A/N: Hello everyone and happy holidays! I just wanted to let you know that, following today's (shorter than normal) post, there is only one more chapter. Enjoy!

Thanks,
Charlynn

B.

Awareness was the California, white-blonde sunshine she loved so much; a coolness - not that from a crisp breeze but constant, invasive; and the way your hands smell after you've been clutching your keys for too long. Consciousness was a weight pressing down on her brain, a stomach rolling and twisting like the first time she climbed on the back of Jax's bike, and a level of fatigue so debilitating that it reminded Tara of those first few weeks after Natty was born when she was caring for a newborn all on her own, battling postpartum depression, and taking a full course load of classes. Yet… even after being on her feet all day and all night, surgery never made her so tired, and that particular hue of light could only be found in the faces of the two people Tara loved most in the world. So, she couldn't be in an operating room, and her body was too sore, too weak, for surgery. But she knew that smell. She was a doctor, after all. The scent of blood permeated and cloaked… everything.

"Is she really pregnant?"

"How the hell should I know? What, you think just because we have the same parts that we also have some kind of sixth sense about such things? Because we don't." Incredulousness. "You tell me. You're the one who's been banging my mom practically since the day she came back to this town."

Frustration. "Then why didn't she tell me?"

"Dude, you strapped her into a bulletproof vest before you knew she was pregnant." Duh. "If she had told you, you'd probably have her locked away in some dungeon somewhere."

"Yeah." A third voice. A snort of derision. "A sex dungeon."

Shared and mutual disregard. A pause. And then, "what's wrong with her? Why won't she wake up?" Touch. Hurried, harried, anxious, scared. "Do you think she was hit more than once?"

"I didn't take you for a conspiracy theorist." Laughter.

Then, there was confusion tinged with frustration. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The magic bullet theory. JFK." A sigh. "Kohn only fired once. Mom was only shot once. As for why she isn't waking up…?" Tara imagined her daughter's thin, delicate shoulders shrugging. "I have no idea. I like books. Music. Art. Mom always says that I'm more your kid than hers."

"It takes him five minutes to knock me up, but I carried you inside of me for nine months, and you couldn't even have just a passing interest in science."

"Hey, at least I have your sense of humor," Natalie bantered with her. "This guy," she hooked a thumb in her father's direction. "Is such a Donnie Downer!"

"Sorry if I wasn't in the mood to joke around when your mother was lying on the ground, out cold and bleeding from a bullet wound," Jax groused. Despite his words, despite his tone, there was such a sense of relief and joy to him. Some of that was because Tara had regained consciousness. But some of it was because, contrary to his glower, he was relishing the interaction with their daughter… even if they were bickering.

"She was shot in the arm, and she was barely out for two minutes!" As for Nats, her bravado was an obvious cover for her own fear. The two of them were feeling the exact same storm of emotions; they just expressed them differently.

"It was just shock," Tara reassured them. "Given everything that has been going on, I'm probably dehydrated, too. Then, on top of that, the sudden, severe blood loss didn't help matters either." She looked to her left shoulder where Natalie was kneeling, Jax's t-shirt wrapped around her arm and pressed against her wound. "Between the break and now this, my arm is going to be a bitch to rehabilitate, but at least I'm right handed. My surgical dexterity shouldn't be compromised." Two pairs of impossibly blue, incredulous eyes stared back at her, finally united in their exasperation.

"Look, I hate breaking up this… really strange… family moment," Hale spoke up, capturing everyone's attention, "but Tara needs to get to the hospital, and we need to get rid of a dead body."

Despite teasing Jax, joking with her daughter, and making light of her injury in order to reassure them, Tara was barely hanging on to her alertness. All she wanted to do was sleep. But she couldn't. And it was a struggle to hide her true worry, her true concern. Yes, her gunshot wound was only in her arm, but she was a thirty-six year old woman in the first few weeks of pregnancy. The stress alone was enough to make her high-risk. But then the self-inflicted injuries, being shot? The only reason she wasn't panicking in fear for the fate of her child was because she knew she couldn't. Jax needed her to be strong. Natalie needed her to be stronger. And her unborn baby needed her to be the strongest.

So, while Hale took control of the situation, while he argued logistics and what was best for all of them with Jax, and while he tried (and failed) to keep Natalie as far away from their planned coverup as he could, Tara allowed herself to float in and out of the conversation… much like when she first woke moments earlier. She heard bits and pieces of what they said while trying not to throw up, while trying not to shake with cold, while trying to keep her breathing steady and deep instead of the rapid, shallow breaths her body, and her shock, and her private hysteria were insisting upon.

