Hours bled into one another. The only sounds were the ticking of the wall clock, the occasional squeak of a nurse's shoes, and the soft, rhythmic breathing of the little girl. Jax stared at the blank wall opposite him, his mind racing through the past. He remembered Elias fighting off three rival gang members to drag Jax out of a burning bar. He remembered the fierce, protective light in Elias's eyes when he announced he was leaving the club because his wife was pregnant.
“I can’t be Ghost anymore, Jax,” Elias had told him, handing over his cut. “I gotta be a father. I gotta be a good man.”
And he had been. He had sacrificed everything, clearly working himself to the bone, starving himself, denying himself life-saving medication just to ensure his daughter had food to eat.
Around 4:00 AM, a doctor in green scrubs pushed through the swinging double doors. The entire room of bikers stood up in unison, a wave of black leather and clinking chains. The doctor looked overwhelmed by the sheer mass of the men, but Jax stepped forward, carefully handing the sleeping Lily to Bear.
"I'm his family," Jax said, his voice a low rumble. "How is he?"
The doctor sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He suffered a massive heart attack, exacerbated by severe, untreated diabetic complications and extreme malnutrition. His body just... gave out. We've stabilized him for now, but he is in a deep coma. The damage to his heart is extensive. I have to be honest with you... the chances of him waking up are incredibly slim. And if he does, he will never fully recover."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the bikers. Men looked down at their boots; some squeezed their eyes shut. Ghost, the toughest man they had ever known, defeated by poverty and a failing heart.
Jax swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Can I see him?"
"Only family," the doctor said automatically.
"We are his family," Jax said, looking around the room at his brothers. The doctor looked at the fiercely loyal faces of the men and wisely didn't argue.
Jax walked into the ICU. Elias looked even smaller surrounded by the humming machines and IV bags. Jax stood by the bed, reaching out to grasp his old friend's hand. It felt frail.
"You did good, Elias," Jax whispered, his voice cracking. "You protected her. You fought like hell. But you don't have to fight alone anymore. I got her. We all got her. I swear to you on my life, on the club, she will never go hungry. She will never be cold. She will never have to beg on a corner again."
He took the old, worn cut with the 'Ghost' patch and gently draped it over the foot of Elias's hospital bed. "Rest now, brother. We'll take the watch."
Part 5: Earning the Patch
Elias never woke up. Three days after they brought him to the hospital, his heart finally surrendered. The funeral was unlike anything the small town had ever seen. Hundreds of bikers from different chapters and even rival clubs showed up to pay their respects to Ghost. The rumble of engines during the procession shook the windows of the town, a roaring twenty-gun salute in the form of exhaust pipes.