Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy.

The front lawn and porch of the Teller home was packed with people—patches, old ladies and children, all waiting for the arrival of the SAMCRO President.

Jolene barely had time to mingle with her company as she ran around handling her duties as hostess. Grateful that Neeta was overseeing the food prep, Jolene still managed to wear herself down as she ran to and from the kitchen, giving Neeta an extra pair of hands to work with and making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink. On her feet since early this morning, Jolene was starting to lag, but every time she heard the sound of motorcycles, she would run outside, reenergized and hoping that it was her father's entourage.

Donna couldn't take seeing Jolene's pale and anxiety-ridden face any longer. As she prepared for her father's homecoming, the last couple of days had obviously put a strain on her dear friend. Finally grabbing Jolene by the arm, she forcibly dragged her to one of the rattan chairs on the porch and gently, but firmly plopped her down.

"You need to chill, all right? All this nervous anxiety is not good for you."

And it's not good for the baby either.

Donna was not at all happy that her best friend had chosen to keep quiet about her pregnancy. Keeping everyone in the dark just allowed them to expect miracles from Jolene at a time like this. According to Jax, he had tried several times to get her to stop doing so much and slow down but, like a good old lady would, she quickly cut him off at the knees. Unlike Gemma, Jolene had yet to learn the fine art of delegating and was a firm believer in the old adage "if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself" and wouldn't let anyone help her.

Grabbing a glass of lemonade from one of old ladies who was passing a tray around, Donna shoved it into her friend's hand. "Drink it." She said sternly.

"D—"

"Drink it or I swear I will pinch your nose and shove it down your damn throat in front of everyone. How's that gonna look, huh?" The petite woman had both of her hands perched on her hips and a hard look on her face.

Judging by the glare aimed at her, Jolene had no doubt that she'd do it, too. Instead of testing her long-time friend's patience, she took a few tentative sips and found the icy lemonade was actually refreshing. Donna watched her closely as Jolene slowly sipped the drink and smiled slightly as the color came back into Jolene's pale face.

Donna sat down in the chair next to Jolene. "Now how do you feel?"

"Actually, I feel a lot better." She replied sheepishly. "I guess I was feeling a little—"

"Faint? Lightheaded? Overworked? Tired?"

"Geez, maybe just a little." Jolene replied, a little annoyed.

"No shit! Anyone can see from a mile away that something's dragging your ass down, Jo. You need to start taking better care of yourself—" Donna was about to go into nagging mode, Jolene was just sure of it and decided to nip it in the bud.

"I know, I know, and I will. Things are just so hectic right now—"

Donna put her hand up. "I don't have time for bullshit excuses, Jolene. You realize how hectic things will get around here should you suddenly collapse or, God forbid, something happens to you or that baby?" She chastised, effectively killing Jolene's argument.

Donna was right. Not only did she have to take care of herself for the sake of the baby she carried, but for the sake of her loved ones as well. If something should happen to her or 'lil peanut, she knew her old man well enough to know that he would only blame himself.

Jolene wrapped her arms around Donna. "Thanks, D. I can always count on you to give it to me straight, even if I don't like it."

"I only nag because I love you and, if I'm honest, I'm scared. After everything you went through with Abel, I just can't believe you're doing it again. I'm just hoping for the best, you know?" Donna looked at her best friend with wide, frightened eyes.

Jolene was about to admit to her friend that she too was scared when, in the distance, she could suddenly hear the powerful roar of several bikes, as did all of her guests. Cheers and applause broke out when six bikes, riding in a two-by-two formation appeared on the street, with an ambulance and several bikes following them.

Jolene jumped to her feet. "Finally! He's home!"

As the bikes and the ambulance pulled into the Teller's driveway, the crowd continued to cheer. Two paramedics exited the van and made their way through the well-wishers to open the back doors of the ambulance. Sitting in a large motorized wheelchair, Clay Morrow flashed his famous shit-eating grin at the crowd.

Following one of the paramedic's directions, and with his old lady in tow, Clay deftly maneuvered his wheelchair using the control pad with his right hand. He barely had time to clear the ambulance when he found himself being nearly hugged to death by his daughter.

"Daddy!"

