Despite her insistence that the headache would be kicked and she'd be back on her feet within a couple of hours, Denise woke up the next morning by herself in the guest bedroom at the Teller home, having gotten the most restful night of sleep that she'd had in weeks. She'd slept straight through the night and clear until it was light out, and Jax, to his credit, had somehow managed to watch all three of the resident SAMCRO rugrats - Abel, Tommy, and Sofia - and keep them from disturbing her all night. So, when she stirred and stretched her way out to the kitchen, she found them all sitting at the table for breakfast, with Abel very responsibly trying to feed Sofia, who sat in one of Tommy's old high chairs.
"Hey, buddy, you can put a little more food on the spoon than that," Jax nodded at him while he reached over and cut up the scrambled eggs on Tommy's Monsters Inc. plate. Denise gave a chuckle, crossing her arms over herself as she watched Jax actually playing Daddy - he'd come a long way, for sure. He'd sure as hell been trying to do a better job of juggling the club and his family.
If only, Denise thought with a slight souring of her expression, Wendy had seen that too.
Jax looked up at Denise and nodded in greeting, glancing over at Abel. "Hey, buddy," he began gently. "You think you can be the boss of the breakfast table while I talk to Aunt Deedee for a second?"
"Yeah," Abel said with an enthusiastic nod. "Nothin' bad's gonna happen to the kiddos. Promise."
"That's my boy," Jax chuckled, getting up from his chair and leaning over to kiss the side of his older son's hair before he walked over and gestured for Denise to follow him into the living room, where they took a seat on the couch next to each other. "How you holdin' up?" he asked. Denise gave a weak laugh, shrugging her shoulders.
"Feeling better. Rested," she answered. "I guess everything was just a little -"
"Too much?" Jax supplied. "Can't blame you."
"It just all went to shit at the same time," she said, her laugh turning sad as the corners of her mouth tugged downwards into a slight grimace. "I never expected this to happen. And not with - well, you know -"
"With Wendy. Yeah," Jax nodded, his voice lowering into almost a whisper. "I didn't either. I thought she got it. Her and Juice both. I thought they got that you and me had to put our heads together on this one, that we've gotta be... partners, y'know? But I guess..."
Jax's voice trailed off, as though the sentence was weighed down by his weariness - a weariness that he hadn't even said anything about. He, too, felt betrayed. He, too, felt like two people he trusted had stabbed him in the back. He chuckled throatily, shaking his head. And it ached to admit that even after everything, every perceived wrong he felt Juice had committed, he had come to trust the guy because now, he felt like they had something in common. The man was a friend - and that made this all the worse.
"Just the last thing either of needs right now, y'know?" he said with a sad grin. "Like we're paddlin' up a creek, dealin' with all of this Marks shit, and all of a sudden they take the oars away."
"I know," Denise nodded with a heaving sigh. "Trust me. I know."
"You're the only thing that's been, you know... stable," he admitted, pausing and running his hand over his mouth as he, too, let out a heaving breath. "Maybe that's how it's supposed to be," he shrugged. "Maybe..."
This time, when his voice trailed off, he looked up at Denise, and Denise knew that look - his eyes glinting with something that she never expected to see from him. It was probably the loneliness, the sense of kinship that came with being betrayed in the exact same way. Maybe it was the sense of needing to feel like there was something in all the chaos that could be constant, and that's what Denise had been since the moment she first set foot in Charming. Jax's lips quirked into a lopsided grin as he stared at Denise with that strange, wanton expression. She looked down and saw his hand slowly, almost imperceptibly moving over the couch towards her, and Denise raised her eyebrow in response, letting out a snort of a chuckle.
"Don't even go there," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "I know how you think, Jax - and when you're hurt, you start thinkin' with the wrong head. You're hurt," she repeated for emphasis, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "We don't need to fuck things up worse by having a - a revenge thing."
Jax bristled slightly - it wasn't intentional, truly. It was reflex. He didn't know how to deal with hurt like this, with a sense of loss. It had always been this way with Tara, him getting driven into some other's woman's bed because he couldn't deal. Had he really started with Denise? Of all people?
