Marriage, Motorcycles and Betrayal… // Gemma Teller x John Teller x Clay Morrow
The California air is warm in Charming. Birds are chirping, and there’s a nice breeze - the kind that lets you enjoy the warmth without sweating so profusely you just feel gross.
The Teller household, however, has been anything but warm. Since Thomas, their bright, energetic six year old son had passed away a few months ago from the genetic heart condition he inherited from Gemma, the air had been tense. Gemma was constantly questioning if it was her fault - he had gotten the heart condition from her. John had ran off to Ireland for what he said had been club business, but Gemma had found the letters. The same love letters she used to receive from John Teller, except these were addressed to Maureen Ashby - some tart in Belfast. John had been off sleeping with another woman on a different continent while Gemma was here, taking care of Thomas while he was sick, and their eldest son, Jackson, who was old enough to understand the loss of his brother at twelve, but never stopped asking why his father wasn’t there.
Was Gemma bitter? Maybe. But she had the right to be. John and Gemma’s marriage wasn’t perfect - it never had been. The exciting outlaw life full of motorcycles, loyalty to brotherhood, whiskey and cigarettes had seemed exciting when she had just met John at eighteen, but that novelty wore off quickly. Now in her early thirties, with two sons, one gone, and a husband up in the clouds with his philosophies about what SAMCRO should be, Gemma wondered what would have been if she married a good Christian man like her parents had wanted… No, that would’ve never worked.
Gemma is sat in the living room, packing the last of Thomas’ things into boxes, and labelling them with a thick black marker - Tommy. It felt strange, packing up all of his books and toys; including the toy cars he loved and Gemma always managed to step on when he left them scattered on the kitchen floor, earning the six year old a lecture about cleaning up after himself. She’d give anything to step on one of those cars again. She finds herself running her fingers along the scar on her chest, the one from heart surgery a couple years ago now. The reason for all of this.
The sound of the fridge door closing snapped her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see John getting out the milk carton for his coffee. His medium length brown hair was slightly disheveled, and he wore his leather SAMCRO kutte, a white t-shirt underneath and a pair of old jeans.
“You seen Thomas’ birth certificate?” Gemma asks. No ‘good morning,’ or affection like other lovers. They were past that.
“No,” John replies, pouring a splash of milk into his coffee and spooning in way too much sugar. Gemma used to scold him early in their marriage about too much sugar not being good for his health. She was someone who preferred her coffee black, adding one teaspoon of sugar on special occasions. “Wouldn’t it be in the folder with Jax’s? In the safe?”
“It’s not there,” Gemma snaps back. Did he think she was an invalid? Of course she had looked there. It was the first place she looked.
John sighs, taking a sip of his coffee and turning towards his wife. “It has to be here somewhere. Want me to help you look for it?” He offers. Part of him is hopeful - he’s noticed the uncomfortable distance between him and Gemma. Nothing like how they were when they were newlyweds and Jax was little. He feels guilty. Guilty for not being there, for the affair. He loved Gemma, really did, but she seemed to become more and more distant every year they were together. Cold towards him. When Tommy got sick he needed warmth, comfort, things Gemma didn’t give. Not anymore.
“No,” Gemma counters dryly. She didn’t need his help, didn’t want it. Knowing John, he’d probably get distracted and keep looking over and over in the same places anyway. Lately, she couldn’t even look at him without thinking of that Irish woman. Even if she didn’t know what she looked like.
“Listen, Gem-…” Before John can finish, the sound of Jax’s voice cuts through the tension.
“I can help you look for it, Ma,” he says, with all the enthusiasm of a twelve year old boy. He knew the loss of his younger brother had been especially hard on Gemma, and while his Dad had been away? He had tried to help out his mother the best he could.
Gemma’s expression softens when she looks at her son, and she shakes her head. “That’s okay, baby. I’ll find it,” she says, standing up to ruffle Jax’s blonde hair, causing Jax to duck away. A combination of preteen angst and he’s ‘way too cool for that.’
“‘Kay,” he shrugs, plopping down on the couch and flicking on the TV with a bowl of cereal - something sugary with zero nutritional value, so chocolatey it had already turned the milk brown - clearly John’s purchase. John smiles at his son, and the two begin a passionate conversation about motorcycles and mechanics. Whatever John was going to say now seemingly forgotten.
Soon, the landline phone rings, and John picks it up. “Hey, Clay,” he says casually. Gemma freezes. Clay Morrow, John’s best friend and VP of SAMCRO. Truthfully, Gemma had been spending a lot of time with Clay, especially after things got rocky between her and John. He had been there for her and Jax when John wasn’t and Thomas was in the hospital, and one thing led to another… Clay was different than John - practical, always looking for ways to expand business and income for the club. Not John’s hippie shit. Clay valued power and control.