Wrapping his good arm around her small shoulders, Clay managed to kiss the top of her head. "Baby girl." Clay looked around at the sea of faces surrounding him. "And where's my grandson?" He practically roared.

"Papa! Papa!" Scrambling through the crowd, Abel Teller came to a halt as he saw his grandfather in a wheelchair, surrounded by his brothers and being hugged fiercely by his mother.

Abel sprinted once again toward him and Clay used his powerful right arm to hoist his grandson onto his lap. Wrapping his arm around the boy, Abel buried his face into the crook of the burly man's neck and cried. Not noticing that his own eyes were tearing, Clay did his best to comfort his grandson, stroking his hair and murmuring to him softly as his family looked on. Finally, Clay managed to get Abel to sit on his right leg.

Abel's lip trembled. "I missed you, Papa. I didn't think you was ever coming home."

Clay stroked his grandson's blond hair. "I missed you too, Little Man, but you didn't have to worry. I was always coming home. I'm a tough old bird."

Abel finally managed a smile as he wiped away the tears on his cheeks. "As tough as Clancy?" He asked, referring to Gemma's white Cockatoo.

"Even tougher. Just between you and me, there were a couple of times I didn't think that bird was going to make it." Clay said as he eyed his old lady.

"Don't start, Clay," Gemma advised acidly. "Unless you want to go back to St. Thomas."

Abel eyed his grandmother. "Papa, you better stop. Grandma gots the look."

"What are you talking about, baby?" Gemma eyed her grandson.

Abel avoided looking directly into Gemma's eyes. "Nothing, Grandma. It's just something Papa told me when we have our man talks."

Clay cleared his throat loudly. "I think it's time I say hello to everybody else." He said hurriedly. "Come on, Abel. Let's go inside. I want to meet this Chopper of yours."

Before Mama Bear tears a strip off of me in front of my Club.

The Tellers' large backyard was packed. Set up with half a dozen large picnic tables, the crowd was making noisy, happy sounds as they celebrated the return of the SAMCRO President. Sitting at the head of one of the tables, Clay held court as he joked and laughed with his family, his grandson sitting on his lap.

Grabbing the remaining piece of steak on his plate with his good hand, Clay dropped his hand to the side of his wheelchair. Feeling the soft pink tongue lap at the juicy morsel in his hand, Clay smiled as the little pup yipped with excitement, and winked at his grandson.

"Papa, you really cleaned your plate." Abel said, looking at the remains of Clay's plate.

"Well, I had a little help." Clay noted as he saw the Abel's puppy dash off to enjoy his meaty prize in secret. "I think that was the best steak I ever had. It was way better than the hospital sh—crap that I had to eat."

Hearing his comment, Jolene reached over to squeeze his good hand. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Daddy, since it's the last you'll be having for the foreseeable future." She smiled engagingly as Clay's face fell.

"What the hell are you talking about, baby girl?"

"I mean, that you better enjoy this homecoming spread while you can because there are going to be some changes in your diet in the very near future." Jolene crossed her arms underneath her chest and eyed at her father. "But we won't talk about it now, seeing that we're in mixed company and this is a celebration."

"Uh oh, Papa. Now Mommy's gots the look." Abel declared.

"Damn, Clay. Sounds like Kit is about to put you in lock down." Bobby joked as he took another bite of his steak.

"Well, if it has to be done, it has to be done." Jolene said, giving her father a look that dared him to challenge her.

She'd be better off taking better care of herself than worrying about me, Clay thought grimly. He may be old, but he still had a pretty good set of eyeballs and it was obvious to him that his daughter was more than a little run down.

Although Jolene and Gemma spent most of the afternoon fussing over him, Clay was quick to realize that his daughter didn't seem to be her naturally upbeat self. He hadn't failed to note that Jolene's appetite, which was legendary throughout Charming, was almost nonexistent. She had spent the past hour toying with a half-eaten burger and an untouched ear of corn sat on her plate.

Clay had suspected that his recent health issues had taken a toll on both his old lady and daughter. Now that he could see that his suspicions had been correct, he wasn't happy about it. However, he was pretty damn sure that if he tried to tackle Jolene about it, she would quickly turn it around on him.

