A/N: Read away, peeps.

- Veritable Old Lady Crow


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"…..It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight….rising up to the challenge of our rival….and the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night…and he's watching us all with the eyeee of the tiger!"

Kyle pounded his fists hard against the dashboard, banging along to beat of the song blaring from the radio. Bopping his head left to right, he alternated between drumming against the truck's interior and playing air guitar as he waited.

Parked directly across from the Motel's private lot, dark KD sunglasses shielded his eyes as he watched the third door from the left on the second floor of the Camelot Inn.

Nearly an hour had passed before the prepaid cellphone in the breast pocket of his Kutte vibrated against his chest. Reaching one hand towards the radio, he lowered the volume as he flipped the phone up.

"Yeah?" Kyle drawled. The mere sound of his voice had him sitting up straighter in the cab of the truck. "Oh Hey, Clay…..Yeah….No, he did…..yeah…..trust me he didn't give me any problems….I told you my Uncle Quint is…..well yeah, I've been sitting out here for almost an hour though. He either gave the wrong information or this asshole already skipped—wait hold up a second…..I think he's…..He just pulled up….He's headed inside his room right now….okay cool…I'll let you know if—right, right….I'll let you know when…..Y'up….Okay, I'll—"

The phone went dead before Kyle could finish his next sentence.

Shrugging off Clay's abrupt dismissal, he pulled the keys from the truck's ignition. Pushing the car door open, he angled one foot towards the ground before something occurred to him. Looking towards the nearly empty parking lot he contemplated the older man kicked back with his feet on top of the check-in desk in the tiny office in the center of the building. Thinking it was better to play it safe, he shrugged out of the leather vest on his back, pulling the white envelope from inside of one of it's pockets before slamming the door shut behind him—swaggering his way towards the other side of the street, through the Motel's lot and eventually up the stairs leading to room two-zero-seven.

Kyle wrapped his knuckles against the door, reaching inside the pocket of his hoodie when he saw the room's blinds fluttering in the window. Several seconds later he heard the door's locks turn.

"Who the Hell are you?" the balding man asked, scrunching his eyebrows together.

Kyle smiled. "It depends on how this goes," he answered. "I could be your new best friend or your enemy."

The thick-bearded man snorted. "What the Hell do you want, kid?"

Suppressing the urge to flip out over the man's complete disregard for the threat he posed, Kyle chose to stick to the plan.

"I know the saying is penny for your thoughts," Kyle drawled, forcing a lazy smile on his face as he pulled the thick roll of hundred dollar bills from the pocket of his sweatshirt, "But I was actually hoping to buy a little more than that…..."


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Pulling into the spot, Opie twisted the keys from the ignition—his hands gripping the steering wheel as he stared through the windshield at the large building on the other end of the large parking lot.

After the argument he'd had with his father, Opie had taken a page out of his Tara's book—he'd stormed off. But instead of heading back to school (as Piney demanded) he found himself driving to St. Thomas to spend time with the girl that had been on his mind ever since Sarah left.

Ever since his last conversation with her.

He'd been sitting there a good ten minutes before a not-so-familiar figure caught his eye. He may as well have been tip-toeing across the lot with the way he kept looking over his shoulder every couple steps, pulling the hood on his head down over his eyes each time he turned back around, headed towards the hospital.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Opie hopped from the truck—shouting out to the young man traipsing in between the multiple rows of parked cars.

"HEY!" The young man flinched—spinning around and the wind knocked the hood right off his head. The wide-eyed expression on his face only served as an even greater incentive to continue walking towards him. "Don't I know you?"

"Umm, I don't…I mean…well actually—"

"You were at the mall the other day," Opie interrupted, nodding his head in agreement to his own statement.

"Guilty," the blue-eyed guy muttered, chuckling awkwardly as he held his hands up above his head.

"What are you doing here?" Opie questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"I was actually coming to apply for a job," he explained. "My aunt actually works here so I'm hoping a little nepotism will do the trick."

Opie's brow furrowed. "You said you were a tutor."

"Yes," he replied. "But I'm also looking for volunteer w—"

Opie waved him off with his hands. "You know what, man? It's none of my business. I don't even know why I asked."

It was a lie.

Opie knew exactly why he asked.

He'd asked the cagey guy what he was doing there for the same reason he was happy to dismiss the entire situation and walk away.

His best friend had accused him of knocking Tara down in the middle of the Mall. And at the time Opie had believed him without even seeing it with his own eyes.

But that same friend was also a liar—a spoiled, lying, hypocrite when he got good and ready to be.

Shrugging the weird vibe he got standing next to him, Opie brushed past him.

"Good luck with the job….uh…" Opie looked over his shoulder, "Wait, what's your name anyway?"

"Joshua."

"Good luck with your volunteering….Joshie," Opie muttered, smirking at the annoyed expression that crossed the guy's face as he turned back around, walking off.

It hadn't even occurred to him until after he'd cleared the hospital lobby that Josh was headed towards the hospital when he spotted him and yet had somehow rushed off in the opposite direction after speaking with him.

"Courtney Reynolds," Opie said, snickering at the way her eyes went wide when she looked up from the computer screen. "How's your morning going?"