“Yeah, for sure. See you at the clubhouse later,” John says, before hanging up. Gemma couldn’t help but wonder if Clay had been calling for her.
“Gotta go to the clubhouse,” John says, squeezing Gemma’s shoulder - an attempt at affection to close the excruciating distance between them. Gemma moves away, almost recoiling from his touch.
“Yeah. I should go over to the garage, too. Gotta sort through some paperwork.”
———
It’s about an hour later when they arrive at Teller-Morrow, the afternoon sun bright and hot in the sky. Jax practically leaps out of Gemma’s car, immediately going to find Opie, Piney’s boy. The two had become close friends, they’ll definitely be spending the afternoon tossing around a football in the yard and admiring the Harleys in the garage. Jax was always asking when he’d finally be old enough to ride his father’s - the iconic light blue 1946 Harley-Davidson Knucklehead. Gemma was vehemently against it - twelve was much too young for riding, and that bike always sounded like it was about to break down, but John refused to give it up. John is close behind, and parks his bike, going into the clubhouse while Gemma trails behind. She lights a cigarette upon sitting down at the bar, taking a deep drag. Clay and Gemma glance at each other, both with the same knowing look.
Soon enough, John is enthralled in talking to Lenny and Piney about who knows what - probably philosophies for the club and world peace - stupid idealistic shit. Gemma takes the opportunity to follow Clay into the back hallway. Once out of sight, Clay pushes Gemma against the wall, kissing her. They’ve had these moments before, stealing kisses between church meetings.
“Hey,” Gemma says as they part, her dark eyes meeting Clay’s grey ones. “You can’t just be calling the house. John’s going to get suspicious,” she sighs.
“Nah,” Clay retorts, kissing her quickly again. “He don’t know shit,” he cups Gemma’s cheeks in his calloused hands from years of working on bikes and taking care of business. “Don’t go making yourself sick over this,” he says.
“I don’t make myself sick over anything,” Gemma says, crossing her arms. Okay… That was a lie. Gemma was a bit of a worrier… An overthinker, maybe. But there was nothing wrong with being careful about this - it should be overthought.
“I don’t want to hide forever, Gem,” Clay says, his hands resting on her waist. Gemma scoffs. Men. Why were they always so goddamn emotional? This wasn’t some fairytale, this was outlaw life - violent and unforgiving.
“Well, I can’t exactly tell John I want a divorce so I can be with his best friend and VP, can I?” She retorts. “It’d never be allowed to happen, even if John and I weren’t together.”
Clay sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “John wants the club out of gun-running…” he says like he’s presenting some sort of fact to change her mind. “He’s going to destroy SAMCRO because all he cares about is everyone holding hands and singing Kumbaya. I can’t just sit back and watch that happen, not after everything we’ve built out of this club. Him holding that President’s patch? It’s going to ruin us all.”
Huh? What was Clay saying? Gemma knew he was right but what did that have to do with them making out in hallways and sneaking away to the clubhouse bedrooms when John was riding out for club business? John never involved Gemma too much in club business, it wasn’t for ol’ ladies, but Gemma always found ways to know more than she should. She knew about John’s ideals for the club - brotherhood instead of crime.
“And?” She raises a brow.
“Maybe it’d solve our problems if he was gone… You know, two birds with one stone,” Clay whispers, his thumb rubbing circles along Gemma’s hipbone.
John Teller gone? For the good of the club? If Clay was proposing what she thought he was, it’d be incredibly risky. And what about Jax? John was his father. The boy idolized him. But at the same time, Gemma was his mother, she couldn’t sit back and watch her son, the only one left, become John with his philosophies. The club didn’t survive on ideas, it survived on tangible business - money, guns - that’s what kept family together in this life. She knew Jax would take over SAMCRO one day, it was his birthright, she couldn’t have John poison him with his ideologies that he spoke about like wisdom. But Gemma also wasn’t some heartless bitch, she remembers what things were like between her and John when they were good. The wind in her hair when she rode on the back of his bike, promises of a stable life, their boys… Marriage, motorcycles, love even… Now tainted with deep betrayal.
“What are you saying?”
To be continued…
((I hope this was enjoyed! Let me know if you like this concept, and what you’d like to see. I’d be happy to continue. I know this was a dynamic we didn’t see much of in the show. Haven’t decided if I’m going to take a canon route with it or do something different. I always wonder what it’d be like if JT wasn’t gone - whether that be Gemma not being able to let Clay go through with it or him finding out about their plan - even though it’s questionable in the show that he knew and decided to go out on his bike anyway. Always open to feedback! :)))
