"I'll be so glad when this little guy is home," Avery cooed, her voice a soft melody as she sat beside Jax. Their eyes were fixed on the tiny form nestled in the incubator, a testament to their hopes and fears. "Only one more day," she whispered, her fingers tracing the outline of the children's book they were sharing, a story of a brave little bear finding its way home.

Jax shifted, a slight furrow appearing between his brows. "About that," he began, his tone a careful blend of excitement and practicality. "We haven't really talked about how we're going to manage him coming home. I've got some paternity leave I can take, but you... you have what, three or four pending cases right now, don't you? This really isn't an ideal time for you to be taking extended time off." He voiced his only genuine concern, the practical realities of their demanding careers looming over the joyous anticipation of Abel's arrival. The thought of balancing infant care with high-stakes legal battles was a silent, weighty presence between them.

"That's true," Avery conceded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I may still have to go into work, but the biggest blessing is that Abel can come with me. I can set his pack and play up right in my office, having him close by. It'll be a juggle, but I can schedule my appointments around his feeding times, ensuring he's always cared for." A hopeful smile touched her lips. "And on the days that I have court, which are usually the most demanding, I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't mind pitching in. They adore him. As would Gemma and John, for that matter. We have a solid support system."

Truth be known, this was all she had thought about over the past few days, her mind a whirlwind of possibilities and plans. She wanted Abel home more than anything. The thought of his small presence filling their quiet house, of holding him close whenever she wanted, was a powerful motivator. She knew that him being home would be a huge change for both her and Jax. Their lives, once so predictable, would be forever altered by the joyous chaos of a baby. But it was a change she wanted more than anything in this world, a change that felt fundamentally right and long overdue. The idea of their little family finally being complete filled her with a profound sense of anticipation and love.

"True. I can already see your mom and my mom fighting over who's going to keep him," said Jax, a wide grin spreading across his face as he imagined the chaotic but loving scene. "They'll be bickering good-naturedly, 'No, he's staying with us this weekend!' 'Absolutely not, he needs his grandmother's cooking!'" He chuckled, picturing the playful rivalry.

"I know, right?" Avery responded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "My mom already has a whole nursery Pinterest board dedicated to 'future grandbaby,' and yours keeps sending me links to educational toys for infants. They're practically in a competition to be the 'favorite' grandparent, and he's not even here yet!" She laughed, shaking her head at the thought of their overenthusiastic mothers. "I can just hear them now: 'Did you see what my grandbaby did today?' 'Oh, that's nothing, my grandbaby is already learning calculus!'" They both dissolved into laughter, the image of their expectant parents, already doting on a grandchild yet to arrive, a comforting and hilarious thought.

Before either Jax or Avery could utter another sound, a gentle yet firm knock resonated from the door. Almost immediately, a warm, female voice followed, announcing the arrival of Tara.

"Hey guys," Tara greeted, her voice a comforting blend of professionalism and genuine care as she glided into the room. With a practiced movement, she placed her ever-present clipboard on the small table near the entrance, its familiar click a signal of impending information.

Jax, his eyes bright with a mix of anticipation and weary hope, leaned forward slightly. "Hey Tara. You bringing us good news?" he asked, a hopeful tremor in his voice that mirrored the nervous flutter in the mother's chest. They had been waiting for this moment, clinging to every whisper of positive progress.

A soft smile touched Tara's lips, a reassuring glint in her eyes. "Indeed I am," she confirmed, and a collective sigh of relief seemed to fill the air, the tension that had been held captive in their chests for weeks finally dissipating. "Looks like this little guy can come out the toaster." She paused, allowing the significance of her words to sink in, the weight of their implication settling gently upon them. The "toaster," their affectionate and slightly grim term for the incubator that had been their son's temporary, metallic home, was finally no longer needed. It was a tangible sign of progress, a visible step towards the normalcy they craved. "As long as he does good with breathing on his own and tolerates feedings like normal, he'll be able to go home in a couple days."

A wave of joyous disbelief mixed with a lingering pang of disappointment washed over them. Joy, because the impossible was now within reach; disappointment, because the waiting game wasn't quite over.

