Author's Note: Thank you all again for your extraordinarily kind feedback. A special thank you to those of you who have commented on the dynamic between Jax and Tara, as I was afraid of getting it right—thanks for the assurance that I'm doing okay. And hey, how 'bout that finale, huh? Have to say I was a little underwhelmed. But it sure is weird to watch Tara undergoing a transformation on the show and be writing a transformation here that's going to be, well, pretty much completely the opposite. It's got my brain scrambled! I hope that this chapter pleases you all nonetheless. A million thanks for reading.

But I could lock the door on you babe
You could lock the door on me
But how much time would we be wasting
When both of our hearts hold the key

-"If Time Was For Wasting", Dylan Leblanc

For six weeks Tara doesn't talk, really talk, to Jax.

It's not like she goes out of her way not to talk to him—she just realizes now that their lives never intersected much anyway. It took more effort to see him than it does to not. They still have shop together, but they stay to their separate groups even if they occasionally indulge in idle conversation. The thing is, it's not awkward like Tara had expected it to be. She had thought it might be different than it was, as if both of them were aware they were orbiting around some subject they couldn't speak of for fear of throwing the fragile balance of their friendship out of order. It was hard—in the first few weeks, at least—for Tara to be around him and not talk to him, not sneak her fingers at the crook of his elbow or around his ribs when she sat behind him on his Harley. But mostly it seems that it's only her that feels this way, because Jax is the same as he's ever been.

And more than making her sad, it just outright annoys her.

This is why, when several weeks have gone by and she has spent a period staring at a block of wood again with no idea how to turn this one into a pig while Jax sits on the other side of the room laughing and completely blind to her distress, Tara decides she has had enough. She may have been the one to cool off their friendship, but she—somewhat unfairly—has decided to shove the blame right onto Jax Teller's shoulders. It is his fault, really, in some way. He has to know how easy it is to fall in love with him.

So when class is over and Jax sidles up to her table looking supremely unbothered and tosses her a casual, "Having trouble, babe?", Tara slams the wood onto the workspace, shoulders her bag with unnecessary savageness, and says, "Go to hell."

She stalks out the door and leaves Jax behind her, utterly confused.

Tara has not felt so satisfied in weeks.

About a week later she goes with Donna to a hidden little stretch of land outside of Charming to spend the afternoon. Technically it belongs to Oswald Lumber, but they haven't gotten around to chopping it down yet and over here the grass is so green and the trees so tall that she almost feels transported to a different world. Donna pulls over to the side of the road where there's a trail that leads further into the woods; they follow it and about fifteen minutes in settle in a little clearing where the tree cover is so thick the sunlight is reduced to a hazy fog drifting down through the leaves.

Tara is grateful for these afternoons, and for Donna. Even though things are so weird with Jax her friendship with Donna has only grown stronger. Sometimes they study together, but mostly they just talk, laugh, smoke joints Donna's rolled with expert precision. It feels good, not being so serious. Some days, like today, when she is helpless to her own laughter, she's reminded of how good it feels to be happy, and the feeling is so alien that she feels like she's living a different life.

They're there for several hours. Eventually the sun starts to fall and everything turns blue with the darkening sky. Tara stares up at it, watching smoke curl lazily upwards, taking in the sweet smell of Donna's hair piled next to her own.

"What's up with you and Jax?"

Tara is startled both by the sound of Donna's voice and her words. "Sorry?" Donna's laugh comes fast and low.

"He's like a girl," she says. "All moody whenever he sees you."

"I couldn't tell." Tara chooses her words carefully. She likes Donna, but she can't compete with the lifetime of friendship she has with Jax. She doesn't want to say anything that gives her away. "He acts the same."

"Yeah, around you." Donna turns over so she can prop her chin up in her palms and stare down at Tara. She feels vaguely like she's being interrogated. "I know Jax. Know him like my own brother. Believe me, something's changed."

Tara thinks of the girls she's seen Jax with—all popular, all giggly, all beautiful. "I'm not really his type."