"Hi," Courtney muttered, blushing. "Listen about the other night—"

"It's cool," Opie interjected. "We all screw up every now and then. Tara's fine right?"

"Her last name is Knowles?" Courtney asked, quickly flipping through the chart on the desk. Looking up to see him nod, she scanned the paper again. "They moved her to one of the—"

"I know." Opie nodded towards the pen next to her elbow. "Think you can sign me in so I can go see her? Or did visiting hours not start yet?"

"I hate that I even have to….look….please don't report what happened to my—I mean I would have heard if you had already…I probably wouldn't even be—I need this job, okay?" Courtney stammered. When his smile widened—mischief twinkling in the light hues of his eyes, her face changed. Looking him up and down, she bit her bottom lip as she appraised his tall, brawny frame and the beard lining his grinning face. "How old are you and your brother anyway?"

Whoah.

Courtney had been lucky to come across Opie first instead of his best friend. Because if her conversation with Jax had veered in the direction this one was going Opie was positive Jax would have played it in his favor—or favors just for the Hell of it. And not only would she have hooked up with a not-quite-sixteen year old boy who never had any intention of reporting her to begin with. Courtney Reynolds would have also learned firsthand that Tara Knowles really wasn't dead as she'd wrongly suggested when the brunette in question kicked her ass.

"I'm not a rat," Opie assured her, smirking. "Neither is Jax. You're good. Trust me."

Courtney didn't look completely convinced. She still nodded though.

"Thanks," she said, sighing in relief. Pointing a french-manicured finger towards the double doors, she added, "Go ahead."


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Gemma wasn't in his father's room when he went to check.

And he wasn't the least bit surprised about her absence.

Jax knew his mother a lot better than she thought he did. She hadn't been the least bit bothered by her husband—his father's—accident. Ever since that night he'd been waiting for the numbness to fade away, waiting for reality to hit her, waiting for the break down, the moment when grief would finally takes its toll and the mother who used to rub JT's shoulders while he read the latest novel he'd purchased to surface. He'd been waiting impatiently for his mother to show any sign that she was afraid of losing her husband instead of her increasing annoyance when Tara—the girl who'd shed actual tears with him over a man who'd played a part in threatening her years before.

Why was Tara more upset over what happened to JT than his own mother?

The only fear Gemma had, the only worry gnawing at her was the mere thought of losing him—her only son.

And Jax loved his mother.

He'd never want to leave her—and before his father's accident he'd never even fathomed shutting her out no matter how pushy and manipulative she was.

But he'd finally figured out how much Tara meant to him. Almost losing the only girl he ever loved finally opened his eyes to what Gemma had known years before he had—to what made her hate Tara the most.

And every time she tried to push Tara out, Jax found himself doing the one thing he didn't think he could ever do, the one thing his mother truly feared.

He couldn't stand to be around her.

But Gemma wasn't losing him.

She was pushing him away.

Jackson and Tara were linked—every shove against the teenage girl she hated had the same effect on her son.

"NEXT!"

Jax quickly tossed the magazine he'd been flipping through back on the rack as he made his way to the front of the line in the St. Thomas cafeteria's gift shop. Looking down towards the rows of candy as the cashier rang up his breakfast, Jax smirked at the box of Ring Pops in the center of the shelf. The memory brightened the blues of his eyes as he thought back to when he'd slid one on Tara's finger after she'd fallen asleep.

"What are you doing in here?" Nurse Crafton had asked, her brown eyes widening in surprise when she entered Tara's hospital room to see she had an unauthorized visitor in bed with her after hours. "I guess you must be the boyfriend. Well I know you miss her, Dear but visiting hours were over….well…yesterday…It's almost four in the morning."

"Family's allowed to stay overnight," Jax grumbled, stretching his arms as he yawned—smiling at the stern expression on the older woman's face as she placed a hand on her hip.

Nurse Crafton nodded towards the snug embrace he had Tara in as she slept against his naked chest. "You expect me to buy you as her brother?"

Tara had stirred, slowly opening her eyes just as Jax lifted her hand, snickering at the confused expression on her face when she peered down at the strawberry flavored ring on her finger.

"We're engaged," Jax joked, barely swallowing his laughter as he milked the Teller Charm for all it was worth when he winked at the woman who was failing to suppress her own smile. "Fiancée's fall under the family only rule don't they?"

Tara giggled, laying against his chest—green eyes studying the begrudgingly amused expression on the Nurse's face as both teens waited for her final verdict. The two of them had watched in comfortable silence as the woman checked Tara's vitals, switching out the IV bags, securing the bandaging around her arm.

"You two remind me of me and my Henry," Nurse Crafton commented, smirking at the young couple in the hospital bed. "My daddy couldn't stand him of course. He always thought I could do better….and almost forty-six years later we're still proving him wrong.…" Sticking the final metal clip to the ace bandaging wrapped around Tara's arm, the elder Nurse made her way around the bed, heading towards the door with a nostalgic smile on her face. Looking back at them as she stood in the doorway, she'd cast a wink of her own in Jax's direction as she said, "I never saw you."

Those had been her parting words before the door clicked shut behind her.

