A/N: Hi hi :D

New Jax/Tara AU where there is no MC and all that drama. Just a girl contemplating her life and a guy willing to show her all the colours of the world.

Drop a review of PM if you feel like it just to let me know what you think :D

I hope there aren't many mistakes.

Happy reading :D

A Curious Encounter

"Tara, you goin'?" – a deep male voice asked, and Tara turned around, putting on her jacket.

The changing room was dark save for that one freakish neon that cast a dim light on the lockers. Spencer walked up to his locker and opened it, taking out a small paper bag with his dinner before turning to her again.

"Yeah. Finally. I have no idea how I'm still walking." – she replied wearily, taking her purse and closing her locker. – "I'll call you when I wake up. In a day or two." – she added jokingly, her tired features spreading into a smile that was all to forced.

"Ok, but do that. I get worried when you don't answer my messages." – the young man pulled her into a hug and Tara all but melted. Barely containing her emotions, she fought hard just to act composed and not scream out loud from sheer desperation, ache, and disappointment with herself. Somehow, her thoughts were running out on their own accord, obviously choosing to torture her today.

"It wasn't your fault. Please, don't blame yourself." – Spencer said pleadingly, sensing what it was that was bothering her. His voice was filled with sadness and concern for her and Tara was really glad she had someone like him in her life.

He was like her little brother and though in most cases she was the one cheering him up whenever he faced hard times, it was good to know he was there for her too when the hardships of her job pressed down on her.

"No, of course. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." – Kissing his cheek, Tara stepped out of the embrace and went home, clutching her bag furiously as if it were her lifeline. Tears stung her eyes and choked her, the images flashing in her mind making her dizzy.

Blood, so much blood. Sounds of a failing heartbeat echoing the operation room. And then nothing. Dead silence.

Shaking her head in an attempt to ward off those pervading memories of the events from that day, Tara hurried her pace.

The night was relatively cold, windy and not at all suitable for walks, a fact Tara realised as she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and snuggled into it. When she got to her apartment building, she noticed that the man who usually slept under their stairs wasn't there. Briefly, Tara wondered where he might be and if he managed to find a warm shelter tonight, before the temperature got even lower.

She greeted her neighbours, Mr and Mrs Case, as she stopped to fish out her keys. The blonde smiled warmly and as always inquired about her job and criticised the horrible conditions the medical staff was working under, to what Tara just nodded in agreement and said there wasn't much she could do. Juan Carlos, the woman's husband who was carrying their two-year-old daughter in his arms, invited Tara to dinner with them which she politely refused, claiming exhaustion.

Wendy looked disappointed, but patted her arm gently and said the invitation was always open, then went inside after her family. The girl's giggles were heard outside before her mom closed the door and Tara smiled wistfully.

As Tara walked into her apartment washed in darkness, with only slight flicker of streetlamp that cast a gleam over her living room, a sudden feeling of panic rose within her.

She had finished her twelve hour shift at Trinity General, most of which was a disastrous, looking forward to a nice long shower and to an at least eight-hour-long sleep she hope she would finally manage to get.

But after she had showered, feeling slightly better in comparison to her previous state of mind, the coldness and silence in her apartment were somehow not so appealing to her anymore.

True, she was looking forward to it all day as always, considering she'd been bombarded with incessant noise at the hospital: the beeping of the various medical devices, the screams of pain of patients, the relatives' arguing with doctors and among themselves in the waiting rooms, the constant ringing of phones and cell phones, the never-ending chatter at the hospital's cafeteria.

It seemed as if everywhere she went she was accompanied by loud sounds and as much as she used to love that, over years it became borderline unbearable. So no one could blame her for looking forward to the little peace and quiet that awaited her home.

This night however, the silence was unwelcoming. It left her all alone with her thoughts, ones she'd rather push down for as long as she could. Breathing deeply, still wrapped in her fluffy green towel, she made a decision. Turning to her closet, she leafed through the small selection of dresses she owned and, pulling out one of them, she tossed it onto the bed before she unwrapped the towel and let it fall onto the dark wooden floor.

It took her about half an hour to get dressed and apply light makeup, her hair blow-dried, cascading over her shoulders.

