"Nice mark," Angela said, flicking the dark red spot on her best friend's neck.

Chloe frowned in response, swatting her hand away. "Could say the same thing to you, Old Lady," she shot back, nodding to the equally impressive mark on Angela's chest.

She grimaced in response, rubbing her hand over the mark self-consciously. "You're not far from being one yourself," she commented just to get under Chloe's skin. She knew Chloe was nowhere near that type of title. Hell, she was barely near the title of girlfriend. Growing up with Happy, she'd never once seen him with a girlfriend. Sure, there'd be girls that would hang around the house, dying for his attention, but he hardly gave it to them; not unless he wanted something.

"Don't you have something better to do than sit here and harass me?" Chloe asked, exasperated.

"Nope," Angela replied with a wide grin. "Skeet and Boner won't let me work."

She raked a hand through her hair and raised her eyebrows. "Well, I still gotta work."

"What's got your panties in a twist? Besides my cousin, of course."

Chloe scowled at her, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I'm just...tired. My shift is long as hell and then I get home and he's there, and he keeps me up half the night, not that I mind, but shit, I need to sleep sometimes too, y'know?" she said, her words rushed and all jamming together. At Angela's disgusted look, she pointed a finger in her face. "Stop looking at me like that. You asked."

"I didn't think you would tell me. Gross," she muttered, shaking her head. Her eyes widened as she heard the quick clack of heels on tile coming closer. She knew who it was by the look on Chloe's face. "Gemma?"

"Uh-huh, and she's comin' real fast. I gotta go," Chloe said, grabbing up her charts and darting away.

Angela flipped off her friend's back before turning around to face the SAMCRO Queen. She wished she had an excuse to run after Chloe because Gemma looked pissed beyond belief. "Hey Gem," she greeted calmly.

"You know about Tara being transferred to Oregon?" she asked without any other greeting.

"Yeah," she answered honestly. She knew it was better to tell the truth than to lie to Gemma; she always ended up finding out. "Why?"

"Let's go. We're going to have a little chat about you not tellin' me shit," she ordered, turning on her heel and heading towards the door.

Angela sighed and followed after her. "I didn't know that you didn't know," she tried, walking quicker to catch up with her.

"Get in the car."

With a grunt, she pulled herself up into the passenger's seat of Gemma's giant SUV. "I didn't..."

"Bullshit, preggo," Gemma said, starting up the car. "You really think I'd be okay with Tara takin' the boys?"

Angela sighed again, playing nervously with her rings. "It wasn't my place to tell you. I'm no instigator, Gem. You ask? I'll tell you, but I'm not going to come running to you every time I hear something you're not gonna like. I'm no tattletale."

Gemma looked over at the undertaker, wishing she could be mad at the younger woman for not telling her. After hearing her explanation, though, she just found she liked the girl more. She was loyal to her friends, to her family. That seemed to be a rarity these days. "That your moral code? No tattling?"

She smirked a bit and nodded. "Somethin' like that," she answered, looking around the car for a moment. Her eyes landed on the bag in the back. "Where we goin' anyway?"

"Clay's. Got shit to put into motion. Your Old Man will be there. Figured he could use the support," Gemma answered. At Angela's apprehensive look, she rolled her eyes. "Relax, Preggo. Wouldn't put you in danger. Got my granddaughter to think of."

Angela grimaced at the notion of adding Gemma onto the list as her grandmother. With her mom, her aunt, and Gemma, that kid was going to be spoiled rotten. "Right," she said on a breath as they pulled into the drive. "What am I doin' here, Gem?"

"Just keep your mouth shut and stand by your man. That's all you gotta do in there. Got it?"

She nodded, sucking in a deep breath as she got out of the car, following Gemma around to the trunk. "Want me to get your bag?" she asked, eyeing the rolling duffel. Gemma raised an eyebrow at her, shaking her head as she headed up the door, leaving Angela behind by the car.