"It seems pretty simple to me, Hale. We each take care of our own: me, my wife and my kid; you, your fellow officer of the law."

"No," David argued. At first, he spoke slowly… as though still thinking through his idea, but, as his confidence grew, his words picked up speed. "If we play this the right way, we can not only get Tara the help she needs while we get rid of the evidence of what happened here, but we can also take care of the rumors flying through Charming about the two of you."

The saturation of the headlights' illumination shifted, a shadow elongating and further darkening Tara's vision. When Hale started talking again, he was slightly further away which told her he had stood up. "For now, we'll hide Kohn's body in the cabin, but I don't want to know what you do with it afterwards. Considering that it's probably not the first body you've gotten rid of, I think it's better for the both of us if I'm unaware of your methods." David's silhouette started shifting. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. He was pacing. "We'll have to stage a shooting at Tara's house. She can't go immediately to the hospital, because we're going to need time to get everyone into place. If we use enough of the truth - she had a stalker, she was trying to protect your daughter from him, the two of you fought because she wouldn't tell you where Natalie was or why she was keeping her away from…."

While Tara didn't slip underneath the fog of unconsciousness again, she did stop fighting to maintain awareness. Occasionally, words would pierce through her semi-oblivion - words like blood splatter and ballistics, Arizona, and alibi, but their actual meanings, their consequences, evaded her. Words were just sounds, just letters. And there was movement. People, things, time. Someone was always there, always holding Jax's shirt to her wound, but Tara wasn't always sure who that person was. It seemed to change, though the pressure and agony remained constant. It wasn't until she was being jostled, lifted - that was Jax - that Tara stirred enough to hear and comprehend the conversation occuring around her, about her.

"Are you sure you can do this? You just have to drive your mom home and fire the gun. Once we get there, we'll bring her inside, and we'll set up the rest of the evidence."

"Yes," Natalie answered emphatically. By the sound of her exasperation, it was obviously not the first time she had told Hale as much either. "I'm a minor, not a moron. If I couldn't handle it, I'd tell you. Because this isn't teenage wacky hijinks. This is my mom. My family. My life."

A door opened, and then Tara was being sat down and buckled into the passenger seat of Jax's truck, her arm elevated. A kiss was brushed against her forehead, a hand pressed low and rubbed against her abdomen. It was only then that she realized, at some point, her bulletproof vest and Jax's hoodie had been removed… maybe even cut off, she wasn't sure. Oddly, she found that she missed them. "Just a few more minutes, Babe. I promise. You're being so strong, so brave. I'll meet you at your house, and then I'm not leaving your side for at least the next nine months or so."

It wasn't like the baby wasn't firmly on Tara's mind, but it was hearing Jax talk about their unborn son or daughter that brought another fear to the surface. Desperately, she tried to reach for him, but she was too weak. She must have cried out, though, because Jax came to her. "What, what is it," he queried urgently, anxiously. "I swear, Tara, if you think there is something wrong - anything, I don't care how small, I'll drive you straight to the hospital myself right this second, fuck everything else."

"No, I'm fine. We're fine," she promised him. "Relatively speaking." Her words came out slightly breathless, and she felt like she was talking through molasses. But she didn't lie to him either. Despite the odds stacked against them, there was nothing to indicate that she or the baby were at risk.

Hale and Natty were squabbling as Natalie climbed up into the truck, taking a few moments to adjust her seat and mirrors and review her directions, while Jax cupped the right side of Tara's jaw with his left hand, running his right over and through her hair. "Then what is it?"

"Your mother... cannot find out about... the baby, Jax - not when I'm... too weak and injured... to protect us."

"Babe, Gemma can't do anything to you this time around, because I already know about the baby."

As they continued to talk, David and Natalie both stopped what they were doing to listen. "No, you don't... understand," Tara insisted. "She got... rid of Wendy. She'll... get rid of me, too."

Jax was by no means defending his mother, but he also didn't understand why Tara was so afraid of her. Believing her to be confused… and confused himself, he said, "Wendy's not dead, Tara. She's in jail."

