tang, he might be able to score some head by prettying himself up some."

Closing the bathroom door behind her, Marlowe was about to head out of the room when her memory kicked in. Stopping with a snap of her fingers, she headed to the night stand by the bed. Tig had said that's where she would find the books Kozik had asked for. Pulling open the top drawer, all Marlowe saw was an eclectic assortment of CDs and at least five unopened boxes of condoms.

"Damn, Kozy! Now I know who to turn to when my own little stash is gone," Marlowe grinned as she closed the drawer and opened the second and much deeper one. The obvious "junk drawer" was packed with skin mags, several packs of playing cards, poker chips, a flash light, batteries, a CD player, and a couple of bundles of pictures. Pulling numerous items from the drawer and placing them on the bed, Marlowe continued rifling through the drawer until she hit pay dirt and found the requested books. Deciding that she would need to organize the drawer in a manner that would allow her to close it again, she tossed the books on the bed. The bouncing hardcovers caused several items already precariously resting on the edge of the bed to fall onto the floor.

"Shit!" she groused as the box of poker chips opened on impact, scattering small, multi-colored plastic disks representing different denominations to and fro.

Crouching onto her haunches, Marlowe started gathering up the mess she had made while mumbling to herself about no good deed going unpunished. Looking under the bed for any wayward poker chips, she sighed with frustration, noting that one of the bundles of photos had come undone thanks to a fraying rubber band. Hoping that Kozik didn't have them organized into any particular order, she shuffled them together into a neat stack. Flipping the stack over, she nearly burst out laughing as her eyes centered on a picture of an obviously young Herman Kozik standing next to an equally young looking Tig.

Noting how skinny and gangly they were back then, Marlowe chuckled to herself. "They look like two pool cues with eyes and ugly buzz cuts," she said as she closely examined the picture.

Gathering the rest from the floor, Marlowe flipped through them and realized they were all from Kozik's early life as a Marine. They all appeared to have been taken at least 25 or 30 years ago, judging by the handwritten dates and names on the back of a few of them. Seeing Kozik and Tig with a number of other Marines all outfitted in their uniforms either working in the car pool, during rec time or sightseeing in foreign cities brought back memories of her own time in the Navy. She knew she shouldn't be perusing though Kozik's memories without his knowledge or permission, but not all of her memories of her time in service to her country were bad and she found herself smiling as she flipped through the photos.

Later, Marlowe would recall the familiar, cold trickle of anxiety that had started at the back of her neck and crawled its way down her back as she glanced at one picture in particular. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the woman sitting on Kozik's lap holding an upright pool cue between her legs as he intimately nuzzled her neck.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded as her entire world spun on its axis, her lower limbs gave way and she slumped onto the floor like a sack of wet laundry. With her heart trying to pound its way out of her chest, Marlowe absent-mindedly dropped the photos, causing them to scatter about once again. Desperately clutching her head with her hands, somewhere in the back of her time-traveling mind it registered that not all triggers that could provoke a PTSD episode had to be war-related.

"Shannon, please don't leave me alone with him," Marlowe whimpered in a small voice, convinced she was the lost nine year old that had fallen prey to her pedophile neighbor. "Please, Mommy, don't leave me."

Falling onto her side on the floor, Marlowe curled herself up into a ball. Crying, she hugged her knees to her chest, closed her eyes tight and waited for the boogeyman to come for her. Again.

Kozik was whistling cheerfully as wheeled himself into his room. It wasn't his Harley, but for the next few months popping wheelies in his wheelchair would be the closest he would come to feeling the wind rip through his hair. Coming to a stop by his bed, he carefully lowered the foot rest and the extended leg rest that supported his injured limb and slowly attempted to pull himself out of the chair.

"Mr. Kozik, please! Let me help you with that," a young and slightly breathless voice called out, prompting him to turn his head to take in the pretty brunette nurse hurrying to his aid.

"I'm fine, darlin', but please, it's just Koz," he said with a wink and watched as the nurse's face flushed delicately.

You should be ashamed of yourself flirting with this girl. She looks like she's barely outta high school, the biker thought, but mentally shrugged his shoulders. After working his ass off in the gym for the past two hours, he could use a little distraction of the female kind.

Since his arrival at the Wellness Center, Kozik had made it a point to continue with his regular workout routine. Consisting mostly of weight-training, it was a program he could maintain even while stuck in a wheelchair. In addition, he had recently started his twice-a-day 30-minute sessions of physical therapy. With the aid of his therapist Rhonda, a very attractive, middle-aged redhead, he was working on making his leg strong again.