The club she went tonight was in a close distance so there was no need to call a cab. Instead, she went on foot and when the bouncer had left her in, Tara was drowned in the loud music playing and people dancing and obviously having fun.

A small smile tugged on her lips as she made her way to the bar. It was unusual for her to see so many carefree people, unburdened by real life and just enjoying themselves. If she could only make herself join in on the fun...

Luckily the bar was not all that crowded and she managed to find an empty stool. Shrugging off her coat and ordering a glass of wine, she hopped on the stool and scanned her surroundings. There were mostly young people here, from teenagers to men and women in their thirties, though to Tara's surprise, there were also some even older than fifty.

She was stunned by her feeling of disconnect with the world, like everyone was leading their lives to the fullest except from her, who was feeling drained to her core and so much older than twenty nine.

As the bartender slid her her drink, Tara adjusted on her seat and crossed her legs, feeling overly conscious of herself.

Working twelve and sometimes even more hours, she wasn't used to dresses and certainly not this tight. God only know when she last wore it.

And yet, for some reason she was also glad that for once she wasn't in scrubs and smelling of sweat and antibacterial soap.

As she regarded her hands, for a second she was shocked not to see them in latex gloves, covered in blood. Her head felt so much lighter now that her long dark hair was hanging loose down her back in soft ringlets rather than being pulled up in a ponytail or bun or hidden under surgeon's cap.

Tara loved her job; she loved being able to save some baby's life, but when that didn't happen, the feeling of utter failure and defeat would start eating away at her, she sometimes wished she hadn't chosen this profession.

Seeing life leaving that tiny defenceless body, having to inform the parents that they wouldn't be seeing their baby grow up to be a rebellious teenager, or a football player or a musician, watching horror on their faces before they crumbled down, hearing their sobs and silent words of comfort to each other broke her heart every single time without fail, chipping a small piece of her soul that would never recover.

Even though Tara hoped she would get used that, get used to death and the fact that not all her patients could be saved, she was aghast by her delusion. Some doctors could and Tara thought them robots who only saw patients as numbers and initial rather than human beings.

However, she? She wasn't like that. Every patient, for her, had a name, a face, a story to be told. She would spend hours reading on their patient history, studying religiously their symptoms and test results, any information carefully stored in her memory. Then followed hours spent in trans-like state as she researched the internet, medical journals, and books for any kind of method or approach she could use.

It wasn't just a job for her; it was her calling. It gave purpose to her life even though more often than not the consequences took a heavy toll on her.

Tara was taking a sip of her wine before she noticed she'd almost drunk it all in less than five minutes. Had she not felt lighter and more relaxed, she would have felt guilty.

When she raised her head to ask for another one, her eyes locked with a man's sitting across the bar. He regarded her intently with his intense gaze took her by surprise. She gulped, her heart beating slightly faster but she found herself unable to look away. Call it a cliché if you want, but there was definitely something in looking at another human being, even if it was a stranger, and feeling an instant connection.

He was handsome, his features seemingly stern and rough under the colourful flashing lights of the spotlights. He was nursing what seemed to her like a glass bourbon and had an air about himself that screamed 'back off'. His posture was rigid, his sharp jaw twitching as his head tilted to the side as if to assess her better.

Tara couldn't tell well from where she was sitting, but the mystery man looked to be very elegant and calm in his deportment, almost out of place in that club where everyone or almost every one acted crazy and free.

She observed his fingers, long and gaunt as he brought the glass to his lips. Biting her lip, she oh so wished he would put them on hers. Or any part of her body, she didn't exactly care.

The abruptness of such thoughts took her completely by surprise.

They were focused on each other now, sipping their drinks but acting like nothing was around them. Somehow Tara managed to tune out the music and the noise, leaving her in complete silence and to the mercy of her sinful thoughts about the stranger.

Fifteen minutes and an intense eye-fucking session and thousands of naughty thoughts later, after finishing her second glass of wine Tara felt the tension harbouring in her shoulders the entire day slowly leave her body, being replaced by something different, deeper. Although she was tired from all day's work, she never once broke the eye contact with Mystery Man, as she called him in her head. The little eye game they were playing in 'who's going to look away first' somehow empowered her and she felt a surge of energy in her veins as something mischievous flashed in his eyes.

