Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy.

It was some time after lunch that Sunday afternoon when the call came in.

Gemma and Neeta were sitting on the patio, gossiping, laughing, and sharing a pitcher of Neeta's famous California Ice Tea. The recipe was a closely guarded secret and Gemma had given up trying to get it out of Neeta two tumblers ago. Whatever was in it, the tea had mellowed them out considerably because God only knew how badly they both had needed the booze. Abel, Kenny, and Ellie were having a great time, but there were moments when it seemed like the house was overrun by rug rats. Jax, Opie, and Jolene had certainly been a handful at that age, but Gemma had also been younger and scarier then too. Apparently, over the years, Gemma had lost some of her bite and was getting softer the older she got because one angelic look from her grandson and she was putty in his hands.

That boy is definitely his father's son, Gemma thought with a smile as she sipped on her drink. So young and he already knows how to work that Teller charm.

Gemma was in the midst of teasing Neeta about how Abel had her eating out of the palm of his hand as well when they were interrupted by a ringing telephone. Gemma froze in her rattan rocker, the premonition hitting her like a slap in the face. Everyone Gemma knew or associated with was either on the run or in her house and, considering the time of day, the Club was more than likely on the road heading back to Charming. Gemma suddenly grabbed onto Neeta's hand as the woman got up to go answer the phone. The look of near panic on Gemma's face had Neeta's heart thumping wildly in her chest as they clutched hands while the telephone rang in the background.

Someone was calling with bad news, of that Gemma Teller-Morrow had no doubt, but whether she was prepared to handle another loss, only time would tell.

For the second time in five years, SAMCRO was in the house in full force.

The waiting room next to the third floor surgical unit was jam packed with Club members, old ladies, hang-arounds and prospects all waiting for word on the condition of the mother charter's second President, Clay Morrow. And the atmosphere was grim. It had taken over an hour to retrieve Clay from the ravine and transport him to St. Thomas. The medics that had worked on Clay at the scene told Jax, who had refused to leave his President's side, that Clay's condition was extremely serious.

By the time the ambulance had pulled into the emergency room entrance at St. Thomas, followed closely by the entire SAMCRO convoy, Gemma was already standing there, waiting for news on her husband. The scene was eerily familiar to her, down to the new Prospect standing beside her, not Happy this time around, but a young mountain that called himself Filthy Phil. The older woman's complexion had been deathly white and she looked every one of her 52 years.

Thanks to her BFF Donna, Jolene had managed to get herself under control during the ride into Charming. The scene seemed eerily familiar to her as well, but as old lady to SAMCRO's VP, she knew she needed to be strong for Gemma, even though the thought of losing her father was tearing her up inside. Jumping out of the cargo van, Jolene ran to Gemma, who embraced her fiercely as the young woman filled Gemma in on Clay's condition.

It had taken everything in her not to break down and cry and now, as Jolene sat in her husband's embrace, she let herself feel every inch of exhaustion that trying to stay strong had forced on her.

Stay strong. Easy to say, but so hard to do.

Now Gemma sat, trying to come to terms with the possibility that she may lose her second husband to the road, much like she had lost her first and it was something she didn't think she could face again. Having Jax and Jolene by her side comforted her greatly. As strong as she knew she was, Gemma knew that she wouldn't be able to go through this again without her family.

Clay had been in surgery now going on five hours. Jax was sitting with one arm around his mother and the other around his wife as they waited patiently for news. Despite the thoughts he knew must be running through their minds—because Jax couldn't help but wonder himself if that gavel was cursed—Jax was amazed by how tough and resilient the two women he loved most in his life were proving to be.

Taking a good look at his old lady, Jax grew concerned as he noticed that the healthy glow she had been sporting this morning was gone. She was looking tired and slightly pale and was fading fast. According to the time on his prepay, it was almost seven o'clock and the last time he had seen Jolene eat or drink anything had been at breakfast. Every time he had suggested getting her something from the hospital cafeteria, Jolene had refused. Worried about his old lady and the baby she carried, Jax finally decided to put his foot down.

"Yo Sack, Phil?" The two prospects, an Abbott and Costello for the new Millennium, approached the VP. Pulling out a wad of money, Jax peeled off several hundred dollar bills. "Take the cargo van and a bike and go to Nicky's Diner. Take Ope's wife with you. Order a couple of sandwich platters for about 30. Donna will make sure you get everything we need. While one of you waits with Donna for the food, I want the other to bring back a turkey club platter and a small container of milk, a'ight?"

Filthy Phil nodded his large curly head. "Yes sir. Right away."

