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.