Chapter Thirty-Six: Confessions

Tara and I arrived at the clubhouse. Jax was stood outside smoking, though he relaxed a little when he saw Tara and I approaching across the lot.

"Wasn't expecting my two favourite girls to arrive at once," He said, hugging us both.

"I was passing by and thought Tara might need a ride," I excused, looking at her quickly. Over Jax's shoulder I could see Gemma stood in the TM office door, watching the three of us. "Have you seen Tig?" I added.

"Nah, Clay took him and Half-Sack off to the reservation for something," Jax replied. I nodded, leaving him and Tara to it and heading over towards Gemma. She walked into the office when she saw me approaching and I followed her in there, closing the door.

"I can't believe they voted unanimously," I commented, "I didn't expect Chibs to support this- or Opie."

"They're giving him what he wants," Gemma sighed, "Not what he needs- or what the club needs." She sat down behind her desk and covered her face. "We can't let him go."

"What can we do?" I asked despairingly, taking the other seat. "The Nomads accepted him and Redwood Original has let him go. It's done."

"It's not what we can do," Gemma told me, looking across at me frankly, "It's what I have to do."

"You're gonna tell them what happened, aren't you?" I guessed, leaning forward to take her hands. I knew how hard this was for her- but I also knew it was healthy. She had to talk about what had happened some time. And I knew, as well as she did, that this would bring Jax back in- finally land him and Clay back on the same side of a dispute.

"I want you there. Meet me back at my house- tell Jax and Tara, too."

Jax's patches were sitting in a dish by the front door- Vice President and Redwood Original. I felt heavy at heart when I saw them but I didn't comment. He and Tara had beaten me to Gemma's but I arrived around the same time as Clay. I followed him inside the house to find Gemma already in there too. That was when I noticed the patches.

Clay and Jax both froze at the sight of each other, glaring daggers across the room. Gemma intervened quickly before anything could be said: "Sit down, both of you," She encouraged, gesturing to the table. Tara was looking from Gemma to Jax and back uncertainly.

"You too, sweetheart," Gemma added to her, "And Eliza. You both know what it is I have to tell them." Clay sat at the head of the table. Gemma and I took seats on one side, facing Jax and Tara on the other. I folded my hands together in front of me, looking at them. I knew what'd happened, of course, but I'd never heard all the details before and I had a feeling I was about to. There was a heavy pause before Gemma began:

"The night of Bobby's party… I didn't get into an accident driving home," We all visibly held our breaths, "I was attacked. A minivan pulls up behind me, a girl jumps out in a panic, says her baby's choking. The girl was very convincing… a goddamn doll in the car seat." Horribly, it was like I could see it happening in front of me. I closed my eyes, listening, a sick feeling in my stomach that rhad nothing to do with the tiny life growing inside me. "She hit me over the head with a… a blackjack or something."

"The girl," I heard myself interrupt, "Pretty, blonde, around my age?" I knew already.

"Yeah?" Gemma replied. I nodded but said no more; it had to be Polly Zobelle that little bitch. "I came to handcuffed to a chain-link of some utility house out by the access road," Gemma continued. "They wore masks… there were three of them. The one who spoke… I knew his voice, the tat on his throat. Zobelle's right hand- Weston. Told me to deliver a message to you- stop selling guns to colour, or he'd find me and do it again..."

Jax had his hand covering his mouth and Clay was transfixed on his wife's face. Tara and I shared a look, but we all knew what was coming.

"They raped me," Gemma finished at last, "All three of them. More than once."

Silence. None of us knew what to say. I reached across to my step-mom and squeezed her hand, trying to convey myself- it had cost a lot for her to say all of this. Jax got up and walked around the table. Wordlessly, he knelt down in front of his Mom, kissing her hands.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," He murmured after a moment. I looked over at my Dad- he looked at a complete loss. Soon that would turn to anger- for both of them. Still, Jax straightened up and as he passed Clay, he put his hand on his shoulder, a gesture that nobody missed.

I stood up, and Dad held my hand for a second when I passed him. Now, I knew, Clay and Gemma needed to be alone to talk about this. Jax, Tara and I headed for the door. Just before he opened it, I saw Jax reach out for the dish and pick up his patches. I felt a little relieved; Gemma had been right, Jax wouldn't go anywhere after finding out about this.

"Wanna come round to mine, sis?" Jax asked softly once we were all outside. I nodded; I didn't feel like being on my own after that. "I'll have to get hold of the others, call church tonight. They all need to know this." I nodded again- we'd known all along there was no chance of a revenge-free response from the MC when they found out about Gemma's ordeal. Still, I knew that this news would mess Tig up- I needed to tell him about the baby before he found out about Gemma.

