Denise realized that it was for the best that people first learned to walk when they were babies, at a time that would fade from their memory soon enough - because, frankly, learning to walk was embarrassing. You tripped, you fell. You felt confident, and still fell. The experience of having to practically learn it all over again was - humbling, if you were being tactful, and humiliating if you were being realistic.
Juice had been a trooper about things, and Jax had not hesitated in letting Juice off the hook for the occasional run when it came to a choice between the club and one of Denise's physical therapy sessions. Constantly dodging pillows being thrown became a source of relief for Juice, even if he didn't always get out of the way in time, because the fact that his wife was strong enough to throw them in the first place was amazing. It was a good sign, even if it came in the form of her being royally pissed at him.
It was a full two weeks before Denise could take steps mostly unaided and eat on her own, but she was soon given the thumbs up to go home, so long as she committed herself to continuing her recovery - to actually resting. Hearing the news, Lyla had been the first to put together a welcome home party in the Ortiz home, with everyone there to greet Denise like a hero returning home from war - but no alcohol, Lyla insisted, because as much as they all could have used a drink, Denise couldn't have one, and if she was going to have to suffer through sobriety, then everyone else had to as well.
The big 'surprise!' when Denise walked in the door, however, caused her to flinch visibly, glancing around the room - she smiled, but lingered near the door, staring around at everyone while Juice held her by the crook of the arm, making sure she was okay on her feet.
"Wow," she said with a nervous laugh. "I - wow. I... I just... I need some... air..."
She gently pulled her arm away from Juice and retreated back inside, and Wendy, seeing the concerned expression on Abel's face at his Aunt Deedee's sudden exit, gently stepped forward through the crowd and grabbed a hold of Juice's forearm before he walked out the door after her.
"Let me try talkin' to her, yeah?" she asked gently. Juice paused appraisingly before nodding, and Wendy slowly headed out to the porch, where Denise had retreated to a corner, looking out at the street with her arms crossed over herself in the cold air. "Hey, Deedee," she said, reaching out and placing a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "A little too much excitement for one day?"
Denise gave a choked laugh, shaking her head and wiping at her eyes, unable to turn around and look at Wendy in shame of the fact that she was actually crying right now. "I'm sorry. It's - it's not the party. God, I'm such a diva," she laughed, shaking her head. "It's just - coming back into the house, back into that living room, know that that's where it happened," she admitted, shrugging in defeat. "It's not even that I remember that I almost died in there. But this whole time, every time I close my eyes, I imagine her, standing over my baby's bed and actually considering hurting her. I think about Abel coming in and seeing that. And I was there and I didn't do anything."
Wendy felt Denise's shoulders shake, and gently draped her arm across her shoulders, squeezing gently. "It's not about that anymore. This is your home," Wendy insisted. "This is your home, and in there? That's your family. You didn't ask for any of this, and you're not to blame for it - you gotta take all of this back. It's yours, not Gemma's," Wendy insisted. For a moment, Denise's breaths seemed to hitch, to stop completely, before she finally turned around and pulled Wendy into a hug that caught her by surprise, making her pause a brief second before reciprocating. "It's okay, sweetie. It's okay. You're home now - that's your family, and those are your friends in there. Lyla even says the boys agreed to no beer, just for you. Now if that doesn't say love to you..."
Wendy pulled back and smirk in Denise's direction. "There's a party in there waiting for its guest of honor. C'mon."
Denise took a few more breaths before allowing Wendy to go ahead, holding the door for her as she made her way in. Seeing the calmed expression on her face, Lyla finally launched over and placed her hands on Denise's shoulders, leading her into the room. "You're a stick bug," Lyla said, glancing her friend over with a raised eyebrow as she led her over to the food table, which the men had clearly helped themselves to. "Ellie and I made most of this -"
"You cooked, Ly?" Oh, God," Denise laughed with a lopsided grin. "Those tube-feeding sound pretty good right about now, where -"
"Hey, excuse me, Ma'am," Lyla smirked, knowing how much the woman hated Brucey's term of respect for her. "I'll have you know that I worked very hard on the cooking -"
"You read Ellie the recipe and she cooked."
"Exactly."
"But I made these!" Abel said, hurrying forward and holding out a plate of decorated cookies - they were meant to be Christmas trees, but they had ended up colored in whatever manner Abel had felt like, and the bright, creamy frosting covered the fact that some of them were, indeed, very burnt. "Auntie Lyla helped me put 'em in the oven -"
"It looks like Auntie Lyla almost forget to help you take 'em out of them oven, buddy," Jax said coming over and scooping up his son so Denise didn't have to crouch over to grab one of the cookies off of the platter in Abel's hands. 'Good thing you got all those sprinkles on there to cover 'em up, huh?"
"Yeah!" Abel said with an excited grin. "Here, try one!"
Denise, of course, was a pro at this by now - at the art of blurring the line between actually liking something, and passing enough to make sure Abel wasn't discouraged by the fact that his sugar cookies looked a little bit like charcoal, covered in paint. At this point, Abel could have made her a milkshake made of rocks and mud, and Denise could have still convincingly said that it was the best she'd ever had.
"And there's more!"
Lyla waved towards the hallway, where Brucey and Flick were standing, and the pair of them on Lyla's command escorted out Thomas and Sofia - with Sofia still being carried by Brucey, dressed in little elf costumes.
"Please don't tell me you borrowed those from one of your sets to put on my baby," Denise laughed, earning a playful jab in the ribs from Lyla. Thomas hobbled over staring down at the small, pointed shoes on his feet adorned with a bell on each end, kicking his feet exaggeratedly to make them jingle loudly. Denise reached out and hugged Lyla warmly.
