"I've been lying to you, Ope. That deal I made with Clay about the cartel, it was to get me out too," Jax starts. Opie's all, "Come again?" and Jax states, "I'm leaving SAMCRO, Ope. I was going to jump when Clay retired, but now... I'm out when we get done with this deal with the Irish." Opie is stock still; it's another person who's leaving him. When he speaks, it's to point out, "After my five-year stretch, I wanted out too... you talked me into staying." Jax says plainly, "Yeah. I did. I love you, Ope. You're my best friend." Opie is in tears and says, nearly pleading, "I need you in this club." Jax whispers apologetically, "My family needs me more. You were right, man. I should have let you get out. Donna would probably still be alive. I'm so sorry, bro." Opie can't even speak. Jax urges Opie to make things right with Lyla and his dad -- "hold on to that shit, Ope." He walks out of the waiting room, leaving Opie (again!) to pull himself together alone.
Back at the clubhouse, Juice heads to the parking lot. He sits on a picnic table and watches Clay -- whose face looks a tad bruised -- roll up and then silently stalk into the clubhouse. He then opens a cell phone. "Checking in," he tells the correspondent on the other end. Oh, this could get interesting. If Juice were smart, he'd try to use this Irish meet as a way to get Clay behind bars and get out of the cartel business. I'm betting, however, that we'll see a plot complication where Chibs is likely to go down in the RICO bust.
Chibs and Bobby Elvis are getting busy with some croweaters in the bar area, but they look up when Tig calls out to the bruised-up Clay, "Yo, what happened to you?" Clay doesn't answer, merely heads back to the apartment.
Back at the house, Gemma's smoking some mary jane to handle the pain. The house is darkened, and Unser does not miss how disheveled it is. He asks what's going on, and when Gemma turns to look at him, her face is swollen like Joan Rivers after a fresh surgery, and she's covered in livid red splotches. Unser squeaks, "Clay did this. Goddamn him!" Gemma orders Unser to sit and he splutters, "Sit, hell! We gotta get you to the hospital." Gemma's had enough of that place for the day, and says through her pulpy lips, "Nothing's broken. Just... sit. Please." Unser can't even bear to look at Gemma -- he's nearly in tears. But he asks gently, "What do you need, sweetheart? Just tell me what I can do." "Nothing else to do," Gemma says sadly. She continues, "It's done, Wayne. Clay can't be saved." Unser figures they can point Piney's murder at Clay, but Gemma has a far more literary punishment in mind: Clay will be killed by that which he created. "He's not going down by law. He's going to die by the hand of a Son."