💘( Mending the King! )✨

NINE

[ The Push ]

( 🤴🔨👸💋💑🏍 )

" Why does it feel like I'm being manipulated here? "

~ KIMCHEE to GEMMA TELLER-MORROW

☆《》¤

ALU'S OUTFIT 

ALU LEANED ON THE COUNTER OF THE NURSE'S STATION, speaking softly with the woman behind the desk. Her tone was polite, but her fingers drummed anxiously against the surface as she waited for the paperwork to process.

"Shouldn't take more than a few minutes," the nurse reassured her with a kind smile.

Alu nodded absently, her mind elsewhere. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she jumped, spinning around with wide eyes.

"Whoa, easy there," Kimchee said, raising his hands in surrender. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you."

Alu exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing when she realised it was her best friend, "It's fine. Just...don't sneak up on people like that." 

Kimchee's brow furrowed in concern, but he kept his tone light, "Noted. So, what are you doing here? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just paying Juice's hospital bill," she said, brushing off his concern. "What about you? What are you doing here?"

Kimchee grinned, leaning casually against the counter, "Oh, you know, your boyfriend hired me to defend his mummy on a double murder case."

Alu rolled her eyes, though a faint blush crept up her face, "Not my boyfriend."

Kimchee raised an eyebrow, smirking, "Right. And I'm the Pope. Come on, you two practically have eye sex every time he comes by the house." 

Before she could respond, the sharp sound of a clipboard slamming against the desk made them both flinch. Alu turned around and froze in place. 

There stood Tara, glaring at them. Tara's eyes burned with jealousy and anger, locking onto Alu, before she scoffed, spinning on her heel and storming off.

"Shit," Alu muttered under her breath, looking down at the floor as if it might swallow her whole.

Kimchee furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "What? Who was that?"

"Tara, the actual girlfriend."

Kimchee blinked, then burst into laughter, "So, I'm guessing she's not invited to the wedding then?"

Alu shoved him playfully, a laugh escaping her lips despite the tension, "Shut up."

Eager to change the subject, she asked, "So, double murder, huh? If you win, that could be huge for your career."

Kimchee's grin widened, "Oh, I know. And you know the best part?"

"What's that?"

"I think she might actually be innocent. Well, for one of the murders, anyway."

Alu snorted, shaking her head in disbelief, "Wow, that's a first for you."

"Right? I'm actually excited about this one!"

Alu chuckled at his enthusiasm, but the lighthearted moment was short-lived when Kimchee's face suddenly turned serious.

"Hey," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Do you have a minute to talk about Moss?"

Alu nodded, "Yeah, let's find somewhere to talk."

Kimchee led her to an empty office down the hall, closing the door behind them. The weight of the conversation already pressed down on them. 

"So, I've been reviewing your case," he started, leaning against the desk. "And I've come to a bit of a standstill."

"What do you mean?" Alu asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Kimchee hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "You forgot to mention that you signed over your parental rights."

Alu blinked, her eyebrows knitting together, "So?" 

"So," Kimchee said, his voice measured. "Unless your mother voluntarily signs custody over to you, you're screwed."

Her heart sank, "But I was sixteen. I was scared. I didn't know what I was doing!"

"I know that," he said gently. "But the court doesn't see it that way. Legally, Moss isn't yours anymore."

"Fuck!" Alu snapped, shoving the nearest chair so hard it toppled over. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, her breathing uneven.

Kimchee watched her carefully, giving her a moment, before speaking again, 'Look, we'll figure it out. But you need to talk to your mum. She's the key to all of this."

Alu didn't respond, her mind racing with a mix of guilt, fear, and anger. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have signed away her own son so easily?

Kimchee stepped closer, his voice soft, "Hey. We'll fix this. But you need to talk to her."

Alu nodded, though her chest still felt tight. She didn't know how she was going to convince her mother, but one thing was certain—she wasn't giving up her son without a fight.

***

Jax pushed open the door to Gemma's hospital room, revealing his mother propped up on the bed with Clay seated in a chair beside her. The tension in the room was thick, but as soon as Jax stepped in, Gemma's face softened, her sharp eyes flickering to the man trailing behind him.

"Ma," Jax began. "This is Kimchee. He's your lawyer."

"Kimchee?" Gemma repeated, raising an eyebrow as her gaze roved over him. "What kind of name is that?"

Kimchee smiled, undeterred by the scrutiny, "It's a nickname. Real name's Jericho Kim, but no one calls me that unless I'm in trouble."

Gemma smirked, clearly amused, "Well, Kimchee, you're officially in trouble if you can't keep me out of prison."

Clay chuckled, slapping his knee, "She means it, too."

Jax waved a hand, motioning for Kimchee to speak, "He's been working on it, Ma. He's good."

"More than good," Kimchee interjected, his tone cocky but charming. "I've been wrestling with the U.S. Attorney all night."

Gemma arched an eyebrow, "Wrestling, huh? What kind of wrestling we talkin' here?"