"That Teller charm doesn't work on me Jax. Be grateful," she smirked, patting the back of his hand again. "I'm gonna go."
"Yeah," he said with a laugh that sounded genuinely embarrassed, shaking his head and looking down at the floor. "You're right. You good drivin'?"
"I'll be fine," Denise nodded with a grin. "Thanks, Jax."
The black wig and the big glasses felt a little 'Pulp Fiction' for Gemma's liking, but if she playing dress-up and chaffeuring Charles Kwan around was the only way she had to get out of the loft where she was holed up with Jarry, she'd take the free pass.
Driving the sedan that had now become Marks' trademark felt strangely thrilling, Gemma realized. Something like being a spy - she hadn't had something that genuinely thrilled her in a long time, and for the first time, she wondered if maybe existing for herself, not being pathologically dedicated to the interests of her boys, could be good for her. They were driving out to meet with the Mayor of Charming, Deacon Bollinger, at a restaurant in Palo Alto, as far from Charming as one could get - in atmosphere, even if not in distance.
Charles Kwan didn't speak, and Gemma found that strangely unsettling. She'd hardly heard him ever speak a sentence, which was far from what she had expected from Denise's brother. Denise's personality hit you like a ton of bricks, while Charles could very well have been part of the furniture in any room he entered. And he was supposed to be the evil one? He was supposed to be the mastermind?
Gemma smirked a little to herself as she drove. Denise would've made an amazing bad guy if she'd wanted to be one.
"So you and August went to that fair in Charming. Your sister's shindig," Gemma piped up, attempting to get the man to talk because talking came as second nature to her. "Saw it on the news. Deedee pulled all that off?"
"Doing what she does best. Making a bigger mess," Charles said sternly, still looking straight forward at the road. "Denise never knew how to stop stirring things up. But she'll be too preoccupied to repeat a stunt like that for a good while, I'm sure."
Gemma's grip tightened unconsciously on the steering wheel. "You do somethin' to her? You and Marks?"
"No. Just had a talk with her," Charles said blankly, reaching up to straighten his paisley necktie. "It's her husband who's out of check."
"What'd Juice do?" Gemma asked, her brow furrowing. She'd willed herself to stop worrying about what was happening in Charming, because Charming had clearly stopped caring about her, but when it came to the club and the people who had once been closest to her, old habits were difficult to break. Charles gave a chuckle, though how humored he truly felt about the revelation was unclear.
"Caught him giving a little unnecessary mouth-to-mouth to another woman. Dirty blonde, scrappy thing -"
"Wendy," Gemma muttered in a hushed tone. "Jesus Christ. How is she dealing with -"
"I don't know. She left. So did I," Charles interrupted before she could finish her question. "But I don't imagine that she's doing well."
There was a strain to his voice, and Gemma knew it well because the emotion she suspected was behind it was the same one that plagued her any time that Denise Ortiz came up in a conversation. She loved that girl - she had hurt her, but not out of hate. It was just circumstances, was all. And Denise of all people could be counted on to be more forgiving than the other forces pushing up on them. They had both hurt her, but they still loved her. Perhaps they didn't love her right, but they still loved her.
Moreover, the idea of Juice and Wendy disgusted her - the two most unstable she knew, two people who were complete wrecks on their own and constantly needed the approval and support of other people in order to keep on the right course. Maybe, she realized, she should have seen it coming. They were trainwrecks.
With a brief, sidelong glance at Charles who had slumped slightly into the passenger seat, Gemma realized how weary he looked as well - it wasn't just the cane that made him look ten times older, and here Gemma had thought Asians didn't age.
"You don't wanna be doing this anymore either, do you, sweetheart?" she asked knowingly, seeing the thread and grabbing hold. This was what she did. She found the holes. She worked them to her own needs. "You don't wanna be Marks' lapdog."
"What I want no longer makes a difference," Charles said stiffly, as though he had rehearsed the response to himself many times before. "I have no choice."
"Course you do," Gemma said matter-of-factly. "Your sister did."
"Yes, and look at her life now."
"Look at yours."