-------------------

Juice wasn't surprised when he saw Gemma on the other side of Clay's door. She was supposed to be there to go on the trip Clay was taking to Ireland. Only Clay would never make it to Ireland. If Jax's plan worked out the way it was supposed to, Clay would be on a one way trip to Stockton penitentiary. Gemma's hazel eyes looked him over, a hint of worry in them before she jerked her head back towards her car. "Preggo's in the car with the bags," she told him. At his confused look, she set a hand on his arm. "She helped me pack. Figured I'd take her along with me. Least one of my girls should see me off. Now, go, 'fore she starts lifting shit."

He nodded slowly, wondering how Gemma knew to bring her along. He drew strength from her calm presence. Having her there was a sign that he was doing the right thing, that he wasn't the bad guy in this situation. "Got it," he said, walking out the door. He found her sitting on the bumper of the SUV, the bag in the trunk behind her as she ran a hand over her belly. He raised an eyebrow at her. "This how you help?" he teased.

"Looks heavy," Angela explained on a shrug. "Don't want to hurt Monk because Gemma over packs."

Juice shook his head at her, catching her lips in a quick kiss. "Good call," he replied, lifting the suitcase with a grunt. "You know what's about to go down?"

She shook her head slowly. "Is it something I should know?"

He considered it for a moment, looking back over his shoulder at the house behind him. "Remember that thing we talked about last night?" he asked, waiting for her to nod before continuing, "That's about to happen. Now."

She reached up her hands, framing his face. "You can do this, Juice. I know you can," she said softly before kissing him. "I love you."

Juice nodded, one hand on her belly as he kissed her forehead. "Love you too."

Angela watched him as he headed back inside looking as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The baby did a little flip in her belly, and she sighed. "I'm worried about him, Monk," she admitted softly as she made her way inside the small house. It was relatively sparse compared to the mess it had been the last time she'd been there. She shifted anxiously from where she stood by the door, her eyes sweeping the room for Juice.

"He took the last of the boxes to the garage," Gemma explained as she walked into the living room from the kitchen.

"Mm," she hummed, rubbing her belly distractedly. "Why'd you bring me here, Gem?" she asked again. She still couldn't figure it out. It didn't make any sense for her to be there.

Gemma took a few steps closer to her, her eyes zeroed in on her face. "To remind him what he's doing this for. He loves Clay like a father, but he loves you more. You need to give him strength, make him see what he's doin' is right. That's what being an Old Lady is about, baby. We need to be there for them at their weakest. Can you do that?"

Angela swallowed hard as she nodded. "Yeah, 'course," she murmured, still unclear as to why she had to be present to be there for him. Usually, she waited until he got home and talked it out with her.

"Then go, 'fore he pussies out," Gemma said pushing her down the hall towards the garage just as there was a knock on the door.

She flattened herself against the hallway wall as Clay strode by without even sparing her a glance. Juice came after him, his eyes wide and shiny with tears. "Juice?" she questioned softly.

Juice heard the tender way she said his name, could see the worry in her eyes. Shaking his head at her, he gently pushed her behind him, angling himself so he could both block her and better see Roosevelt and the cops that flanked his side. The Lieutenant held up an evidence bag with the silver gun in it that Clay had given to him just the day before.

Clay's eyes locked on his and panicked filled him as the words the his ex-President said to him ran through his head. I love you, brother. I'm going to miss you most. Juice felt like he couldn't breathe. What had he done? Clay had been there for him time and time again, and he repaid him by sending him to an early grave all to save his own skin. What kind of brother was he?

His head was reeling as he stood there, watching them read Clay his rights and cuff him. Slowly, he slid down the wall, his eyes on Gemma who stared back at him, a satisfied look on her face. She was happy. He stared back in disbelief. She'd just sent her Old Man to his death and she was smiling. Not a big smile, but one of those small, proud smiles. He chanced a glance up at Angela and was shocked to see Gemma's expression mirrored on her face. What the hell was wrong with her? Didn't she understand the gravity of what had just happened? Clay was going to die! Because of him! His blood was on his hands and she was smiling.

