This episode picks up right where the last left off: Jax is tailing Juice back to his house -- by the way, Juice has a remarkably nice mid-century bungalow -- but he has to ease off when he sees a few cops sitting in front of Juice's house. The uniforms take Juice in under the pretext of questioning him about the attack at Unser's place, and Juice asks, "Now?" I'm sure he'll find the timing very convenient later.
Back at Teller-Morrow motors ("This week's special: Bring in your car and we may get to it sometime in 2015"), Gemma toddles into the garage, makes some small talk with Chibs, and he sweetly rubs her shoulders and asks how she's feeling, "Tired and hated," Gemma replies. Chibs says, "I heard you've been banned. Tara will come 'round." Gemma says obliquely, "We're working on that." Chibs then asks about Gemma and Nero -- "Something happen there?" -- and Gemma snarls, "Who wants to know?" "Just me, love," Chibs says gently, and WHAM! I'm reminded of their conversation in Season Two where Chibs went to Gemma with his concerns about the ATF leaning on him, and how Gemma's instinct was to hold him while he cried. (I must say, Kurt Sutter is not, perhaps, the most subtle writer on the planet, but I love how he's been slowly developing this theme of people repeating cycles of behavior through the series.) Anyway, moving on past the meta-analysis, Chibs moves the conversation to Clay and says, "I think he still loves you," and Gemma asks, "How do you know that?' "Same way you do," Chibs responds.
Bobby then rolls in with the express purpose of bringing Chibs up to speed on the behind-the-scenes machinations of the past few months and catches sight of the insomniac Gemma in her office. "She okay?" he asks. "I think our mother is feeling a bit lost," Chibs replies. Man, everything sounds so classy and profound when it comes wrapped in a Caledonian burr. Anyway, they roll off-screen to exposit while Gemma sits in her office and quietly cries over a ledger.
Tara goes rattling around the house -- remember Jax was supposed to be home by now, re-introducing her to his own Mr. Mayhem, if you get what I mean -- and when the silence gets to be too much, she goes into Thomas's room, flips on his light and bangs on his toy piano until the poor baby is frightened awake. She then picks him up and soothes him. And for whatever reason, this is what finally pushes me into the "Tara: THE WORST" column. This may possibly be because I gave birth to the worst sleeper in California and so cannot comprehend why on Earth you'd be so ungrateful as to look a gift (sleeping) baby in the cry-hole. Anyway, the whole thing is probably meant to illustrate three things: That Tara is desperate to connect to someone who will offer her pure and unconditional love; that this is how previously-functional people turn into Gemma Teller types who can't ever fulfill their own emotional needs; and that Tara is THE WORST.