As both prospects headed towards Donna, his old lady had stirred. "Jax, I'm really not hungry—"

Jax interrupted. "I don't give a shit, Jo. You are going to eat what I put in front of you and that's that." He ordered heatedly.

Looking at the flared nostrils of her old man with wide eyes, Jolene decided that the best course of action was not to argue. "Okay, baby." She sighed.

Feeling like a heel when confronted with the lost look in her eyes, Jax tugged her chin up until her lips were close enough to his and kissed her softly hoping to ease the sting of his words. Giving him a small smile, Jolene leaned her head on his shoulder.

"God, Jackson. What's taking so long?" She almost whispered into the shoulder of his cut.

Unable to get the picture of Clay's broken body out of his mind's eye and not wanting to put his thoughts into words, Jax pressed a kiss onto the top of her head and whispered into her hair. "I don't know, darlin'. I don't know."

"Damn! Did anybody get the number of the train that ran my ass over?"

Startled from her light dozing, Gemma lifted her head, which was resting on the edge of a high-backed chair.

"Hey, baby." Gemma quickly jumped up and was by Clay's side in less than a second. Seeing his piercing blue eyes finally open and looking straight at her, Gemma let herself smile for the first time since that dreadful phone call. Leaning forward, she gently stroked the side of her husband's battered face as she dropped a light kiss on his dry lips.

"Shit, Gem. What the hell happened?" Clay asked, his voice hoarse.

"Don't you remember?"

Clay winced as he tried to focus his brain. His mind was fuzzy and he was finding it difficult to nail down the details of the only thing he remembered. "All I remember is the feeling of being airborne." Looking down at the left side of his body, Clay had a feeling he should be thanking his lucky stars he was still alive. Although covered by a thin bed sheet, he could make out the outline of the casts on his arm, hip and leg. "How long have I been here?"

"Two days." Gemma swallowed hard, afraid that her voice would crack. "I was starting to get a little nervous you weren't planning on waking up."

Clay managed to reach up with his good arm to caress his old lady's cheek. "Hey, hey, none of that shit, okay? I'm a tough old biker. Besides I have too much to live for." Looking towards the corner of the room behind Gemma, Clay saw his baby girl, curled up in an armchair fast asleep. "Is she alright?"

Gemma smiled. "She can hold her mud. Always could."

"So you wanna clue me in here on the damages?"

Gemma took a deep breath, which came out as a shudder. "I'm not gonna sugar coat it, baby. It's pretty bad."

Quietly, Gemma ran down his list of injuries. According to his surgeon, the left side of his body had borne the brunt of the impact. Along with a severe concussion, his left arm, hip and leg were broken, the arm in two places. Clay also had two broken ribs on the left side, one of which had pierced his lung. Repairing the lung had been difficult because of the preexisting damage caused by his beloved cigars. The doctor had said that, barring any complications resulting from his head injury or infections, Clay's chances for a full recovery were good, but only after extensive and arduous rehab. Essentially, Clay would have to learn to use his left leg all over again.

"Fuck!" Clay swore softly to himself. "How long does the Doc expect I'll be out of commission?"

Gemma hesitated. "Six to eight months, minimum."

"Shit." Clay growled.

Figuring she had downloaded enough bad news for the time being, Gemma decided to tackle his doctor's real concerns regarding his health later. Namely, Clay's arthritis, smoking, high blood pressure, and cholesterol.

Cupping his face in her hands, Gemma leaned towards her old man and tenderly kissed him. "None of that matters right now, baby. You know this whole checking out before me shit is not an option, right?" She whispered.

Clay gave her a half smile. "I'll try to remember that." He replied. "I guess now you know how I felt last year." He said referring to Gemma's own dance with death in the accident that had killed Luann Delaney. Giving his old lady a long slow kiss, Clay was already starting to miss the pussy he wouldn't be getting for the foreseeable future when he heard the sound of a chair creaking.

"Since you seem well enough to suck the tongue out of Gem's head like that, I see my time spent worrying about you was a total waste."

Gemma turned her head to see her daughter-in-law smiling, her arms folded across her chest. "Hey, don't hate. Appreciate."

"You know, this whole seeing the 'rents swapping spit, no bueno. I feel like my eyeballs need a washing." Jolene snarked as she walked towards the hospital bed.

Extending his right arm, Clay wrapped it around his daughter to give her a half-bear hug. As his arm cuddled her to him, quite suddenly Jolene, overcome by two days of fear and grief, finally let the tears flow as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"It's okay, baby girl. It's all right. I'm fine." Clay promised.