Slowly, he got to his feet, turning his back to her. It was hard to look at her now, knowing she was happy he'd essentially killed a man. He knew she hated Clay, but he couldn't wrap his hand around why she would be pleased with him meeting his end. How could she be so heartless? He felt her hand on his shoulder and tensed at her touch that had always soothed him in the past. Now, it made him feel dirty.

"Juice, you okay?" Angela asked, moving to stand next to him.

The worry in Angela's voice made him cringe. What did she care? She was happy about what happened. "Yeah," he said on a breath, staring at the door to keep from staring at the traitorous women that flanked him. "I gotta...I gotta go."

She grabbed his arm, stopping him; a move he'd done to her so many times in the past. He knew she wanted more of an assurance that he was okay than the one he'd just given her, but he couldn't give her anything else. He met her eyes briefly as he pulled his arm out of her grasp and walked away.

Angela stared at his back as he walked out feeling like she'd just been punched in the stomach. Juice had never pulled away from her like that before. He'd never tensed at her touch or refused to look at her. He always sought her out when he was feeling at his lowest. She was used to being there to comfort him in any way she could. This time when his eyes met hers, she saw anger in them and a bit of disgust that cut her to the core. She'd done nothing but stand there to back him up. Why was he angry at her? She looked over at Gemma, meeting the older woman's eyes for a brief moment wondering if she had some explanation as to what had just occurred.

Gemma sighed as she stood. "Space, baby. That's all he needs. Needs to sort out the shit that's in his head."

She shook her head slowly. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her bringing tears to her eyes. He'd never needed space before. That had always been her thing when she was upset. Juice craved the attention, needed someone to tell him what he did was right; someone to assure him that he wasn't a bad guy. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Wait for him to come to you," she answered easily.

Angela didn't like that answer. Not one bit. Waiting for him to come to her had resulted in him almost hanging himself the last time. "No," she said confidently. "I need to find him, Gem."

Gemma shook his head. "Won't do you no good. Just gonna hurt you more, preggo," she replied, wisely. "C'mon, I'll take ya home."

The car ride to the house was silent, both women immersed in their own thoughts. It wasn't until they were pulling into the driveway that Gemma cleared her throat. "It's going to be okay, Angela," she assured her, patting her hand gently.

"No. I shouldn't have been there, Gemma. I shouldn't have gotten involved," Angela spat out before she could stop herself. "This had nothing to do with me."

"He needed you there, sweetheart."

She didn't believe that. Not for a second. Gemma always had an ulterior motive. "No, he didn't. He would've been fine. Why did you take me there, Gemma?" she demanded, frustration making her words come out choked.

"Because I wasn't so sure Roosevelt would believe me," she finally admitted. "I needed someone there to back up my story, just in case someone doubted it. Eli likes you, he'd believe you, and I knew you would agree with whatever I said because you're smart enough to know it was for the good of the club."

Angela blinked back tears. Gemma had manipulated her into being there, all for her own selfish needs. The Queen of SAMCRO had used her and it had led to Juice being mad at her for reasons she couldn't comprehend. His anger could've been avoided if she'd just stayed away. Happy had warned her time and time again to stay out of club shit, but she just kept getting pulled back in. "Shit, Gem," she cursed, raking a hand through her hair. "Roosevelt didn't even notice I was there and Juice...he..."

"Doesn't blame you. You had nothing to do with it," Gemma cut her off confidently. "Listen here, undertaker, you did what you had to do and so did he. Now you gotta stand by him, sort through the bullshit in his head."

"Okay," she said softly, wiping at her eyes as climbed out of the car. Gemma gave her one last nod of approval before driving off. Angela watched as her taillights disappeared, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She may have had nothing to do with it, but that didn't mean he didn't blame her. She'd seen that look in his eyes. Something had changed between them, and she was helpless to stop it. She only hoped he'd give her a chance to talk it through, to make him see that she wasn't the one to blame for this.

