Chapter 21:
"The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did."
―Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

"Marci, red light! Red- Jesus!" Jasmine yelped as Marceline sped past a 4-way intersection and if it weren't for her dangerously fast speed, they would've gotten t-boned by the silver Taurus who's driver was now angrily yelling at them from out their window.

Jaz has been clutching her seat almost to the point of ripping the fabric and clutching the small, golden cross that dangled on her collarbone for what felt like decades. After Marci got that call, she started speeding down the road like a maniac and she's lost count of how many times they've been that close to getting into a collision. She didn't know what the hell was going on with her other half, but now didn't seem like the best time to ask what in the name of God was wrong with the redhead. She also didn't want to die tonight. She hasn't seen Juice in a few days, knowing that he was a Son and they had club shit to deal with just like the Grim Bastards, but she refused to go into the afterlife without seeing his sweet face one last time.

Marceline could faintly hear her best friend muttering what had to be prayers for protection and safe passage, but she didn't strain to understand them. All she could focus on was the road and the blurring traffic lights or taillights of the cars in her way. She knew she was being incredibly reckless right now and putting hers and Jasmine's lives at risk, but she honestly didn't give a shit. She was trying not to cry and her grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to snap the damn thing off, but the tears were still there and they were ready to pour out by the gallons.

She still couldn't believe what Kip had told her and against better judgement, she hoped he was lying, that he was playing some cruel joke on her. She hoped that her Dad had gone down to Teller-Morrow Automotive and started his shift as a mechanic, like he told her hours ago, and one of the engines malfunctioned. Maybe his uniform shirt caught on fire and he got a bit of seared skin that had to be treated by a medical professional, which is why he was at St. Thomas. That seemed more logical in her mind than a car just randomly exploding and engulfing him in its flames and she was desperately clinging onto her theory. She didn't even want to consider the slim possibility that this could've been an attack from the Spartans. They didn't blow shit up, they put a million bullets in it or beat it until it was a bloody mess.

Besides, her Dad was a tough old bastard and he was not going to die today or tomorrow or next week or anytime soon. He was going to stay on this goddamn planet long enough to walk his daughter down the aisle at her wedding and run around with his first grandchild because, dammit, he deserved that much from her and she was going to give it to him.

It felt like centuries before they were dashing down Main Street and pulling into the parking lot of St. Thomas. Jasmine's heart finally got a moment to settle down and she let out a shaky sigh, on the brink of fainting. She heard the door pop open and Marceline hopped out, half-running to the entrance. Jaz got out, pulled the keys from the ignition and locked the doors before following her friend inside. Marci was already at the welcome desk and spitting fire at the startled and confused receptionist. Upon hearing the noise, Juice quickly came from his post down the hall and whistled, catching the attention of the flaming redhead. He started leading them to the waiting area where the rest of the Sons were gathered, gravely awaiting the news on the Scotsman.

"What happened?" Jasmine asked, clutching Juice's arm in concern. He looked down at the girl who usually made his heart skip a beat because of the glint of happiness and comfort in her beautiful honey eyes, but those doting traits weren't there right now. She looked scared and shaken up, clearly distressed by her friend's currently frantic state.

"Chibs is in critical condition." He told her solemnly and he saw her slightly cringe.

They'd made it to the waiting area reserved for immediate family and Marci already knew Tara must've pulled some strings to have an entire charter of bikers in the room. They all stood when she came in, save for Kip who's been restlessly pacing since he called her. He got one look at her and her expression reminded him of that heartbreaking day after she was kidnapped. She was visibly trembling and there were tears streaming down her red cheeks. He could hear her quivering, hitching breaths accompanied by erratic gasps. Her eyes were as big as marbles and her pupils were dilated by panic. Kip got scared all over again, just like when he saw her battling through a Panic Attack that day.

Without thinking, he crossed the room and had her pressed into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her for calming comfort, to let her know that he was here and that she could unwind for a minute, just long enough to get her head together and gain a sense of rationality. He held her and alternated between rubbing her back and running his fingers through her hair until he couldn't feel her shaking anymore. He hated to admit it, but he was using the same method he saw Zane use and he was a tiny bit thankful for the haughty Jank.