Tara understood well what the look meant even though it had been long since that kind of look was aimed in her direction. It made her feel wanted for once and maybe even adventurous in a way that was totally out of her comfort zone. She put on her coat and paid for her drinks then hurried to get outside.

When she got out, the cold air from the outside hit her like a cold shower and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, in spite of her coat, in an attempt to gather some heat. Hearing the door behind her open, Tara turned, coming chest to chest with the stranger. Well to be accurate, her face met with his chest. His very well-built chest.

She took a few steps back, surprised. He appeared even calmer now that she could have a better look at him, as he put his hands in his coat pockets.

He was tall and lean, his face clean-shaven, his slicked blond hair glowing under the dim street lights. He wore a burgundy shirt neatly tucked into his dress pants that clung to his torso perfectly as far as she could tell. Her gaze lingered for a second longer on the straining buttons of his dress shirt.

Lifting her eyes up then, she saw a ghost of a smile appear on his face before he spoke with a hint of eagerness.

"You wanna get outta here?"

It was a simple invitation, one that hung between them the entire time they were inside, only now it was spoken aloud and he wasn't just one of the faces inside.

He was there, in flesh and blood, standing in front of her looking like a fucking Calvin Klein model and Tara could just gape at him because, fuck. The man was like walking sex, with his broad shoulders, and those eyes that just a few moments ago had her completely hypnotised even in that semi darkness (not that the lighting was any better in the back alley) and his lips that were so yummy Tara wondered why she hadn't pulled him down and kissed him already.

His smile was bright, though smug with the kind of confidence that often irritated Tara. Apparently that wasn't the case with him since she found her lips stretching into a grin she fought but failed to hide.

One night stands weren't her thing. She didn't judge those who were that type and maybe even she would indulge from time to time had she not been so busy at the hospital.

Long hours and abject exhaustion coupled with her more often than not corpse-like appearance due to lack of sleep certainly didn't contribute to her getting male attention. At least not outside the hospital and she would never under any circumstances associate herself with any of the men there.

Not because she didn't like any of them because there were certainly some who were good looking and charming enough. Rather, it was the complications that were bound to ensue that had put her off. The truth was, Tara cared more about her job than creating any temporary or permanent relationship. She didn't have time nor the patience for it.

Now though, she was wide awake with her skin tingling from his proximity, heat spreading through her body, his scent enveloping her and she just itched to touch him, to rip that shirt off him as he fucked her into oblivion. She just wanted to let go, to forget... It was that easy.

Who was she kidding? She didn't just spend twenty minutes of her night imagining him on top of her, under her, just to say no. Wasn't she allowed to have some fun at least today of all days?
And as she contemplated that option, and let's face it, the guy was super hot and Tara would've gladly jumped his bones there and then, she knew she wasn't in the right frame of mind and that she just might regret whatever decision she made mildly intoxicated and psychologically wrecked.

And so, in spite of really really wanting to just let go for once, she shook her head and stepped back, smiling weakly at the stranger. It wouldn't be right to use him even though she suspected he wouldn't see it that way.

"Sorry, pretty boy. Not tonight."

The pretty boy in question looked hurt for a second before his features turned coquettish again and the lopsided smile appeared on his face, mixed with confusion.

"Tell me I did not misread the signs, please. 'Cause from where I was sitting, I saw it as clear as day you wanted to go to the next level. Am I right?" - he tried to sound as if unaffected, but disappointment was visible on his face and in that moment Tara felt bad for leading him on.

Yeah, she wanted to have good time, she wanted some distraction, something that would get her mind of painful images and this dull ache in her heart.

Even still, she knew that whatever she did it would only be a temporary solution and doin' it with a stranger would just make her feel even more miserable and pathetic.

For a brief moment she pictured what it would be like to give into him, forget everything for at least an hour and let his body numb the pain in her but Tara knew it wouldn't be right. The awkwardness would arise, and she wouldn't know what to do or how to behave afterwards.

Feeling like an utter idiot, she apologised. -"You're right. Look, I'm sorry. I thought I was... never mind. I'm dead tired and I just want to go home and sleep. I'm sorry for leading you on."