Home. The word, once a distant, ethereal dream, now shimmered with tangible possibility, almost within their grasp. Avery and Jax exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them of hope and an eagerness that bordered on desperation. However, Tara, ever the pragmatist, continued, her tone tempering their immediate, almost explosive excitement with necessary caution. Her voice, though gentle, carried the weight of experience and medical responsibility. "I know that we told you guys the other day that he would be able to go home in two days, which would be tomorrow, but we really need to monitor him and make sure he's 100% before we discharge him." Her gaze met theirs, a silent plea for understanding passing between doctor and anxious parents. "We want to be absolutely certain he's strong enough to thrive outside of our care, outside of the constant vigilance of the NICU. A couple of extra days of observation will ensure his full readiness, his robust health." It was a slight delay, a mere hiccup in the grand scheme of things, but a necessary one, a final safeguard before they could truly begin their life as a family, finally bringing their little one home to the warmth and quiet of their own house, away from the beeping machines and hushed whispers of the hospital.

"Really? That's amazing. We were just talking about how happy we would be when he was finally able to come home. I never thought that we would see the day that he would be able to come out of his incubator and live a healthy life. So don't worry about the extra day. I think we can both agree that we want him to be in tip-top shape before coming home," said Avery, her voice a little breathless with emotion as she reached for Jax's hand and smiled at him, a radiant, almost disbelieving smile that mirrored his own. The slight delay was a small price to pay for the absolute certainty of their son's well-being. A wave of relief washed over her, a tangible release of the tension that had been building for weeks. Every breath, every heartbeat of their tiny son had been monitored, every setback a punch to their gut, every tiny victory a reason to cling to hope. Now, the end was truly in sight. The thought of bringing him home, of finally having their family complete under their own roof, filled her with an almost overwhelming joy.

"Well, you two don't have to wait much longer," said Tara, a compassionate smile on her face. She had witnessed countless moments like this, the raw, unfiltered joy of parents finally able to take their fragile miracles home. Each time, it was a reminder of why she loved her job.

"So when does he come out the toaster?" asked Jax, breaking the silence in the room. His attempt at humor, a familiar coping mechanism for his anxiety, brought a soft laugh from Avery. He was trying to be strong for her, but she knew his heart was just as full of trepidation and elation as her own. The incubator, with its constant hum and blinking lights, had become a symbol of their son's precarious existence, a mechanical womb that had nurtured him through his earliest, most vulnerable days.

"Right now," said Tara, smiling first at Avery and then at Jax.

Jax and Avery watched, their hearts thumping a frantic rhythm against their ribs, as Tara, her face etched with a mix of concentration and solemnity, began the painstaking process of unhooking the intricate web of wires. Each delicate tube and sensor, which had been Abel's tenuous lifeline for what felt like an eternity, was now being carefully detached. The air in the sterile room was thick with a nervous anticipation that was almost palpable, practically vibrating between the three of them. Every small movement Tara made, every soft click of a disengaged connector, amplified the intensity of the moment, drawing Jax and Avery further into the silent, agonizing wait for the unknown.

And when all the wires were gone, the metallic tang of the operating room slowly fading from the air, Abel let out the softest, most fragile whimper. It was a sound so small, so utterly vulnerable, that it cracked open something deep within both of them. Tears, hot and heavy, flowed freely down their faces, mingling with the remnants of fear and the nascent stirrings of an overwhelming, profound relief. It wasn't just the absence of the wires, the symbols of his fragile hold on life, that brought forth this deluge; it was the promise of a future, finally untethered from the relentless beeping and buzzing of machines.

Tara lifted Abel and looked at Jax and Avery. "So, who wants to hold this little warrior first?" The question hung in the air, thick with anticipation. It was the moment they had dreamed of, prayed for, agonized over. The moment their son would finally be in their arms, no longer confined by the clear walls of his "toaster."

**********

"So what did your mom say?" asked Avery, her voice a little muffled as she bit into a juicy burger. She and Jax were finally settled at their dining room table, the day's events at the hospital still fresh in their minds. The comforting aroma of Lumpy's burgers and fries filled the air, a much-needed reprieve after the sterile hospital smells.

Jax chewed slowly, savoring a fry before answering. "Well, Mom is planning a huge homecoming party. Wants to do it here since this will be his home." He gestured vaguely around their cozy dining room with a fry, his eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement and a touch of apprehension.