Deciding it was the right time to share the good news that Clay was awake with his brothers keeping vigil in the waiting room, Gemma backed out of the room slowly while her husband comforted his daughter.

"When can I see Papa?" Abel demanded, his lip curled into a pout of major proportions.

Wearing boxers and a white "SONS" t-shirt, Jax sat down on the corner of his son's bed. "I'm sorry, Little Man, but it's going to be a little while. Papa's getting better, but right now his doctor says that he has to rest as much as possible so he can get better that much quicker and come home."

Abel eyed his father warily, his little arms folded across his chest. "When I was in the hospital, Mommy could come and see me anytime she wanted, which was all the time. Why can't I see Papa?" He replied mutinously.

Too damn smart for his own good.

Clay had been in the hospital for several days before Jolene and Jax had finally broken the news to Abel, who had been questioning his grandfather's absence.

There had to be something about the Morrow constitution because, just like Jolene had after being shot, Clay was making rapid progress in spite of his age. His doctors anticipated that, if he continued to make such progress, he could be home in less than two weeks, which, as it was painfully obviously, would not be soon enough for his grandson.

Fortunately, his mother was able to provide Abel with an answer that finally placated him. "Sometimes, when you're small and you visit the hospital, you can get sick and it would make Papa sad if that happened to you. That's why it's much better for you to wait until he comes home because we don't want Papa worrying. We need him concentrating on getting better, okay?"

"Okay," Abel sighed. "But I still don't like it."

"I know, baby. I don't either." Jolene bent over to kiss her son. "How about we call Papa on the phone tomorrow?"

"I'd like that." Abel reached up to hug his father. "Night, Daddy."

"Good night, Little Man." Jax pressed a kiss against his son's head before tucking him in under his Incredible Hulk fleece blanket.

Closing the door behind them, Jax gave a sigh of relief. "He gets that interrogation bent from you, ya know."

"No, I believe our son was challenging authority and he gets that all from you." Jolene giggled as her husband picked her up and carried her back to their bedroom.

"Yeah," Jax drawled with a cheeky grin. "Can't really argue with you there." He gently settled his old lady onto their plush bed. "How ya holding up?"

Jolene smiled as Jax crawled into bed and placed his head on her lap. "Considering everything that's going on, I'm doing great, baby." She ran her fingers through his hair, still damp from his shower earlier.

With Gemma tied up at the hospital, Jolene had been spending her days working full time at the garage with Uncle Elvis and visiting her dad several times a day. She had been keeping so busy that Jax and Jolene had managed to make it to Stockton on the sly to see an obstetrician only that morning. With so much happening at the moment, Jolene wanted to wait until things calmed down before announcing the new baby, but seeing an OB/GYN in Charming was as good as taking an ad out in the local paper. The doctor at Stockton General had confirmed Jolene's pregnancy, ordered a full work up, and wrote her a prescription for prenatal vitamins.

Even though the doctor had declared both mother and baby healthy, pending the results of the blood work, Jax was trying his best to control his inner-Gemma. While in Chino, he had confessed to his mother that he was scared as shit of the possibility of having to go through a difficult pregnancy with Jolene. It didn't take long, however, after falling madly in love with his son, to realize that he could be the old man Jolene needed him to be. Jax loved Jolene more than life itself and he was prepared to do whatever it took to make sure that she and their baby came through this as healthy as possible.

But as much as he loved her, Jax couldn't deny that, much like her father, his old lady could be a stubborn pain in the ass. With Clay laid up for the foreseeable future, Jax knew that her own well-being would be the last thing on Jolene's mind.

Although no one knew better than Jax himself Jolene's ability to wrap him around her little finger, her health and the health of their new son were non-negotiable. If he had to, he wouldn't hesitate to engage his secret weapons: Gemma and her partner-in-crime Neeta Benson.

Hey, all's fair in love and war.

But knowing that Jolene would probably kick him in the balls if he sicced his mother on her, the Gemma and Neeta tag team smack down would be employed only as a last resort. First, he would try reasoning with his brilliant, but pig-headed old lady.

"Darlin', I think you need to slow down a bit. At least until the blood results are back." Jax reasoned, flipping onto his back so he could look her in the eyes.

Jolene stroked his face lovingly. "Baby, too many people are counting on me to lend a hand. I don't see how I can slow down without offering a reason why."

"Then maybe the way to go is to tell them why." Jax offered. "We know Clay's fine and it's just a matter of recovery. Your well-being, on the other hand, is a bit more serious."