Although he had been warned that it would be a slow yet steady process, the outlaw found himself frustrated by his progress and at times was hard-pressed to remain positive and optimistic. When that happened and he started barking at those trying to help him get better, Kozik had to stop and remind himself just how lucky he had been. The outcome could have been drastically different and he could have ended up like Greg the Peg, a Nomad out of New York who had lost a leg in Afghanistan.

Nonetheless, therapy was hard and painful and Kozik had yet to see any real improvement. Because of that, he was finding it difficult to maintain a mask of indifference during his sessions, especially when he was jolted by sharp twinges of pain, followed by bouts of shame over his inability to make his leg do what he wanted it to. Refusing to let his therapist Rhonda see him get downright depressed by feelings of uselessness and defeat, Kozik spent a great deal of time flirting with her and, he noticed, she had no problem flirting with him right back. It felt good to have something else to focus on besides his healing body and his past.

It had been almost three weeks since Happy's mother had dropped the anvil on him about Shannon and the biker was still at a loss about what to do. Clay had recently stopped by to let him know that he hadn't yet been able to make a connection, so Kozik asked him to hold back from investigating any further, not letting him know what he had been able to discover on his own. Learning that Doc's mother and his former lover were the same woman had spun him out, but not as much as the realization that the odds were in favor of him being Marlowe's biological father. Kozik felt that he needed more time to come to terms with that possibility before sharing the information, especially with Marlowe.

His own inability to deal with the consequences of the choices he had made in the past, however, didn't stop time from moving forward and soon Marlowe would be heading back to Bakersfield. Kozik knew he had to man up and soon. Not only did he owe it to Shannon and Marlowe, but as part of his ongoing recovery, Kozik owed it to himself to right the wrongs he had committed in the past while under the influence of drugs.

Finally settled into his bed with the help of the pretty, young nurse named Leah, Kozik ran his hand over his face and runaway beard. He couldn't wait to get rid of the shit, but noting that it was past lunchtime, Kozik was sure he wouldn't be seeing Tig or his shaving kit any time soon.

Tiggy probably forgot all about it with his run to Oakland on tap today, he thought.

Having asked the fresh faced nurse to bring him a pitcher of ice water, she had just returned when SAMCRO's medic stormed in right behind her. Afterward, Kozik thought it probably would have been better to grow his beard down to his testicles. Anything would have been preferable to being blindsided by a truly and righteously angry Marlowe Guthrie.

Marlowe had awoken to find herself in a fetal position she didn't remember crawling into and in a pool of vomit consisting of her half-digested breakfast. Sitting up abruptly and looking around the room, the reason why she found herself in such a state came rushing back, slamming into her like a runaway freight train.

Shannon.

Quickly getting up, Marlowe cleaned up her mess on the floor with hot water and bleach before reorganizing Kozik's belongings back into his drawer. Or at least that was what she vaguely remembered doing as she found herself standing in the shower under a hot cascade of water, once again with no memory as to how she got there or how long she had been there. Her head was pounding with the kind of headache only intense and hysterical tears could cause. It was slowly coming back to her and Marlowe had to fight down the bile that rose in her throat. As flashes of the man who had molested her as a child flickered in her mind's eye, Marlowe grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap and viciously scrubbed her skin until it was red, raw and sensitive to even the air surrounding her.

It was only when Marlowe finally stepped out of the shower, once the water started running cold, did she realize that five hours had passed that she couldn't fully account for.

Drying off and redressing herself in fresh clothes, Marlowe picked up her cell phone that she must have tossed on her bed, its blue light flashing, indicating missed calls, voice-mails and/or text messages. Flipping it open, she saw several missed calls from Amelia, Ceci, and Jax. The text from Jax said he was thinking about her and that he would try calling again later. He probably thought she was visiting with Amelia, which was where she would have been had the earth not given way underneath her feet.

Suddenly looking up, Marlowe found that she was standing in the doorway of Kozik's room.

"Hey, Doc," Kozik began sociably, but trailed off as he took in her confused, but heated expression.

"You need to leave," Marlowe growled at the nurse who stood glued to the spot as she noted the young woman's tight expression and combative stance.

Leah—a brand spanking new nurse at the facility—looked from her patient to his obviously angry visitor and back, at a loss of what to do. With this being only her first week on the job, the last thing she wanted was to fuck up.

"Umm," she started hesitatingly, "I don't think that's a good idea—"

"I didn't ask you to think. I told you to leave," Marlowe said with the kind of military authority that expected instant obedience. "And I won't tell you again."