Avery nearly choked on her burger. "Here? How big?" She envisioned their relatively modest house overflowing with people, and a wave of panic, quickly followed by a rush of maternal protectiveness, washed over her. Their little one was still so tiny, so fragile.

Jax chuckled, sensing her slight unease. "Mainly just the guys from the club and the garage. Add in Wayne, my grandpa Nate, your parents and grandparents..." He trailed off, ticking names off on his fingers. "And then, of course, a few of her girlfriends who've known me since I was a baby. Oh, and probably Mrs. Carol from down the street, and Mrs. Halstead, who always brings those terrible-but-mandatory potato salads..."

Avery held up a hand, a small smile playing on her lips. "Okay, okay, I got the picture," she laughed. "Does she need my help?" She knew Jax's mom; she was a whirlwind of energy and organization, but even she might need an extra set of hands for an event of this scale.

"You know mom. She probably already recruited your mom, Donna, and any of the women hanging around the club," Jax said, a wry smile playing on his lips. He knew his mother's enthusiastic nature all too well. "By now, there's likely a full-fledged operation underway, complete with color-coded spreadsheets and a detailed task list."

Avery chuckled, shaking her head. "True. She's a force of nature when she gets an idea in her head, especially for a good cause." Her brow furrowed slightly in thought. "Well, if she needs any help, please tell her not to hesitate to ask. I'll figure out some way to help in any way that I can, even if it's just making coffee runs or decorating." She gestured vaguely. "You know me, I'm happy to pitch in wherever I'm needed, no matter how big or small the task."

"Will do," Jax replied, his smile softening. He knew Avery meant it. She was always the first to offer a helping hand, no matter the situation, her generosity a well-known fact among their tight-knit group of friends. "I'll let her know you're on standby. Though, knowing her, she probably has a master plan already laid out for everyone involved, even for those who haven't officially volunteered yet." He winked, a playful glint in his eyes. "You might just find yourself with an unexpected assignment by tomorrow morning. Don't be surprised if you wake up to a detailed email with color-coded spreadsheets and a list of urgent tasks waiting for you." He paused, a chuckle escaping him. "Then again," Jax reached across the table, his fingers gently lacing with hers, a familiar comfort settling between them, "she will probably treat you as if you just gave birth even though everyone knows you didn't and not let you do anything to help. Expect endless cups of tea, enforced naps, and a strict ban on lifting anything heavier than a remote control. You'll be relegated to supervisory duties at best, offering moral support from the sidelines."

"Jax–" Vee started, her voice a low murmur of protest. She felt a familiar blush creeping up her neck. The thought of being fussed over made her inherently uncomfortable, especially when she felt she didn't deserve it.

"Just roll with it, Vee," Jax interrupted, his voice laced with amusement. He gently squeezed her hand, a silent reassurance. "Everyone we love is going to look at you as a first-time mother, and with that comes all sorts of being catered to. They mean well, you know." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And besides, who are we to deny them the joy of spoiling you rotten? Think of it as their way of showing their excitement, their utter delight at the new addition to our family." He winked, clearly enjoying her discomfort, the slight flush that crept up her neck. "Just lean into it, Vee. Let them bring you casseroles that you'll never have to cook, offer to babysit at a moment's notice so we can actually get some sleep, and shower you with tiny knitted booties and onesies that are almost too adorable to ever put on a baby. It's part of the whole experience, the good kind of overwhelming, the kind that reminds you how much love surrounds us." He chuckled, pulling her a little closer. "Embrace the chaos, the endless stream of advice, the well-meaning but slightly intrusive questions. It's all coming from a place of genuine affection, a desire to celebrate this incredible new chapter with us. Besides," he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "think of all the free labor. We won't have to lift a finger for weeks!"

"If you say so..." Vee replied, a small, reluctant smile finally touching her lips. She knew he was right, even if the thought of all that attention felt a little suffocating. But looking at Jax, seeing the pure joy radiating from him, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement herself. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all.

