(no subject)
Title: There's a Mirror and Then There's a Reflection
Author: messingwithmars
Rating: PG13?
Pairing: None- mentions of Gemma/Clay, Tara/Jax, Gemma/John
Summary: Gemmacentric fic; what she sees in the mirror
Spoilers: None really... pilot I guess and then little mentions of things from the series til 1x08
Her hands were sore from arthritis and a wave of heat rolled through her body.
Gemma looked in the mirror in her and Clay's bedroom and wondered who the woman was looking back at her. Crows feet (and a wry smile for the irony) stretched from eyes that had seen more horror than happiness. The death of a son. Of a soulmate. Tara had once screamed at her for being a maniachal tyrant, bloodthirsty and greedy. The dumb bitch didn't know. She didn't know that the only thing keeping Gemma from crying all the time was crying never. If she focused on the business aspect of the Club, of securing Jax's place at the top, of getting more money, more power then all she had to lose was paper. If she saw the club as an enterprise maybe, just maybe she could keep the members at a distance. Keep from truly worrying about Opie's failing marriage or the likeliness of Half-Sack's death. She could laugh at Clay's infidelity and blame it on hormones when she didn't.
She had loved Tara, truth be told. Respected her, admired her, loved the man her son was when she was around. But there was light in the girl's eyes that would die under the New SAMCRO. Not the one her John had created but the one time and anarchy and survival had necessitated. Tara had to be let go. Gemma sometimes wondered whether or not Jax should have gone with her, but she feared too much the outcome of that scenario, one of them being Clay. What would John think of her if he saw her now? She knew without pity he wouldn't love her. He would be afraid of her, of the bile in her heart and ice in her eyes. But what good did it do to be the woman a dead man loved? It wasn't like being his son, no one was going to come up to her and say "I think John would be real proud of the soft, kind, loving woman you've remained." She wasn't going to be the Old Lady the Club felt obligated to look out for. They would lose her respect and respect for Jax. So she had companionship with Clay.
A wry grin once more lit her mouth and Gemma noticed there were no smile lines on her face. Frown lines, but no smile lines. No proof her fifty years on earth were spent with laughter and joy, just the occasional cynical twist of the lips. There was a time when John and Tommy were still with her she thought she'd never stop smiling. Clay could still get her every now and then. Make some wiseass crack that had her laughing. But reality would invade and the weights on her chest would return in force and she would feel guilty for that brief respite. She wondered what kind of mother she had been to Jax. A good one for sure, but she wondered what it was like to grow up with a mother who never laughed a lot or giggled. It was probably a good thing. She didn't let him get away with shit and she sure as hell wasn't soft on him. If she had been who knew what he would have grown up as. Shit, he might've become a cop. But she also wondered about his relationship with Tara. He had been like a snake to a charmer, so fascinated with her, so quick to follow her. Questions Gemma didn't want asked began popping in her head. Was it the soft love Tara had given him? The laughter they always seemed to share with one another? The sweetness? He acted with her like he'd never known tender love from a woman. The day Gemma had seen them in the park sitting next to each other, Tara's hand rested on his face so lovingly and her face was so soft and warm. He looked captivated. Gemma wondered if she ever showed him so much open affection. Perhaps he wouldn't have fallen so hard for the girl and ended up so hurt. Had she failed in loving her son? Jax was so ready to leave Charming and his mother behind with Tara, she had to wonder if he would have missed her all. No, these were moot points. Jax had stayed. He had let the tramp go. Maybe Gemma was a little selfish. He should have gone.
The sound of a bike came from down the street. On a normal day, Gemma would tell herself she loved that sound but it made her want to hurl. Must be the menopause.
Author: messingwithmars
Rating: PG13?
Pairing: None- mentions of Gemma/Clay, Tara/Jax, Gemma/John
Summary: Gemmacentric fic; what she sees in the mirror
Spoilers: None really... pilot I guess and then little mentions of things from the series til 1x08
Her hands were sore from arthritis and a wave of heat rolled through her body.
Gemma looked in the mirror in her and Clay's bedroom and wondered who the woman was looking back at her. Crows feet (and a wry smile for the irony) stretched from eyes that had seen more horror than happiness. The death of a son. Of a soulmate. Tara had once screamed at her for being a maniachal tyrant, bloodthirsty and greedy. The dumb bitch didn't know. She didn't know that the only thing keeping Gemma from crying all the time was crying never. If she focused on the business aspect of the Club, of securing Jax's place at the top, of getting more money, more power then all she had to lose was paper. If she saw the club as an enterprise maybe, just maybe she could keep the members at a distance. Keep from truly worrying about Opie's failing marriage or the likeliness of Half-Sack's death. She could laugh at Clay's infidelity and blame it on hormones when she didn't.
She had loved Tara, truth be told. Respected her, admired her, loved the man her son was when she was around. But there was light in the girl's eyes that would die under the New SAMCRO. Not the one her John had created but the one time and anarchy and survival had necessitated. Tara had to be let go. Gemma sometimes wondered whether or not Jax should have gone with her, but she feared too much the outcome of that scenario, one of them being Clay. What would John think of her if he saw her now? She knew without pity he wouldn't love her. He would be afraid of her, of the bile in her heart and ice in her eyes. But what good did it do to be the woman a dead man loved? It wasn't like being his son, no one was going to come up to her and say "I think John would be real proud of the soft, kind, loving woman you've remained." She wasn't going to be the Old Lady the Club felt obligated to look out for. They would lose her respect and respect for Jax. So she had companionship with Clay.
A wry grin once more lit her mouth and Gemma noticed there were no smile lines on her face. Frown lines, but no smile lines. No proof her fifty years on earth were spent with laughter and joy, just the occasional cynical twist of the lips. There was a time when John and Tommy were still with her she thought she'd never stop smiling. Clay could still get her every now and then. Make some wiseass crack that had her laughing. But reality would invade and the weights on her chest would return in force and she would feel guilty for that brief respite. She wondered what kind of mother she had been to Jax. A good one for sure, but she wondered what it was like to grow up with a mother who never laughed a lot or giggled. It was probably a good thing. She didn't let him get away with shit and she sure as hell wasn't soft on him. If she had been who knew what he would have grown up as. Shit, he might've become a cop. But she also wondered about his relationship with Tara. He had been like a snake to a charmer, so fascinated with her, so quick to follow her. Questions Gemma didn't want asked began popping in her head. Was it the soft love Tara had given him? The laughter they always seemed to share with one another? The sweetness? He acted with her like he'd never known tender love from a woman. The day Gemma had seen them in the park sitting next to each other, Tara's hand rested on his face so lovingly and her face was so soft and warm. He looked captivated. Gemma wondered if she ever showed him so much open affection. Perhaps he wouldn't have fallen so hard for the girl and ended up so hurt. Had she failed in loving her son? Jax was so ready to leave Charming and his mother behind with Tara, she had to wonder if he would have missed her all. No, these were moot points. Jax had stayed. He had let the tramp go. Maybe Gemma was a little selfish. He should have gone.
The sound of a bike came from down the street. On a normal day, Gemma would tell herself she loved that sound but it made her want to hurl. Must be the menopause.