I'll sic Gemma on her. She can get away with that needling bullshit and I won't look like the bad guy.

Clay decided that he would address the bug that had crawled up his daughter's ass concerning his health and nutrition later. It was now time to get down to business.

"The food was great, baby girl, but I think its time for Church. Can you clear everybody out of the house? We need a little privacy."

"Sure, Dad," Jolene rose to her feet and kissed her father on the forehead. "But this ain't over." She warned.

It was getting close to sundown and the Club had gathered in the Tellers' living room for Church. Clay would have preferred using Jax's man cave, but with it being in the basement, there was no way Clay would be able to manage the stairs.

Wearing his beloved cut once again and sitting in his wheelchair in front of the fireplace, Clay looked at his brothers. The tough outlaw biker was suddenly feeling quite emotional as he looked down at the gavel that was on a small table by his side.

Clay Morrow had been SAMCRO's President for over 17 years, taking over the gavel after the untimely death of John "JT" Teller. He had entered a new phase of his life when he assumed the presidency and won the love of JT's old lady Gemma. Coming so close to dying on the road had been eerily chilling. The similarities between his situation and JT's had been a little overwhelming. Now, as a result of another accident, his life was about to be altered significantly once again.

His tenure as President had not been easy. There had been a lot of death and mayhem, a lot of losses and blood shed, but there had also been a lot of good times.

Although he had never pictured himself giving up the gavel like this, having finally come to grips with his doctor's prognosis for his recovery, Clay had given a lot of thought to his doctor's opinion regarding having surgery to alleviate his rheumatoid arthritis. Making the decision to go through with the surgery, after he was fully recovered from his injuries, would mean an even longer recovery period, but if the surgery worked, it meant that he could return to the head of the table.

It was definitely something worth considering.

The thought of retiring had never really occurred to Clay. He always pictured himself going out in a blaze of glory, so he wasn't about to give up on the idea of returning to the head of the table. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Clay was sure that Jax and Opie would do a fine job keeping his seat warm. Even though Clay would be unable to vote as he recovered, he knew that Jax was smart enough to turn to him for advice when he needed it. Clay would be stepping down, albeit temporarily, but he knew that he was leaving the Club—and their legacy—in good hands.

Clay picked up the gavel and slammed it down, calling the meeting to order.

"Well, my brothers. It's been a good, long ride and it fuckin' kills me that I cannot presently serve my brothers in a capacity that is both needed and required. Because of that, I know that passing a vote to appoint Jax as Acting President and Opie as his VP is the right thing to do. I know that they will work hard to preserve our way of life and to maintain our livelihood. I can go to bed at night knowing that the Club is in good hands until such time that I can lead you again."

"Hear, hear!" Piney called out, with his brothers echoing his sentiment.

"Without any further boo-hooing, and as my last official act as your President—for the time being—I ask that all those in favor of making Jax Teller the Acting President of the mother charter and Opie Winston the Acting Vice President, put their right hand in the air." Looking at his son-in-law, Clay raised his hand and everyone followed suit.

"Any opposed?" Seeing no hands raised, Clay turned to face Jax. "Congratulations. I know you'll make us all proud, son."

Jax wrapped his arms around the older man and whispered into his ear, the whooping and yelling of his brothers in the background. "I will make you proud. I promise."

Clay pulled back from the embrace, reached over and picked up the gavel. Handing it to Jax, Clay smiled. "The floor is all yours, Pres." Moving his wheelchair out of the way, Clay left an almost-stunned Jax standing in the center of the room as he went to congratulate the new VP. "I think you should bring us all up to speed on Club business. I don't know about you, but I got my eye on a piece of Neeta's apple pie."

"Speech first, brother!" Piney yelled as similar cries echoed in the room.

Waiting for his brothers to quiet down, Jax looked at the gavel that he held in his hands with reverence.

"I want to thank Clay for his support and the confidence that he has in Ope and in me to fill in for him. I can't front, brothers. I've wanted to wield this fuckin' gavel since I was a kid, but now that I have it, I've come to understand the responsibilities that come with it. I can only hope that I can do half as good of a job as my father and my brother." Jax said, indicating Clay. "But I promise to do my best to lead the Club, to protect our ability to earn, and to be loyal to our brotherhood."