"You don't know that for sure, Jax." Jolene replied and quickly leaned forward to place a kiss meant to shut him up on his perfectly-shaped lips. The truth of the matter was Jolene didn't know for sure herself. She had not been able to get an appointment with Dr. Negron to get her heart checked out until the end of next week. However, there was no good reason to start worrying before then or before the blood tests regarding the baby came back. "Look, baby, there's no need to set any fires just yet. We keep the baby under wraps until Dad gets home and is settled into a routine. By then I'll be a good two months along and ready to kick back and expecting to get pampered. Everything is going to be fine, all right?"

Jax reached up and buried his hands in the silk of her midnight black curls. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

Letting her husband pull her towards him, Jolene closed her eyes, savoring his tender kiss even as she prayed that her damaged heart and the new baby boy Jax was so sure she was carrying would stick to the plan.

Jax, Chibs, Opie, and Tig pulled to a stop in front of Devon's Irish bar and parked their bikes. Taking off his helmet and hanging it on the handlebars, Jax pulled out his Reaper Crew hat and put it on.

"I hope this Moran moron is on time." Jax quipped as he lit a cigarette.

"He betta be, brutha," Chibs replied as he got off his bike and walked over to Jax to bum a smoke. "As he's the one that's yanked us from our warm beds and even warmer women and called this meet."

"What can the fat fuck possibly want?" Tig snarked.

"It's got to be about Clay. Word of the accident finally hit the street and I've been fielding calls from other crews all day." Jax replied. "I thought about giving the Irish a heads up, but there hasn't been any time."

"He probably wants assurances that it's business as usual." Opie commented. "It's a valid concern."

"Well, he dunna need to concern himself with that shyte, mon." Chibs countered. "In all my time wit the Sons, we have no' failed to handle our business."

"Then let's make sure that message comes across loud and clear. Let's roll." Flicking his cigarette away, Jax headed towards the Pub's entrance with his brothers following closely behind.

The Pub was relatively quiet as it was quickly approaching closing time when the Sons strolled in. Catching Devon's eye at the bar, the huge Irishman lumbered over. "Luke's in the back room waiting for you. Last door on the left."

Heading towards the back of the pub, Jax walked down a narrow corridor towards the room. As he was about to open the door, Tig stepped in front of him. "Bro, let me go first."

Jax was about to resist Tig's request until Tig tapped his finger on his Sergeant-at-Arms patch. With a slight smile, Jax gestured for Tig to continue.

Luke Moran was sitting at a large round green felt table in the private room reserved for high stakes poker games. Luke stood up as the Sons entered.

"Good evening, lads."

After handshakes were given all around, the group sat down around the table.

"It's good to see you all are in good health. I heard through the grapevine, however, that Clay isn't fairing as well."

Jax folded his hands and placed them on the table. "You heard correctly." He then briefly filled Moran in on the SAMCRO President's accident and his current status.

Luke's dark eyes narrowed as he listened to Jax relate the facts of the matter. "I'm very sorry to hear about your troubles, lad. It would have been better, though had I heard them directly from you, rather than on the street."

"I'm sure it would have, but as I'm sure you can understand, Clay's health and well-being is our main concern right now. As I'm sure you're aware, Clay's not just my President, he's also my stepfather and father-in-law, so the well-being of my mother and wife are also of prime importance. After all, the Irish are big on family, right?" Jax smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

I really don't care for this POS.

"Aye, the oversight is completely understandable." Luke couldn't keep the smirk out of his voice. "I have been asked by the Irish Kings to wish Clay a speedy recovery."

"I'll definitely pass that along." Jax replied, his eyes narrow.

"However," Luke started.

Here it comes, Jax shook his head slightly.

"There is some concern about our current business." Luke continued.

"And just what concern is that, aye?" Chibs inquired.

Luke waved a hand in the air. "As I am sure that you can understand, with Clay out of commission indefinitely, I need to make sure that our business continues to move on steady and sure for the sake of the Cause. We would hate for any internal threats or struggles during this time to negatively impact our business."

Jax leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "You can advise the Irish Kings that they can rest easy. Unlike the RIRA's current situation, we have no internal problems within our charter. The Sons have never failed to take care of business and, I can assure you as Vice President, we have no intention of starting now."

Luke eyed the young man and then smiled. "Well, then, lads. That's all I wanted to hear. You'll be glad to know that the next shipment came across the Canadian border on time. I'll be ready to make the transfer in two days at the usual location and time." Luke stood up.

Jax followed suit. "Then we'll see you in two days."