"I-Is he...d-did he..." She sputtered into his chest, not being able to bring herself to say that word. She pulled back to look up into Kip's sympathetic eyes and she couldn't tell if he was pitying her because she was fatherless now or because he was just as frazzled by the situation as she was.

"He managed to get out of the car before the bomb went off." He quietly whispered. "But the impact on his head..." He sighed, remembering Chibs lying on the ground with a growing puddle of blood seeping from the back of his head. He remembered carefully getting him up and into the van with Jax, Quinn and Opie, trying to stop the bleeding while Juice was talking to the unconscious man, begging him to hold on. He found a bit of relief in the fact that Marceline hadn't been on the lot because he couldn't bare to see how painfully horrified she'd look.

"He's gonna be okay, Marci." Kip tried and even though he couldn't promise her that, he could tell she needed something to keep her sanity and faith that her Dad was going to walk out of here.

"This is all my fault..." She ashamedly blamed herself and stared to cry again.

"No, it's not."

"It is!" She stressed, breaking away from his comforting hold. "If I would've just talked to him...h-he wanted to and I just yelled at him again and I said him awful things that I didn't mean and...he...he just told me he loved me..." She sobbed and it effected the entire room.

Jax had began to pace in an attempt to keep himself from breaking out in a sorrowful induced rage or crying or both. Jasmine, only understanding that Marceline's Dad was in a life-threatening condition and heartbroken for the despairing state of her friend, found solace by burying her face into Juice's chest and he brought his arms around her as he felt her tears on his shirt. Bobby and Quinn were leaning on a wall near Clay, who was sitting with a hand covering his forehead to hide the worried creases, and their heads were down. Quinn's brows were steadily furrowed in concern as Bobby shook his head. Opie quietly sighed and looked at his Father, suddenly grateful that the man had coaxed him into the club life and stuck around to see him get married and give him grandchildren. Tig and Kozik were sitting next to each other, both leaning on their knees. The blond had made a habit of running his hands over his face whenever he got the feeling that he was about to break and the Sergeant-At-Arms had one ringed hand holding his fist over his mouth, his turquoise eyes glinting with unreleased tears.

Happy seemed to be the only one that could hold himself together in this time of uncertainty and looming dolefulness. Crying wasn't a trait of his and the last time he remembered doing it was when he got the unpleasant news of his Mother's failing health. Unnoticed by anyone, his jaw was locked and his teeth felt like they were about to crack from how hard he was forcing them together at the sight of the redhead crying her eyes out, that artsy little girl who wormed her way under his skin and managed to make a place in his blackened heart. She didn't need to go through this shit.

The Sons knew there was something off with the Scot and his redhead, but they knew better than to go pressing either of them for details. Though rocky at times, they could still see the love Chibs had for his kid and vice versa. The girl's obviously had a rough life with her Dad being absent and her crazed Mother was one of the big problems, but if Chibs was gone...she'd be all alone. Tig, knowing what it was like to be missing from his daughter's lives, couldn't stand the thought of his niece not having her father after she'd just gotten him back from a 10 year absence. If tonight be the night that the Reaper called Chibs home, he knew that his brothers would step up from Uncles to Fathers without question, especially himself, but he knew that nobody could replace her Dad.

Marceline had a damn good reason to take the responsibility for whatever happened to her Dad today too. If she hadn't been so goddamn stubborn and let her Dad in like she wanted to, he wouldn't be in this hospital. All the man wanted to do was make up for all the time he's missed out on and show his daughter that he always loved and cared about her. And what has she done in return? She's yelled and screamed out of aged, misguided spite like a callow child.

As time passed, the waiting room was still deadly silent. None of the occupants have so much as stifled a sneeze in the drawn-out time that they've been uneasily waiting to hear some news on Chibs' condition. Kip managed to get Marceline settled on his lap and figured out that her shivering was coming from the low temperature of the hospital. He was lucky to be wearing a gray pullover hoodie and he slipped it on her. He was lightly rocking her, but she hasn't said a word since he managed to calm her down. Her arms were clutched to her chest and her head was tucked under his chin, eyes set in a blank, wide-eyed stare. Across from them on the sofa, Jasmine's head lay on Juice's lap, sound asleep with his kutte draped over her shoulders. She always went to sleep after she cried, even if it was for a minute or tears of joy, and Juice was mindlessly tracing and coiling her hair around his finger.