"Hey! What's with the attitude, Doc?" Kozik asked perturbed before turning to address the nurse. "Look, I'll be fine. You can go," he assured Leah.

Watching as the nurse scurried out the door, barely making eye contact with Marlowe, the door closed sharply behind her. A palpable silence descended on the small room and Kozik could literally feel the walls close in on him as he looked into the bitter eyes of the woman in front of him.

Ah shit, she knows, Kozik thought as he felt his heart sink. With pressure building up in his chest, he was astonished to realize that he had been holding his breath. Exhaling loudly, he watched as Marlowe marched towards him. Tossing her backpack at the foot of his bed, she unzipped it and, reaching inside, pulled out a handful of photos which she tossed into his lap.

"You want to tell me who the fuck that is, asshole?!" she demanded.

Reaching out, Kozik picked up one of the photos and winced as a younger version of himself smiled back at him as he held a gorgeous woman on his lap, her tight and clingy dress riding up her bare thighs.

"Marley," he started quietly only to be cut off.

"WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!" she shouted, her voice echoing loudly in the small room.

Kozik felt his lips tighten as he looked into her eyes before he replied. "You know who that is. That's Shannon Guthrie." Kozik watched as Marlowe took a step back, almost as if she had been rocked on her heels after being punched in the face.

"Well, shit, that's a fuckin' coincidence," she said evenly. "Because my bitch of a mother had the exact same name, and here's the kicker, she looked just like the bitch in that photo, too," she replied, the accusation in her voice causing her voice to tremble.

"I know," Kozik said gently.

"You know?! How long have you known and why am I just finding out about this now?" Marlowe asked, trying to keep her voice just this side of hysterical. "I thought we were friends, damn it!"

Kozik could see her trembling now almost as if she had palsy and ran his own shaky hand through his hair. He was a patched member for nearly thirty years and yet, at that moment, he wished that he was anywhere but there being stared down by a fierce young warrior who wanted answers and wanted them yesterday.

"Not long, about a month, maybe a little longer," he replied as he watched her eyes widen in shock. Quickly he tossed a question at her. "How the fuck did you end up with these pictures? I assume you got those from my dorm." He watched as Marlowe dug into her backpack again and tossed several items in his lap.

"I thought I was doing both you and Tig a favor since the smarter half of Dumb and Dumber had a run to make this morning. Anyone else know? Happy? Tig?" she asked as she started to pace back and forth in front of Kozik's bed. "Who the fuck am I kidding? Of course Tig knows."

Kozik cleared his throat. "No, he doesn't. Neither does Hap."

"So you're the only liar I'm dealing with? That's good to know."

"What the fuck?" he retorted, his sudden anger overwhelming his feelings of guilt and remorse. "I never lied to you."

"You knew something that needed sharing, but kept it to yourself. I don't know about you, but where I come from that's lying by omission," she shot back. "You know what, I don't have time for you or your bullshit excuses. I'm leaving."

"No, don't leave," Kozik said urgently. "We need to talk, Doc."

"Fuck you!" Marlowe spit out as she headed for the door.

"I said NO!" he suddenly roared. "Now get back here and sit the fuck down before I get out of this bed and put your ass in that chair."

Suddenly the door opened and a large orderly was standing in the doorway. "Is there a problem?" he said as he eyed the two seething individuals in the room.

Ten seconds passed before Marlowe finally spoke. "There's no problem here," she said tightly.

"Well, the nurses outside seem to think otherwise. Do I need to escort you out?"

"Nah, Benny," Kozik said. "There's no need. We're good here." The orderly nodded and then quietly closed the door behind him. Kozik inhaled and exhaled loudly. "Sit down," he said again and seeing Marlowe's glare, added "please."

Allowing her shoulders to finally relax, Marlowe grabbed the chair next to the bed and turning it, straddled it to eye him. It was obvious that she was letting him have the floor and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You got something to say," Marlowe started through gritted teeth. "You better start talking because you only get one chance."

"I didn't lie to you, Marley," Kozik started after a long, uncomfortable silence. "Shit just got real complicated real fast after it dawned on me that I may have known your mother once."

Although Marlowe was willing to concede that Kozik had been through hell and back in recent weeks, he had plenty of opportunities to come clean since stabilizing in St. Thomas and his transfer to rehab. She was about to call him out on it when Kozik continued.

"When I first found out about the connection, I was spun out a bit. I needed to figure some shit out first and I figured this ain't some shit you just drop on someone when you don't have all the facts," he said.

"What facts?" Marlowe asked brusquely. "You knew my mother once. Trust me, that doesn't make you special or unique, but considering our already existing connection," she said, referring to Happy, "you didn't think I had the right to know?"