"So how did it go?" Jimmy O asked from clear across the Atlantic.

"It went well, Jimmy. Jax Teller assured me that there would be no problems regarding our future business with the Sons." Luke replied. He was sitting in his darkened Land Rover outside the Pub as Devon was closing up for the night.

"That certainly is comforting to hear, but Luke, I'm thinking that this might be the time to make the push." Jimmy suggested.

"Brother, we have a plan, a timetable in place. Making the move this early may not be such a wise play." Luke warned

"I beg to differ. I think now may be the perfect time. With the head of SAMCRO down, so to speak, more than likely we'll be dealing with the young lad, who has no experience running a national charter." Jimmy explained.

"As your second-in-command, Jimmy, I'm obliged to tell ya that I think you're making a mistake by underestimating Jax Teller. Sure, he's a bit cocky, but McKeavey had a lot of good to say about him, a steady hand and cool under fire with a mind for the business just like his Da, JT."

"Well, McKeavey's dead now, isn't he?" Jimmy O practically roared into Luke's ear. "And he was old and slow, used to the old ways. An old soldier who was getting soft. His assessment of Teller was probably tainted by the fact that the young buck saved his hide."

"That may be, but it's not just Teller we're dealing with here."

"Exactly. More the reason as to why we should strike sooner rather than later. The boy will be too busy fighting his own Club to head off the change in our business arrangement. By the time he catches on, it will be too late." Jimmy laughed gleefully, not at all understanding Luke's trepidation.

Luke sighed. "All right. We'll do it your way, but at least let me get this shipment delivered safely so as to not arouse suspicion."

"That makes sense. The next shipment on tap won't be expected for a few weeks. In the interim, we'll make our move."

"Your father is so damn stubborn."

"Oh yeah? Well, Christmas is in December. Not exactly news, Gem. Why does this surprise you now?" Jolene snarked.

The two old ladies were sitting on one of the swinging benches on the Teller's front porch. With the slowly setting sun turning the sky burnt orange, the two women took a well deserved break. Rocking the bench together as they sipped on glasses of freshly made lemonade, they watched while in the front yard Neeta got a little unwanted exercise running after Abel.

"Yeah, you'd think that after nearly 14 years of this shit that I'd know better, huh? Let me give you a piece of advice. Outlaw bikers are hard enough to deal with, but sick outlaw bikers need to be put in medically-induced comas."

"Sorry, Gem, but that piece of Intel is something I already know first hand." Jolene said, remembering the numerous times she has had to care for her injured old man throughout the years. "I've looked into it. They don't sell those coma-inducing meds over the internet." She kidded.

Gemma turned her head to face her daughter-in-law. "What is it about our men folk and their desire to make us crazy with worry as we fear for their lives?"

"Keeps us skinny." Jolene snarked. "God knows I can't choke down any food while Jax is on a run or doing a job. Besides, would you have it any other way?"

"Not likely."

"Me neither." Jolene smiled. "So what has Daddy Dearest done that's got you all riled up?" She took another sip of her lemonade. It was good for her queasy stomach.

"He's refusing to agree to a home attendant, among other things."

Jolene straightened up from her slouched position. "What the fuck? How are you supposed to cope without one? Is he nuts?"

"I certainly think so." Gemma replied.

Gemma had been thinking ahead of the game when she spoke to Clay's doctor about what would be needed to set up their home for his recovery. The doctor planned to have a detailed discussion with both of them concerning Clay's recovery options, but he thought that it would be a good idea now for Gemma to talk with the hospital administrator about locating medical supplies as well as recommendations for in-home care.

"I spoke to that uptight bitch at the hospital, Margaret Murphy. She put me in touch with some medical supply companies so we can rent what's needed to create a hospital room for Clay at the house."

"You know I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Dad won't be able to manage the stairs. Where are you going to set him up, in the living room?"

"Destroy my living room? I don't think so." Gemma snarked. "No, I had intended to set him up in his man cave, but before I could get the words out my mouth, he nearly chewed my face off. Touching his room is grounds for divorce as far as that fat head is concerned. Can you believe that shit?"

"Uh, yeah, I can. You know how territorial Dad can get. Besides, he's probably afraid you'd deck it all out in pink." Jolene teased.

"Don't tempt me. It's still under consideration!" Gemma groused. "So besides the logistical nightmare of where to make him most comfortable, I told him I scheduled some appointments for him to meet with some male nurses who would help with his day-to-day care. You would think that part of their duties included them jerking him off, the damn fit he pitched. If this is how it's going to be, he might as well stay at St. Thomas or move into a rehab facility. It would serve him right, but I just can't do that to him. I actually love that idiot."