"Is it okay if I call Tig over?" I asked Jax softly, stopping him as he and Tara were climbing onto his bike. He hesitated and glanced back at Tara, who gave him a firm look. He sighed.

"Sure."

I went into Abel's nursery almost as soon as I got to the house. Tig had told me on the phone he was on his way; said he'd been asked to sample some of the Indian's crop of fungi but he was straight again now. I tried to spare a laugh at the idea of Tig strung out on magic mushrooms but I barely managed it. Abel was awake in his crib, gurgling softly. I smiled down at the baby boy before picking him up and carrying him over to the rocking chair, where I sat with him on my lap.

This, I thought, would be my own baby in less than eight months time; it was a strange thought.

"You need anything?" Tara asked me, poking her head around the door. I shook my head.

"No, thanks." She watched me for a minute with Abel, until both of us glanced around at the sound of another Harley engine coming up the street.

"I hope it goes well," She said finally, knowing that I'd picked my moment; there wasn't going to be a better one in the near future, that was for sure. A few moments later and Tig was stood behind Tara in the doorway, looking over at me.

"Everything okay, doll?" He asked me. Tara ducked out around him, leaving us on our own. I got to my feet, balancing Abel on my hip, and walked over to him. He smiled at the baby boy and I wondered whether that smile would hold once I told him we might have a son of our own soon. Or a daughter.

"Church tonight is gonna be rough," I said, slowly, "I wanted to tell you under better circumstances, but..."

"What is it, Kitten?" I felt my stomach clench; he might walk out after this and he'd never call me Kitten again.

"I only just found out, Tig… but I'm six weeks pregnant."

I watched his face, trying to understand his reaction. His blue eyes didn't leave mine, but his face showed no emotion for a moment. I let it sink in, adjusting my grip on Abel. Honestly, I was scared. I loved Alex Trager, all of him, even the shitty parts. The idea of losing him… could I do this without him?

"Well, shit," He said bluntly, after a long silence. "I mean… this is early, for us."

"Yeah, I know," I replied, swallowing, "I'm… I'm sorry. It's my fault, I wasn't being careful with everything else going on..."

"It's not your fault," He returned automatically. We stared at each other some more. I desperately wished for something to say, anything to make this conversation easier. Nothing came to mind. Jax knocked on the open door then, interrupting us- I wasn't sure whether this was a blessing or a curse.

"Church, Tig," He grunted. Both Tig and I were frozen in place for a second until he looked round at Jax, who by the looks of it had managed to get his patches sewn back onto his kutte. "Everything okay?" Jax added, looking from me to him. I couldn't speak, but Tig replied:

"Yeah, fine. Let's go." I cuddled Abel in closer. He was going to walk out. I probably wouldn't see him for the dust now… but when he reached the door, Tig turned back round and came towards me again. Deftly, he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. I looked up at him uncertainly, but he didn't meet my eyes.

"I'll see you later, Kitten..." He murmured, before he and Jax disappeared into the night.

Tig's P.O.V.

Retribution would be handled in the morning. I stayed up nearly all night, staring at the ceiling of the clubhouse, feeling like a fish out of water. I found out Eliza was pregnant with my kid, then headed right into the second load of shocking news: Gemma had been raped by Weston. I wasn't sure which one was occupying me more; it was all messing me up. When I finally got to sleep, I had the same fucking dream as always, the flashback to the night I killed Donna. Something had to fucking give. I shook myself awake and said fuck it. The sun was rising about that time. It was the first night I'd spent at the clubhouse since I'd bagged Kozik's apartment for Eliza. It felt weird sleeping without her now but I knew I was too much of a damn mess to go back to her after church. I had shit to do today- collect everyone's personal stock of guns. Might as well make an early start.

I dug out all my pieces and headed out to the bar. I was surprised Chibs was there- he didn't normally stay here, but I guessed he hadn't been able to face going home either. Shit'd been weird for him since he'd been blown up and then his wife had shown up too. I wasn't sure where his head was at, but as usual, he was doing a better fuckin' job of it than I was.

"Ye alright, Tigger?" He said. I shrugged, laying all my guns out along the bar. He had a beer sitting in front of him but he'd obviously been nursing it for a while. I doubted he'd been to bed. Still, alcohol seemed like a wonderful idea all of a sudden, so I seized a bottle of vodka, unscrewed it, and poured myself a shot. Chibs raised an eyebrow. "Christ, lad, take it easy."