The other Sons have migrated to different spots, stepped out for a cigarette and taken turns getting coffee and snacks from the vending machines. Clay was the only one to step out for a call and it was from the Prospect asking for help. He instructed Phil to keep Gemma, Donna and the children locked inside until further notice, but he had to send Quinn as reinforcements because Phil hasn't learned to be immune an Old Lady's threatening glare. Tara's shift ended before Chibs had gotten rolled in and just to their luck, she'd accepted a dinner invitation from Margret Murphy, so she couldn't break the news to them before someone else did.

"Is this the immediate family of McCormick, Ronan G.?" A nurse read the name from her clipboard and all eyes were on her, making the caramel-blonde flinch in surprise. Kip gave Marceline a little shake before he stood and had her on her feet, his hoodie almost falling to her knees as he guided her to the nurse. "Can you tell me your relationship with the patient?"

"I'm his daughter...Ciara." She told the woman, a steady tremble in her voice. The blonde nodded as she scribbled something down on her clipboard. The nurse took a quick look at the room full of bikers and motioned for Marceline to follow her out of the room. She clutched Kip's hand before taking her first steps and the nurse looked at Kip a bit skeptically. "He's my fiancé."

With tight lips, the nurse gave a curt nod of understanding and led them out of the waiting room.

"McCormick? After the fucking spice company?" Tig questioned in disbelief and annoyance once the doors shut behind Half-Sack, glaring at Juice. As per the duty of an Intelligence Officer, Juice was in charge of getting the Sons fake names and any other personal information required for hospital admission. He understood that Chibs would need a name that fit his foreign accent and that they were on a tight time-frame when they were getting him here, but the dope could've done better than McCormick. "Were you stoned or did you put all the effort of your pea-sized brain into that convincing and unassuming pseudonym?"

"Lay off, Trager." Koz tiredly warned from next to him.

"How fucking idiotic can he be?" Tig carped, scoffing at the blond next to him. "He can hack into a police database and erase a fucking gun charge in 2 seconds, but he couldn't come up with a simple spud fucker's name like oh, I don't know, Liam O'Brien?" He set his seething glare on his former Prospect and was bitterly regretting his decision to approach the baby-faced man all those years ago."How fucking hard was that? Damn near every Green in Ireland is named Liam! For fuck's sake, Sheamus WhiskeyHands would've been more believable!"

"It got him in here and treated, didn't it?" Juice snapped back, making everyone's brow raise in surprise at the hostility in the tanned man's voice, and Jasmine was awakened by the intensity. "At least I did something to make sure he got here before his fucking brain oozed outta his ears! What were you doing in the clubhouse? Oh, lemme guess, jacking off to 13-year-olds fucking emasculated horse dicks?!"

"Enough!" One dominate voice barked before the argument could continue and Tig reluctantly bit back the insult he had for Juice. All the Sons looked to Clay, but it was a seething Jackson who'd had enough of the childish behavior coming from his members. His nose was flared and his face was a violent shade of pinkish-red, his fists balled at his sides. "A Son, one of ours, just got blown up 20 feet away from the fucking clubhouse and is in critical condition, clinging on to the thread of life he's got left, while his kid is gettin' her heart ripped out and you fuckheads think now is a good time to argue over fetishes and fake names?! How inconsiderate can you be?!"

The question dangled in the air, but Jax wasn't expecting an answer from anyone. That side of him had to come from Gemma, the family-oriented aggressive instinct. He couldn't deal with his brothers picking and choosing sides and pointing blame when shit got tough. He'd had just about enough of everything this damned club brought on. His stomach churned at the usually unnecessary blood, he couldn't stand the thought of getting thrown in prison on a gunrunning charge and being away from his son and Tara, he was so fucking tired of being lied to and manipulated because of the corrupt power the gavel brings. He just wanted everything to stop for 5 fucking minutes.