Taking his seat before his brothers, with Opie to his left, Jax waited for everyone to settle down.

"Now, let's get down to business. First off, we've put feelers out to the other charters in order to gauge their reaction to word of Clay's accident. While they have expressed love and concern for their brother, they're also concerned about their livelihood and how the Club is going to function with Clay sidelined." Jax explained. "Unfortunately, it has not gone unnoticed that the ATF has set up shop in Charming. Now that we have this temporary solution regarding leadership in place, we need to get the word out that all is fine and running according to schedule with the mother charter. More importantly, that we have the situation with the ATF under control."

"And we need to do it soon." Opie added. "All it takes is a couple of clucking hens to get the charters riled up. If they start worrying that their ability to earn and way of life may be threatened, we could end up dealing with a lot of internal problems."

Jax nodded. "That shit is definitely top priority. Bobby, work with Juice and draft an announcement that we can send out by e-mail by the end of the day today. With visiting patches here from Tacoma and Rogue River, I want all the charters getting the news of the change in leadership simultaneously. Even though it's a temporary situation, we need the change to be seen as official and in the proper light. Squash any bullshit from popping off before it even starts."

Juice nodded at Bobby. "We'll get right on it."

"Is there any new business?" Jax asked.

"Unser called yesterday with some good news. He has four protection runs for some shipments that just fell into his lap." Happy replied in his gravelly voice. "High end electronics, designer bags and shit, going to Fresno, Bakersfield, San Diego, and San Francisco. "Should net the Club $10-15K a pop, starting in a couple of days."

With his arms crossed over his chest, Jax rubbed the hair on his chin with his free hand. "Not a bad haul. Juice, who's on rotation for the next set of runs?"

Juice did a quick check on his laptop. "You, Tig, and Chibs."

Jax shook his head. "With the next shipment from Dungloe expected next week, I think it's best if Tig and Chibs stay local." He replied.

"Don't forget, we also have the rest of the assembly at Bluebird to consider. Maybe we should have Huff and his new patches fill in on the protection runs?" Opie suggested.

"Okay. I'd rather stay local myself and I'm sure Huff and his crew won't mind the cut they're entitled to for running protection. It's easy money and, depending on the schedule, they should be back in time for their first run to Tucson with their next shipment." Jax said.

"Yea, the guns will definitely be ready by the time they get back, brutha." Chibs advised.

Jax looked at Tig. "It's your call, SAA. You think Huff's ready to lead that transport back home on his own?"

Tig shrugged his shoulders, a slight smirk on his face. "The way that d-bag talks shit, he's been ready."

"I know that my opinion of my SAMTAZ brother is biased, but I find Huff's judgment questionable at best and can't bring myself to trust him 110%." Jax started. "With that ATF gash still in Charming, I really don't give a shit what he thinks he can handle. I trust you and I wanna know what you think, bro."

After giving it some serious thought, Tig nodded. "Yeah, I think he can handle it."

"Hey, before we switch gears again, why the fuck is that ATF bitch still in town?" Clay growled, still pissed that the Fed had picked up his baby girl on a bogus bench warrant.

"Stahl came up empty after gunning for Jo, but I'm sure she has more up her sleeve. I don't see her giving up any time soon." Jax advised.

"She went after a fuckin' high school math teacher, for chrissakes. Would it surprise anyone if she went after other old ladies, especially the ones with criminal records she can try spooking into ratting on the Club?" Opie added.

"If that's the case, man, then we need to keep a close eye on our women." Tig suggested.

"Absolutely," Jax agreed. "But play it low key and keep a cool head. Don't give the bitch an opportunity to pull a patch in." Nodding at Clay, Jax said, "If you're up to it, maybe you can reach out to Unser. I'm sure Stahl has probably restricted what Intel he can have access to, but the Chief and his deputies can keep an eye and ear out. Any heads up we can get before shit comes raining down on us is always a good thing."

"I can do that. I still have one good hand." Clay joked.

"Now, there is one more piece of Club business to consider." Jax looked at Chibs. "I hear you think Private One-Nut is ready to patch in."

