"Jax, get in here."

Jax looked up from the pool shot he had been lining up to see Piney and Tig exiting the chapel. Tig looked uncertain and when he looked at Piney, the old man just gave him a pitying look that made his stomach clench.

He knew he'd been fucking up in the month that Tara had left Charming, or more to the point, him. She hadn't even given thought to any school around Charming so she could stay close to him.

Over the last month he'd constantly replayed the last six months with Tara in his head. He could now see that she had been slowly but surely distancing herself from him. Hell, she hadn't even asked him if he wanted to go with her. And the answer that he had given himself fucked him up even more. He'd been sure that Tara was the love of his life, but when he put the question to himself, would he have left with her, the answer was no. And he had been so obsessed with trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong that he'd been half-assing both his club and garage responsibilities.

He laid the pool cue on the table, signaling his forfeiture of the game to Chibs and headed towards the chapel. Chibs gave him a quick clap on the shoulder as he passed him by.

Clay closed the door behind them and gestured for him to sit in Piney's VP chair. As he sat down, he fumbled for the pack of cigarettes in his Prospect cut. Shaking one out, he looked up at Clay who looked both unhappy and concerned. Not a good combo.

Before his step-father could say a damn word, he pre-empted the man. "I know I've been fuckin' up, Clay." Looking at the older man's steel blue eyes and granite jaw. "I'll get it together. It's just..." Trying to find a way to explain that he was losing his shit over a girl.

Clay raised a hand. "Yeah. You have been fuckin' up. So far it hasn't been too bad or nothin' that isn't an easy fix." Clay took a minute to light a cigar. Taking advantage of the moment, he lit his own cigarette, the first blast of nicotine and tobacco seemingly loosening his chest.

After exhaling the cigar smoke, Clay went on. "But that won't be the case forever. You need to get your head on straight." Instead of looking directly at Clay, his eyes tracked the combined smoke of the cigar and cigarette as it curled up to the ceiling. He finally looked at Clay who was puffing on his stogie while studying him. Clay sighed. "So here's what's gonna happen." Clay sat the cigar in the ashtray and leaned towards him. It took a lot not to scoot back. "You're gonna go on a walk-about and get your shit together. When you're ready, you come back and we'll trade that Prospect cut for a real patch."

He sat there, absolutely fucking stunned. He was being told to leave? His home? His family? Other than a short stint in Juvie, and even there he had Ope, he'd never been away from his family or the club, well, ever. He really wasn't sure if what he was feeling was fear or excitement.

Clay must have understood the myriad of emotions that must have crossed his face before he could school it back to the cocksure arrogance that he usually cloaked himself in. The sternness softened and Clay reached over to grip his shoulder. "You act like I'm runnin' you out of town on a rail. That ain't it son." Clay grinned. "I'm tellin' you to take some time and figure shit out before you get yourself or any of the rest of us hurt." Clay shook his head ruefully. "Go see some of the country. Get wasted. Fuck some girls that aren't croweaters, sweetbutts or strippers. Just spend a little time existing."

He released the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. Basically Clay was telling him to go take a road trip and sow some oats. That actually didn't sound all that bad. Spend some time just bein' him. Not JT or Gemma's son. Or Clay's step-son. Not Thomas's older brother. Get past not being Tara's boyfriend. Could be cool. Too bad Ope couldn't go with. Donna bein' knocked up kinda put the kibosh on even askin'.

Looking back over to Clay who was now sitting back, relaxed, in the chair that had belonged to his father since the day the club was founded until his death a little over two years earlier, he nodded. "Does Mom know about this or do I get to break it to her?"

Clay smirked a little. "You're off the hook. I'm sure as shit neither brave nor crazy enough to suggest something like this without..." Clay chuckled. "Let's call it consulting, her first."