Tara was quiet for so long that he'd thought she'd fallen back asleep. Eager to follow her lead, Jax's eyes were drifting closed when the green-eyed brunette wrapped in his arms, muttered, "I'm surprised that actually worked."

"I'm not," Jax answered. "Even your aunt thinks I'm jailbait. I keep telling you, babe. No one's immune to the Teller Charm."

Tara smirked. "Right." Then after a brief moment of silence she'd added, "So what's a girl gotta do to get a ring with diamonds?"

His response had earned an elbow in his side.

And it was followed shortly by laughter—which Tara joined in on until they both drifted back to sleep.

"Cash or Credit?" The young cashier asked. The pink bubble expanding in front of her mouth, burst with a loud pop as he handed her the twenty dollar bill he'd pulled from the back pocket of his jeans.

Someone tapped him on his shoulder.

Jax spun around just as the tall, business man held a hand out to him saying, "Here. You dropped this."

"Thanks," Jax told him reaching for the carton of cigarettes that had fallen from his pocket when he pulled out his wallet.

"You're a little young to be smoking aren't you?" The man commented, as he eyed the faded grey T-shirt he was wearing—the shirt he'd almost forgotten until Diane pointed out that he should probably take his clothes (including his drying boxers by the window) with him when he left Tara's room.

Watching Tara take his shirt off with nothing but her bra underneath it made it hard in more than way for him to leave—Diane's awkward throat clearing be damned.

"You're never too young to get lung cancer," Jax joked as he shoved the carton back down into his jeans. Nodding up at the Cashier giving him the fuck me face as he took the paper bag with his purchases in it, Jax walked only a couple steps past the guy who was next on line when his voice rang out again.

"Nice shirt," he said, nodding towards the logo on the front of it when Jax turned back around, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

Huh?

"Thanks," Jax said, appraising the man's attire before countering with an equally insincere compliment. "…Nice suit."

Curious George would love it.

"SAM-CRO," the guy said, reading the large block letters printed against his chest. "That sounds very familiar….why is that?"

Jax smirked. "They're internationally known."

Turning on his heel, Jax made his way towards the rows of elevators just outside the main lobby. Pressing the Up arrow, he wondered if Diane was still in Tara's room. Glancing up at the clock above the sealed double doors he noted the time, deciding that she'd probably already started her shift.

The elevator dinged—several people getting off, headed towards either side of the moderately crowded hallway. Turning towards the wall of buttons as he stepped inside, Jax was the only in the elevator until an arm shot out blocking the doors from closing.

The doors slid open to reveal the man from the gift shop.

"SAMCRO," the man repeated as he'd done earlier. "That's a motorcycle club isn't it? Your father a member?"

Jax scowled at him. "You a Fed?"

The tall, handsome man chuckled heartily as he shook his head.

"Hell no." Jax stared at the hand being held out to him, blue eyes flitting back and forth between the outstretched limb and the curious smile on the man's face. "I'm a business man actually. Hence the suit. My name's Duncan and I'm actually in town visiting family."

Relaxing a little, Jax nodded as the elevator opened on the second floor—a couple and their young daughter stepping inside.

"Sorry," Jax said, assuming the family he spoke of was in the hospital.

"Oh no," Duncan exclaimed, immediately catching on. "I didn't mean—well my wife's niece is in the hospital but from what I've heard she's going to be fine. I guess I'm just hoping I can track her down again to straighten out this whole issue regarding the phone call I received from my insurance—"

"Okay now I know there's no way you're a Fed," Jax commented, smiling at the babbling man. "Those asshole are always in your business…they don't run around telling you theirs."

Duncan smirked. "Maybe I just get the sense that you're not big on trusting people you don't know. Especially people in suits."

"You don't even know me, Dude," Jax commented, as the elevator zipped up towards the third floor. "Why do you need me to trust you?"

"Well I was actually wanting to ask—"

Jax saw his mother before she saw him.

The elevator came to a stop, the family of three standing beside them rushed out into the third floor hallway, walking front of him as they left.

Gemma was in her own world—clearly in deep thought when she spun on her heel, leaning against the railing of the elevator as the doors slid shut.

"Hey, Ma," Jax said, laughing under his breath when her head snapped towards the corner where he stood behind an abruptly silent Duncan.

Jax was too focused on the heated glare his mother was shooting him to notice the way Duncan was eyeing his mother like he recognized her but much like the logo on his T-shirt he couldn't recall why.

"Where the Hell have you been?" Gemma hissed. "And don't even fix your mouth to tell me you've been holed up in your father's room all this damn time."

"I don't have to lie to you, Ma," Jax replied, shrugging as a lazy smile spread across his face. "You know exactly where I was. I could tell by the scratches all over Diane's chest. Fighting with Tara wasn't enough? You have to fight with every Knowles chick you meet?"

Gemma paused, eyeing the two Superman Band-Aid's on her son's right hand and the pocket of his left elbow. "What happened to you?"

Jax looked down at his arm. "Donated blood," he lied. "I'm trying to improve my karma." He laughed when her expression managed to get ten times angrier. "Relax, ma. Diane said you were looking for me. You weren't with JT so I figured I'd run into you eventually….decided to kill some time."

