Gemma is busy putting the moves on Nero. If she keeps him busy, maybe he won't have time to think, "Hey, just a few months ago, my sister was alive, my cat house was quietly profitable and I didn't have a gang of feral crackers on wheels tearing up my life."

Tig is at Jax and Tara's place. He sends home the crow-eater who's been sitting for the boys with a kiss, then goes in and cuddles sweet baby Thomas, crooning to the baby before sinking into his state of regretful constancy for some small nurturing done too late.

Meanwhile, Chibs is stitching up all the wounds he gave Juice, which is no way going to reinforce Juice's desperate conviction that SAMCRO will give him a father figure who will love him unconditionally and keep him safe.

(It amazes me that conservative watchdog groups go nuts over this show, because it's a protracted meditation on the importance of raising children in an intact two-parent home. It's also a nice little reminder that if we had nationalized health care, maybe bikers wouldn't feel as if they had to go make deals with the IRA to pay for the treatment that bought their children a little more life.)

At the SAMCRO clubhouse, Happy's sliding a shot over to a cleaned-up Lyla. Which … well, we'll see what happens to the Winston kids in five years.

In his little bedsit in god-knows-where, Bobby's quietly plotting how to start a nomad chapter, if the map he's circling is any indication. I like the show's reminder that beneath that wall of hair resides the mind of a crooked bookkeeper.

And now we've reached the portion of the musical montage where a doped-to-the-gills Donal Logue does his best Buffalo Bill impression.

Because Tara has Had It, she's worked up the kind of head of steam that leads to things like beating the woman who took her blanket. I think Tara's more or less decided that her surgery career is over. I hope for her sake that her student loans from medical school are already paid off, or else sending in $800 a month for the next 20 years is going to feel like a stinging insult on top of a career-ending hand injury.

While his old lady is fighting for her bed clothing, we see Jax working out his own conflicted feelings about his loyalties to the two women in his life. He's working them out very nakedly, in fact, with Colette, the lady who embraces his criminal aptitude (a la Gemma) and all his other naked bits (Tara). And while I'm A-OK with the welcome return of "Charlie Hunnam: I Peel For My Art," I'm a little sad because this more or less confirms that Jax no longer loves Tara. He loves the idea of her -- or quite possibly the idea of who he is when he's with her -- but Tara the person asked him to please not step out on him, and he's broken that deal. This marriage is over.

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