Laughs and catcalls erupted, with Chibs being the loudest. "Yea, brutha. He's really stepped up."

"Let's call it, then. All in favor?" As the entire Club raised their right hands, Jax slammed his gavel down for the first time.

"With things the way they are, I think we should postpone Half Sack's patch in and party—"

"Oh man—" Tig started moaning.

"But I get the feeling you guys would shit a brick. Besides, we need some good times to get us through the bad ones, so next Friday, we patch him in." Jax announced.

"Now that's officer thinking!" Chibs hooted.

Sitting on a lawn chair next to Gemma, Jolene kept glancing through the windows of the French doors leading into the kitchen from the deck, keeping an eye out for signs that Church was over.

Gemma took a sip of her California Ice Tea. "Anxious to get your beating over with?" She snarked.

"Hey, my Dad has never raised a hand to me in my life. I can't see him starting now."

"Well, there's always a first time for everything, baby girl."

"You know, I thought you would be a little more supportive." Jolene rolled her eyes.

"I am, sweetheart, I am. I just think you may be biting off a little more than you can chew with your dad. I have way more experience than you when it comes to dealing with a sick outlaw biker. And one that's been busted up is a hell of a lot worse, especially one who is—was—President of an MC." Gemma said with a touch of worry in her voice.

The worry translated to her daughter-in-law. "It's going to be pretty hard for Dad to give up the gavel, isn't it?"

"I've known your father for over thirty years. He's not one to share his toys with others, especially the gavel." Gemma reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Jolene's ear. "But your father loves the Club more than anything. He'll do the right thing for his brothers and, right now, your old man is the best thing that could ever happen to SAMCRO."

I am so proud of my baby boy.

As much as she loved her husband, Gemma recognized that Jackson was the center of her universe. All she ever wanted was for her son to be happy and successful in his life and with the Club. Now, he was being given the chance to do just that.

Gemma knew that her old man hoped that, once he recovered, he would be able to retake his place at the head of the table, but she wasn't sure that it was the best thing for him. Although still incredibly active at 60, Clay's arthritis had been worsening and slowing him down over the years. The accident, while devastating, could not have come at a better time. Because of it, they had learned of the damage being done to his lungs because of the cigars, but according to Dr. Wallace, a few changes to his lifestyle and diet would guarantee a prolonged lifespan. As much as Gemma wanted him to be happy by leading the Club as President, she would rather have him growing old by her side.

Clay had finally confided in his old lady and told her exactly what happened the day of the accident. The joints in his hands had been extremely painful throughout that weekend and, in spite of the several cortisone shots Jolene had administered, after four-plus hours on the road, his mitts had simply given out on him. The idea that it could happen again was somewhat terrifying to the Queen of Charming, so she was intent on pushing Clay to have the surgery that would alleviate his suffering and allow him to ride again.

According to Dr. Wallace, the surgery would not give him the hands of a 25-year old, but the improvement would definitely allow him to ride as required per the Club's by-laws in order to sit at the table and vote, much like Piney. At this point in both of their lives, it was the best of both worlds as far as Gemma was concerned. Clay would still be in the thick of things regarding the Club, without having to do extensive runs and she wouldn't have to face the possibility again of losing him to the road.

Which was why Gemma was bound and determined to make sure that Clay's recovery moved along at a good pace and had promised herself to do her best not to be a complete pain in the ass in the home of her son and daughter-in-law.

Having concluded their meeting, both Gemma and Jolene turned as the doors to the deck opened to reveal the Sons.

Gemma nudged Jolene. "Well, this is it. You might as well get it over with. I'll be here supporting you."

Jolene got up and walked towards the house. Spotting her son as he played with some of the other kids, Jolene called him over. Having Abel as a buffer might prove useful.

Walking into the house carrying her son, with Gemma and Donna trailing behind, Jolene bent over to kiss her Dad on the cheek. "So is everything okay?"

Clay reached out to take his grandson from her. "Of course everything is okay, baby girl, but I think you and your BFF should go over there and congratulate the new Acting President and Vice President properly. They deserve it."