"Well, maybe you won't have to." Jolene hedged.

Gemma got up to pour herself another glass of lemonade. "What are you thinking, baby girl?"

If I wasn't pregnant, it's very likely that my old man might kill me for not running this by him first, but it's my Dad and his President, Jolene thought.

"The fact is, I've been mulling this over for a couple of days. Now, I don't want you to flip out, and technically, I haven't even broached this with Jax and he might very well choke the living shit out of me for not doing so, but here it goes. What if you two moved in with us?" Jolene cringed a little as she saw Gemma nearly drop her glass on the porch.

"What?" Gemma said blankly.

"Now, before you get all riled up, hear me out. Your house, while gorgeous, is not handicap-friendly. It would take substantial time and work to get a room outfitted to meet Dad's needs and, with no full bathroom on the first floor, you're looking at a major reconstruction of the existing bathroom. And as far as the home attendant is concerned, I can't blame Dad in the least. He's only going to trust someone he knows.

"We, on the other hand, have a huge bedroom with a large bathroom and a small sitting room right off the kitchen. It would be perfect for you and Dad. We could have Oswald Construction gut the bathroom and make it handicap accessible in a couple of days. With the bathroom properly outfitted, Dad could take care of himself without an audience. And we get somebody in here that can help you with Dad. Somebody he knows, like a Prospect, maybe, to help lift him and move him around. He can stay upstairs during Dad's recovery. We certainly have the room." Jolene nodded as Gemma pursed her lips. "Gem, we can make this work. On the plus-plus side, Abel can have 24-hour access to his G-Ma and Papa."

Jolene looked at her mother-in-law, not entirely sure of her reaction.

Gemma was doing her best not to bawl like a baby. The last week had been an emotional rollercoaster, the fear of nearly losing Clay crippling her. Neither of them was getting any younger and Clay, in his rightfully grumpy and self-pitying mode, was not a joy to deal with. She had always considered herself a strong old lady but, she had to admit, sometimes it was good to have someone to lean on. Part of her was surprised at how much she wanted to jump at the offer, but Gemma realized how unfair it would be to intrude on the newlywed couple.

Not really wanting to say no, the older woman did her best not to let her daughter-in-law know how much she wanted to say yes. "Baby, your offer means a lot to me. It really it does, but you've only been married a few months. Trust me, you don't want your in-laws living with you. Jax won't want his in-laws living here."

"Look, it might not be the best of living conditions, but we're both adults. And as long as everyone remembers that, in this house, I'm the Head Bitch In Charge, I think we can manage just fine." Jolene grinned.

"And what about the home attendant?"

"Actually, I was thinking Filthy Phil would fit the bill." Jolene suggested.

The young man had made good on Jax's invitation to stop by T-M to check out the Harleys, quickly becoming a hang-around. In the last five months, the Clubhouse had become a second home to him and Filthy Phil had managed to make himself useful around the lot. His loyalty to Jolene, the only teacher at Excelsior Prep that ever believed in him, and Jax, who although gruff, had befriended the young man, was unwavering. It really came as no surprise to Jolene when Opie decided to sponsor him. She had hoped that Phil would consider going to college, but Jolene knew just as well as anyone that sometimes the Life chose you, not the other way around.

"Dad will torture the hell out of him, but if he can take it, Phil is as good as patched in." Jolene smiled. "Hey, it'll give Dad someone to bully because you know Neeta won't take that shit. Besides, he's a good kid, and Lord knows he's big enough to handle Dad all by himself. I know this is a lot to think about, Gem. Talk to Dr. Wallace and get Dad's updated recovery prognosis, then I'll speak to Jax and, if I somehow survive, we'll take it from there. Okay?"

Gemma reached over to wrap her arms around Jolene as she discreetly wiped away a tear. "Damn, I sure didn't expect this to happen. I guess I'm Team Jolene, after all."

The two women were still laughing as Neeta, who had finally called the exercise quits, made her way up the stairs to the porch, sat down and sighed heavily as Abel climbed onto her lap and made himself at home. "I'm ain't no punk sister, but I'm too old for this crap."

"Baby, did you tire Miss Neeta out?" Jolene smiled mischievously.

"Mommy, I had a good time, but Miss Neeta, she don't like running."

"That's because Miss Neeta has a fat butt." Gemma snickered under her breath.