"You got your piece on you?" I asked him. He rolled his eyes but got the hint, that I wasn't gonna talk to him about shit, and he pulled out his gun from the back of his pants, adding it to the bar.

"Better hope the cops don't bust us today, eh?" He joked, but the joke was humourless. I looked at my brother and I knew he was just as angry and disgusted as I was for what'd happened to Gemma. I wondered what he'd make of the pregnancy. I remembered him telling me not to fuck Eliza around. Well, I didn't fuckin' plan to, but this was a shitload to take in. "Here, these are Clay's spare keys. He said let yerself in, grab his guns." I nodded and took them. Knowing Gemma she'd be up soon anyway. I wasn't sure whether Clay would even be in the house, though. Imagine finding out your old lady had been raped- if I'd found out that happened to Eliza… I felt sick at the thought of the fact Weston had confronted her, too. I'd heard him make that threat, too, but I hadn't realised he'd already done that to somebody else, too.

I probably shouldn't have been driving but fuck it, there was nobody on the road that morning. My bike tore up the dirt, but it didn't clear my head any. As soon as I let myself into Clay and Gemma's house, first things first, I found more vodka. I knew where Clay kept most of his weapons so I got them out from their hidey-holes, checking them for ammunition and that they were all working. The bottle of vodka sat on the table beside me and I sipped from it regularly. I was doing just that when Gemma finally came down.

"You want some orange juice with that?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at me. I glanced at her, feeling terrible.

"Sorry," I sighed, "I helped myself. Been a rough morning."

"Yeah," She agreed. I went over to her, wishing to help in some way, feeling fucking powerless. Gemma was one hell of a lady- and fuck, nobody deserved that shit to happen to them. I hugged her.

"You need anything, you let us know," I murmured as I let go of her. She nodded.

"Thanks," She said, and I turned back to the guns. She frowned. "What you doing?"

"Chinese contact didn't pan out," I explained, "We're collecting personal stock."

"I'll get mine," She offered, exiting the room and heading for the stairs. I followed her, feeling muddled. She opened a closet and started searching in it, reaching for a box up on the top shelf, though she wasn't tall enough. I stepped in, getting it down for her, and she stepped back out of the closet as it was pretty cramped in there. Drunk klutz that I was, I dropped the fucking thing, the guns inside clattering all over the floor.

"I'll get it," I said, crouching down with an apology. Gemma watched me, saying nothing. I packed up the guns into the box again, aware that she was scrutinising me. There'd never been any hiding from Gemma Teller-Morrow. And, of course, she now had a vested interest since I was dating what was as good as her daughter. When I finally straightened up, she crossed her arms and looked at me.

"What's wrong with you, Tiggy?" She asked, in a tone that brooked no protest.

"Sorry," I said again, "This shit with Weston and Zobelle..."

"What else?" How did she know? I looked away. The wall was lined with photos of Jax and his dead brother, Thomas, when they were kids. Shit, I hardly had any photos of my daughters as kids. Colleen barely let me near them once our bullshit marriage was through, having turned all uptight about me being a biker and wanting me to leave the club. She'd packed up and moved out of Charming without a backwards look, and now Fawn hated me and Dawn only loved me when she wanted something. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Tigger," Gemma said the nickname firmly and coaxingly. I sighed.

"Eliza's pregnant," I told her, "She told me last night." It was obvious from her shock that Gemma'd had no idea.

"Shit," Gemma cussed.

"Shit's right. We haven't been together that long." It was definitely not according to any semblance of a plan. Not that Kitten and I had a plan- pretty much I just planned to fuck the shit out of her, talk to her, make her blush and let her do what she did best, keep me fucking sane and bizarrely, love me back more than I deserved. I was pretty happy with that plan, too- or lack thereof.

"You'd better not be thinking of running out on her, Tig." I looked at her. The idea of leaving her hadn't even crossed my mind. I didn't know what the fuck to do but running away hadn't been one of my options.

"I wouldn't do that to her," I swore. "I just… I fucking… I can't be a father again, not at my age! Not after all the shit I've done."

"Well, you are gonna be a father again," Gemma said, marching right up to me and forcing my face up so that I was looking her in the eye, "The father of my grandchild, if she decides to keep it. The shit you've done… you've had your reasons Tig. I know you beat yourself up about some of them, but you gotta remember that. And any shit you do after this… it has to be for that kid, and for Eliza. Do you understand?"

Way to put me in my fucking place. I nodded. I did understand.

