Gemma: You gotta go see him, Jax. Jax: I can't. Gemma: Why? He'll break your heart? It's called being a father. Jax: For how long? A day? A week? Gemma: You know, you were born with that same heart defect your little brother had. (She lightly punches his chest) Seems pretty sturdy to me. I've been through hell, landed on my feet. Your father was hit by a goddamn semi, dragged 178 yards. And that bastard lived for two more days. Teller's do not die easy. Jax: No, we just die bloody.