Kimchee grinned, "The fun kind. Anyway, I got him to agree to drop the death penalty."

The room fell silent for a beat, and Clay leaned forward, his expression unreadable, "What's the catch?"

Kimchee glanced at Jax, who gave him a nod, then turned to Gemma, "You're gonna have to plead guilty to both murders."

Gemma didn't flinch, but her jaw tightened as she processed the news, "So, what happens then? Do I just rot away in some cage until I die?"

"Not exactly," Kimchee said. "We're working on visitation rights. If everything goes as planned, you'll still get to see your family." 

Gemma's lips pressed into a thin line, "And by 'working on it,' you mean...?"

Kimchee's grin widened as he crossed his arms, his eyebrows jumping suggestively, "Let's just say I have my ways."

Jax groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Kimchee—"

Gemma let out a loud laugh, cutting Jax off, "I like this guy. Clay, he reminds me of you back in the day."

Clay leaned back in his chair, smirking, "Don't know if that's a compliment or a warning."

"It's a compliment," Gemma said firmly, then turned back to Kimchee. "So, these ways of yours, they work often?"

"Every time," Kimchee replied smoothly, winking at her. "Charm, persistence, and a little legal magic. It's a winning combo."

Gemma chuckled again, clearly warming up to him, "You better not be all talk, Kimchee. I'm trusting you with my life here."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Morrow," he said with mock solemnity. "I've got this. And if all else fails, I'll make sure you have the best prison cell in the state—throw pillows and all."

Gemma smirked, shaking her head, "You're a real piece of work, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," Kimchee shot back, earning a reluctant smile from Jax.

"Alright, alright," Jax cut in, his tone exasperated but amused. "Let's keep it professional, huh?"

"Professional?" Kimchee echoed, throwing his hands up in mock disbelief. "Jax, your mom loves me. We're practically family now."

Gemma tilted her head, a glimmer of approval in her eyes, "If you can keep me out of a life sentence, Kimchee, I just might adopt you."

Kimchee grinned, "I'll hold you to that."

As the banter settled, Jax glanced at his mother, then at Kimchee. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope. With Kimchee on their side, maybe—just maybe—they had a fighting chance.

***

Gemma sat in a chair inside her hospital room, her composure as steady as ever. Across from her sat Agent Wright, his sharp eyes fixed on her, a notepad and recorder in front of him. Behind him, Stahl's presence loomed like a thundercloud, her jaw clenched and her hands twitching slightly at her sides. Agent Tyler stood beside her. 

Kimchee leaned back in his chair beside Gemma. He adjusted his tie and gestured for Wright to begin.

"Mrs. Morrow," Wright started, his tone measured. "You've admitted to shooting Polly Zobelle. Let's walk through the events leading up to that moment."

Gemma nodded, her tone matter-of-fact, "I spotted Polly at the grocery store. She didn't see me, so I followed her to the house."

"And why were you following her, ma'am?" Wright asked.

Gemma took a deep breath, her voice lowering, "I was raped two months ago. She was part of it. I don't really know why I followed her. Instinctual, I guess."

Wright tilted his head slightly, "Did you report the assault?"

Before Gemma could respond, Kimchee raised a hand, his voice calm but firm, "You don't have to answer that."

"No," Gemma said anyway, her voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. "I knew the kind of damage it would do to my family. Didn't want them to know."

Wright paused, giving her a moment before continuing, "Okay. Please, continue."

Gemma's gaze turned cold, her voice steady as she recounted the events, "I walked into the house. Polly was standing in the doorway of a back room, holding a gun. So, I took mine out. That's when I saw the Irish kid, lying on the ground. Dead."

Stahl leaned forward, her voice cutting through like a blade, "It's a lie."

Wright turned to Stahl, his tone sharp, "This is a deposition, not an interrogation, Agent. You're here as a courtesy. Sit back and listen."

Gemma didn't even flinch, "Polly spotted me and turned her gun. I shot first. Kill or be killed."

Wright's pen paused over his notepad, "Then what?"

Gemma exhaled slowly, her hand rested in her lap, "I just sat on the couch. Kind of in shock, really. Never killed anybody before. And then..." She looked up, her eyes locking on Stahl. "This ATF agent walked out of the back room. She'd been hiding there the whole time. My guess? She's the one who killed Edmond. Put the dirty kill on me."

Stahl's face was a mask of fury, "You're a liar!"

Kimchee leaned forward, his voice low and warning, "Gemma, what are you doing?"

Wright gestured for silence, his tone icy, "Enough. Mrs. Morrow, can you identify this agent?"

Gemma's lips curled into a knowing smirk, "Yeah. She's in this room."

Wright's gaze shifted sharply, "Agent Stahl?"

Gemma shook her head, "No. It was her." She pointed directly at Tyler.

And the room erupted in chaos.

Tyler's face flushed crimson, "I didn't kill anyone! Stahl, tell them!"

Stahl froze, her usual confidence draining away as she stared at Gemma. Her silence was deafening, her eyes darting nervously between Gemma and Wright.