"I did, Marley," Kozik replied. "But it's a little more complicated than that. I was in a relationship with Shannon."

Marlowe chuckled bitterly. "I kind of gathered that from all the pictures I saw, including the ones I wish I could unsee," she said sarcastically.

"You weren't meant to see those, Doc. If I had wanted you to find out that way, I would've have asked you to bring me my shaving kit and other shit Tig was supposed to," Kozik explained. "Believe me or not, I wanted to be the one to tell you. I never meant to hit you sideways with this. You believe me, don't you?"

Marlowe looked at Kozik, whose crystal blue eyes shone with sincerity. She wanted to believe her friend. She did believe him. Like she had said, being with Shannon Guthrie didn't make him special in any way. Shannon loved men and loved having sex. This was something Marlowe had been keenly aware of since a very young age. If she could be honest with Kozik about the whole situation, the realization that he had known Shannon and had a "relationship" with her hadn't been what had shaken her to the core. It was seeing photos of the woman she had done her best to forget over the years. A woman whose face brought to the forefront of her mind memories she had done her best to repress.

The face of the mother that should have protected her, but didn't.

Marlowe sighed in resignation and then nodded. None of what happened to her had been Kozik's fault. "Yeah, I do believe you," she said tiredly. "I guess seeing her face in the most unexpected of places freaked me out a bit. Seems the world's a lot smaller than we originally thought, huh?"

"Tell me about it," Kozik smiled weakly. "But Marley, there's some more shit you need to know."

Marlowe moaned and shook her head. "Koz, I think I've heard enough shit for one day. So you knew my mother back in the day and judging by some of those pictures, I know you banged her. Honestly, that knowledge doesn't have my thong in a twist. Shannon got around. It's simply who she was and I'm kind of grateful she did because otherwise I never would have met Happy or Amelia and they changed my life for the better," she said quietly.

"I'm guessing life with Shannon wasn't the best, huh?" Kozik murmured, feelings of guilt overwhelming him.

"It was downright shitty," she replied honestly. "The best day of my life was the day Hap entered it."

Kozik knew he was about to tread on some shaky ground, but took the first hesitant step anyway. "So what about your father?"

"What about him?" Marlowe shrugged her shoulders. "I never met my father and Shannon never mentioned him when she was sober. I don't even know what's true and what's not when she did talk about him."

"She didn't tell you who he was?" Kozik asked numbly.

"No, just that he was from San Diego and used to be a Marine," Marlowe laughed bitterly. "That narrows it down to what, a few hundred thousand men?" she said, suddenly noting Kozik's tense shoulders. "What is it? Why do you look like you're about to fuckin' hurl?" she whispered. When her glittering gray eyes locked with Kozik's, she saw the truth reflected there. "Bullshit!" she exclaimed loudly, shaking her head violently as she shoved herself out of the chair. "It's not possible. Shannon was a whore!" she said angrily.

"But Marley, it is possible," he said softly, holding out his hand to her. "Come here." For several moments, Marlowe simply stared at the outstretched hand. "You're not gonna leave me hanging, are ya, Doc?" Kozik's quiet plea penetrated her overloaded mind, loosening her combat-booted feet welded to the slick hardwood surface of the floor. Slowly, she made her way to his bed side.

Taking her hand in his, Kozik found that his mouth and lips were dry. With his other hand, he gently patted the empty space next to him on the bed and watched as she sat down to face him. Clearing his throat, he croaked, "When were you born?" He watched as she gnawed on her lips for several long moments before she found her voice again.

"October 20, 1981," she finally responded and watched as the color faded from Kozik's cheeks.

"Well, damn, ain't that a kick in the pants," he managed to say as he squeezed Marlowe's hand in his.

Marlowe swallowed the large lump in her throat. She could feel the pulse in her neck beating rapidly. "So what's the verdict?" She watched as Kozik lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles gently before covering her hand with both of his.

"I think I may be your father."

A/N: So the truth finally comes out. Or has it? There is still much for Marlowe to learn about Kozik's history with Shannon. If Kozik can summon the courage to acknowledge his guilt in contributing to Shannon's downward spiral, will it affect his relationship with Marlowe going forward? Still undecided about her future, will this new discovery push Marlowe into going back to Bakersfield? Can she bring herself to share her latest episode of PTSD with anyone and how will all this affect Marlowe's relationship with Jax?

There's still a lot of story to tell, so please let me know what you think by way of reviews and I will work hard to get another chapter ready for later this week.

Hugs, Harlee.