They didn't have time, and she didn't have any proof - just suspicions based upon Gemma's not-so-cryptic remarks and instinct. Wendy was in jail, because Jax decided to press charges against her for killing Abel after her second overdose following his birth and subsequent death, a second overdose that could have been facilitated and encouraged by Gemma. If Gemma was willing to lie to Jax about his daughter for sixteen years and drive his ex-wife to try and commit suicide by crank, what the hell would she do once she found out that, not only was Jax embracing Tara and Natalie as his family, but he had also secretly married Tara, although the paperwork still needed to be filed, and they were expecting a second child together? Once she was stronger, once it didn't feel like days' worth of effort to string together a simple sentence, then Tara would explain her apprehension, but, for now, she just needed the peace of mind that only Jax could give her.

"Just… please. Please, promise me... that Gemma... won't find out... about the baby."

Jax held her face in both of his calloused hands, and he locked their gazes together as he solemnly told her, "I promise, Tara." With one last kiss, he pulled away, shutting the door between them.

C.

It was all rather impressive - how skilled they were at covering up one crime scene while staging another and how efficiently Jax, Natalie, and David Hale worked together. It was also kind of scary, too. Because, while it was understandable for a former outlaw biker and a current police chief to know a thing or two about getting rid of dead bodies, suppressing evidence, and that pvc pipe would be a good stand in to mimic a bullet striking bone, it was a whole different matter for Tara's sixteen year old daughter to excel at such endeavors. And Natty wasn't just taking orders. Oh, no! She was most definitely a co-conspirator - portions of the plan derived from knowledge Tara was pretty damn sure wasn't being taught to college prep juniors.

"This better be important, because, unlike certain people who just ride around town all day looking pretty and ruling over their empire, some of us have to work for a living."

Tara had never been more grateful to be a doctor than when they had gotten back to her house. While Hale made like Jackson Pollock - her living room walls and floor his canvas, Jax was temporarily seeing to Tara's gunshot wound. She'd still need to go to the hospital for x-rays and quite possibly a blood transfusion, but proper bandages were a hell of a lot better than a soaked in blood t-shirt, and she had even talked Jax through putting in an IV, so she could get some fluids in her body to fight back the shock. His touch was surprisingly dexterous for a man who, for the majority of his life, had been more likely to be the cause of an injury than the one administering to it. Nevertheless, experienced or not with first aid, Jax's care meant that Tara was no longer teetering along the edge of an unconscious abyss and absolutely capable of enjoying the scene that was about to play out before her.

As instructed, Opie had come in through the garage, and, because Natty had cleaned up any blood that would not fit with the narrative they were staging to explain Tara's injury, he was none the wiser about what he was walking into, what he was being roped into. While perhaps slightly cruel… and definitely presumptive to just assume that he would be willing to help them no matter the risk, leaving Opie oblivious as to the reason behind his late night summons meant that Tara would get to observe his reaction to so many things but, most importantly, the fact that his best friend had a sixteen year old daughter. That was why Jax didn't respond to Opie's good-natured harassment. No, he left that honor to Nats.

"Well, while I must say that I'm flattered that you find me so attractive, I think I'm a little young for you, and my dad wouldn't like it." With a backpack containing a change of clothes thrown over her shoulder, Natalie stood leaning in the doorway which led back to the bedrooms - motorcycle boots crossed at the ankles, arms folded against her leather jacket clad chest, and right shoulder propped against the wall. The smirk on her face was pure Jax Teller circa 1997.

"Your dad would cut out his fucking eyes if he ever even looked twice at you." Apparently, Opie could challenge his work ethic, but Natty, even when Jax knew she was kidding, couldn't even hint at attention from the opposite sex.

"Not to mention my dick," Opie replied automatically, instinctively. He didn't blink. The imposing man - all leather, darkness, ink, and smoke - in the face of a petite, sunshine girl, didn't even breathe. "Jesus Christ." He paused, swallowed thickly - gaze ricocheting back and forth between Jax, Tara, and Natalie. In his shock, Opie failed to even notice Hale… let alone the fact that Tara had been shot. "Holy shit."

"Sheesh. I knew you were the quiet one, but that's it," Natty asked him. Her smirk grew into a full smile. "No questions? Just… a pretty damn good hairy fish impersonation and a few really lame for a VP of a MC exclamations?"

"Who, what, when, where, why, how?"

Natalie giggled joyously. Jax stood up from where he had been sitting beside a now bandaged Tara, approaching his best friend. "There's no time to explain… anything right now, Ope, but I'm sure Natalie will be more than willing to fill you in on the way."

"Way to where?" Opie's tone was part bewilderment, part curiosity, and part matter-of-fact.