LOAN was proving to be a problem they had no damage control over and they weren't going to stop hurting the Sons or their families until SAMCRO was disbanded and out of Charming or dead. Right about now, he wanted to give those supremacists what they wanted, to pack up and hit the road. He so desperately rip the Vice President patch off his chest and trade it in for Happy's Nomad title. He could get away from this suffocating town and ride free without a goddamn care.

With a final sneer, Jax kicked off the wall he was leaning against and shrugged Bobby's hand from his shoulder. He wanted to be alone and away from all this madness.

Meanwhile, Kip was painfully watching Marceline break down in a way he's never witnessed. She was shattered right now. They'd been informed about Chib's head trauma and that the doctors put him in a medically induced coma to promote proper healing. They couldn't give her a time range for how long he'd be unconscious and she took that in the most demoralized way, that her father was going to die in the Limbo of unconsciousness before she got to tell him how sorry she was for everything she said out of vexation, that she didn't mean it and that he was nothing like Rosemary. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and that she didn't blame him for anything that's happened to her, but she couldn't. She missed her last chance at clearing the turmoil of the past and now, her father's last memory of her would be an emotionally chaotic episode of anger.

"I'm sorry, Da." She wept into the bed, clutching his still hand. "I'm so sorry."

~.~.3 Days Later.~.~.

Kip looked into the small window of Chibs' room and Marceline was still in the same spot she's been rooted in for the past 72 hours. Chibs lay motionless with 2 pillows slightly propping him up. There was an IV in his left arm, most likely supplying the heavy sedatives keeping him brain-dead, and nasal cannulas were supplying oxygen. Marceline moved the plastic armchair next to the hospital bed and had her head down on its side, her Dad's right hand resting on the back of her head. Kip stayed with her through the first night, then he was called to the clubhouse for Church, broke the news to the Sons of the Scotsman's condition and he went around Charming handling business with Opie and Kozik. He was so tired that he couldn't make it back to the hospital and he crashed at the clubhouse, then he came to the hospital, but it didn't look like Marci moved from her position.

"Has she eaten or gone to the bathroom, anything?" He asked Tara and the young doctor looked just as heartbroken and concerned as he was at the sight of the pair in the room.

She'd only found out about Chibs this morning, Gemma and Donna being informed by their husbands the night before, when Jax told her he'd gotten hurt. She pressed for details and after being hounded, Jax told her of the car explosion, that Chibs' hospitalization was the result of yet another attack on the club. They argued after that. Tara was not alright with sitting back and waiting to see another member or Jax in the hospital covered in blood and dying. She wasn't going to lose Jax again. She'd left him and it felt like half of her died, but she was not going to sit at his funeral. He was too young to die, he had a family and people who loved him, but the violence of the club was easily going to shave 10 years off his lifespan.

"I don't know." Tara sighed. "Every time I've checked on her, she was in the same spot. The nurse monitoring Chibs' condition says she hasn't moved an inch either."

"Have you tried talking to her?"

"Yesterday. I tried to get her to go home and get a proper night's rest, but she said she was staying here. She wants to be there when he wakes up." Casting a glance at the forlorn teenager, Tara's heart ached for the poor girl. She couldn't imagine the pain she was going through seeing her Dad in such a banged up state. "She should go home and sleep, even if its just for a few hours."

"I'll try to get her out of there." Kip nodded, turning to the brunette. "Thanks, Tara."

With a sympathetic and encouraging smile, Tara pat Kip on the shoulder and walked down the hall to start her rounds. Kip took in a breath before he quietly opened the door and stepped in, knocking to signal he was there. Marceline didn't move.

"Marci?" He called, but she was still unresponsive and he wondered if she was asleep.

He went to her and kneeled at the side of the chair, taking her in. Her copper hair looked like it was dulling and her blonde streaks have just about faded away. He knew her body had to be aching with kinks and stiffness from sleeping in that uncomfortable position and he remembered the splint on her arm. He looked to the bed and saw that her head was resting on the protective casting, knowing the pressure couldn't be good for proper healing.

"Marceline, let's go home." He tried, his hand going to her knee that was bared from the patch in her jeans. Her skin was almost as cold as the room.