No one, Gemma realized, must have ever put it into perspective for Charles in quite that way - the man fell silent, his eyes still trained on the road, which was becoming more and more lined with buildings and stores that heralded their impending arrival at their destination. He wanted to believe that he was acting out of self-preservation, that he was ensuring a good life from himself - he needed to believe that he had made the better choice, and that his sister had been wrong in hers.
But his sister had something to fight for. His sister still had something to lose. Charles knew better than to believe he had a purpose - his only purpose was to try and survive.
"Showtime, Charlie," Gemma spoke up as she pulled up to a parking space in front of the Coupa Cafe - it was a bustling location, and while at first consideration, it seemed counter intuitive, it was perhaps the perfect place for a meet. There were too many other people around for anyone to care about them. Through the window, they saw Deacon Bollinger already inside waiting. They both got out of the sedan, and Gemma extended an arm to Charles, who still walked with his cane. Since no one knew who she was here - since she wasn't queen of anything at all - she could very well pass as his caregiver or something. Mayor Bollinger, however, recognized her even with her disguise, and he bristled slightly at the sight of her when she and Charles took a seat at the table across from her.
"Mayor," Charles said in a stiff, formal tone as he rested his cane against the side of the table. "August sent me to tell you that he's very displeased about that little rally that happened under your watch - bad PR, you see -"
"I had no idea that they were planning anything like that," he said, his voice straining against his vocal cords as he felt very much like a small mouse cornered by two alley cats. "It will not happen again, I can assure you. New city ordinance I'm pushing through -"
"We don't honestly care what you do to stop it, as long as it's stopped," Charles spoke up. Though, he thought inwardly, his sister's plan had been a brilliant one. A sharp one. Even if the event was never repeated, the damage was already done. Bollinger, however, took the brief silence to finally glance over at Gemma, who shot him a fearless smirk, knowing he could do nothing to her. He couldn't even throw the book at her for not being in a mental hospital like she was supposed to be, because it would bring up too many questions. Why was she in the same place as you? What about August Marks?
"What's she doing here?" he asked, attempting to remain calm, though he was visibly unsettled when Charles continued to silently stare him down, not even dignifying his question with an answer. Bollinger was their pawn, and pawns weren't entitled to answers.
"Nice to see you too, Deacon," Gemma responded, leaning towards him with her forearms resting at the edge of the table. "Good chat."
There was little left to be said in the exchange, and Charles and Gemma had soon gotten up from the small table, heading back to the car. It was only when they were back on the road that Gemma spoke up again.
"What kinda hold do you have on the mayor?" she inquired. But Charles didn't answer. Gemma didn't need to be privy to that information because she, too, was still little more than a pawn.
For now, anyway.
The reversal was an awkward one when Denise got back home with Sofia, now coming across Juice on the couch, having apparently been waiting for her. She rolled her eyes slightly - where had he been when she needed him?
Juice got to his feet and looked at Denise, who only spared him a brief glance before bringing Sofia over to the nursery. She always napped after breakfast and was already growing drowsy as they walked through the door, so Denise went to go put her down in her own bed for a brief round of shut-eye before she returned to the living room to face Juice.
"What are you lookin' at me like that for?" Denise asked.
"Where were you last night?"
The tone of Juice's voice oozed annoyance - suspicion, even - and Denise again felt her blood boiling just looking at him. He was accusing her of something? When she'd outright refused the very thing that she knew was running through her head? Now, for the first time, she felt a surge of spite - a desire to make him feel, even for a moment, a little bit of what she'd been feeling for the past week.
"I just came from Jax's place," she said, crossing her arms and shooting her husband a defiant glance. Juice's upper lip curled in disgust, and he threw his hands out to the sides, taking a step closer to Denise.
