This is just a short little piece about Jax.

Although Jax is happy with Tara and the kids, he is, in every other way an outlaw, and domestication does not come nearly as easy to him as he wants everyone to believe. Will he be able to not follow temptation when he is on his first trip away from his family?

Warning for language and suggestive imagery.

The open road felt like a promise to Jax as he sped along the hot California asphalt, racing towards the Nevada border. He cocked his gaze over, meeting Chib's sunglassed gaze with a silent agreement, and both men sped up at the same time, in perfect unison.

Riding had always be Jax's peaceful place, the place where he could be alone with his thoughts, his torments, his desires, his judgments, his doubts. He had plenty of all of them.

The road stretched on and Jax's mind wandered back to the few hours before as he had said good bye to Tara and the kids. He really did love Tara, he mused to himself, it wasn't a bullshit situation like it had been with Wendy. It also wasn't the same as when they had been kids, the desperate almost frantic feeling of love had died into something softer, easier to deal with. He was glad that Tara had accepted their lifestyle, and he pushed away the thought that it was because of the kids. Oh fuck, he knew it was because of the kids partially, he had no illusions as to what Tara's real feelings were about his life, his choices. But she loved him just enough, he thought. Enough to stay, at least. That was probably more than he deserved.

A curve in the road and Jax angled his bike lazily, letting it dip and slant just perfectly with the lines of the highway. He was anxious to get to Nevada, Jury had sounded cryptic over the phone and Jax had felt his skin prickle, his instinct telling him more than words from Jury that he was needed, something was going down.

He sighed to himself, wondering what fresh shit was about to hit them now, like they needed anything new on their plates, but even so, Jury was SOA, forced into it by Clay and Jax's guilt towards that had never lessened. Jury needed him, that's all he needed to know. So, early this morning, he and his favorite Scotsman Son had started the trek to Nevada to see what needed doing.

A sign flew by him that read Nevada, 90 miles and Jax picked up the pace again, feeling Chibs fall behind for only an instant before the Scot picked up his own speed, pulling beside Jax once more.

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Jury's place in Nevada was just as Jax remembered it as he glanced around the room, trying to keep his face blank, his thoughts to himself. Same dirty blinds covering yellow with smoke windows, same hodge podge of shitty furniture, same half torn poster of the Eagles on one wall. The smell was the same too, sweat, stale beer and nicotine, with a slight overlay of pot.

Even the chicks looked the same, tired, slutty, pinched and hard faces, eyes darting from man to man, looking for their best option. He sighed inwardly to himself, knowing he sure as fuck didn't miss THIS type of shit.

He saw a bottle blonde staring at him lustfully, her tongue peeking out slightly from over made up lips, which Jax suppsed was her sexy face, and he felt like saying 'nice try, Skank' but he didn't have the energy. Jax knew it would always happen, until he got as old as Clay or as fat as Bobby. Jax was arrogant enough to know he was a good looking guy, and he prided himself on his hard body, but that wasn't the only reason chicks were drawn to him. It was his position. VP of the Original Charter, Jax bled SAMCRO and that made chicks cream for him in a way he found disturbing. Maybe that was why he had loved Tara most of his life. She was always one of the few that didn't give a fuck about the club. He wondered idly if that is why he felt his feelings for Tara shift, her new acceptance and almost open arm welcoming of the Sons while he was in prison had changed her, changed them. Not that he wasn't grateful, but in her doing so, it had altered Jax's feelings for her a little.

He felt restless though he couldn't say why, it was like he was caught in some sort of trap that he didn't recognize, couldn't name. It made him edgy and tight feeling, an almost phantom pain throbbing lightly behind his eyes as his brain struggled to identify his problem.

He shifted out of his slumped position on an ill smelling lumpy sofa and walked towards Chibs at the bar, regarding his friend silently as he approached.

Jax had always liked Chibs more than anyone besides Opie. He wasn't even sure why, Chibs could be a dick sometimes. But he was also tough as fucking nails and funny as shit most of the time. And Chibs had a softer side than most of the other guys, his love for his now ex-wife and daughter evident and obvious. Jax felt a pang for him then, knowing that Chib's pain went deep, far deeper than the scars that sliced across the man's face. Fiona's cryptic call a month ago regarding a proper divorce now that she was free of Jimmy had hurt, although Chibs had never spoken of it. But when the envelope with the papers arrived two weeks later, Chibs had signed them and then punched a hole into the clubhouse wall, before storming out and not coming back for two days.

After that, he seemed almost back to his old self, although at times, like right now, Chibs would just get quiet and introspective.

Jax sat beside him at the bar, not speaking and nodded for a beer to the prospect, who gave him a too wide grin showing a miss tooth. Fucking wonderful, Jax thought. Hillbilly Son's. Just what sort of rep they were looking for.

He took a long pull off his beer and lit a cigarette, talking to Chibs as he exhaled.

"Fucking Jury man, I swear, guy calls me, says he needs me here like NOW and then he isn't even fucking here when I arrive."

Chibs didn't speak for a moment, just raised his own glass to his mouth. After gulping down his shot of whiskey, he said, "Patience brother, Jury'll be here. Must be something keepin him away like that. You now how he regards ya."

Jax nodded, feeling oddly ashamed for bitching, because Chibs was right. Jury wouldn't just go and fuck off unless he had needed to.

He slumped a little more on his bar stool, not really wanting to keep talking because he had made himself look like a douche and really didn't know how to "unmake" it now.

But Chibs had already forgotten, and he turned to Jax, sunglasses still in place even though the bar was dim and said in a low voice.

"Brother, no offense, but I don' wanna stay here. Smells disgustin and the women are gross. I'd be afraid to stuff my cock in any of 'em."

Jax huffed out a laugh, grateful for change of topic and Chib's humor. "Yeah man, I hear that, there's a little motel about half a mile down the road, I already booked us a couple of rooms, cause I was thinking this place," and he looked around derisively for emphasis, "I think we could actually catch some shit just from sitting on the furniture."

It was Chib's turn to laugh then, and he nodded at Jax. "yeah, fuck that, if I am gonna get crabs, I want to have earned 'em."

Now they were both laughing, elbowing each other, and Jax felt some of his tension ease away. Just for a minute. Because a minute later, Jury walked in.

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