Disclaimer

We don't own the bikes, brothers, or any "related" Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn't have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don't sue. It'd be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don't share. :Whispers in creepy voice: "My precious."
The universe
This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It's our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC.
We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us.

A/N:
The closer we get to show events, the more excited we are to show you our vision for how things went down. Because of the growth and changes our boys have undergone in Mo Astor, things are very different, and it's going to show. So buckle up and join us for another ride in Charming with a different view.

Mo Astor Chapter 43

Jax

"Some day's you're the Beamer. Some days, you're the goddam deer." I announce, chuckling at the sight that greets me as I walk onto the garage's lot.

"Some yuppie creamed her up at the streams." Chibs informs me, clearly just as amused at the rather unique picture.

"He run into it or hit a tree while it was giving him head?" I ask, shaking my head at the deer carcass sticking ass out from the windshield.

"How the hell you want me to get it out of there?" Half Sack asks staring in horror at the deer that decided to commit suicide via Beamer windshield.

Walking over to the tow truck, I come back with a chain saw.

"Come on. Jesus, man." Half Sack's face pales. I smile around my joint.

I love fucking with Prospects. It's a good way to blow off steam and test their commitment. You can't just trust anyone with the shit we got going on behind the scenes, and after letting that coward Kyle slip into our ranks, we're all more vicious in the weeding out process.

"Just pretend it's carve-your-own-steak night at Sizzler," I call as I walk over to Chibs

"I don't eat meat, man," Half Sack says. I shake my head. Who the hell willingly gives up meat?

"Figure out, grunt." I have no sympathy for him when I think of all the vile shit I had to handle when I did my time.

Tig rode me harder than most, trying to make sure I'd be worthy of my father's legacy. I love and hate him for that.

"What the hell happened," Chibs asks about the meeting I'd been pulled into this afternoon.

"It was the Mayans who torched the warehouse. Stole the Niner's M4s."

"Holy shit." Worry deepens the lines on his face.

"Clay's gone to sit down with Laroy. Try to buy us some time."

"Niners already paid for that hardware."

"That's the tricky part." I agree. My cell phone goes off in my pocket. I pull it out and fight the urge to shake my head. She's probably watching from somewhere.

"Hey, Ma. It's not like I just saw you this morning or something."

"Did you go to storage?" she asks, ignoring me. Ma and the girls have been riding me hard to get the room set up for Abel in me and Lee's house.

Not that they haven't done most the work on it already.

"Not yet."

"Be a nice surprise if you had some things for the girls to work with after they visit your crazy ass ex for you."

"I hear you loud and clear. Thanks—Grandma." I get the dig in.

"Asshole." She hangs up, and I laugh. I tack the trip on my to-do list. There's not much I wouldn't do to make the girls happy, and I know right now, living at the clubhouse and being escorted everywhere is trying. Hell, they have to be accompanied just to visit Wendy. I wonder if I should've grabbed her and brought her in for lockdown. With her not answering my calls, she was the last thing on my mind.

I feel the pressure on my shoulders grow heavier. Splitting myself in so many directions always leaves someone hanging.

Clay walks out of the garage with Tig trailing behind him.

"I'm going to head out and do my mother's bidding. Keep an eye on our girls?"

"Aye. Gonna trail 'em to Wendy's."

"Surprised Baby J is letting her get that close to you," I say, amused by her viciousness when it comes to my ex.

"Didn't say I was gonna walk up to the front door." Chibs winks. Smooth motherfucker.

I'm still chuckling when I mount my bike, put on my helmet, and follow the boys out of the yard until they turn to head toward Oakland.

I let the ride blow away all my thoughts as I become one with the road. The sun on my skin, the wind blowing away all my tension, I'm one with the bike and in communion with my surroundings. This is my real church, the place I come to feel linked to my creator.