"I heard that!" Neeta admonished. "Muttering under your breath like it's some big secret. Maybe, instead of me lugging my fat behind running after my baby here, somebody should get this boy a dog to chase him around."

Abel instantly brightened up. "Miss Neeta, I think that's a good idea! Daddy said that he was going to get me a dog, but I don't gots one yet."

"Oh, he did now, did he?" Neeta asked.

Abel nodded his head emphatically. "Uh huh. If I had a dog, I wouldn't miss Papa so much."

Climbing off of Neeta's lap, he transferred himself over to his grandmother's. Looking into her eyes, he frowned. "When is Papa coming home, Grandma? I'm tired of talking to him on the phone. I wanna see him."

Hugging her grandson, Gemma replied. "We hope really soon, honey. You're just going to have to be patient."

"What's patient mean?"

"It means that sometimes you have to wait a while before what you want happens."

"You mean like waiting for Papa to come home, or for me to get a brother or sister or my dog?"

"That's right." Gemma grinned. "Believe me, I'm waiting for you to get a little brother or a sister, too."

"You are? Will you like them as much as you like me?" Abel questioned, his head slightly cocked to the side.

Gemma smiled. "I will love them as much as I love you."

"Then that's good," Abel rested his head on his grandma's ample bosom. "But I still want a dog."

Although a small hospital, St. Thomas had several private suites for those patients who had the bank to pay for them. The private room that Clay had been moved to was surprisingly large. Sporting a large sitting area with a sofa and several comfortable chairs that faced the large hospital bed and its occupant, the room had been transformed into a temporary Chapel for SAMCRO.

Clay made an imposing figure sitting upright in his bed, despite the large casts on the left side of his body. With the gavel that had been brought from the Chapel sitting on top of the table that had the remains of his perfectly nutritional, if tasteless breakfast, Clay slammed the gavel down to call the meeting to order.

"First off, I want to want thank all of my brothers. This situation hasn't been easy for any of us, but as always, when the going gets tough, we pull together as a family."

Bobby nodded. "You know we'll always have your back, brother." From the nods and clapping in the room, it seemed that Bobby had expressed the sentiments of the entire room.

"I know, and I appreciate it." Clay looked towards Jax, who had taken position on his left. "But if you really had my back, y'all could have brought me something decent to eat. I'm paying a mint in this place. You'd think they'd have the decency to feed me something at least edible." He complained.

"Hey, nobody is about to mess around with your old lady. She even gets a whiff that we snuck any food in here, she'll have all our asses in a sling." Opie joked.

"Should have known my old lady had something to do with this shit." Clay rolled his eyes at the mushy and cold oatmeal on his tray. "VP, please take my mind off my grumbling stomach by filling me in on our current state of operations."

Jax nodded. "We met with Moran prior to the pick-up of our merch. He wanted us to pass along best wishes from the Irish Kings for your speedy recovery."

Clay smiled sardonically. "How sweet. Now what did he really want?"

"No moss grows on you, man." Tig said grinning.

"What he really wanted," Jax started. "Was to make sure that things were still operational with us and that business would go on as usual in spite of your untimely accident. I managed to make it clear that the Sons can handle their shit, but I'm not getting a good vibe from this guy. He's no McKeavey."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, VP. Your gut's usually spot on, but in this case, as long as we continue holding up our end, the Irish have no choice but to hold up theirs. We won't go borrowing trouble just yet." Clay replied. "Continue."

"We got the merch from Moran and it's been transferred to Bluebird. At least on that end he seems to know what he's doing. The transfer took place without a hitch and Chibs is up at Bluebird now, overseeing our crew of illegals on the assembly."

"Is he the only patch up there?" Clay queried.

Jax nodded. "At the moment, yeah. He took Half-Sack with him, but he's gonna need a few extra hands. We've got the Niner order going out next week, plus the Fresno and Tucson charter orders came in last night. Both shipments need to go out in about 10-12 days from now."

"How's Huff working out?"

"In spite of the fact that his choice in pussy is way the fuck off, he's seems to understand the logistics well enough." Opie replied. "He's really pushing for learning the assembly aspect of the operation, though."

"I know we discussed this before, but now that you've worked with him a little, what's your handle on that, Tig?" Clay asked.

The SAA shook his head. "Too much, too soon. Assembly's a delicate process, man. I don't trust that SAMTAZ has the skill or manpower to deal with this and I don't think Huff's the man to bring that knowledge to them. This is our livelihood, bro. I think we definitely need to keep him out of the loop."

"And you, Jax? You agree?"