"I'm not leaving." He heard her muffled protest.

"I'll bring you back." He urged. "Just go home, take a hot shower, get something to eat and you'll come right back." She didn't say anything and Kip sighed.

He knew that leaving Chibs' side was going to be hard for her, but she had to take care of herself too. He wanted nothing more than to give her all the time in the world to stay with her Dad, but he was prepared to drag her out of here, tie her down and force-feed her.

"...what if he wakes up?" She quietly asked after a moment of silence. Kip shut his eyes for a second when he heard her sniffle and when he opened them, he saw her rubbing her eyes on her arm. After 3 days, she gently moved Chibs' hand to rest on the bed and finally picked her head up. Her frizzy locks separated like a curtain to unveil her pale face and it even looked like her freckles were vanishing. He noticed her trembling lip and tried to prepare himself for the sight of her crying, but it hurt him every time. "...I-I have to be here, Kip...the second his fingers twitch or he opens his eyes...if he responds to anything...I have to be here..."

"Quinn's in the waiting room. I'll ask him to sit in here and he'll call the second anything happens." Kip gently took her hands from the bed and encased them in his bigger, warmer ones. "Just a quick trip home, Marci."

Kip, being patient and understanding, gave her a minute to respond. Marci knew she had to leave her Dad's side at some point, but she didn't want to. She felt like he was going to flatline the second she left or that he'd have a negative reaction to the drugs and trigger a seizure. She couldn't put an end to the morbid and pessimistic thoughts popping into her mind every few seconds, but they were sucking the life out of her. Whenever the nurse would come in to check on her Dad, she'd convince the blonde to bring her something from the vending machines, but she was starving. Her bones felt heavy and they were aching for a comfortable position to relax in; she was in desperate need of a stretch. Her skin felt dry, she knew she probably smelled and her teeth were screaming to be brushed. She couldn't see them, but she knew she was beginning to get bags under her eyes from being unable to sleep longer than a half-hour or so. She didn't want her Dad to wake up and see her looking like a troubled mess, even if she was.

"...I'll be back, Da..." She took Chibs' hand and tightly held it, hoping that he could hear and feel her. She felt a swell in her throat when she looked to his face, biting her lip to keep herself composed. She didn't want to cry anymore. "I'm not leaving you...I'll be right back..." She promised and leaned up to place a tender kiss to his cheek, hesitantly letting his hand slip out of her grip.

Kip stood as Marci slowly rose from the uncomfortable chair and she stared at Chibs for a minute, hoping for a reaction, then sighed when he remained unmoving. Kip took one of her hands and wrapped his other arm around her waist, shuffling out of the room.

Like Kip said, Quinn was flipping through an Easyriders magazine and was smirking at the vintage Harleys and the sexy models posing on them. Until further notice, Clay issued the Nobody Rides Alone rule and he decided to tag along with Half-Sack to St. Thomas. He was worried about Marceline and Chibs, wanting to know how they were doing. He took his eyes off the curvy brunette siting backwards on a Chopper to glance over the magazine and took a look at the people passing by. He spotted Half-Sack coming his way with his little girlfriend melded into his side and stood.

Kip asked the towering man to sit-in with Chibs while he and Marceline went home. Quinn ensured them that he'd call if anything happened and the trio went their separate ways. Kip led Marci to his bike and swiftly drove them to her house. Diesel had grown accustomed to the sound of a motorcycle and was patiently waiting at the door, his tail portraying his happiness at seeing his beloved owner after so long. Marci scratched the pit behind his ear, knowing that was his golden spot, then she was leaving a trail of discarded clothes from the living room to the bathroom and Kip couldn't help but stare in awe as she went. He was still satisfied by the gentle lovemaking they indulged in when she stayed at his house, but seeing her half-naked roused his hunger. Then again, what man wouldn't get turned on by his beautiful girlfriend stripping right in front of him?