"Nah, not really." Donna winks at her. "That's a good thing. Hey—shh—" Tara cocks her eyebrow; Donna raises one finger up. "Listen," she whispers. And then Tara can hear it—dry leaves crackling underfoot and two distinctly male voices calling out Donna's name. For one insane moment Tara honestly thinks they're going to get axe-murdered. And then, seemingly from out of nowhere, Jax and Opie stumble from behind a tree and into the clearing.

"Jesus Christ!" Donna says. "The hell are you two doing?"

"Saw your car out on the road," Opie says. Tara can't help but think he looks like a puppy, with that clean-shaven baby face radiating apology. "Didn't look right—we were worried." Tara watches Donna's face blossom in a reluctant smile.

"Well, we're fine."

"Yeah, I'm gettin' that," Jax says, looking directly at Tara. "You gonna share that?"

Tara shrugs and lifts her hand up, extending the joint to him. He takes it, takes a hit, keeps staring at her. "So this is the secret life of Tara Knowles, huh? You been holding out on me."

"Guess so," she says mildly, looking back up at the sky. It's getting darker, half burning sunset and half cold blue light. "I should probably be getting home."

"Need a lift?"

"Yeah, I could use one." Tara looks straight at him now. "Donna, do you mind?" Jax raises his eyebrows at her, a smile playing at his lips. He nods at her like he's got her number. But he's the first to look away.

Saturday afternoon, while she lies in bed listening to the radio and reading The Bell Jar, Tara hears a sharp knock at the door. Her father is working the night shift and won't be home until dawn so she goes to answer it without worrying about him appearing in the doorway behind her to make trouble. She swings the door open, squinting into the bright sun.

Without preamble, Jax says, "The hell is your problem?"

Tara stares at him, at a loss for words. "I—excuse me?"

"Why are you pissed at me?"

"How did you know this is my house?"

"Donna. Why are you pissed?" he repeats.

"I'm not pissed," she says, although it's a blatant lie. "Just having a rough time lately."

"Is it shop?" Tara crosses her arms and looks down but doesn't respond, because she doesn't think she can open her mouth and not have embarrassing words tumble right out of it. "I would've helped you," Jax says with an unfamiliar look in his eyes, "if you'd asked me." She lifts one of her shoulders up in a half-hearted shrug.

"Wouldn't want to trouble you—take you away from all of your extracurriculars."

"Jesus." Jax draws the word out, practically wraps his tongue around it before managing to spit it out. "Is that what this is about?"

"Don't know what you mean." Tara stares resolutely at a point behind Jax. Mr. Combs is mowing his lawn in a pair of shorts. His sweaty red stomach hangs over the waistband. She averts her eyes, tries to find something that's not more unpleasant than this conversation. There's silence for a few seconds. In her ears she hears every beat of her heart, thump-thumping with a peculiar mix of emotions—knowing that this could be the moment that could change things if only she were able to tell him how she feels…and hating herself because she knows she is too much of a coward to do it.

Then, finally, Jax says, "You're jealous."

Tara's eyes dart to him immediately, her mouth twisting in a frown. "I'm not," she snaps, and that's not all she wants to say, but she finds herself unable to say it because Jax moves toward her and bends down and captures her mouth with his own.

Her hand goes up to the back of his head and she tangles her fingers in his long hair, pressing him closer, knowing he could never be close enough. All she can think is that it is right, this thing between the two of them, completely and utterly right. She feels like the last piece of a puzzle has clicked into place, or like it must have felt when power first flickered through a city—electricity crackling alive on street after street, bringing life and light to the darkness.

And then after what seems like a dizzying lifetime he breaks off and she is left staring dazedly into his face. "You shouldn't be," Jax says quietly, and a smile—a kind one, one that's like a shared secret between the two of them—transforms his whole face. He tips his hat at her and saunters off down her sidewalk, back to his bike. Tara stares after him, even when he does not look back at her, and it's only after he's disappeared that she sags against the doorway and lets giddy, exhilarated laughter bubble up out of her heart and mouth.