I'm feeling a lot more level-headed when I reach the storage building. Parking in front of the door, I enter the code and lift the door to the climate-controlled area. For a moment, I'm not sure where to look first. I can see so many memories put here to collect dust and stop reminding us of the sorrow they brought with them—toys that had belonged to my younger brother, Tommy, and me. I can still picture the toe-haired kid with a big heart. He's a hole in my heart that will never be filled in.

I see the crib against the wall, but it's the knick-knacks that interest me. There are pieces of my father mixed in here. I wish you were here now more than ever Pops.

I caress the photos that disappeared off the wall once Clay moved into our home. I understand the why behind my mother recommitting so swiftly, but it didn't change the anger it caused. We were doing okay there for a while: Ma, me, and Baby J. When Clay came in, it shot the dynamics to hell. The man knew fuck all about kids, let alone grieving teens, and it showed. We always felt welcome with my Dad.

Clay brought a coldness that had us walking on eggshells and out of the house more often than not. It didn't escape my notice that the girls both started spending more time at Gran's and later after she passed, at Tig's.

I shake out some manilla envelopes and smile at the sight of my parents in their youth. They look so carefree and happy. I can't remember the last time I'd seen Dad look like that after Tommy died.

A photo falls like a leaf landing onto a binder of something I don't recognize.

What's this?

I take it out and find a manuscript. I can hear my father's voice reading out loud in my mind.

The life and death of Sam Crow. How the Sons of Anarchy lost their way. By John Thomas Teller. For my sons: Thomas, who's already at peace, and Jackson... may he never know this life of chaos.

I pause to snap a picture and send it to the girls. Found something of Dad's.

There's something about this that commands my attention.

I open the first page and find myself sucked in and my view of everything I'd been groomed to take over, tilts on its axis.

I'm a few chapters in when my phone vibrates in my kutte pocket. It's like emerging from a different world. I pull it out of my pocket and sigh. Church. Setting aside a few things for a Prospect to pick up, I take the manuscript and place it into my saddlebag before I'm drawn back into the fray.

I stalk out of Church with Mayans, the Niners, and guns on the brain. We have forty-eight hours to come up with the guns Leroy ordered, or we're going to be in a bad spot with them. Our relationship with the Niners has been good. The last thing we need is both them and the Mayans out for blood. Charming is small. Ain't many places for a person to hide. We know firsthand how damn ruthless the Mayans can be when they go to war. Bloody '92 will forever remind us that they have no limitations.

Still, I can't help but wonder how they got the intel. Are they scoping us out or paying someone else in town to do their dirty work for them?

Ma rushes into the garage alone, and my stomach jumps.

"What's going on?" I bark.

"I been trying to call you!" Her eyes are glossy, and her tone is wounded.

"Where are the girls?" I ask carefully, enunciating each word. Chibs left them with a prospect to look over them once he'd been called back for Church.

"At the hospital."

"What?" Chibs roars from behind me.

"With Wendy. Junkie bitch took a hit and od'd."

"Mother Mary," Chibs whispers, crossing himself.

The bottom drops out of my world. I can barely hear as I sway slightly. Did this bitch kill my son? Blood rushes in my ears, and the world drops away.

"Shite. Let's get you to the hospital, brotha," Chibs urges, shaking me out of my stupor as he squeezes my arm, grounding me. I stumble out feeling drunk as I make my way to my bike. Part of me doesn't want to make the trip to St. Thomas because that'll mean finding out what might be an ugly truth.

The trip is a complete blur. I pull into a spot, kill the engine, and head inside. The doors open, and I step inside feeling like I'm traveling to the pit of hell with my mom on my heels talking to Clay.

"It's gotta be the Nords dealing out of the Dog again."

I'm going to kill those white supremacist bastards as soon as I see about my son.

A small hand grabs my wrist. I turn on my mother, irritated. "I don't want you to walk into this blind, baby. Tara Fucking Knowles is the doctor on his case. The girls aren't happy. I'm sure they've let her know by now."

"Jesus." I shake my head.

She narrows her eyes. "You knew?"