Kip shook his head and sent a glare to the crotch of his jeans upon feeling his semi-hard member. That was not happening today. He gathered her clothes and took then into the basement to be washed. When he came upstairs, he heard the shower running and went into the kitchen to make something to eat. He made them both Chicken Parmesan with a side of garlic bread, reminiscing about helping his Mom in the kitchen when he was a kid, and when he plated them, Marceline was finished with her shower. She used all the hot water, but she felt better than before and after throwing on sweatpants and a tank top, the smell of something good lured her into the kitchen.

The couple migrated to the living room to eat and watch TV. The warmth from her shower, the food setting and being able to stretch out on the couch had her fast asleep, her head on Kip's shoulder.

~.~.~.~.

It's been about a week since Kip coaxed me to come home. Dad was still in the hospital, but Tara was the first to tell me that he was stable and that was the best thing I could ask for. She told me the doctors lowered the sedatives enough that he'd be able to wake up on his own and I've noticed that he's been more responsive. All the Sons have come to visit Dad, Juice more often than anyone else, and his hospital room was full of flowers and get well soon cards or balloons. Jasmine even came to visit with T.O.

I haven't been stationed at Dad's bedside 24/7 and I kept myself busy by helping Gemma with running the office. She effortlessly handled all the paperwork while I assisted the customers and gave them the rundown on their cars. She told me that when Dad woke up, she was going to throw a dinner party and I was looking forward to it. It'd be nice to get the family together. Speaking of family, I've been having slumber parties at my house with Abel, Ellie and Kenny. I surprised myself with how well I could manage 3 kids, but Kenny and Ellie were little angels and Abel was the same. Opie's been thanking me for giving Donna a break and I think he was enjoying the alone time with his wife.

Kip's been spending a lot of time at the clubhouse, but he asked me to spend the night with him and I did. He and the Sons were getting to the bottom of that car bomb and I couldn't wait until the sorry bastard that hurt Dad got their slice of karma. He was gone when I woke up, but there was a sweet 'Good morning, beautiful' text waiting for me to blush over. I got ready for the day and came out of Kip's room in search of Phil. Tig has officially forbid me to go anywhere without Kip or an 'off duty' Son and he seemed pretty serious about it, so I've been abiding by his rule.

When I poked my head in the kitchen, I rolled my eyes when I found Phil opening a fresh box of doughnuts. There was a brunet with dark chocolate-brown eyes leaning on the fridge and he was shaking his head at the tubby man. I noticed the leather on him, but I couldn't see his patches, so I couldn't tell if he was another visiting member or not.

"How many boxes have you gone through already?" I asked and Phil turned around, smiling at me.

"We just went to get these." He defended and I giggled. I went over to the counter and surveyed the treats. There wasn't a stick of shortbread in sight, so I settled for a chocolate doughnut glazed with icing.

"Marci, this is Ratboy. He's the new Prospect." Phil introduced the man, pointing his half-eaten strawberry filled powdered doughnut at the guy, and he gave me a friendly smile. "If I'm not around and you need anything, just call him."

"Why can't they give you normal nicknames or, crazy idea, just call you by your first name?" I asked both Prospects and Phil shrugged, finishing off his pastry. "Are you busy now?"

"No, I'm free. You wanna go see Chibs?" I nodded and he clapped his hands together to rid them of powder. "Don't forget to restock the bar, Rat. Lots of Whiskey to keep the Sons happy."

"Got it." Rat called from the kitchen and Phil and I were off.

We took my car to St. Thomas and I noticed how Phil's attention was on the streets or mirrors like he was looking for something. I knew he was looking out for the people responsible for the car bombing, but I haven't noticed any cars following me or the same person popping up at the hospital. When we got there, I made my way to the front desk where a tired looking Megan had her head down on the hard desk. She was usually here when I came to see Dad and we'd have little chats. The beige-blonde must've pulled an overnight shift though.

"Someone needs a coffee break." I smiled and Megan groaned like a zombie, picking her head up. Her neat bun was a few strands away from falling into a ponytail and she rubbed her silver eyes.

"I wouldn't have been in here all night if Jordan didn't pull a no-show." She groused and yawned, handing me the sign-in sheet for visitors. "Oh, yeah. Some guy's looking for you, Ciara."