"Wow. Went and took our daughter with you, too, huh?" he said angrily, eliciting a dark, disbelieving laugh from Denise. "Couldn't just -"
"I went to Jax's place because I was sick and you weren't here," Denise interrupted, her face contorted into a scowl. "Because you walked out on me when I needed you, again, and I'm not even gonna ask where you went -"
"Where I went? I told you - I fuckin' told you, what happened with Wendy is never happenin' again!" Juice defended, his face drawing closer to Denise's as his voice rose in volume. "I'm not the one who spent the house at someone else's -"
"Don't even," Denise snarled angrily. "Don't even go there, because the difference between us is that I didn't fuck him!" Denise said, her voice rising in volume as well despite her promise to herself that as long as Sofia was in the house with them, it would never come to this. This, she realized, was the situation completely boiling over. "I needed help, Juice, and you weren't there. What part of this do you not get?"
"How are we supposed to fix anythin' this way, Dee?" Juice practically yelled, scratching the back of his neck furiously. "Yeah, you stayed! Great, now what? You won't look at me, you won't talk me, you won't even -"
"Boo fucking hoo, Juice! Excuse me for still being pissed at you a whole two weeks after finding out you fucked another woman!" she said with a shrill, humorless laugh. "I needed you! I've always been strong for you, I've been everything you needed me to be. I needed you to be the strong one for once -"
"I didn't want our family to have any part of this shit!" Juice yelled back. "We coulda stayed out of it, let Jax handle the shit with Marks and Charles -"
"Charles! My brother!" Denise groaned, shaking her head at Juice in disbelief. "If we don't clean this shit up, it doesn't just blow back on Jax, it doesn't just blow back on the club, it blows back on me! Do you care about protecting me? Our family?"
Denise's breaths came out in fevered pants now, and Juice felt himself struggle for a response - of course he cared, he wanted to say. But how could he finish that statement? He'd fallen short, and he knew it. As much as he cared, he hadn't done enough.
"You think if we just stayed out of it, they'd just forget we existed?" Denise asked tiredly. "You think we coulda made a run for it? You think I want to live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulder to see if somebody's after us? You think we coulda just left those skeletons in the closet and hoped they never came out?"
"And what we're doin' now is any better?"
"This isn't because of me and Jax - don't throw this back at me," Denise hissed. "Because me and Jax? Yeah, we spent a lot of time together - because we needed to. But he kept his dick where it fucking belonged, unlike you!"
Denise flinched when Juice's muscular arms made a sudden movement, rising to about chest level with clenched fists before he quickly stopped himself. He would never hurt her. Never. No matter how angry he was at her, at himself, he would never - but it was too late for Denise not to see what his unusual movements meant.
"Do it," she said calmly, reaching up and swatting his fists away. "Go ahead. Do it."
"Dee, you know I'd never -"
"No," Denise interrupted. "Don't say it. Don't say, 'you know I'd never hurt you' because you have. You already have and - and -" She paused, feeling her chest tighten as the weight of the words coming out of her mouth really hit her. She reached up and wiped at her eyes. "We can't do this. You and me. We can't be like this in front of Sofia... I tried so hard, but -"
"Denise, no," Juice said weakly. "Come on, I'm sorry."
"So am I," she said, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head. "But I can't be here with you. Not like this. I'm - I'm gonna go stay at Nero's for a while."
Juice's arms fell slack at his sides while he stared at his wife in disbelief - she stood there shaking for only a few seconds before retreating to the bedroom, where Juice could hear the sound of bags zipping and unzipping, drawers sliding open and thudding shut. This was the price of what he'd done. This was the price of one mistake. He had practically asked for this, letting himself get into that mess with Wendy, and now all he could do was watch them go.
A/N's
Sort of deja vu all over again, with Denise taking a little breathing room. I actually went back and forth about whether or not to change this chapter as far and Jax/Denise, because there was a lot of will they/won't they speculation. So, the ultimate answer is no, but Jax was on the borderline of making a move because, as Denise said, he was thinking with his head. Surprise, surprise! But alas, two wrongs don't make a right, and I think it felt more true to both of their characters to shut that down before anything happened between them. I hope you all feel that way too!
As always, I love hearing from you guys! The upcoming chapters are requiring more massaging than I'd first expected, just because I'm changing how I split them up, so there might be a couple extra days between updates compared to usual. I'm trying my best to keep them fairly frequent, though! Until next time, cheers!