So! Gemma survived her arrhythmia, much to the inconvenience of everyone who now has to explain why they didn't come clean about the whole Abel-kidnapping thing. After Gemma tears a few strips off Jax and Tara's backs, she informs them that Abel's in Belfast. Jax and Clay decide to talk to Maureen to confirm this, and after they do, they decide to go to Belfast.
(It may be messy when they get there: Trinny's stuck her nose in the whole thing courtesy of fielding Jax's first call, she tipped off McGee, who happens to be Maureen's old man, and now McGee's flipping out over the repercussions.)
Gemma made a deal with Stahl to turn herself in, telling Clay she did it because, "I'm too old to run." Stahl has the bad grace to show up in the hospital room and tell Gemma the deal is off the table because Gemma did not, technically, turn herself in, on account of being all unconscious in the hospital. The deal might be back on the table if Gemma can get Tara to talk about the Irish. So Gemma has a rather pointed conversation with Tara -- something along the lines of "And why didn't you throw yourself in front of the gun to save my grandson?" -- which is where we find out that Tara knows nothing about the Irish and she's six weeks pregnant. (How she's not passing out from exhaustion is God's private mystery -- or the writers' room's. Whichever.) Then Stahl comes back to gleefully tell Gemma the deal's off the table. An angry Jax tracks Stahl to her house and offers her a deal: He'll hand-deliver Jimmy O and his Real IRA contacts, along with a sworn statement about the gun-running, in exchange for "my mother, my son and my club." And as a good faith gesture, he hands over Luke (Jimmy O's number two) and some illegal weaponry. Stahl is an amoral moron, but even she can see that this is a deal which will put her back on the ATF fast track.
Also going on this week: The non-Teller SAMCRO guys are tasked with raising money for the Canadian road trip, and they decide to do so by unloading the drugs they took off the hill people during last week's adventures in gun play. Juice screws it up with a moment of bad judgment and gets jumped by the Mayan puppet club, who take his cut. At least Tig and Chucky (!) managed to find out that indeed, the Mayans are manufacturing heroin and shipping it off to Stockton regularly.
Exchange of the week: There really wasn't one. But on the bright side, nobody's off on a fool's errand to Canada anymore.
Gemma Teller lives! And she still has on her flawless eye makeup. Truly, she's setting the benchmark for invalids everywhere. She's in a bed at St. How Does The Tiny Charming Taxpayer Base Swing This Hospital?, and she slowly comes to and looks over at Clay. In what is my favorite shot of the episode, he's sitting bedside, wearing his cut and a pair of reading glasses and intently plowing through the local paper's A-section.
"Hey, baby," she says, and Clay looks over with a big, gentle smile before wishing her good morning. Then he comes over and kisses her hand, careful not to disturb the IV port taped to it. Awwww! These two kill me. (By the way, Gemma's other hand is cuffed to the hospital bed.) Gemma asks if she had a heart attack. Nope, just bad arrhythmia which, in Clay's words, "knocked you on your ass." He asks if she's stopped taking her meds. (And oh my God, if my text editor does not stop auto-correcting "meds" to "meeds," I am going to hunt down whomever was responsible for porting over the typo-to-dictionary macro and do things that will require their next year's meeds to pay for their meds.) Gemma says, "They make my face swell. Can't get into my boots." Clay replies, "Fashion before health -- that's my girl." He knows he can't bust her non-swollen chops too badly, as he's the one who refuses cortisone shots from all but her. Anyway, Gemma's health will be fine in a few days. Her temper has already recovered: "Where's Jax? I want some answers!"
Jax is busy pouring enough sugar in his coffee to fuel the inevitable moment where he has to escape Gemma by vibrating through a wall. The rest of the SAMCRO boys are all in the waiting room with him. Given how much time this MC spends at this hospital, they should just throw a chunk of money at the administration and get their own dedicated waiting room. Chuckie's coffee service and Crow-Eaters optional, of course. Bobby Elvis mutters that they need to talk, and SAMCRO takes over the chapel. The deal is this: Bobby Elvis needs to confirm the tracker with Serge. Jax is okay with this: "Pull the trigger, send the ten grand. I'm making sure my mom's okay, then I'm heading north." Opie and Chibs say they're coming too. Bobby Elvis is touched by this fraternal display, but all the leather-clad biker hugs in the world aren't going to underwrite this little road trip. They need cash. Tig immediately suggests selling the drugs they got off the hill people last week, and Juice estimates that "steroids and Adderall we can dump on the street, the rest of it's that HIV shit. It's got to be peddled to the clinics." He's tasked with going to someone named Lumpy to unload the steroids, then calling "the Chicken Man" to dispatch the Adderall.