"Welcome home, Deedee," Lyla smiled, laughing and leaning into the shorter woman's embrace. "We missed you."
Denise spent the rest of the afternoon entertained by the fact that the boys treated her like she was made of porcelain. Happy, for one, would scoot the entire coffee table away when Denise got up to walk, as though bumping in to the corner might break her in half. Chibs made sure she got up as little as possible to begin with, stopping her and asking what she needed before she could rise fully to her feet. For the entire party, Denise felt strangely at ease, despite the fact that the house was crowded and loud and hot - it was only once things had cleaned up and everyone had left that she really had a moment to think about things.
"Christmas is already next week," she said with a tired smile while she and Juice sat on the couch with Sofia nestled into her father's arms - they were alone now as a family, for the first time literally in weeks, and now, in the dim hues of sunset streaming in through the window, Denise was indeed very glad to still be alive. "I dropped the ball on this one. Our first Christmas as a family and I haven't done a thing -"
"We've got a week," Juice said with a lopsided grin, wrapping his arm around Denise and pulling her closer to him, his expression calm, but at the same time, still in disbelief that despite all of his shortcomings, he had somehow been granted a chance to have his family here again. "Baby, I promise you - you are gonna have the most kicka-"
"Language."
"The most kickbutt Christmas you have ever had," Juice finished smoothly. "That's a grade-A, Juan Carlos Ortiz promise."
"Let's have Christmas here," Denise spoke up suddenly - and Juice felt a sudden, almost ripping sensation. On one hand, he knew this trick. She wanted to host Christmas to prove that she was okay, that she could take care of everyone instead of the other way around, and with Christmas coming up in a week, Juice wasn't sure if Denise would be able to handle it so soon. On the other hand, however, there was the fact that he wanted his wife to do things that made her happy - and because the pull of the latter impulse was so strong, he conceded. Besides, he thought to himself when Denise gave a small satisfied grin and nestled back into his side to rest, clearly exhausted already from the day's events - allowing Denise to take over the job of making dinners, of being Mama, was the next logical step in exorcising Gemma from their lives - and that was what they needed. Even if they stood no chance at changing anything else, even if Marks and the Triads were a force that couldn't be beaten, purging Gemma Teller's influence from their lives would be, in Juice's mind, a small victory at least.
Gemma was beginning to wonder if she might have preferred the bare walls of a mental hospital - it was almost Christmas, she remembered. And instead of being surrounded by kids, by family, by decorations and the scent of pine, she was in a room that was generic, emotionless, and decorated like a hotel room.
"I guess now is a bad time to bring you the good news."
Gemma looked up to see Jarry in the doorway - because August and Charles were both occupied with the business end of things, it was Althea Jarry who was charged with keeping an eye on the former SAMCRO matriarch, and she took snide pleasure in her duties. She needn't have bothered keeping such close watch, Gemma conceded. It wasn't as if she had anywhere else to run anymore.
"Juice's wife is home. They said a Miss Wendy Case has been helping her around the house," Jarry said, sauntering around the sofa in the room to stand in front of Gemma's perch in one of the armchairs. Gemma sneered, putting down the magazine she had been pretending to be interested in while Jarry continued speaking. "And my sources tell me she's doing great, if that matters to you, She's even making Christmas dinner. Didn't that used to be... your job?"
The smile on Jarry's lips awakened the urge in Gemma to slap her again, but she didn't feel motivated to get up and waste the effort. "Yeah," she answered sullenly. "It did."
"Well," Jarry smirked, crossing her arms over herself. "It looks like they've really got no use for you anymore. Imagine that," Jarry said, leaning close to Gemma. To an outsider, it was very much like a child feeling overconfident at the zoo, poking fun at a bear in a cage. "Mama Teller disappears and the world goes right on turning -"
And finally, Gemma had gotten fed up with her taunting, reaching out and grabbing a fistfull of Jarry's hair, slapping the side of her face down against the nearby table. Gemma released her hold, allowing Jarry to get up and clutch the side of her face, nursing her bleeding lip. Gemma gave a small smirk of satisfaction.
"I guess you wouldn't know how I'm feeling. Sweetheart," Gemma said, rounding on Jarry and condescendingly reaching out to gently touch the side of the younger woman's face. "Maybe they don't need me now - but no one's ever needed you at all. You're a has been. And no matter how hard you try, you'll always just be that Lady Cop who tried to clean up my town and failed. The Police Pussy that Chibs got tired of. That's all you are, honey."
Jarry sneered, still clutching her face with one hand and swatting Gemma away with the other. Her eyes still narrowed in anger, she headed back for the door.
"Thanks for comin' to see me, sweetheart," Gemma called after her. "Merry fucking Christmas!"
A/N's
Merry Christmas indeed. Speaking of which, the next chapter will contain (among other things) the SAMCRO family Christmas party, which I'm still putting the finishing touches on. It's going to be mostly lighthearted, because it's about that time of year and I'm using my author's discretion to say that I want to include a little bit of fluff!
It was such a strange experience, having a Tuesday with no SOns of Anarchy to wait up for, but I'm not having any serious withdrawals. I think writing has been a huge part of me gradually tapering down from the series. It makes writing some parts a little tough, because we're inching closer to the part of the story where more people are gonna start suffering - and I have some plans for a couple of these guys. So, enjoy the nice, easy pace of things while it lasts!
I wanted to extend a special thank you to all of you for being so generous with your reviews, and I'm so glad that you're enjoying the story! Sometimes, I consider posting longer updates, less often, but I just love the feel of making each chapter feel like a short episode, with a little bit of everything. How do you guys feel about the updates? I'm always open to suggestions! Until next time, cheers!