This was written, mostly because that last scene between Jax and Terra just about killed me.
It had been a long time since she had been to the ocean. At the very least four years, and even longer since she had sprinted into it's frothy waves in complete abandon, let the water swell around her, sweep the gritty ground beneath her feet and encompass her body in a cold, caring, comforting hug.
But now she's floating in a sea of drugs.
Flouting like a seal, bloated from the bloody wound given to her by a great white. Back in San Diego she would saturate her skin in so much sun screen, her pale skin would look even more pallid. Then for extra measure, she would wear a light blue sun hat, the type with a big floppy rim and gingerly lay on a plastic, blow up water chair, decorated with green and pink polka dots and hope that maybe this time she wouldn't get burned.
She wishes she could burn now.
She wishes there was something, anything to think about other then the dulled throb located within the core of every bone in her left hand and the gaping laceration in her heart. Her skin is the color of a troubled sky; pale, outlined with gray. Her face feels like marble when she touches it with her good hand.
"Tell me what I can do for you."
"Nothing."
Jax can only fix so much. He can stab, and yell and threaten and shoot, but he can't sew her back up. He can't rewire and reroute the nerves and bones. He can't make them work again. He can kill the people who did this this her, torture the one who ordered the hit, but he can't give her back a job that made money, that she loved, that made her happy.
That gave her a way out.
Tara can feel the words bubble over her chapped lips, but she can't hear a sound. It's like she's drowning, but she has yet to loose her conscience. She's still floating.
Jax is talking again, but Tara knows better. He may want to leave Charming, but who will let him?
The club won't. Gemma Won't. Charming won't. Did I say that out loud she wonders calmly? There's this feeling in her mid section, but she can't pin point where. It's feverish and freezing all at the same time.
"I'll never fix a life again, I'll never save a tiny heart
Suddenly she can feel her heart that's been slowly growing more and more frozen since she first heard the crunch of her precious digits begin splinter.
"I have a dead hand... No one will want me now."
The words feel sharp and pungent, but not unpleasant; she searches for the word. Honest. They feel honest.
"But it's okay..."
And maybe it is, but there is something niggling in the back of her mind and it's the same something causing her frozen heart to crack.
"Me. Gemma. Here in beautiful Charming. Happy family..."
The words happy family resounded in her head, echoing, bouncing off her scull
"Maybe I should smash my other hand that way I can stay at home. And be Mom..."
Jax looks crushed and somehow everything, much like the nerves in her hand, are disconnected. He protests, his eyes crinkling, screwing together in a successful effort to stop any tears from leaking out.
The same moment she realizes she want's him gone, that icy heart of hers begin to crack again.
Then he touches her. And it shatters.
Tara can picture Thomas and Able so clearly now. So clearly can Tara see the two of them in cuts, standing side by side their father, a gun in one hand, a knife in the other, their skin laced with tattoos, and the keys to a custom Harley in their jean pocket.
Panic begins to envelope her and she just can't br- br- breath! Then Jax is next to her and, and, and she just stomach the sight of his blue eyes or his straw colored hair or his hulking frame anymore and the cast around her arm feels like a lead weight that needs to be thrown into the deepest pits of hell.
Tara doesn't even realize Jax is gone until a full minuet has passed, and it's then she realizes she crying. Her esophagus feels red and raw, clenched with grief. There's a hard lump in her stomach and her heart is in tatters, swollen and aching from it's sudden thaw, courtesy of her tears. She gasps for breath over and over and over.
Once the tears finally begin to let up she begins to inspect the splintered pieces of her life, her dark eyes still rimmed with puffy, strawberry red skin.
Maybe she can stitch herself back together again, maybe she'll be able to make something out of nothing.
But for now, she's lost.
I'm not a frequent watcher of this series, mostly due to the violence, but this is probably one of the best scenes of the series. Tara is pretty much the only real redeemable character, and yet she is still injured in the cross fire between men with guns. Thanks for reading, and feed back is much appreciated. Thanks!
-Blue