Olive eyes sharp as a tack—Gemma zeroed in on the rolled up paper sticking out of his back pocket. Without the slightest concern for the man she knocked him into, Gemma nudged her son sideways, snatching the papers from his back pocket, rolling them open to read the first page.

"You were giving blood at an STD clinic?" Gemma interrogated, her hand rising to their favorite spot—her cocked hip.

"This is my floor," Duncan announced, sliding past the people getting on the elevator. "…thank God."

"Bye, Duncan!" Jax called out, shaking his head as he laughed. "I'll tell SAMCRO you said Hi!"

Jax didn't blame him at all for wanting to be as far away from his explosive mother as possible.

"Who the Hell is he?" Gemma asked, eyeing the departing man suspiciously. "He looks like a—"

"He's not a Fed, Ma," Jax said, rolling his eyes. "Trust me."

"I trust you about as far as I can throw you right now," Gemma lamented.

"Same here," Jax bit back. "What happened to leaving Tara alone?"

Gemma held the papers in her hand up. "Why were you at a STD Clinic?"

Jax smirked. "Don't worry, mom. You'll know when they send you the bill….or when you hear me scream like a bitch the next time I have to take a piss."

I swear I'll never look at a Q-tip the same way again.

"Tara asked you to do this?" Gemma pressed. "Is that why you can't focus on your family? You too busy chasing new pussy?"

"HOLD THE FUCK ON," Jax snapped, losing his temper just in time to startle the two Nurses waiting to get on the elevator fifth floor. Both women stepped away from the doors, allowing them to slide closed as both Teller's continued their argument—completely forgetting about whatever destination they'd been headed towards prior to running into each other. "Are you seriously gonna stand there and accuse me of not focusing on my family? What the fuck were you doing in Bakersfield that was so important? I know you weren't really with Hap's mom. Even Clay didn't believe that bullshit story you told him and that asshole hangs on to your every word like you're the fuckin club President."

"I'm your mother you little shithead," Gemma growled. "You don't get to talk to me that way. I don't give a shit how pissed you are that I don't like that little—"

"You want respect?" Jax barked. "Try acting like you deserve it! Stop behaving like a fuckin teenage girl every time you don't get your way. You're worse than Tara and she's the one that's fifteen. I swear to God, Mom….you're flipping out because for some reason you feel threatened by her. You think she's gonna steal your son from you? You think me being with Tara is the reason I'm gonna push you away?"

"You are pushing me away," Gemma argued. "And she is—"

"I'M NOT PUSHING YOU AWAY!" Jax shouted, pointing at her. "You're pushing me. And it's really starting to fuck with my head how easy it is for you do it. My Old man's lying in a hospital bed and you can't even stop picking with my….my….you can't stop brawling with Tara long enough to pretend you give a shit. I pushed him away and now I don't even know if I'll get a chance to make that right. When I thought he was dead I felt like stepping out in front of a fuckin Mac truck. You weren't there. All you could focus on was Tara….or the club. Tara was there for me while you were too busy being an Outlaw instead of my mother. Things are good with us again. And when we're good she's always there for me. I finally got a chance to show her I can be there for her, too and you're shitting all over it. Attacking her aunt? Threatening Tara every time you see her? You're the pushing me away, mom. You do every time you try to chase away the one person that's been getting me through this…the one person that actually makes me laugh so I'm not crying like a little bitch because my Old man is half-dead and my mom can't stop being angry long enough to….to…..Jesus Christ." Jax looked up from the spot on the elevator floor to meet his mother's eyes. "You're the Matriarch, the First lady of SAMCRO….everybody in this town knows the name Gemma Teller and you never let them forget it. But I'm your son. You're street cred don't mean shit to me. It doesn't matter that your name is Gemma Teller. I don't need Gemma. I need my mom. Be my fuckin mother…..Tara's not going anywhere. I love her, Ma. I love both of you. Why the Hell can't I have both?"

Hook, line and fuckin sinker.

That's what it was supposed to be.

Gemma wasn't the only Teller who knew how to manipulate.

And the charm of the youngest Teller easily rivaled his mother's propensity for deception.

Fighting with her didn't work.

He'd got her fighting spirit after all—and neither mother or son gave up once they dug their heels in.

He couldn't yell her into submission.

Guilt was the only hand he could play that would work.

That and appealing to the very thing she cherished, the very reason she was lashing out in the first place.

How much she loved her son—how much she didn't want to lose him.

It wasn't until Jax finished speaking that he realized how heartfelt his words actually were. In his haste to reign in his mother's antics he'd somehow purged the truth they both needed to hear.

He couldn't stand all the outrageous, unnecessary shit she did, but Jackson Teller loved his mother.

He loved her even when he hated her.

And he needed her, too.

"I'm sorry, baby." Gemma stepped towards him, pulling Jax into a hug. To the patrons walking onto the elevator, they were probably a parent and child finding comfort in each other for whatever loved one was in the hospital. The mistiness in both of their eyes may have even been an indication of bad news instead of the absolution Gemma Teller sought from her son as he melted into her embrace—the first one in a long time that Jax didn't feel was calculating or suffocating.

The elevator dinged—doors sliding open to reveal the lobby.

"Shit." Jax pulled back from his mom, quickly swiping his sleeve under his eye as he finally acknowledge their surroundings.

