Hanna danced around Gemma's kitchen in an oversized t-shirt and Nike shorts, while she waited for the microwave to heat up their pasta. "At least one of us is in a good mood," Gemma muttered. She poured them each a large glass of wine.

Hanna shrugged, and pulled the dish out of the microwave. She scooped them each up a plate of baked ziti and carried them over to the table. "You and Juice doing good?" Gemma fished, and pushed Hanna's glass over. The blonde bobbed her head as she reached for her wine. "Does he tell you everything? About the club."

"Most of it. At least the important shit," Hanna told her. She didn't mention their last conversation about the Zobelle vote. It wasn't worth it to get Gemma worked up, especially if the vote fell in Jax's favor.

"That's good. With some girls, they can get away with keeping secrets," Gemma said, shaking her head. "But not you. You're like me. We've got to know what's going on with our boys. Keep him honest, Han. It's the only way you can take care of him."

"He's a big boy, he doesn't need me to take care of him."

Gemma scoffed. "Trust me, they all need taking care of. Get your practice in with this one. Eventually you'll have them all to worry about, and it won't be as easy with the rest of them."

Hanna raised an eyebrow. "That sounds an awful like being queen. I think you're mentoring the wrong girl." Though she might be an old lady, Juice would never be president of SAMCRO. She'd never have the responsibility of mothering the club on her shoulders, that would fall to Tara.

"Look, Tara is growing on me. But for her, being a doctor will always come before being an old lady."

"Well, she does save kids' lives for a living," Hanna muttered.

"Someone will have to pick up the slack when she can't."

Hanna bit her lip. "I'm still not sure how much longer I'll be in Charming. I'm waiting to hear back on a few permanent positions in the city. I might be going soon."

Gemma shot her a skeptical look. "Don't kid yourself."

"Juice might come with me," Hanna murmured.

"Even if he did, could you really leave the rest of them? Tig, Bobby, Tara and me? How about your sister?"

"Tris is doing better," Hanna said quickly, taking control of the conversation and steering it in a different direction. "She started seeing a therapist a few weeks ago, and it's done wonders. For months all she would do was go to school, go to choir practice, and then come home. But I took her to Lodi, the first time she'd gotten out just to do something fun since it happened. It's good to see her being a kid again, you know?"

Gemma nodded, looking uncomfortable with the subject matter, but Hanna kept pushing. "You thought about talking to someone? If not Tara or me, then someone else. Shrinks are paid to listen to your problems, and keep them to themselves. Plus, I hear some of them have good drugs."

Gemma barked out a sharp laugh. "Tara forced me into seeing one at the hospital. I'd rather be water boarded than sit through that again."

"Was this before or after you broke her nose?" Hanna asked. The corner of Gemma's mouth turned up in a smirk. "Bet you had fun with that."

"Stress reliever."

"Next time maybe try relieving your stress on an inanimate object. That's what us emotionally stable people do."

"I'm not sure emotionally stable people call themselves that," Gemma pointed out.

"Fair point." She shrugged. "Guess you have to be a little fucked up to stay in Charming."

"Just a little." Gemma pushed back from the table. "More wine?"

"Always."

OoOoO

It was the shots that drew Hanna outside of Caracara. Luann had offered her the day off, but Hanna had refused. She needed to work. If she didn't keep busy, she'd go crazy. She and Gemma had been half asleep when they'd gotten the call. There'd been a car bomb, and Chibs was in critical condition. The girls had been at the hospital with the club all night. No one had gotten any sleep.

Hanna crossed the parking lot to where Tara and Gemma were taking out their frustrations on a poster. Tara fired another bullet, hitting the bottom of the poster by a narrow margin. "You two are out here having fun and no one thought to invite me?" Hanna called.

Tara and Gemma turned, both looking significantly happier than the last time she saw them. "Come on, city girl, show us what you got," Gemma said, waving her over.

Hanna joined them, and Tara offered up her handgun. The blonde shook her head and pulled her own Glock 21. Tara raised an eyebrow. Hanna turned toward their makeshift target, narrowed her eyes, and shot straight through the model's eye. "Jesus Christ, where did you learn to shoot like that?" Tara asked.

"I may be a city girl now, but don't forget my father is a card carrying Republican who loves guns, Jesus, and classism."

Tara's eyebrows knitted together. "Don't you mean racism?"

"Oh, no. Upper-class Republicans from California are far too evolved to be outwardly racist. Not that it stops the microagressions. But blatant classism? Hell yes. Who needs poor people, am I right?" Hanna said, tone dripping with sarcasm. Gemma snorted. "But, yeah, I grew up hunting. Other than horses, it was the only thing Elliot and I could bond over."

They took a few more turns shooting up the poster, before Gemma finally replaced it with a new one. "How're you holding up?" Tara asked. "You took off this morning."