"I saw her once and looked it into it, yeah." I hold my hand up. "We'll talk about it later." For once, she backs off as we travel to the correct floor.

I spot Tara standing awkwardly by my two pissed-off girls.

"What the hell is going on?" I ask.

"Bitch refused to tell us anything," Journee says.

"Said we weren't family or on the paperwork to release medical information to," Lee growls.

"I'm changing that shit today. You got me, Tara?" I snarl.

She nods and swallows.

"Good. Now what the hell happened?"

"When's the last time you saw her?" Tara asked.

"A couple of weeks ago." I don't just abandon people. Even when we break up.

"Her hands and feet were full of tracks. Toxicology reports aren't back yet, but it's most likely crank."

"That selfish bitch," Journee hisses.

Lee steps up on my right slipping her fingers into mine, and Journee steps up on my left, with Ma directly behind me.

All of them are lending me silent support.

She looked fine when we saw her.

I squeeze Lee's hand and pull from her silent strength.

"The baby?" I force the question out of my clogged throat.

"We had to do an emergency C-section. He's ten weeks premature."

I close my eyes. "Holy shit," I whisper. That's not right. Are his lungs even developed yet? I might not have advertised it, but I read up on pregnancy.

"Come on, let's sit down, and I'll walk you through it."

"Just tell us bitch," Journee snaps.

Lee wraps an arm around me, and my sister's arm joins hers.

I draw strength from them, bracing myself. Last thing I need right now is to be alone anywhere with Tara while she drops bombs.

Tara's eyes dart nervously to all my girls. "He's got a congenital heart defect and gastroschisis, a tear in his abdomen. The gastro and the early birth are from the drugs. But the CHD is probably—."

"The family flaw," Mom says softly.

Tara nods. "Yes, it's genetic. Either one would be serious but not life-threatening. However, the two of them together—." My stomach plummets.

She pauses, unsure of what she should say next.

I need to know what she's holding back on.

"Just tell me."

"Dr. Namid gives him a twenty percent chance, and I'm afraid that's being optimistic."

"How could we not know?" I shake my head, disgusted. We did everything but live there with her.

"Her OB said she missed her last appointment."

"Bitch must've hidden that one," Lee says from between her teeth.

"No one knew. Dr. Namid wants to fix his belly first. Then if he stabilizes, he'll go in and try to repair the heart."

She pauses, her brown eyes soften towards me.

"I'm sorry, Jax." She says kindly.

I nod my head and blink to keep my emotions in check.

"I can take you to see him now."

"Go," the girls whisper, releasing me as Tara turns and I step forward, following her.

We get through the door, and I pause. "Tara! Maybe you shouldn't do this. I'm sure you got other patients –."

"I asked Dr. Namid if I could assist. I wanna help your son –."

I glance over my shoulders at the girls. "His name's Abel?"

Lee nods her agreement, and I return my attention to a befuddled-looking Tara.

"That's a good name."

I can't do it—go in there and see my little boy laying helpless as he fights for his life while I stand by, twiddling my thumbs. I need to make the person responsible for this pay. Avenging him is an action. I need to be doing something, or I'm going to explode and destroy everything in sight.

I spin on my heels.

"Jax?" Tara calls.

I ignore her and continue to walk.

"Jax," Ma says.

"J wait-" Baby J steps forward.

"Jackson?" Lee whispers, gripping my hand, trying to stay me.

Even with her firm grip trying to anchor me, the fury I'm feeling won't be subsided.

"Go with Tara, and stay with Ma." I point at Ma.

"I got something to do."

Before they can argue I press a chaste kiss to Lee's crow, releasing her hand and briskly walking down the corridor away from them.

"I don't want to be calmed and soothed.

Right now I need some release, some revenge.

Daddy," I vaguely hear my sister cry out.

"I'm on it, Mo."

"Watch his back," Clay calls.

Chibs

I'm on Jax like white on rice.