"I'm guessing you were on your way up….to see her," Gemma commented when neither of them stepped out of the elevator.

"Yeah."

"You know once you sleep with her she's going to have certain expectations of you, don't you? Girls like that Tara always do," Gemma lectured. "You're the one always going on and on about how you two are just friends... best friends and how much you care about her...If she's the virgin Princess she walks around acting like she's gonna want you to commit. And if you don't you'll never be friends again. You sure you want to ruin your friendship?"

You lasted ten seconds.

A new record.

"Normal parents usually wait for the children to ask for advice before they give it," Jax grumbled.

"You don't have a normal parent," she bit back. "You have this one...stop avoiding the question."

"There was a question in there?" Jax smirked. "All I heard was you trying to manipulate me...as usual."

Fourth floor.

Fourth floor.

Move faster, damn it.

"Seems like I'm not the only one doing it," Gemma commented. "That Knowles kid is doing an even better job that I am….That….that's what worries me, Jackson."

Jax turned to roll his eyes at her. "Why do you have to be so damn anal all the time?"

"Anal?" Gemma smirked, crossing her arms after handing him his paperwork back. "I hope you're not hoping for any of that with her. She would have to remove the two by four stuck up her ass first and I don't see that happening."

Jax actually laughed instead of getting upset.

"You're such a bitch."

Gemma's hand flew out, smacking him over the head—but it was good-natured, playful instead of hostile like her demeanor had been moments before.

Pointing a sharp fingernail at him, she opened her mouth—her scolding response on the tip of her tongue. "Watch your mouth you little—"

Shithead never made it past her lips.

Neither one of them had even noticed when the doors opened again—nor did they noticed the familiar woman standing in the hallway.

At least they didn't until she shoved past the other three people who'd stepped inside the elevator, slamming Gemma hard into the corner wall—her hands around her throat.

"OH MY GOD!" the surgical intern with navy-blue scrubs exclaimed, backing against the wall.

"What the FUCK?!" Jax shouted at the same time, tugging at the iron-tight grip Barbara had around Gemma's throat. The second he got his mother free, he instinctively slid between them. "What the Hell is going on Mrs—"

And his chivalry was rewarded with a hard slap to the face. Barbara shoved him aside.

And Gemma was ready for her.

Grabbing her shoulders, Gemma spun her around slamming her into the corner face first, pinning her arms behind her back as she growled harshly in her ear, "Don't be stupid, Barbara. Whatever it is you don't wanna resolve it like—"

A heavy blow to her mouth cut her warning short as Barbara flung her head backwards—the height difference resulting in Gemma's lip splitting from the blunt force of her skull.

The male Nurse—Malcolm if anyone had bothered to look at his keycard—immediately sprung into action. Reaching to break up the fight, his good Samaritan act fell short as Barbara lunged.

Gemma met her half-way with her own fists.

Mrs. Oh-my-God skirted around them all pressing the 'L' among the number buttons lining the elevator wall. It was the only one lit up as no one else had the opportunity to punch in their destination, and for that she was thankful.

"Ladies calm down!" Malcolm yelled, trying to wrench Gemma away from the other angry woman in the closed quarters of the lift.

Gemma's son didn't appreciate the way he was man-handling his mother.

Nor did he care for the woman attacking her for no goddamn reason.

Gripping the back of his neck, Jax tossed Malcolm aside, lashing out against the grip Barbara had on Gemma's hair trying to separate the two of them while simultaneously avoiding the flurry of knees, kicks and punches being thrown from both angles.

No one noticed the scared nurse screaming into the intercom.

But when the elevator doors slid open, the result of her cry for her help met them in the hallway.

The same four security guards from earlier rushed inside.

It was definitely a team effort breaking them apart—even with Jax helping them along.

Barbara was pulled out into the lobby first—only one of the guards detaining her while the other three held Gemma's wrath at bay.

That was when the screaming started.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN THREATEN MY HUSBAND!" Barbara bellowed. "SIXTEEN YEARS OF SOBRIETY….YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THIS SHIT! YOU HEAR ME BITCH!"

"What's she's talking about, Ma?" Jax questioned as he stared at the deranged woman standing several feet away.

"I don't know what the fuck her problem is," Gemma lied.

"YOU DON'T KNOW?" Barbara suddenly yanked out of the grip the officer had on her formerly still arms, shoving her hands into the bag that had miraculously never been ripped from her shoulder throughout the whole ordeal. "YOU DIDN'T HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS?" she challenged, rushing towards her as the officer that should have been restraining her stood there shell-shocked as he stared at the large syringe filled with amber fluid in her hand. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? IS IT JUST ENOUGH CRANK TO KILL A HORSE? OR DID YOU ADD A LITTLE CYANIDE JUST TO BE SAFE?"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Gemma screamed, struggling against the multiple sets of hands still holding her in place.

Barbara went eerily quiet.

Still.

Then she smiled.

"Let's see how you like it," Barbara sneered, her voice low and deadly.

No one reacted fast enough.

Barbara popped the cap off, lunging towards her—aiming the needle, plunging deep into her shoulder as Gemma jerked sideways, the syringe missing her neck by mere inches.