She turned to leave when he spoke and oh boy, did he have a pleasant voice that seemed to caress her (or it might be the alcohol affecting her).

"You just broke my heart, darlin'. I thought we had something special there."

She turned around and they both laughed, Tara shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation. There was a freaking hot guy standing in front of her, wanting to be with and she just turned him down, like she had a dozen men like him lined up to be with her.

"Bad line, handsome. I'm sure there are a ton of women in there just waiting for you to flash that panty-dropping smile of yours. I bet in twenty minutes you won't even remember me."

Tara tried to play it cool but something in his expression awoke the playful side of her. Aware that her words sounded flirtatious she blushed.

A spark of mischief flashed in his eyes as he approached her slowly, pulling his hands out of the coat's pockets. Frozen in place, Tara gulped, unable to look anywhere but at him. Was she supposed to feel this hot? Hot all over?

The man had a calculating look in his blues, a hint of what's to come as his tongue darted out to lick his lip. Unconsciously, she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

She should feel threatened, right? 'cause here she was, in semi dark alley with a man she didn't know and with no one else in sight. He could be a killer, or a kidnapper or a lunatic ready to do whatever he wanted and Tara just knew no one would hear her if she happened to scream for help.

So, why wasn't she scared? Instead, she felt more like... turned on? His lips were so inviting and when he smirked she was a goner. Her palms were sweating, heat pooling in her belly, heart hammering in her chest.

Wasn't she super cold just moments ago?

Cupping her face in his hands and never taking his eyes from her, he brushed his thumbs gently over her cheekbones.

She knew what he was doing. She knew and if she wanted to stop the inevitable, there was nothing stopping her because the guy had given her enough time to withdraw. Maybe a kiss wouldn't be so bad, right? Just a kiss. Just a little something to get her mind of her work and the shit that was her day and that god awful feeling in her gut that made her feel like utter failure.

Her breathing was already heavy while his was controlled. He was awfully calm as Tara felt her knees grow weak. His palms were rough against the soft skin of cheeks, and as his thumbs drew circles on them, it was like being hypnotised.

And as this stranger lowered his lips on hers, waking her sense completely, her body awake and painfully aware of his lips on hers, his tongue stroking hers, she surrendered to him. Her hands wrapped around the collar of his coat to pull him closer, changing the angle and deepening the kiss.

And oh, what a kiss it was.

Sloppy? At first, yes, but it changed as they got used to each other.

Rushed? The complete opposite, actually. It was unhurried, tender and sweet. It was completely unexpected judging by her impression of him.

Was it hot? Definitely! And also passionate and caring and absolutely teasing. Not too much, but just enough to make her wonder what it would be like if they were to go beyond mere kissing.

Tara imagined he would be a great lover, gentle and at the same time rough. In for the pleasure and complete surrender. She inched closer to him, leaving no space between them, heat emanating off him engulfing her. Her fingers curled into his soft hair, her nails grazing his skull, eliciting a grunt from him.

His fingers ran down her cheek, down her jaw to her neck making her shiver and moan into his mouth. He growled, his tongue growing rougher, taking her breath away (literally!).

He then bit her lip, trapping it between his teeth as he dragged his tongue along the soft flesh before he pulled back, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. His breath was hot on her skin as she barely remembered to breathe again, the ghost of his lips present on hers.

When Tara dared to look at him, barely registering the world around, her fingers were still entangled in his hair and she was still pressed against him, her body singing with joy.

"Just a little something to remember me by since you're so keen on leaving." - he said teasingly after what felt like hours, brushing his knuckles against her cheekbone before walking back a few steps, eyes flashing to her reddened lips, looking all too content with himself, before turning around and heading back inside, whilst Tara still stood frozen in place, her lips swollen and hands shaking, looking awestruck.

Get it together, she told herself. Wrapping her coat defensively around herself, she hurried to her apartment, heels clicking against the pavement, thoughts starting to creep in.

I must have imagined it all. Yeah, tooooootally imagined it.

Yet her aching lips, her skin where he touched still burning from the sensation, her breathing still uncontrolled, told a different story.