Disclaimer: Of the characters that participate in this story, only the female protagonist, belongs to me. The rest are the work of Kurt Sutter for the series SONS OF THE ANARCHY and all the rights and profits that come from it belong to him. I write this as a Fanfic, not for profit, giving all the authorship to its legitimate creator. My only intention is to entertain and share my passion for SAMCRO with anyone who wants to read it, as a tribute to this great show.

Note: I've wanted to write about Jax and the club for a long time, maybe to make sweeter the loss of the original series.

I started this story a few weeks ago, in my mother tongue (Spanish), but I know there are many fans and readers who read and speak English, so I decided (with my few skills ... I'm sorry for the many, many errors) Translate the chapters of this story, in case anyone wants to read it.

My intention is to give another vision to SAMCRO, Jax and their romantic and family relationships, I will go more or less parallel to the series, but I will take licenses too!

Do you want to accompany me on the ride? Please, leave me to my reviews with comments, suggestions or anything! I would love to respond.

I want to thank Shantigal for his support and encouragement. Without you, this story would never have known another language!

THIS CHARMING LIFE

How did we come to this?

I just felt pain.

I tried to keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling, the succession of flashing lights that marked the progression down that hall. Concentrated, to avoid the nausea and ignore the terrible truth of what was happening. The warm moisture, in the form of furrows and reddish spots, flooded the sheets with which I had been covered, soaking my clothes, falling between my legs without any of my attempts to do anything to contain it.

—I'm here, babe. Can you hear me? I'm right here. I'm with you, I'm not going anywhere.

The ringed hand that tried to hold mine was cold and sweaty. For nerves. Because of fear. For not believing those words that he spoke to try to calm me down. My poor bad boy ... I did not believe either, so the tears did not stop falling on my cheeks, wetting my face with the same intensity that the blood moistened my thighs, taking, probably too soon for something could be done, the life I I had lodged in my interior.

I had felt it so little time ... and yet, I had loved it so much ...

I heard heels and an angry voice approaching. I tried to turn my face and shout that I did not want to see anyone, that I did not want to hear anything. To leave me alone with the agony of my belly pain, with the sense of loss that pushed out of my guts what had been mine and now they snatched me. The hand with the rings, again, grabbed me. This time, the voice was more sullen, directed to those who led that bloody table down the aisle of St. Thomas.

—Can you wait a moment? Just a second. —The rattle stopped, and in my field of vision there were no lights, no white ceilings, only the reflection of two blue eyes half hidden behind a black cap. Furrowed with concern, half veiled with sadness. —Darlin' listen to me, I'm here, everything's going to be okay. You have to believe that. They're going to fix this, it's just ... it's just a nightmare, babe, but it will pass, do you believe me? You gotta tell me you believe it, you gotta be strong, babe, okay? I'm here, I'm here!

Someone grabbed Jax away from the stretcher so we could move on. I wanted to tell him that I believed him, and even made him a conciliatory gesture, but I could not. I was losing my baby. I can't feel anything but pain.

—She doesn't even look at me —he said in a groan, in Gemma's arms, holding him tight so she would not run after me. —Jesus Christ, mom, have you seen that expression on your face?" She has never looked at me like this ...

She did not answer. She just kept holding him, while he covered his face with his hands and remained sunken, leaning against the wall. We came back to stop when I convulsed, someone said that the fever was rising and that was not a good sign. I tried to stay very still, tighten my legs, try to avoid breathing. I begged them to do something soon, I begged Jax for forgiveness, I begged for anything to happen.

—Tara! —Jax shouted suddenly, hurrying up as the emergency door opened. The surgeon looked at the sheet in her hands, then at the stretcher. She looked pale when she recognized me. His eyes asked a mute question that Jax did not waste a second in answering. —It's getting worse, the fever... and those convulsions ... my son, Tara. She's losing it and he's going to kill her in the process.

They touched and looked at me, but I chose to set my eyes on Jax, who leaned my lips against my forehead. His beard tickled me, but I was not in the mood to smile. Tara was saying something to the nurse, who took notes frantically. Gemma was on the phone, walking down the aisle and dropping a string of nasty words that caused some people, swirling around waiting for word from their relatives and loved ones, to look at her badly.

—I don't give a shit who he's meeting with, tell Clay to come right away. —Her tone dropped then, but I could hear what he was saying. —It is bad. She's losing the baby and she's ... it's bad, okay? Come. Already.

Clay... yes, let Clay come, I thought, in the middle of a nebula, would they have given me painkillers? I did not want to sleep. I did not want to be relieved of any suffering. If my son was going to die, he wanted me to hurt every second, he did not deserve less.

—Jax... the tension is very high and the fever does not stop rising. If we had to do a cure, with the medication and so on, he could compromise...

—Shit, Tara, I'm only a mechanic who pulled the school graduate by the nose, do not talk to me like a doctor, please.

The surgeon sighed and walked over to him. Perhaps I would like to avoid hearing what I was going to say, but I will tell you a secret, when you feel life going away from you, when that something, which is neither matter nor physical, begins to drop ballast and depart from the shell which is the body, with its scars and pain ... you know it. All of it. The most fearsome, most universal and dramatic answers come to you as magic. Tara should not have taken so much care of giving Jax this information, I already felt lost the only thing that mattered to me, what more could happen to me after that?

—I don't know what condition the fetus is in, Jax, that's the truth. The loss of blood suggests placental detachment, or perhaps worse, —she said, and as he spoke, the paler the face of the man I loved became. The one that was causing a torment that could not be avoided. —Her condition is serious and an intervention could make it worse, it is very possible that the baby is already lost, but if there is any hope and would have to choose ...

—You have to save her. —Jax voice was stronge. Full of rage.

I began to deny it hard, but Jax just hugged my face with her hands, kissing my forehead. I thought all hopes were lost, but Tara said, saying that maybe...

—Jax, a new, young life is always more valid, think about it.

—Save her, Tara. There is no discussion, there is no choice. It's her.

Obviusly, doctor Knowles was not agreeing with that.

—It's your son, Jackson.

—And she's my fucking life! —Gemma walked over and put her hand on his shoulder. Jax snorted, searching my fingers and twisting them tightly. I said no, but I do not know if the voice came out. He looked at me for a second, with the forgiveness reflected in his gaze, but I knew he had made his decision, and mine. Damn it out... damn for loving me in that irrational way. —I'm selfish, and I'm not going to live a life without her. If you have to choose who will live, Tara. She. Because if she die you'll bury us both.

—Clay will agree, —Gemma nodded, though no one had asked.

Then Tara made a gesture and the stretcher moved again, Jax followed me down the hall, whispering a string of plans and I love you sobbing. He wet my face with his tears, begged my pardon for that election, and swore that when I got well I could hate him with all my might if I wanted to. I raised my hand, and touched his face, but it was all for which strength remained.

The stretcher disappeared behind the swinging emergency doors, but before I lost sight of it, I saw Jax fall against the wall and her body slid to the floor, threw her cap aside and hid her head in her arms. I did not see if she was crying, but her posture seemed to scream. I felt so much... for him, for me, for the life that we had created together and that, apparently, we would never create.

—I'm damned, mom,— he say, banging his head against the wall despite Gemma's attempts to calm him. —Every time I try to form a family and have a son, a misfortune happens ... I'm a bad seed, and I condemn the women who are with me to live horrible moments. To suffer. This is my fault... it's my fault, and if she survives, I swear to God.. I'll leave her alone.

The doctors sedated me, and the last idea I had in my head was that, besides my son, I would also lose Jax.

How did we come to this? Well... it's a very long story ...