Looking into her father's eyes and seeing the shit-eating grin on his face, Jolene relaxed a little. With a little squeal of excitement, she ran over to her old man, wrapped her arms around him and quickly obeyed her father's edict, nearly sucking the tongue out of Jax's head.

Gemma stroked her husband's cheek. "You all right, baby?" She said huskily. Noting the moist sheen in her eyes, he motioned for her to bend down and in front of a wide-eyed Abel, thoroughly kissed his old lady. "I'm good. I'll be even better when I get you home. I think we need to do some experimenting."

Seeing the wicked light in her old man's steely blue eyes, Gemma smiled. "I am going to have to come up with some pretty inspired ways to get you off with that get up on." She indicated his arm cast and the long, cumbersome cast that reached from Clay's hipbone and encased his foot.

"We'll think of something because six months without your kitty is way too long for me."

Abel wrinkled his nose. "Kitty? Grandma, when did you get a cat?"

"That's a long story, baby." She plucked her grandson from Clay's lap. "I'll tell you about it one day." She turned her head to Jolene and Jax, who had finally come up for air. "Besides, I think your momma has some good news she wants to tell your Papa."

Hearing Gemma's comment, Jolene looked at Jax, who was grinning at her. "It's your show, darlin'. I suggest you get the ball rolling while he's still in a good mood."

Pulling herself out of her husband's arms, Jolene approached her father who was looking at her quizzically. "What's going on, baby girl?"

Jolene hedged. "Actually, I think it's probably better if I just show you. Follow me, Dad."

Turning around, Jolene headed towards the far end of the kitchen to the closed double doors. With Clay maneuvering his chair to follow her, the rest of the party followed behind him.

Stopping, Jolene threw the doors open and said, "Dad, welcome to your new home away from home."

What the fuck?

Clay slowly angled the chair into what was a large room.

The former household staff suite had consisted of a large bedroom, a small living area and a large bathroom. However, the room Clay entered now had been completely transformed.

Pressing her best friend into service, Jolene got Donna to approach Oswald about doing the renovation in record time. Oswald, a long time friend of the Club, had a crew come in and, in three days, managed to gut the room, turning it into one large studio apartment. The crew installed a pulley system on the ceiling that would help Clay in using his new handicapped bathroom independently, as well as getting in and out his hospital bed.

"Jolene, what is this?" Clay said bewildered as he looked at large space.

"It's where you and Gemma will be staying for however long it takes to get you back on your feet again. And we're not arguing about this, Dad. You're just going to have to accept that this is the way it is. I am stepping in and taking control of the situation. You've been giving Gemma a hard time and, quite frankly, I am so over it." Jolene placed a hand on a cocked hip as she continued bitching her father into submission. "It's either this, or rehab in Stockton, which ain't gonna happen, so it's this and only this. Besides, a lot of work went into getting the room ready in time for you to come home and I nearly drove my old man crazy enough that he threatened to move into the Clubhouse, so for the sake of Gemma's sanity and my marriage, you are going to suck it up like a big boy and just do what I say. Trust me, and you can ask Jax, it's just easier that way."

"Jolene—" Clay started sternly, not unaccustomed to being dressed down by his daughter, just not so publicly, but was interrupted as his grandson piped in.

"Papa! Your gonna stay wit me and Chopper? Now I can see you and Grandma all the time!" Abel threw his little arms around Clay's neck and squeezed. "I am so happy, Papa!"

"Oh, before I forget," Jolene smiled triumphantly. "We got a wonderful home attendant for you, too.

Clay looked at his daughter in shock. Oh, hell's no. No stranger is wiping my ass.

"Jolene—" Clay started sternly, again, but failed to get a word in.

"I talked to Jax and he agreed that Filthy Phil is the right man for the job. Phil can move in upstairs and be around to help you get around and lift you into the pulley harness."

Hey, that's smart thinkin', Clay briefly considered. The Prospect is fuckin' ginormous. Finally seeing the bright side, Clay smiled as he realized he could haze the Prospect all day long in order to entertain himself. I may end up toughening him up a little.

"I'm warning you, Dad. You fight me on this, you may end up in the shittiest rehab center I can find."

"Now you're threatening your old man?"