"Now, Trager, you fucking go take those guns to the clubhouse, then you go and tell your old lady that you love her. Got it?" I nodded again. Jesus fucking Christ. I was all numb. Still, I knew Gemma was right. On the ride back to the clubhouse, I thought about Eliza and the look in her eye when she'd told me she was pregnant- she was clearly terrified at my reaction. At least, I told myself, I hadn't been an asshole about it to her. Still, as much as I knew I had to do what Gemma told me- as much as I knew that I didn't love Eliza any less- it hit me again at the same intersection that I'd killed Donna at.

That, I knew, had been the worst thing I'd ever done. Clay had told me he thought it'd flipped a switch in me and he was right. I hated myself for thinking Opie was a rat, Opie who'd come to my fucking rescue when I was freaked out by all those dolls, who had slowly begun to pick up the pieces but was devastated. I hated myself even more for killing his wife, leaving his kids without a Mom. And then there was the aftermath. The lying. The pinning it on someone else. No. If I was gonna be a Dad, or if I was ever gonna fucking sleep a whole night ever again in my life, I had to know why Donna had even been there, in that car. If I'd killed Opie, we'd never have known for sure he was being set up, and I might've been able to live with myself. But Donna had been in there. Why?

At the clubhouse, Opie was there. He'd been working on his bike and he'd bought it up nicely. Lately I'd been trying to talk to the kid more, but it was difficult.

"Looks sweet, Ope," I said, looking at the car, "Done a sweet job restoring that bad boy." God I sounded like a fucking moron.

"Yeah," He said.

"Need a hand?" I indicated the few finishing touches but he shook his head.

"No, I'm all good," He said. I was losing it. I could fucking feel it. My hands were already shaking. We exchanged a few more small-talk like comments but it was getting too much. I knew what I had to do; I had to tell him the truth, I had to take the beating or let him kill me for it, but how do you bring that up? How do you tell your brother that you killed his wife.

"The night that Donna was killed," I blurted, "Why was she driving the truck?"

"I was taking the kids home," Opie replied, looking at me, "Needed a backseat." He frowned down at me. "Why are you asking me that?"

"She wasn't supposed to be in the truck, Ope," I'd lost it. All the shame, the guilt, the fuckin' torture- it all rose to the surface. Before I knew it, I was telling him everything- about the wire taps in his truck, about Stahl setting it up. I let him beat me, I didn't try to fight back. I needed the beating. It was injuring some sort of humanity back into me. I thought of Eliza, the way she'd been the night it happened, climbing into bed with me, comforting me even though I didn't deserve it. I went into my own head, letting Opie batter me. Fuck.

Finally, when it was all over, and the others had concluded that Opie had taken off after Stahl instead of me, I retired again to the dorms in the clubhouse, waiting for Tara to come tend to my injuries. I was gonna look a fucking sight when I got back to Eliza. My hands hurt but I ignored them as I dialled her number. She picked up on the first ring.

"Tig?" She breathed. She sounded absolutely petrified down the phone. I was such a jackass.

"Have you decided what you want to do?" I asked her. She hesitated.

"I'm keeping it." How unwise. Still, I figured it was her decision- I wasn't going to talk her out of it. "I understand if you don't want… I mean..." She sighed, "Tig, like you said, I know it's early. I never expected for this to happen. If you wanted to step back or, you know..."

"Kitten," I interrupted her, remembering what Gemma had said. "I love you. Whatever you want… we're gonna do it together, okay?" She didn't say anything for a minute.

"I don't want you to stay with me because you think you have to," She told me, "I've been thinking about that all night, Tig." I felt a twinge inside my heart. Fuck I loved this girl. No way could she be serious.

"I'm staying with you 'cause I love you, doll. Baby or no baby." I looked up as Tara entered with her medical kit. It was sure handy having a doctor in the SAMCRO family. "Not like you to give up when shit gets rough," I added to her. She laughed, more a relieved sound than an amused one.

"Are you okay?" She asked me.

"We'll talk later, babe."

"Okay… bye, Alex. I love you." I smiled when she said that, but it fucking hurt to smile, so I stopped pretty quick. Tara was taking stuff out of the medi-kit, setting up ready to deal with whatever Opie had done to make me even uglier.

"I love you too, Eliza," I returned. It was true, even if our relationship was completely fucking insane. When I hung up, Tara met my eyes briefly and I deduced she knew about the baby. I guessed Eliza'd gone to see her about it already, but neither of us said anything as the prospect came into the room, whining about his nut implant giving him trouble. Still, when she leant over to start cleaning the cut on my cheek, she gave my shoulder an approving squeeze. I said nothing.

A baby.

Holy shit.