The guards that had been restraining Gemma had skirted backwards—basic survival instinct overruling the need to do their jobs as they reflexively moved away from the weapon-yielding Nurse.

Focused entirely on injecting her, Barbara didn't even see it coming when Jax elbowed her hard in the face before the first milliliter was even gone.

Multiple feet pounded loud and fast against the lobby floor as four Charming PD officers rushed towards them pulling the deranged woman upright just as her knee hit the floor when Jax kicked the syringe out of her hand, unintentionally landing a blow to her chest that momentarily knocked the wind out of her.

"Step back," Deputy Hobart ordered as he moved to the other side helping secure Mrs. Harland while his partner handcuffed her. Barbara thrashed, twisted, and turned—Feet flying, landing one final, bone-crunching kick to Gemma's chest before she was dragged away, drowning out the Miranda rights being read to her with her screams.

Jax had only a brief moment to glare at the guards who should have prevented things from escalating before Gemma keeled forward, a crisp wheezing sound cut through the air as she fell tripped, falling sideways—one arm clutching her chest while her hand pressed agains the blood seeping into the sleeve of her shirt where she'd been stabbed in the shoulder.

"MOM!"

Two men in leather Kuttes—SAMCRO printed across one of their T-shirts—rushed through the crowd quickly forming around them.

"YOU ASSHOLES ARE GONNA PAY!" Barbara screeched as she was pulled towards the Main lobby's exit. She steeled her eyes on the two leather-clad men kneeling on the floor and the matriarch between them as she left. "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID! AND I KNOW WHO TOLD YOU TO DO IT! CLAY'S GONNA PAY FOR RUINING MY FAMILY...HE...he ruined my family again..." Her voice muddled more and more as angry sobs wracked through her body but her words were unmistakable as she cleared the lobby, walking backwards out into the lot towards the waiting police Sedan. She kept muttering the same words over and over. "...Clay's gonna pay...Clay's gonna pay..."

"Holy Shit!" Kozik hissed.

"What the Hell Happened?" Tig demanded as he kneeled to the floor, inadvertently knocking the guards hovering above her out of the way as he reached for her.

"I don't know," Jax stammered. "Mrs—that crazy bitch—"

"Holy St. Redneck," Duncan Kane exclaimed as he stood by the elevator taking in the scene before him. "Who the Hell named this town Charming?"


"I want to make sure I'm clear," Unser said, looking down at the legal pad in front of him. "You—"

"I told you what happened," the man interrupted, waving a hand towards the statement he'd scribbled onto the pad in between Chief Unser's elbows. "I told you and I wrote the shit down for you. What else you need? You want me to sign it with my blood? The guy was obviously off his meds or some shit. You saw the breathalyzer results. I wasn't even within the legal limit. I wasn't drunk at all. And it wasn't 'cause of exhaustion because I'd parked at a truck stop and got some sleep a couple hours before. I'm telling you...I blinked once and he wasn't sliding over into my lane….held his arms out like Jesus on the fuckin cross and closed his eyes….I swear that crazy fool was smiling when he did it, too. He tried to kill himself, okay? It wasn't an accident. That guy didn't wanna be here no more. He was headed towards the light and the poor asshole almost took me with him. I just feel sorry for his family. I heard he's got a wife and kid. A son….what is he like fift—"

Both men turned towards the interrogation room door as three sharp knocks wrapped against it—just before someone pushed the door open.

"Sir," Officer Katy Palmer said, "Quint just called. That brawl at St. Thomas? It was Gemma Teller and Barbara Harland."

"Jesus Christ," Unser hissed, sliding his chair back as he moved to stand up. "Is Barbara alright?"

Katy nodded, a wry smile spreading across her face. "That's the first thing I asked," she admitted. "Barbara's in custody, she's in route to the station now. Gemma's the one who drew the short end of the stick this time. Said she sliced her arm…stabbed her with….a needle? She got stabbed with something. I'm not really clear on that part but I know she's got a few cracked ribs. They admitted her. I don't if she'll have to stay."

"Shit."

"You want me to call Morrow?" Katy offered.

Unser shook his head. "I'll handle it," he answered, waving towards the man still sitting at the table watching them closely. "Think you can wrap this up for me?"

"Consider it wrapped," the trucker declared, standing up. "I got a feeling this town ain't half as Charming as the name suggest. You got my statement. Either you believe it or you don't. I'm getting the Hell out of here...tonight."


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Several hours later…..

"A lot of your family in the hospital," Laura Michaelson commented awkwardly as she came to a stop in front of them. "I just spoke with Mrs. Teller. She approved visitation for Mr—"

"No Mister," Padraic corrected, snickering right along with Chibs as they took in the way her eyes flitted up and down his body, teeth biting into her lower lip as she ogled him. "It's Padraic, lovey."

"Right." Laura nodded. "She approved visitation for Padraic….you guys are free to go in now."

"Thanks, Darlin," Chibs said, joining his nephew in admiring her ass as she sashayed off, swinging her hips for all they were worth. "I bet you that one loves a good punch up her knickers."

"Aye," Padraic agreed, chuckling with his Uncle as they stepped inside the room.

It was a painful sight that squelched the laughter—killing it instantly as they took in the state of their founding President.