"Couldn't sit there anymore," Hanna muttered. "I hate hospitals."

"Juice and Chibs are close, aren't they?"

"Like the dad he never had," Hanna confirmed. "He went back to T-M, I think we both just needed to work and get our minds off it for a while."

"You ever regret staying?"

"Never." It wasn't even a lie. With every day, Hanna forgot why she'd wanted to leave in the first place. She found friends here, a family even. They were her people now, and she couldn't imagine life without them.

"It settles down," Gemma reassured them. "You remember, Hanna? How it gets sometimes, down right boring?"

Hanna hummed as she recalled all the ways they found to fill the time. "Boring sounds nice right about now."

A car pulled up near them, and the women watched as Ima stepped out. Her hair looked as if she'd just gotten a perm, and it bounced as she turned to look at them. Tara raised her gun, giving the cylinder a spin. Ima locked her car and took off, a panicked look on her face. Tara giggled. "That was fun."

"You're gonna love this," Gemma said, pulling her gun and walking toward the car. She stopped to shoot out the back tire, and turned to flash a grin at the other women over her shoulder. Tara covered her mouth to hide her laughter, but quickly took the opportunity to put three bullet holes in the passenger door. Hanna laughed and shot out the window. Then it was a free for all, the girls shooting until they ran out of bullets in their guns. They devolved into laughter, leaning against each other to keep from falling over.

"God damn, I needed that," Hanna said, through her laughter. Tara nodded her agreement.

Gemma laughed. "You shoot pretty good for a city bitch."

"Fuck you," Hanna said, attempting to keep a straight face. But they burst into a fresh round of laughter, much to the confusion of the crowd that had gathered to watch them shoot up Ima's car from the porch. "You know what else I could use? Bourbon."

Gemma gave a definitive nod. "Hell yes, this is the kind of therapy I approve of."

OoOoO

"Three million," Tara repeated, staring blankly at the wall. "Where the fuck are we going to get that kind of money?"

Just when they thought the might have one night of peace; they'd gotten the call. SAMCRO had moved on Zobelle, only they'd gotten bad intel. Instead of raiding a white power meeting, they'd crashed a church gathering, guns blazing. Over half the club was sitting in county, awaiting a trial that had yet to be scheduled, with a seven-figure bail.

"300 grand with a bondsman," Hanna reminded her, leaning against Gemma's dining room table.

"Still."

Gemma looked at Hanna who shook her head aggressively. "I have money, but not that much money. I might be able to get 50k, the rest of my cash is tied up in investments." The blonde tossed her phone back and forth between her hands, while she thought.

"If Gemma and I put up our houses…" Tara trailed off.

"Maybe it's enough to get our three boys out, but you know they won't leave anyone behind. It's too dangerous, they don't have protection in there."

"Fuck!" Gemma shouted, shoving a stack of magazines off the counter.

Hanna looked at her phone again. "I know someone who has the money."

Tara and Gemma looked at her for a moment, before it dawned on them who she meant. "That's a big favor to ask of someone who doesn't even want you around the club," Tara pointed out.

Hanna groaned. "It's not like I have a choice. We have to get them out of there."

Gemma nodded. "Do it."

Hanna took a deep breath and made the call. Elliot answered on the second ring. "Hey, kid. You coming into the office today? Heather filled me in; the gala planning is looking great. You've done a good job."

"Thanks, daddy," she said, putting on her sweetest voice. Tara made a face like she was gagging. "I'll come by later."

There was silence on the other end for a moment, while Elliot processed Hanna's demeanor. "What do you want, Hanna?"

"It's the boys, they were arrested last night," Hanna explained. "Someone has to put up bail and Gemma can't afford it."

"How much?" Elliot asked, not beating around the bush.

Hanna shot a panicked look at the other women. "Three hundred against three mil."

Elliot choked. "Say that again? I could've sworn you said three million." Hanna was silent, letting him take it all in. "I don't have that kind of cash just laying around, I'd have to mortgage the land."

"You'll get it back," Hanna assured him. "Besides, it's seven guys, of course it isn't going to be cheap, but we can't leave them in there. Look, I'll come by the office, explain everything. You'll see that what they did was for the good of Charming."

Elliot just let out a long sigh. "I can't do this, Hanna."

"I'll be there in a hour," she said, ignoring him. Hanna blew a kiss into the phone. "Love you, daddy. See you soon!"

Tara and Gemma watched her expectantly. Hanna shook her head. Their faces fell. "No, no sad faces. I'll bring him around. Give me some time, I need to talk to him."

Gemma and Tara shared a look, but finally Gemma nodded. "Alright. We have to do this, Hanna. Somehow."

"Believe me, I know. My man is in there too."