-------------------

After Jax had told him he was proud of him, Juice took off on his Dyna, needing a good long ride to clear his head. He rode through the back roads of Charming and farther out into the hills stopping at the spot he and Angela had deemed as theirs so long ago. He leaned against his bike and watched as the sun started to sink into the horizon. The spot held so many memories, so many moments when Angela had stood next to him and helped him sort out his thoughts, helped him see the good in what he was doing. As mad as he was at her, he needed that right now, needed her. Sighing, he got back on his bike and rode home.

The house was dark when he walked in, not even Rigor coming to greet him. Slowly, he trudged down the hall pausing in front of the open door of the bedroom. He peeked in feeling his heart squeeze painfully in his chest at the sight before him. Angela was curled around that damn pillow, the covers pulled up underneath her arm. Rigor was stretched out next to her on top of the duvet, his eyes closed as her hand stroked over his fur. That was probably the reason the damn dog didn't move when he came in; he was too comfortable being spoiled by his mother.

Juice walked over to the bed, catching Rigor's attention. The dog raised his head, looked at him, and then relaxed again, closing his eyes as Angela scratched behind his ear. "Thought we were gonna keep him off the bed," he said, shrugging out of his cut and hanging it up.

"Mmm," she hummed pensively, her dark, worried filled eyes watching him as he got undressed. "Didn't think you were comin' home."

"Why not?" he asked, standing by the edge of the bed in just his boxers.

Angela didn't shy away from his gaze, meeting it head on. "You blew me off back there at Clay's. Pushed me away."

He sighed tiredly, running a hand over his mohawk. "Had a lot goin' through my head. Needed some...space."

"Okay," she murmured, playing with Rigor's hair. He had the feeling she didn't believe him, but she didn't push it. She never did.

Juice tugged on the cover, patting Rigor's back. "Rigs," he said, jerking a thumb towards the door when he had the dog's attention. "Out." He waited for his dog to trot out before tugging at the end of the large pregnancy pillow Angela was wrapped around. "Thought I got rid a this."

"Putting it in the storage room isn't exactly getting rid of it," she replied, surprised when he didn't pull it away from her like he had the night before. Instead he just lay down next to her, moving to his side to mirror her position. She could only see half of his face since the other half was blocked by the pillow. "Started clearing stuff out of there the other day. Just my old shit that we never unpacked."

"Making room for Monk?" he asked, glad for the barrier of her pillow for once. He was still smarting over what had happened at Clay's house and wasn't in a cuddling mood.

Angela nodded. "Chlo and I were lookin' at furniture and paint samples today."

"Pink?"

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head. "Lilac."

"Good," he said on a sigh. He knew pink was the traditional color for girls, but he didn't want to be surrounded by it.

She smiled at that, reaching out a hand and tentatively tracing over one of his lightning bolt tattoos with a finger. He didn't flinch or pull away from her touch, just closed his eyes and tried to relax. "You okay?" she asked after a moment, a worried note to her voice as she rested her hand on his cheek, her thumb trailing over the skin under his eye.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, baby," he lied. He was not okay. There were too many emotions swirling around in his head for him to be okay, but he was too tired to battle them at the moment. He just wanted to get away from them, to sleep, though he knew it'd be hard to get any rest with his head so full of crap. As if sensing his distress, Angela sat up with a groan, reaching over into her bedside drawer and grabbing something out of it. He was surprised when she handed him a blunt. "Where'd this come from? You know you can't..."

"Hazer gave it to me while you were in county. Said it was your favorite strain or something. Thought the smell would be comforting to me while you were gone," she explained, amusement in her eyes. "I haven't touched 'em since he gave them to me. I don't smoke without you, and I definitely don't smoke with Monk."

Juice smirked, playing with the perfectly wrapped blunt. "Thanks, Angel," he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead before getting out of bed.

"Yeah," she replied, trying for a smile. "Just..."

"Outside. I know," he said, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt and heading out.

"Juice," she called after him. He turned to see her still sitting up, her hand rubbing over her belly in a nervous manner. "I'm sorry for what happened."

Juice nodded slowly, knowing it was lie. She wasn't sorry Clay was gone. He'd seen the look on her face; she'd been happy to see him go. "Okay," he muttered for lack of a better thing to say. "Don't wait up."