"Jesus," Padraic hissed as he studied the hard casting, all the tubes and cords.

"Doc says he's not as bad as it looks," Chibs offered, patting his shoulder as the young man took in the horror of JT's motorcycle accident. "It's bad….but….it could be worse. He could have—"

The writhing started first.

It was followed by the sharp choking sound emitting from his chest as the monitor at his bedside blared loudly—the machine tracking his vitals beeping faster the more he struggled, arm flailing, tangling up in all the cords, hopelessly reaching for the….was it reaching?

"AW, FUCK!"

Chibs ran towards him, pushing his arm down, holding his head back against the cushion of the pillows behind it as Padraic flung the hospital room door open yelling for help just as several pairs of footsteps pounded down the hallway—nurses and interns brushing past him, pouring into the room towards the shaking man laid out in the center of the room.

Padraic heard one of the interns yell, "Somebody page, Dr. Altman!" just as he and Chibs dipped out in the hallway, forgoing the elevator as they headed into the nearest stairwell, all but jumping down the steps as they made it towards the floor below.


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"So are you ready to tell me yet?" Tara prodded as she slapped the Queen of Hearts down on the table.

Opie studied the cards spread out in front of his eyes. "Tell you what?"

He was too busy studying his hand to see Tara rolling her eyes.

"What happened with you and Donna?" Tara asked. "Why'd you break up? I started to say why'd you break up this time but you guys have never broke up before. Not really. You usually fight and then when she's done flipping out you make up."

"We're good," Opie answered, adding to the pile of cards in between them. "Donna's just pissed. She'll get over it just like she always does. She's trying to teach me a lesson or some shit."

"A lesson for what?"

"Hell if I know." Opie shrugged. "You know she's crazy."

"Uh-huh."

Looking up at her finally, Opie could tell Tara didn't buy his feigned nonchalance for a second.

"So I guess you're not gonna tell me," Tara accused, narrowing her eyes. "It's cool. I'll just ask her."

"You want to talk about relationships?" Opie replied, sitting his cards face down on the table. "Let's talk about your mom and my dad."

Tara choked on the water she'd been sipping from Poland Spring bottle in her hand. "What?"

"How long do you think they were hooking up?"

"Where the Hell did this come from?" Tara questioned, her eyes widening.

Opie shrugged. "You can't say you never suspected it," he said. "You notice everything just like me."

Tara cleared her throat. "I think it's the fact that my dad always refers to my mom as that biker whore when he drinks that gave it away."

"How come you never said anything?"

"I didn't have to," Tara countered, scrunching her eyebrows. "And really, why would I want to talk about it? Won't change the fact that my Dad sees her when he looks at me and that's why he hates me."

"Arthur doesn't hate you."

"Seriously, Ope," Tara urged. "Where the Hell is all this coming from?"

"How old were you when you moved here?"

"Umm….like three, almost four maybe…" Tara grew more confused the longer it took him to respond. "Why?"

"It doesn't make sense," Opie mumbled to himself, staring at a spot behind her. "Doesn't add up….she's…you know what? Forget I said anything. She's full of shit as usual."

"Who's full of shit?" Tara wondered. When he didn't answer right away, Tara pursed her lips as she tried to draw her own conclusion based on everything he'd said thus far. The light bulb went off in her head just as her hospital room door opened. "Wait a minute. Are you trying—do you think—Opie—"

"I figured you'd be here," Piney commented, walking towards them. "I bet you didn't take your ass back to school like I told you either….Hey, sweetheart. How's the wonder drugs treating you today?"

"I'm hoping they'll give some to take home," Tara joked, smiling up at him. "Tonight. I was supposed to go home tomorrow but I might get lucky."

"Well just in case…" Piney sat the two bags in his hand in the chair next to her bed. "I figured you were sick of hospital food."

"Oh wow." Tara turned to grin at the sixteen-year old boy sitting at the edge of her bed. "See…this is why I love your father."

Opie didn't miss the emphasis at all.

And Tara didn't miss the look of uncertainty that crossed his features when he picked up on her subliminal answer to his….

Well…..his theory.


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"What does this mean?" Duncan repeated a third time when she didn't respond.

Sliding her pants back over her hips, Diane pulled the drawstrings tight, tying the ends into a loop before adjusting the disheveled state of her scrub top—quickly raking a hand through her hair, scanning the Supply closet floor for the clip that had held it in place.

"It doesn't mean anything," Diane answered, bending over to pick up the discovered clip, pinning her long hair up at the crown of her head. "This was goodbye Duncan."

Duncan smirked. "Well it's a lot better than the post-it goodbye but I still don't accept it."

"You don't have a choice."

"Dee, listen to me—"

"I'm gonna walk out first," Diane explained, talking over him. "Wait like five minutes, Okay? Unless you want me written up my first week."

Turning her back to him, Diane pushed the door open—stepping right into a hallway high traffic zone.

The second she cleared the closet door, Diane was knocked down, her shoulder banging into the wall as a swarm of footsteps and the squeaking of wheels scraped against the floor.

Rubbing her arm, Diane's head snapped towards the three familiar figures flying down the hallway like they were racing at a track meet.

Jax was in the lead as he burst through the double doors at the other end of the hallway.