If anything happens to him on my watch, I'll be getting my ass handed to me by the ladies and then my President.

Rage rolls off him in intense waves as he walks through the leather pillow-top salon-style doors of the Hairy Dog.

As he enters the smoky room, he's a man on a mission.

I can't fault him for it. I want to see him get his retaliation. I know how not getting it can eat a man up one flashback at a time.

He grabs a pool stick off the wall and begins to beat the tattooed bastard bloody on his own turf.

"Sell crank to my pregnant ex?" Jax is an enraged beast.

His boys move to surge forward, and Bobby pulls his piece.

"Easy boys," Bobby drawls as only an Elvis impersonator could.

I let Jackie continue to whale on the lad for a few beats longer before I step in, post testicle piercing.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa" I snag him around the waist and pull him back. "I think you made your point. I think you made your point!" Jax stills, and I release him.

"Stupid peckerwood shithead." Jax spits on the impaled, bloodied, and broken body.

I follow up with a little spit of my own.

"Enjoy your lunch. Shish keballs are on me," Bobby says, bringing up the rear as we exit the den of hate.

Jax climbs onto his bike.

"You alright?" Bobby asks.

"I'm gonna see Op."

"You sure you got your head back on straight, brotha?" I ask.

"No. But I need to know you're with the girls."

"Tha I can do." It pains me to leave him to his own devices, but I'm not trusting the girls to Clay. They need a soft touch right now, and the Pres is notoriously heavy-handed. I haven't had a cause to pray much recently, but I've thanked the man upstairs plenty, so maybe he'll hear me now as I pray for the bairn who's already got the odds stacked against him.

I spot the girls camped out when I enter the hospital.

Mo jumps up and runs to me.

"Daddy." I open my arms and pull her to me, resting my head on her head.

"Where's Jax?"

"He went to see Opie. Figured that might be the best thing for him."

She hiccups. "Abel's so small and so very sick."

"I know, but he comes from strong, stock. He'll be fine." I peer up to see Lee watching and incline my head, opening one of my arms. She walks over, and I pull her to me, settling her beside her wife. I kiss Lee's head.

"It's going to be okay, girls. He's got a lot of people out here rooting for him and good doctors." Gemma glaring at the operating door doesn't hurt either.

Feeling eyes on me, I glance up to find Clay watching us.

He could never understand this little family of four we're building.

He's always been … self-motivated.

I know how precious true family is, and I'll cherish every moment of it I experience.

"Looks like you got this under control, brother. I'm going to check in on our other problems," Clay says. "You stay here and keep me posted."

"Aye." He slinks away with Bobby following him, and I refocus on the girls in my arms who've seen their lives turned upside down in less than forty-eight hours.

"Come on, loves, let's go take a seat." I guide them to the chairs and sink down with both of them still attached. Stroking my hand over their hair, I lean my head back against the wall and settle in for what I know will be a lengthy wait.

"It feels like it's taking a really long time," Lee mumbles.

"Means they're making sure to do it right," I whisper.

"He'd know. He was a medic," Journee says, working to soothe her wife's nerves. I feel the slight tremor in her body that tells me she's struggling to believe her own words.

"I hope so," Lee whispers, glancing back towards the operating room doors.

"We can't lose another Teller like this," Journee's voice waivers.

"Nah, that's not going to happen. You need a nephew to raise your kid up with," Lee whispers, lending comfort.

Journee sniffles and reaches across me to twine her fingers with Lee's.

The girls both rest their heads against my chest and I let my fingers weave into their hair and massage their scalps.

Both of them release deep sighs and snuggle closer.

I know neither of them got much extra sleep this morning, despite their attempt.

And with the way the adrenaline has been coming and going it's only a matter of time till their bodies grow heavy and their breathing grows even.

Gemma walks over to us sometime later and smiles.

"Always been attached at the damn hip," she says softly.

I peer down and note the girls have fallen into a troubled sleep.