Kimchee leaned back in his chair, his smirk slow and deliberate, "Well, isn't this an interesting development. Agent Stahl, care to clarify why your partner's looking at you like you just ran over his dog?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you," Stahl sneered, her voice cracking.

Kimchee chuckled softly, his amusement barely concealed, "Guess that's your cue to leave, then. Unless you've got something else to say, Stahl?" He pushed back his chair, standing and adjusting his jacket.

Gemma smirked from her seat, waving them off mockingly, "Thanks for the chat."

Together, a stunned Tyler, an enraged Stahl, and a thoroughly perplexed Wright, strode out of the room. 

Kimchee slammed the door behind the agents, his face a mix of disbelief and irritation as he turned to Gemma, who settled back onto the bed. He crossed his arms, glaring at her like a disapproving parent catching their kid sneaking out past curfew.

"Care to explain why you decided to torpedo your own deal?!" he demanded, his voice low but sharp.

Gemma looked up from her bed, unbothered as she flipped through a magazine, "Oh, calm down, sweetheart."

"Don't sweetheart me. I spent the entire night balls deep with the U.S attorney to keep your ass off death row, and you threw it all out the window in under five minutes!"

Gemma put down her magazine, stretching her arms lazily, "Relax, Counselor. I had my reasons."

Kimchee scoffed,  "Oh, I can't wait to hear these 'reasons.' Let me guess—you suddenly decided prison's a nice vacation spot?"

Gemma smirked, tilting her head, "I'll tell you the truth, but on one condition."

Kimchee raised an eyebrow, "This ought to be good."

Gemma leaned forward conspiratorially, her tone casual but purposeful, "Get me out of here."

Kimchee blinked, "Out of here? You do realise there's a cop posted outside your door, right?"

Gemma shrugged, "I'm not asking for a jailbreak. Just a little therapy stroll. Fresh air, stretch my legs. I've been cooped up in here for days."

Kimchee pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply, "Why does it feel like I'm being manipulated here?"

"Because you are, sweetheart," Gemma said, her grin unapologetic as she put emphasis on the term of endearment. 

Kimchee glared at her, but there was no malice behind it, "Unbelievable. Fine. But if this backfires and I end up sharing a cell with you, you can say goodbye to those throw pillows."

Gemma's eyes lit up, "Now that's just cruel. You're better than that, Kimchee."

Fifteen Minutes Later

Kimchee leaned against the wall, charm dialled up to max as he spoke to the officer guarding Gemma's door, "Look, man, it's just a quick walk. Doctor's orders—emotional well-being, all that jazz. You know how it is. Don't want the old lady keeling over from cabin fever, do we?"

The officer looked skeptical, arms crossed, "I don't know..."

Kimchee flashed a winning smile, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "C'mon, buddy. I'll even throw in a coffee from the cafeteria. My treat."

The officer sighed, relenting, "Fine. But don't go far."

Moments later, Kimchee was wheeling Gemma down the hospital corridor, a tight smile plastered on his face as they passed nurses and patients. Gemma lounged back in the wheelchair like a queen, her smirk widening every time Kimchee muttered under his breath.

"This is not what I signed up for," he grumbled, steering her toward the hospital's courtyard.

"Oh, quit whining," Gemma said, her tone light. "It's good for you. Builds character."

"Yeah, well, if I wanted character, I'd have become a kindergarten teacher, not a lawyer for Samcro's royal pain in the ass."

Gemma chuckled, clearly amused, "You're doing great, Kimchee. Really. You might even survive this whole thing."

"Gee, thanks," he deadpanned. "High praise coming from you."

Once they reached the courtyard, Kimchee parked the wheelchair and folded his arms, "Alright, we're here. Spill. Why'd you blow up the deal?"

Gemma leaned back, looking up at the sky for a moment, before meeting his gaze, "Stahl's got her claws in this whole thing. She set me up, framed me for the Irish kid's murder. Blaming Tyler was the only way to throw a wrench in her plans."

Kimchee stared at her, processing her words, "So...you lied to save yourself from a setup?"

"Exactly," Gemma said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's chess, Counselor. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to protect the queen."

Kimchee let out a slow exhale, shaking his head, "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And yet, here you are," Gemma quipped, her grin sly. "Still wheeling me around like my loyal squire."

Kimchee laughed despite himself, his annoyance melting away, "You're lucky I don't charge extra for emotional damage." 

Gemma smirked, leaning forward slightly, "You know you love me. Admit it."

Kimchee sighed dramatically, "Yeah, yeah. Let's get you back before Officer Friendly decides to call for a search party."

As he pushed her wheelchair back toward the hospital, Gemma glanced up at him, her expression uncharacteristically soft, "Thanks, Kimchee. Really."

He glanced down at her, his smile wry but genuine, "Don't mention it. But next time? Try not to make my job harder than it already is."

Gemma's laugh echoed through the hallway, light and unapologetic, "Where's the fun in that?"

***

Words: 2660