Disclaimer: All characters/story lines/etc. are the property of FX and show creator Kurt Sutter. This story is for entertainment purposes only. The inspiration for this story is the song "A Place Only You Can Go" by NEEDTOBREATHE. Bolded, italicized text throughout this story are lyrics from that song.
A Place Only You Can Go
Grace, she comes with a heavy load; memories they can't be erased.
Dust floated unobtrusively through a beam of sunlight cast from the far window as a young woman gazed at her reflection in a mirror. The air around her was stale and slightly mildewed, but not entirely unpleasant. Warming the room and casting a yellow-toned haze, the paneled walls seemed to absorb the sun's heat. The young woman stood frighteningly still, a statue of improbable contexts, a moratorium of grace under fire.
Pain is alive in a broken heart; the past never does go away.
The dress had belonged to the mother. Champagne colored silk, lace-overlaid sleeves, with a high back and soft neckline, nipped and pinned, cut and sewn to hug the curves of the daughter; her hair twisted into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, ornamented by a single white dahlia, every bit the bride. In a swift motion, the young woman's hand flew to her cover her mouth, while tears filled her eyes. She let out a ragged breath, and then inhaled sharply trying her best to retain composure. The young woman exhaled slowly, allowing herself these few moments of grief. She trained her eyes back to her reflection, and quickly wiped the tears from her face. She took another breath, in and out, before reaching for her bouquet, wildflowers picked from a field off the interstate. The young woman gave a resolute nod to her glass self, before turning to exit the room.
Like a pill I swallow, he makes me well, but leaves an awful taste.
Standing at the end of long aisle, a young man cradles into his chest his youngest son. He places a kiss atop the little boy's head, breathing in his sweet smell and innocence. Fidgeting slightly on the young man's right is his oldest son, mouth contorted and eyebrows pinched together as he struggles to fulfill a promise of best behavior. The young man smiles as he uses his free hand to rumple the boy's hair, appreciating the effort. A door creaks open, and the young man turns to gaze down the aisle as the boy clings to his father's leg, peering around in curious repose. At the sight of his mother, the boy's face brightens; a wide smile spreads across his lips, mirroring his father. The young man's mind races, hundreds of thoughts in the span of seconds, and then, clarity. She's mine.
We were born to love and we're born to pay the price for our mistakes.
As the young woman reaches the top step of the transept, she looks to the young man, a small, private-smile betraying her lips. The young woman bends down, resting on her knees and whispers to the boy. "Come here, Abel." The boy moves toward his mother until he's just inches from her, and places his small hand on her cheek. "Pretty Mommy," he chirps, as the young woman's heart shatters. She reaches out a hand and pulls her baby close, kissing his cheek and nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. He lets out a squeal and she can't contain her smile, wide and bright. "I love you, baby," she whispers into the boy's ear before placing another kiss on his cheek. "I love you, Mommy," he whispers back. For a moment, they are the only two people on Earth. Then the young woman pulls away, standing to meet her destiny.
Take my notions and words to heart; this is the cry of a man.
The young man is paralyzed with emotion, unable to control the swelling of his heart. The young woman reaches for his hand, holding it tightly within her own and mouthing quietly, "I love you, Jackson." The young man feels the pace of his heart slow, taking comfort in her closeness and warmth. He holds the young woman's hand tightly, as he brings her knuckles to his lips to place a soft kiss. The preacher, barely noticed till now by the couple, begins his sermon of beautiful words told over time, their meaning never cheapened despite frequent recitation.
I can't bring you fortune or a noble life, but I'll love you all I can.
And as the couple repeated their vows, promises of love and kindness, loyalty and trust, the young man blinked tears from his eyes, no longer able to control his emotions. "I, Jackson Teller, take you, Tara Knowles, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life." With his sermon finished and blessing given, the preacher turned to the young man, "you may kiss your bride." The young man smiled, his whole face awash in emotion, and placed his free hand on the nape of the young woman's neck, using his thumb to elevate her face. As their mouths came together, a slight taste of salt from their damp faces, the young man felt a sense of calm. Before this day, this moment, he had only known the rise of clawing dread. But now, his lips melded with hers in a perfect kiss, and their future seemed less distant and defined. This kiss meant possibilities; and the young woman too, felt the glimmer of hope and renewal, as two individuals became tethered to the other.
In my heart, you'll always know there is a place only love can go.
The young woman gingerly pulled her baby from her husband's arms, admiring the perfect beauty of his sleeping face. The young man bent down to lift his son, "you were a good boy, Abel. Daddy's proud of you." The boy smiled, his small arm draped over his father's shoulder, and leaned toward his mother with one hand outstretched. He reached for her bouquet, which she gamely offered. The boy pulled the flowers to his nose, taking a quick sniff before shaking the bouquet lightly and delighting in the light swooshing-sound the blooms made. The young woman started to laugh, and the young man joined her. An older woman in a lace-trimmed pillbox hat, the marriage witness, stood before the couple with a Polaroid in hand. "Smile now," she said cheerfully, as the family turned to face her, a perfect moment of laughter forever captured; the calm before the storm.
There is a place only you can go.
As the family made their way down the church's aisle, the young man caught sight of something strange. A slight figure, specter among the shadows, huddled in the far corner of a pew with large, kind eyes, watching. The young man looked at his bride, who seemed oblivious to the figure, and then back down the pew. The face became clearer as the family approached, and the young man felt a flash of recognition. While he couldn't place a name to the now-realized woman, he still gave a kind, grateful smile as he passed. The woman returned the young man's smile, adding an approving nod. He turned back to the young woman pressed to his side, and whispered into her ear, "I love you, Tara."
Author's Note: Hello all! I hope you enjoy this attempt at the J/T wedding scene. (Cross our fingers for the real thing in S5!) This is my first SOA fic, and I'd appreciate any feedback. Thank you! :D