"Aye. How you doing, Ma?"

She shakes her head. "If that bitch isn't dead, she's going to wish she was when I'm done with her."

I don't have to ask who she's talking about.

"Has there been any news on her?"

Gemma shakes her head.

"Not yet. Wish they'd come and tell me I never have to worry about her again." She sighs.

Turning to look at me, she gives me those narrowed whiskey-colored eyes.

She's been brewing something in that big brain of hers and it's either gonna be really good for me or about to make me very uncomfortable.

"You're good for my daughter. I worried I might never see that kind of joy in her eyes again. She was always my sweet baby. Kind-hearted and open. Not naïve, but a little too optimistic. I tried to train it outta her, but never could. Then I went and got used to it." She gives a throaty chuckle and shakes her head.

"Seeing it crushed under the boot heels of some fucking traitor like Hobart. That shit hurt deep." She narrows her gaze. "I ain't never going through that again, am I?"

I'm wondering why she's waited till now to have this convo with me and not before the wedding, but I know better than to question the Queen.

"No, ma'am." I answer honestly.

She nods her head. "Good." She smiles. "Give me a grandbaby, and you and I will be golden."

"I'm working on it."

"Yeah, I heard that for myself, Daddy," she says sarcastically.

I grin unashamed. I'll never be embarrassed about anything that Mo and I do.

A throat clears, and we both look up.

"He made it."

Gemma grins, and I gently rock the girls to wake them.

"Wait, they're doing the crow thing now?" Tara whispers.

"Another comment like that, and I'll forget you just helped save my grandchild," Gemma snaps.

"Journee is me wife and me old lady." I glance down at Lee, who's blinking up at me before I direct the wide smile I know gets under people's skin at Tara.

"And I'll let Leelove inform you about her new position."

"Whas going on, Daddy?" Journee whispers.

"Abel made it through the first surgery, loves," I whisper.

They're out of my arms and jumping up and down like a pair of high school cheerleaders.

"He's not out of the woods yet," Tara cautions.

The girls turn to her with a look of disgust.

"Always the buzzkill," Lee mumbles.

Tara clears her throat. "Wendy Case is also awake."

"Trust me. You don't want us to go see Wendy right now," Gemma says.

"She's going to need support to beat this—."

The girls look at each other and burst out laughing.

Tara's face falls.

"Ya have ta want help t'get it. Yew've missed a lot. So yer speaking on things ya Cannae understand."

"We're talking about decent human kindness," Tara says, exasperated.

"There are so many things you've grown out of touch with Knowles. I'd list them for you, but we've got far better things to do right now," Gemma says as her fingers fly over the keyboard. My phone vibrates, and I know she's sent a club update.

When my phone begins to ring, Mo huffs and pouts.

"Yeah?"

"Time for church, Chibby. We learned a few things," Tig says.

"On my way in. Bring the girls?" I ask.

Gemma shakes her head. "We have got to get a handle on Jax's house for important reasons."

I nod my head. "Need you to send a prospect to Jax's old house for the girls."

"He'll be waiting for them," Tig says.

"Appreciate it, Tigger."

"You know they're my girls too."

"Aye. I know." I disconnect.

"Duty calls, ladies, but there'll be a prospect awaiting your arrival.

"The one who doesn't eat meat?" Gemma wrinkles her nose.

"I don't trust a man who doesn't eat meat. Don't patch him in."

"I'll keep that in mind when it comes time to vote."

"Always liked you, Scottie."

"Such a suck-up," Journee teases.

I wink at her. Cupping the back of her neck, I pull her into a kiss. I savor her taste and softness before I pull away.

"One of us will come to bring you home if the prospect doesn't. yeah?"

"Yes, Daddy."

I pat her ass. "There's a good lass."

"Fill me in on my grandson before we leave, Knowles," Gemma says, taking her aside as I pull away for Mo.

"Stay safe, Filip."

"Always Mo Astor."