Jax crossed his arms. "Yeah, I do. I say we keep him busy doing grunt work for the Club for now. Maybe ask him to step in and help us out on some protection runs for Unser Trucking."

Keep his ass, as well as my ex-gash, out of the Clubhouse.

So far, Wendy had kept the peace, making sure to stay out of her ex-husband's way. Huff, on the other hand, seemed to have a bit of a swagger about him. In spite of everything on his plate since Clay's accident, Jax had not forgotten that he had a score to settle with Huff after his "mistaken identity" conversation with Jolene at the rally. Jax definitely got the feeling that Huff thought he had bested the SAMCRO VP by snapping up his ex-old lady. The idiot had no clue that no one could hold a candle to his Jolene and even though he wasn't prepared to let anyone, especially another patch, disrespect his old lady, Jax wasn't about to raise a stink just yet. There was simply too much shit going on as a result of Clay's accident and Jolene's delicate condition to get bogged down in some alpha male dick yanking contest.

Clay nodded. As far as he could tell, it seemed like his brothers had everything well in hand. "Is there anything else on the table?"

Juice spoke up. "Yeah, Half-Sack's year will be up in another month. Chibs wanted me to bring it to the table about patching him in."

Clay looked around the table. "What's the consensus?"

"He's a tough nut, considering he's only got one left." Tig snarked, which caused the room to convulse with laughter.

"Yeah, he's got some balls alright." Clay took a deep breath and looked at Jax. "I guess when you call for the vote, he'll make it through." Suddenly the room was silent.

Jax was nonplussed. "What are you saying, bro?"

"What I'm saying is that, as the Acting President, it's gonna be your job to sit at the head of the table." Seeing the looks of shock on the faces of his brothers, Clay continued. "I spoke with Dr. Wallace yesterday." Seeing the concern reflected in his brothers' eyes, Clay held his hand up. "Hey, don't get your panties in a wad. I'm not about to croak just yet. It's just that I was given a revised prognosis regarding the length of my recovery."

"So what's the word, brother?" Tig asked.

"The word is, my ass probably won't touch the seat of my bike for at least a year, maybe more." Clay said quietly.

"Shit, man." Tig exclaimed.

He wasn't alone in his expression of sympathy, but the bylaws established by SAMCRO's co-founders, John Teller and Piney Winston, were clear. If you can't ride, you can't vote and if you can't vote, you sure as hell can't lead.

Clay cleared his throat. "I have been proud to lead the Sons of Anarchy Redwood Original as your President for the past 15 years and I hope to be able to lead my brothers again one day. But I can't do it now and you need a President who is whole, and who can be there for his brothers. To not only lead the mother charter, but to set the example for the rest of the MC as well. Until such time that I can resume my chair, it is my belief that there is no one more qualified in this room to sit at the head of the table than my son. So will someone please second the goddamn motion already?"

Bobby stood up proudly. "I second the motion!"

Clay smiled at Jax, who looked a little shell-shocked. "Then we'll vote on it at next Church." Clay pointed a finger at Opie. "Make sure you bring Piney's drunk ass down from the cabin."

"No doubt." Opie grinned. "Old man wouldn't miss this shit for the world."

Clay nodded and slammed the gavel down. "Meeting adjourned." Looking at his brothers, Clay said, "Let me have the room for a minute. I need to talk to my VP."

As the brothers filed out, Clay motioned to Jax to step around to the right side of his bed. "You okay, son?"

"Yeah. Nah. Shit, man, I don't fuckin' know." Jax replied as he rubbed his chin. "I guess I knew this endgame was possible, but I didn't want it to happen this way."

Clay reached out and rested his oversized mitt on his stepson's neck. "I think it's safe to say that you've wanted this gavel all of your life."

Nah, only since I was five years old, Jax thought.

"This is a good testing period for you, Jax. I talked to Bobby about this long and hard yesterday. He seems to think that it's time for the next generation to lead SAMCRO into the future and he thinks your wingman is ready to step it up as Acting VP. And I think he's absolutely right."

Both Clay and Bobby had come to the conclusion that it was only fitting that JT's and Piney's boys head the table, not because it was their legacy, but because they had earned it. The world was changing and the two lifelong friends had been through a minefield together in the name of brotherhood and had grown into older and wiser men. Having left their youthful antics behind, they had grown into men of character and loyalty who would work hard not just for the betterment of their brotherhood, but for their own families as well.

"No doubt." Jax agreed. Reaching over, he hugged the man who had indeed become a father to him. "I promise you, Clay. I won't let you or the Club down and, when you're ready, your chair will be waiting for you."