Chibs was a close second, stopping only long enough to hold the doors open, allowing the woman struggling to keep up with them through.

Gemma held the backs of her hospital gown shut behind her, barely covering her ass or the lacy black panties covering it while her other hand gripped the IV-pole, rolling it—and the IV bags hanging from it along with her as they disappeared behind the flapping doors.

"What the fuck?"

"Baby you alright?" Duncan asked, slipping out of the closet unbeknownst to the two of them.

"Diane?"

Diane looked up, her light eyes widening at the man standing over her with an equally shocked expression frozen on his face.

"Padraic?"

"Padraic," Duncan echoed, eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. Realization dawned him, the familiarity of the name surging through his brain a Hell of a lot faster than his recollection of SAMCRO or the woman arguing in the elevator with her teenaged son. "Padraic? Oh you've gotta be kidding me."

Dit-fuckin-O, Diane thought as she stared at the two men holding their hands out to help her up.


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Kyle didn't even wait for him to finish walking down the steps before he pounced on him.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"It went," the man answered, walking past him towards the vending machines.

"What do you mean—"

Spinning around to face him, Donald Levin glared at the nineteen year old standing in front of him. "It went like you wanted it to. I stuck to the script. Your Chief got it on record. Suicide. Where's the rest of my money?"

Pulling the envelope from his back pocket, Kyle held it out in front of him.

"You leaving tonight?"

"Why?" Donald barked. "You need me to lie for you again?"

"They might need to call you in for a follow up," Kyle lied.

The bored trucker snorted. "Well they'll be shit out of luck if that's the case. You too, Kid. I'm on my way out as soon as I get a nap in. Nice doing business with you. Good luck with whatever bullshit scam you're running. Hope this whole power play works in your favor….you hoodlum types kill me…."

Turning his back to him, Donald Levin had no idea just how true his parting words were as Kyle watched him disappear behind the closed door of room two-zero-seven.

Kyle made his way across the parking lot, hopping into the pickup parked in front of the mini-mart on the other side of the road. Twisting the keys into the ignition, he turned the nozzle until he found a station playing a song he liked.

But he never pulled off.

No, instead he waited.

He'd keep waiting until Donald's nap was over and he was on his way, driving passed the sign that had welcomed him to the small town where the name says it all.

Kyle's fingers twitched as he periodically glanced towards the dashboard—the compartment on the front passenger side, chewing his bottom lip as he thought about the gun he'd placed inside of it earlier that day.

"No loose ends," Clay had told him.

He'd make sure there weren't any.

He could do this.

No loose ends.


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The board was already set up.

They were just picking out the first set of letters they'd use to form words when he walked in.

Tara looked up, the corners of her mouth threatening to tear as a wide smile spread across her face.

"Hey you," she said, beaming at him.

"You're just in time, Son," Piney said, nodding up at Jax. "We're just about to start. Grab a rack. Come prove to Tara hear that you're not as stupid as she probably thinks you are."

"Guess what?" Tara gushed. "Diane might be springing me tonight instead of tomorrow!"

"How's your mom doing?" Piney asked.

Tara's eyebrows threaded together as she turned towards the man arranging the letters on his Scrabble rack. "Something happened to Gemma?"

Opie picked up on it first.

"What's wrong, Bro?"

Tara's head immediately snapped towards him. Studying his expression closely, she was sliding off the bed—scattering the board and wooden pieces across the table and bed when her knee banged against the underside in her hast to get up.

Tara rushed towards him, beating Opie and Piney to where he stood.

She pressed her palm to his face just in time to catch the first teardrop that fell from his eyes, spreading along the gap in between her thumb and fingers.

"What can I do?" Tara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jax's response was to pull her into a hug.

Tara ignored the pain shooting through her shoulder as she squeezed him even tighter, kissing his cheek—holding onto him, pouring all the love and support she thought he needed to get through whatever it was.

Only Opie and his father knew that the tears slowly streaming down his face didn't stem from pain—it wasn't from a place of anguish or regret.

The measured smile gradually upturning the corners of his mouth said more than any word he uttered could have had Jax even bothered to speak.

It wasn't grief—he wasn't in mourning.

He was relieved—minutely so, but still relieved all the same.

And it wasn't until she heard—not until she felt the battle between crying and laughter rumbling through his chest that Tara pulled back to look at him.

"Jax?"

Once again taking verbal communication out of the equation, Jax crushed his lips against hers—crying, laughing, and kissing her all at once.

And even though she had no idea why or if she even should, Tara joined in with him. Her nervous laughter blending in with his just as the moisture pooling in her eyes made its way down her face, mixing with his on every tilt of their heads from left to right while Winston Senior and Junior shook their heads at them.

"You got any idea what the Hell is going?"

Opie shook his head, smirking at his father's wary expression. "Not a goddamn clue."


Okey Dokey.

Just a quick FYI.

I know y'all are missing J&T Exclusive action but we're racing towards the end of this arc and the next arc is all about them and theirs at least three back to back Jax/Tara exclusive POV chapters coming up (a la CH51) so bear with me.

Mean while...

Thoughts? Feedback? Favorite moments? Standout lines, scenes, etc?

[8,800 words]

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