Church is a different experience now that I have something more than the club and its secrets to protect. I know retaliation is coming with the Mayans, and now with Wendy's bullshit, we're looking into the Nords. It's like placing a fucking target on my back, and yet, I can't show the way I feel in any way. Not at the table in front of mixed company. The Nords only have about sixteen guys, but with their leader, Darby, out of jail and ready to make his presence known, we're looking at brawn over brain action happening. We've turned a blind eye to the meth labs they run out of Lodi, but that was when they sold to truckers and Hispanic gangs. This is hitting too close to home.

"How's his guy doing?" Clay asks.

I focus back on the conversation going on around me.

"Fractured cheek, broken nose, left nut swinging solo." Juicy informs us with a smirk.

"Yes, it was beautiful!" I crow. "That's my boy!" I let the laughter I don't feel flow. I'm damn used to pretending.

"He's lucky he's breathing," Jackie boy growls. I know he means every word.

"So, uh, any luck up north?" Clay asks, turning his attention to Happy, who we'd called in to try to replace our missing hardware.

"Tacoma can help with the Glocks, but there's no M4s anywhere. Washington State, Oregon, Nevada, nobody's got stock, man."

Fucking perfect.

"We'll have all the Mayan intel by the morning. We'll get our guns back." Jax says, turning to look at Juicy.

Juice nods.

They downplay how much good he's done for our club but without him, we'd still be in the dark playing guessing games.

They start to conclude with treasury talk and other bullshit.

I'm counting down until I can get home to my wife.

"All right, all right. Anything else?" Clay asks. Finally.

"Yeah, I, uh, just wanna say to Jackson on a club level," Piney begins. I sit up. He doesn't do speeches often. "The Sons of Anarchy, the Redwood Original, is here for you. Your father would be proud of the man you've become, you know. Every time I see you sitting at this table, well, I do a double-take at you."

"It's probably just the weed Pop," Opie says, lightening the mood.

Piney gives a chuckle. "Probably. I mean, he's... Anyway, whatever you need, son, it's yours." The man's old school. He understands what loyalty means. For people like him and me, the club is about the family we've chosen for ourselves, not the bullshit that comes with it.

"Thank you, Piney. Thanks, boys," Jax says. I nod my head at him. He knows all he has to do is ask me.

"Meeting closed."

Now I pay my dues, shoot the shit, and bide my time. The clubhouse doesn't hold the same lure it used to.

"What the hell is that smell?" Clay asks.

"I don't know. God, if I know. I smell it too," Bobby says.

I tense up. The last thing we need to do is find a fucking dead Crow. With the way they do drugs, it's happened before.

They walk around sniffing. Clay comes to the pool table. Shit. Which one is it this time? Peggy's been hitting the coke pretty hard for someone her age.

"It's that box," Clay says.

"What is it?" Bobby asks.

"I don't know," Clay says. Clay opens the box, and the scent rushes toward us.

I gag when I see the decapitated deer head.

What the feck is this horse shite?

"Hey, that's mine."

Oh, for fucks sake.

I shake my head as my damn prospect rushes over, proud as shit, and lifts the rotting head up.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Bobby asks, covering his nose and mouth. Even Piney, with his oxygen tubes, tries to plug up his nostrils.

"No, I just—You know, I thought it was like a surprise. We could mount it in the club. You know, like on the wall.

"It's gotta be stuffed and treated, you idiot," Jax says.

"Yeah, I know, I just... Stuffed with what?" he asks. Fucking hell, why am I in charge of this blundering idiot? Assholes assigned him to me while I was on me honeymoon with Mo Astor. Jealous, vindictive bastards.

"Got a real winner there," Jax says.

"Feck off." I nudge him playfully with my elbow, and he gives me a small smile.

"Jax."

"Gotta go, Duty calls," He says, nodding his head toward Clay.

"Good speed, brother."

I join Tig at the bar, positioned where I can watch Jax. He's not himself right now, and he's got a lot to lose.