"If that's what it takes." Jolene squatted besides him. "Dad, you did an awesome job taking care of me when I was a kid. Please, just let me take care of you now."

The fact was Clay was not looking forward to his recovery and rehab. Being stuck in his house was going to be a pain in the ass and even though his daughter and her family were literally around the corner, the idea of being able to be around them during his recovery all the time meant a lot.

Obviously his baby girl went to some extreme measures to bring him and Gemma into her home. How the two old ladies were going to deal with one another was anybody's guess.

Jax can't be over the moon about this shit, but I don't care. I need my family.

Even though he really didn't want to, Clay made a feeble, half-hearted attempt to refuse the offer. "Jax, you sure about this?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, old man." His old lady's health and happiness were the only issue as far as Jax was concerned. Having her ailing father under her roof would go a long way in easing Jolene's mind.

Gemma reached over and kissed her old man. "So we'll all be under one roof. Just one big, happy family."

Jolene looked at her husband with a wry smile on her face.

No good deed goes unpunished, but hopefully, we'll survive without killing each other.

Falling into Drill Sarge mode, Jolene had cleared her house of all guests a couple of hours earlier. Clay, sitting upright in the large hospital bed, smiled to himself as he noted proudly that his little girl was a chip off the old block.

The party ain't over, but you can't stay here. Thanks for coming. Now, good night, she had said as she declared an end to his Welcome Home party. Jolene insisted that he was overdoing it on his first day home and needed some rest. As much as he hated to admit his weaknesses, baby girl had been right. He was exhausted.

Clay looked up from the pages and pages of instructions given to him by the hospital upon discharge as his wife exited the bathroom while towel drying her hair.

"That's some shower, huh?"

"Three pulsating shower jets? It's fucking' amazing," Gemma chortled. "I think we're due for an upgrade at home. I'm gonna give Oswald a call in the morning."

"And the Martha Stewart of the MC World is back!" Clay said as he pulled his wife closer to the bed."

"Back? Honey, she never left." She groused as she hung her damp towel on one of the rungs on the side of Clay's bed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I beg to differ, sweetheart. You're a pretty tough old lady, but lately you've been a little down and that's my fault."

"Ssh, baby. What happened, happened. It may have knocked me off my stride for a little while, but I'm okay."

Kissing his wife deeply, Clay pulled back to look into her eyes. "I'm glad to hear that. Now if we could just get baby girl back on track I'd feel a lot better."

His old lady stroked her fingers through his hair. "You and Bobby raised a tough girl, but you can't blame her for being shaken. It's a hard thing for a child, even an adult one, to come to grips with nearly losing a parent."

It's even harder for a wife.

"I know, Gem, but it's more than that. She's looking a bit run down, tired, almost sickly. This was supposed to be her summer off to enjoy with her new family. Now on top of taking care of her own family, she's stuck taking on the burden of a busted up father and helping out at the lot. She thinks she's superwoman, taking care of everybody else and not taking good care of herself."

Gemma nodded. "She does seem a bit paler than usual and she's lost a bit of weight." She commented.

"I know, and I know my baby girl. I don't want to come across like some interfering busybody."

"That's never stopped you before." Gemma replied, earning herself a mini-glare from her husband.

Clay continued. "She's only gonna put me off or turn the tables on me and start harping on my diet and shit. That's why I think you should do it."

"Me?" Gemma exclaimed, surprised.

"Yeah, you. That's your job and you do it so well. Gemma, don't you know that this charter wouldn't be what it is today without you? I depend on you for this kind of shit, stepping in and taking care of our family."

Gemma looked him in the eye. "You're not just saying that to butter my ass up."

"No, baby, I swear." Clay replied earnestly.

"Because what you said means a lot to me, baby."

"It means a lot because it's all true."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Gemma shook her head. "If that's the case, I guess I can find the right time to tackle our baby girl."

"Good. In the meantime, maybe you might be willing to tackle something else." Clay nodded towards space between his two big toes. "My friend down, he's been pretty lonely."

Gemma trailed a hand down her husband's torso, stopping to rest on his dick. "Oh, my poor friend. We can't have him feeling lonely, now can we?"

Pulling Gemma closer, Clay slowly shook his head as he growled. "Nuh huh."