**********

Wendy watched, a phantom in the deepening twilight, through the back window of Avery and Jax's home. Dressed in funeral black, a stark contrast to the vibrant life unfolding within, she was hidden deep in the shadows of the expansive backyard. Just moments before, she had seen them – Jax and Avery – a silhouette of intertwined bodies, making love on the plush living room couch. It was a scene that seared itself into her mind, a twisted tableau of passion and possession. She hadn't meant to follow them home, not really. Not after seeing them exit the hospital, a picture of domestic bliss, their hands clasped, their smiles mirroring each other. But the sight had been like a siren's call, pulling her, despite herself, into their orbit. The initial glimpse of their public affection had already churned her stomach; now, witnessing their intimate embrace, a primal knot of rage tightened in her gut, and her vision swam with a furious, crimson haze.

Jax. He was hers. He should be hers. The thought hammered in her brain, a relentless drumbeat against her skull. She couldn't, wouldn't, tolerate another woman raising her son. Especially not Avery, that flighty, mercurial creature who, in Wendy's twisted narrative, was prone to leaving Jax shattered and alone, forced to pick up the pieces of his broken heart. Wendy knew her own imperfections, her own flaws, but at least she was a constant. At least she wasn't going anywhere. She was the one who stuck around, the one who remained, even when she shouldn't have.

Her carefully orchestrated attempts to convince the social worker to deem Avery and Jax unfit parents had crashed and burned, leaving her feeling utterly, devastatingly pointless. She had clung to the desperate hope that the caseworker would consider Jax's deep-rooted affiliation with SAMCRO enough to keep Abel from being placed with them.

But it seemed this particular caseworker was one of the many blind to the underbelly of Charming's protector, seeing only the gleaming facade of the good SAMCRO supposedly brought to the town. They saw the charity rides, the community events, the way the club seemingly kept Charming safe. They didn't see the insidious rot beneath the surface, the casual brutality, the pervasive threat of death that clung to SAMCRO like a shroud whenever a disagreement escalated. They didn't see that SAMCRO, in its own warped way, kept Charming trapped in a perpetual state of arrested development, a small town stuck stubbornly in the '60s, immune to the forward march of the 21st century. But Wendy knew. She had seen it firsthand, the raw, untamed violence that Jax was capable of unleashing when threatened, when his loved ones, his family, were in perceived danger. She had lived it.

No, instead of focusing on the club's dark side, the social worker had, to Wendy's infuriated disbelief, gone directly to Avery. And Avery, with her stable, respectable job, her impeccable manners, her infuriatingly wholesome aura, was everything a social worker could ever dream of in a prospective parent. She was the picture of responsibility, the epitome of the "goody-goody" mother they all desired to place children with. In fact, from the bitter snippets of information Wendy had managed to glean, the social workers had only even bothered to engage with Jax because Avery herself had suggested the idea, a testament to her seemingly benevolent nature.

A frantic digging in her pocket. Her fingers closed around a tiny, plastic baggy. With a practiced, almost unconscious movement, she pulled it out, her thumb and forefinger shaking slightly as she brought it to her nose. A quick, sharp bump of cocaine, the acrid burn a familiar comfort, a temporary balm for the craving that had gnawed at her all day, a hungry beast in her gut. It wasn't a solution, just a brief reprieve, a fleeting moment of calm in the swirling storm of her mind. She didn't know, not precisely, what she was going to do. But one thing was clear, crystal clear even through the drug-induced haze: Jax would pay. He had to pay.

She slipped back, a wraith in the inky blackness, deeper into the cover of the overgrown bushes, the rough leaves scratching at her skin. The little snub-nosed .38, cold and reassuringly weighty in her palm, had been acquired from Darby only a few hours earlier, a clandestine exchange under the cover of dusk. She waited. She waited for the house lights to flicker off, one by one, plunging the home into darkness, signaling the start of their vulnerable sleep. She knew, with chilling certainty, that Jax would be armed. She knew, with a resignation that bordered on apathy, that she would most likely die if she dared to threaten him, or Avery. But it was a chance, a desperate, final gamble, that she was willing to take.

Jax had taken everything from her. He had stolen her peace, her future, her very identity. She was this broken, desperate woman because of him. No, he hadn't forced the drugs into her hands, hadn't made her embrace the addiction that consumed her. But in her drug-fogged mind, a mind desperate for absolution, for a scapegoat, blaming it all on Jax seemed like the most logical, the only, thing to do.

He was the reason.

He was always the reason.