OoOoO

Tristen's choir practice was just coming to an end, when Hanna walked through the large double doors at the far end of the sanctuary. The younger girl's eyes lit up and Hanna waved. From the middle row of pews, Elliot turned to see his eldest daughter. His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed.

Hanna joined him, sliding into the empty seat to his right. "The office told me you were here."

"We don't have anything to talk about, Hanna. I already told you, I can't put up that kind of money. I'm sorry."

"I wouldn't be asking you this if it weren't important," she reasoned. "You know damn well I don't like acknowledging when I need help." Elliot snorted. "They can't stay in there, you heard what happened to Otto, right?"

"I wish I could help, really I do. But if I want to run for mayor next term, I can't have this on my record. It looks bad."

"This town needs SAMCRO, and they know it. If you help them out, you won't be the person who let out the outlaws, you'll be the person who helped push Ethan Zobelle out of Charming."

Elliot shook his head, but Hanna knew he was considering it. He hated Zobelle as much as any of them. "I agree that Zobelle is bad for this town, but Hanna, I can't get in the middle of this one. Not right now."

The pew shook as Tristen skipped over to join them. She leaned down to hug her older sister around the neck. "Are you here to pick me up? It's dad's day to take me home."

"I know, I actually came by to see him," Hanna told her. Tristen glanced between the two of them, reading the tension. Hanna preempted her question, with an answer, "We're fine."

Tristen bit her lip as she decided whether or not to let the obvious lie slide. Finally she nodded. "Are you busy this weekend? There's a movie I want to see."

"Something PG-13, I'm sure," Elliot muttered. "You only ask Hanna to take you places when it's something Karen won't like."

"I can see PG-13 movies if I want to, I am thirteen," Tristen reminded him, in her best haughty tone. Hanna laughed at how similar she sounded to herself at that age. "Almost fourteen."

"A month and a half," Elliot said, with a shake of his head.

Tristen turned her attention back to her sister. "So, this weekend?"

Hanna nodded. "Maybe, there's a lot going on right now, but I'll see if I can get away."

"Juice too," Tristen insisted.

Elliot and Hanna shared a look. The blonde turned back to Tristen. "Probably not, Tris. He got picked up last night, not sure when he'll be out." Hanna's eyes darted toward Elliot, and back again.

"Arrested?" Tristen clarified. Hanna nodded and the younger girl chewed on her lip again. "That's why you're here, you need money to get him out."

"Yeah, and a few of the other guys too." Hanna shook her head, and tried to stay upbeat. Tristen didn't need to be dragged into this. "But I'll see if I can make time to take you to the movies this weekend."

Tristen shook her head. "Don't worry about it." She leaned down to give Hanna another, longer hug, and kissed her on the cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too, Tris."

"Grab your stuff, Tristen. We've got to get home for dinner, Karen's making pot roast." Elliot glanced over at Hanna. "Will you be joining us?"

Before Hanna could answer, her phone rang. She slid out of the pew and took a few steps away. "Hello?

"Is this Hanna Donnelly?" The woman on the other end asked.

"Yes?" The word more question than confirmation.

"This is Stockton Memorial. Juan Carlos Ortiz listed you as his emergency contact." Hanna felt her heart drop into her stomach. "He was stabbed. There's minimal damage to his internal organs, but the doctors were worried about infection. He's been brought here for treatment."

Hanna ran her fingers through her hair. "Can I visit?"

The woman on the other end hummed for a moment, while she flipped through papers. "Yes, I believe he'll be allowed visitors this evening."

"Good, um, I'll be there soon. Thanks for letting me know."

"Have a nice day, Ms. Donnelly."

Hanna flicked her phone closed and stared at it for a moment. "What's wrong?" Tristen asked, returning with her backpack.

"Juice is in the hospital," she murmured.

"Is he alright?" Elliot asked. The concern in his voice made Hanna sick to her stomach.

"Well, he's not dead. So it could be worse," she snapped, turning to face him. "He should've been on his way home, safe. If you'd just given me the money this morning, this wouldn't have happened. He could have died. That would have been on you."

"I had no way of knowing-"

"No way of knowing?" Hanna repeated incredulously. Tristen stood blank faced, watching them. "It's prison, not fucking summer camp. They aren't safe, and you knew that! If I hadn't been worried about them, I wouldn't have asked you."

"It's not my responsibility to take care of your bikers. They are criminals, Hanna. I have a business to think about, a family who relies on me. I can't–"

"You can't look out for me too?" Hanna asked, exasperated. "I'm your daughter!" Angry tears stung at her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. "The man I love almost died today, so I've got to go see him. Like it or not, those bikers are my family. Some us actually care about our families instead of just pretending to." Hanna turned and marched out the door, without another glance back, leaving Elliot and Tristen staring after her.