He snickered a little at the thought of that conversation. Gemma Teller-Morrow was a formidable woman to say the least. He loved his Mom, but had to admit the idea of time without her meddling or trying to meddle in nearly every aspect of his life would be, well, awesome. She lived for SAMCRO and sometimes it felt like it was the only acceptable option in her eyes. He loved the irony of it. Most mothers worried about their sons becoming criminals. His worried that he and his brother wouldn't. A little nuts, right?

Clay arched an eyebrow. "Yeah. You're welcome."

"Guessing she wasn't too gung-ho about the idea?" Not that he was expecting her to jump up and down with joy, but he wondered how bad she actually took the idea of the walkabout.

Clay shrugged. "Not thrilled, no. But she understands." Clay smiled. "Plus, she's still got Thomas to keep in check. So, it's not like she won't have enough on her plate."

Wasn't that just the fuckin' truth? His younger brother had turned seventeen back in November and decided he was done bein' the baby. Thomas announced he was quitting school and was gonna prospect for the club. He'd tried to talk some goddamned sense into his brother, telling Thomas that Dad wouldn't have wanted Thomas to quit school to prospect for the club. That could wait 'til he had a diploma.

But of course Gemma overruled him, refusing to even talk about it. So his brother had dropped the fuck out and was prospecting for the club and working at the garage with the rest of them. But with all of it, Thomas also dove head first into the 'sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll' portion of the MC life. Not that he was against any of those things by any stretch of the imagination, but it was driving Gemma crazy. Which in turn, meant that he was driven crazy. Why she thought that an almost nineteen-year-old should police his seventeen-year-old brother was beyond him. Well, not really.

He got it. Thomas was her baby and since surviving a childhood of ill health and a couple of near death experiences, Gemma clung to Thomas just a little tighter than she did him, and Thomas played it for all it was worth. It didn't bother him now as much as it had when they were younger. Now that he was older, and in the couple of years since their father died, he's seen the more manipulative side of their mother and even though he pushes it aside, he's started to feel a little wary around her at times.

Of course his Mom would blame Tara for his evolving feelings about her, instead of looking at her own behavior. Like marrying Clay. Yeah, Clay and his Mom had always been close, had always gotten along well, but sometimes he was sure that she'd hooked up with and subsequently married Clay to keep her place as Queen of SAMCRO, and to assure that him and Thomas would take the leadership of SAMCRO as the birthright she saw it to be. Sometimes it really felt damn near Shakespearean. Last year, in his senior English class they had read 'Hamlet'. That fucking play hit far too close to home for his tastes.

Clay cleared his throat, dragging him out of his head. He seemed to do that more lately, retreat into his own head, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. Fuck, Clay wasn't wrong. He needed to get his shit together and he really wasn't gonna be able to do that here.

He glanced over at his step-father, who had a knowing look in his eyes. "You gettin' it now, son?"

Feeling some heat on his cheekbones, he nodded. "Yeah. Guess my head's been anywhere but here lately. Maybe some time alone is a good idea." He gave Clay a grateful smile. "Thanks for not bein' a dick about all this."

Clay chuckled a little. "You're welcome." Then the chuckles stopped. "But if this shit keeps up after you come back, you'll find out how big of a dick I can be."

He swallowed. He was quite aware of how dangerous Clay could be and what a prick the man was when provoked. I wasn't something he really cared to experience first-hand. "Gotcha."

Clay slid his chair back and got up. "Let's get home and let your Mom and Thomas know you're going. You could probably get underway in the next couple of days."

He gave Clay a slightly incredulous look. He didn't think he was that under the gun to get gone. He wanted a little time to get somewhat of an idea of a plan together.

Clay shook his head with an understated chuckle. "The sooner you go son, the sooner you come back and get that patch."

He smiled slow and easy at that idea. "Hell yeah."

A/N: For those waiting for the SPN crossover, that's a couple of chapters away, but have no fear, the Winchesters are coming! Thanks to all who have favorited and followed! Please feel free to leave any comments, concerns or constructive criticisms! -Kat