Anyhoodle, Maureen gives some clues as to how it went down with, "Ever think he got it all wrong, Kell? That if JT had stayed with me in Belfast, we'd all be better off?" Dude. DUDE! The soapy revelations keep foaming up! John was considering abandoning Gemma and his two sons! Oh my gosh, how could Clay not sit on that intel and use it to woo the widow Teller (or the Missus Teller) later? Anyway, Father Ashby has no interest in playing the What-If game. He's here for the boy, and off he goes to fetch TV's most docile baby.

Zip! We're off in ... wherever Nate and Rose had retired to. Tara's cleaning off Tig's wound, no doubt secretly relieved that it's not a scrotum inflamed by a bad prosthesis, or a buttock weeping with sepsis from dog bites, or ... you get the point. A bullet wound to the shoulder is no big whoop. Tig gives every evidence of having liberally indulged in Rose's Vicodin when he says swoopily, "Thanks, doc. You're getting pretty good at this. I'm sorry I pulled you away from your work." OK, forum posters, discussion topic: Is Tig being all solicitous and polite here because a) he's doped up; b) it's a club thing to give respect to an officer's old lady; or c) in his taxonomy of women, there are people he sleeps with, and people he doesn't, and the ones he doesn't, he's more civil to?

Tig asks about Jax, but before Tara can really go to town on her communication problems with Jax, Gemma comes in; she's been unable to find Nate since the morning. Also, the hunting rifle with which Tig was winged is missing. Tig recalls hearing a car take off about half an hour prior, which, of course, reassures nobody. Gemma flees toward the driveway and sure enough, the Cadillac is gone. "Is he okay to drive?" Tara wonders. "It depends what decade he thinks he's cruising in," Gemma answers. (Hee.) Tara reasons, "Where would he go? Someone must know his routine." Gemma sighs, because the one person who does ...

... Is currently being held captive in the basement. Amelia's in an old housecoat, duct-taped to a wheelchair, with a sleep mask on, and an easy-listening station is playing so she can't hear anything upstairs. Tara takes all this in and asks, "My God -- are you insane?" Tara, have you never met Gemma before this? I mean, there's a fine line between acting as a presumed viewer stand-in and acting as if you've had an eight-month-long case of amnesia regarding the capabilities of one Gemma Teller.