"Who?" I questioned, handing the sheet back with furrowed brows. Megan yawed again, but pointed down the hall were there were a few rows of chairs and people sitting in them. Most of them had their faces covered by newspapers and magazines, so I couldn't identify any of them

"A guy in a suit. He came here about 15 minutes ago and described you. I told him to wait 'cause you usually visit around this time." With her routine wishes of good health to Dad, I bid Megan goodbye and with Phil closely trailing behind me, I cautiously went over to the seating area.

A few people lowered their gazettes to glance at me, probably suspecting I was a nurse, but I still didn't recognize any of them. I was coming to the end of seats when I noticed a bouquet of spring-green flowers cradled in the arm of a man wearing a grey suit jacket. I relaxed once I realized it was Zane, but Christ Almighty, I couldn't get over how handsome and refined he looked in a suit. His matching grey pants were pressed and I couldn't tell if his shirt was white or a very light shade of pink, but his tie was royal-blue. He had his free arm propped on the armrest and his head was resting on it as he dozed, his onyx hair veiling his eyes. I noticed the cut on his cheek and it looked like the corner of his lip was healing an older tear.

Don't bother asking, you know he won't tell you.

I sighed to myself, but my conscious was right. Zane's lips were bolted shut about whatever it is he did now. I only hoped that he was safe and continuing to race up in San Francisco because I knew how much he loved it.

"Up and at 'em, Tadashi." I pushed his arm from under his head and his head jerked up, his amber eyes locking on me. He looked down at his wrist, another expensive watch latched around it, to check the time, then he stood and gave me a one-armed hug.

"I heard about the car bomb." He whispered into my ear before pulling back, keeping a hand on my shoulder. "How you holding up, babe?"

"I'm getting through it. Dad's stable, so that's good. Now, we just gotta wait for him to wake up. Doctors said it shouldn't be too long of a wait." Zane nodded and I reached out to gently trace the petal of the flowers in his arm. "Those for him?"

"Yeah, green Peonies for good fortune." With a smile of thanks, I led Zane to the elevators and was slightly surprised when he held a conversation with Phil. He told me how wild and unsafe he thought the Sons were, but he didn't seem to have a problem with the prospective outlaw. When we got to Dad's floor, Phil went to the vending machine down the hall and said he'd be in the hall whenever I was ready to go. "I feel inclined to ask." Zane said as we strolled down the corridor to Dad's room. "Where's your puppy?"

"What puppy?"

"That guy, Kidd or whatever." I rolled my eyes at him, but smirked.

"His name is Kip. You've got a memory like an elephant, so I know you didn't forget." He shrugged and I giggled. "He had some stuff to take care of. Why'd you ask?"

"I know I'm a little more busy nowadays, but I wouldn't want you here all alone with no support. You seem...comfortable around him, so I guess he'd be an okay fill-in."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you liked him." Zane scoffed at me and we stopped at Dad's door. He glanced inside and rose an eyebrow, jerking his head to the window. "Who's the lady?"

Looking inside, I was expecting to see Gemma or Donna in there with Dad, but my brows furrowed at the wavy shag of ash-brown hair at Dad's bedside. The woman was facing the door and I saw the single streak of gray that took over a small lock of her hair in the front. Her eyes were a deep, dark brown, like the color of rich milk chocolate and her skin was caramel. In one hand, she held Dad's hand and was gently stroking his cheek with her other. The look in her eyes was full of love and worry, but she didn't look scared.

"No idea." I mumbled, my eyes still on the unknown woman.

"Maybe it's your Dad's girlfriend." Zane pondered.

"He's too old to have a girlfriend." I huffed. "At his age, he could only have...an Old Lady..."

I saw the questioning look Zane gave me, but I kept my eyes on the woman inside the room. Dad couldn't hide his Old Lady from the club, from me. Someone would've noticed him sneaking off to be with her or she could've turned up at the clubhouse looking for him. If anything, Gemma would've caught on to Dad's disappearing act and questioned him until he cracked because nothing got past the Queen. It seemed like way too much work to keep something like that a secret and Dad was too old to sneak around for the sake of maintaining a relationship.

The woman must just be a close friend or she could be family. Maybe I had an Aunt.