"We're 'going down the coast of M.E.X.I.C.O.C.U.'" Natty paused, pushed off the wall, and started talking again as she walked towards where the two bikers were standing next to each other - both of them watching her avidly, though for very different reasons. "Actually, we'll just be going to the border, and we're not going down there to see anyone; we're dumping a fed's rental car, wallet, and reputation."

The only thing Opie said in response was, "we're?!"

"Someone has to make sure that the job is done right."

While Jax barked out an amused laugh at his daughter's antics, Tara took pity on Opie and gave him at least a little bit of actual information. "It's best for everyone but especially for Natalie if Charming thinks she doesn't arrive in town here for a couple more days. Unfortunately, the only thing Jax's daughter is worse at than laying low is staying out of trouble. Believe it or not, sending her with you - if you agree to help us - in order to get rid of evidence will be the safest she's been in months."

For the first time since he had arrived, Opie actually looked at her; he actually saw her. "What the hell happened to you?"

She simply answered, "the dead fed happened."

"Wait," Opie commanded, beseeched. "The fed is dead?"

"As Fred," Nats supplied oh-so-helpfully. "I killed him."

"Natalie," Jax yelled, chastising her. The four of them - Tara, Jax, Natalie, and even David Hale had agreed that, no matter what happened with their plan, no one was to know that Natty was responsible for Kohn's death. If something went wrong, and his body was discovered, Natty was to be protected no matter what and above everything and anyone else.

"What," their daughter objected, shrugging her shoulders and frowning. "I get that this is Fight Club and all, but we're asking him to help us cover up the murder of an ATF agent. I think he deserves to join."

The back and forth, the bantering, probably could have - would have - gone on all night if David Hale wouldn't have approached and interrupted. "This is taking too long," he told them all. Facing Opie, he ordered, "wear gloves, nondescript clothing, and try to disguise your appearance and contain your hair as much as you can. Don't take a direct route out of Charming. Head east, then south. When you dump the car, wipe down the entire thing except what the driver would touch. Give the fed's wallet to someone who will use it… indiscriminately. When you come back, get a ride from your Tucson charter or pay cash for bus tickets, stopping in Stockton, or Sacramento, or Oakland. Natalie will stay, call her parents, and they'll pick her up like she just arrived in California from Chicago. Her MC from there will back up her story if anyone should go digging around. No one can know where you went, who you went with, or why. In fact, it would be best if no one even realized you left town."

Opie blinked at the cop slowly, sighed. Evidently, he wasn't impressed. "You're not telling me anything that I couldn't figure out for myself or that the kid couldn't tell me on the way."

"Well, how about this: the two of you need to get out of here before the EMTs or one of my deputies see you. Natalie will meet you a few blocks over, and then she'll take you to the car."

"I'll be the one in all black, a hood over my hair, wearing my sunglasses at night like a real creeper." Natalie acted like she was trying to be helpful, but the words themselves, the sass, and the smirk said otherwise.

Jax grinned, Opie rolled his eyes, Hale ignored her, and Tara played the mom card. "Listen to Opie. Do whatever he tells you to do, Jacqueline. While I cannot believe these words are about to come out of my mouth, Opie is the adult; Opie's in charge." Natalie left her father's side and came to stand in front of her mother. "Do not deviate from the plan, and absolutely no souvenirs, do you hear me?" The last thing they needed was Natty commemorating the experience with a tattoo from some back alley parlor in Nogales.

"Don't worry, mom," Natty groaned, sounding every inch the sixteen year old that she actually was but often failed to resemble. After leaning down to press a light kiss to Tara's uninjured cheek, she cajoled, "you take care of my little brother, and I'll make sure that Uncle Harry doesn't corrupt me while we're gone."

"I think I'm the one about to be corrupted," Opie mumbled, apparently just glossing over the fact that he was learning of not just one but two of his best friend's children that night - one sixteen and one not even six weeks in the womb yet. If he even picked up on Nats' revelation that Tara was pregnant, he didn't react to it.

Natalie fairly hopped over to Jax. Holding onto his shoulders, she leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek as well. "Bring your bike when you pick me up in two days, okay?" Before Jax could even agree, Natty was skipping off, linking her arms through one of Opie's and dragging him with her. Hale didn't even rate a glance let alone an actual goodbye.

The last thing Tara heard her daughter say before she and Opie disappeared together out into the night was, "so, can I drive?" Any response her old friend might have had for her daughter was drowned out by the approaching wail of sirens.