**I own nothing you recognize**
As if the universe wants nothing more than to prove, once again, that he's an asshole, Jax rounds the corner towards his locker only to see Tara and Opie leaning up against it, his arm thrown casually over her shoulder. If watching Hale and Tara share a pencil during Biology had made him angry, what he's experiencing now is nothing short of white-hot rage. He grits his teeth as he approaches. Fuck. It's no good for either of those two to get even an inkling of the rage coursing through his veins, and he's not going to be the prick who fights his best friend over his other best friend, especially when none of them- least of all Jax himself- knows what the fuck it is that's between them. For all he knows, this day-long obsession is completely one-sided, and if history is any indicator, his attention on this girl won't last too long. He shakes off the nagging thought that this is new territory for him, that whatever-this-is, is completely foreign- unprecedented, even- and reassures himself that it's eventually going to fizzle out. Fuck, it better. Besides, he reasons, Opie and Tara are just friends. She's been back in their lives less than a day, and Opie knows better than to try and go there. Consciously pushing aside the fact that the same should be true of him, Jax forces a smile onto his lips and stops in front of his locker.
"What's up?" Shit, that sounded tense. Opie straightens, dropping his arm to his side, much to Jax's relief.
"We just thought we'd wait for you to take off-" Shit, they're a we now? "figured we could all ride together again." Jax nods, briefly, and notes the look that passes between his two best friends. Though his rage has ratcheted itself down to a simmering annoyance, he's not in the mood to analyze even one more fucking look from either Opie or Tara. Fuck it.
"Let's go, then. I gotta get to TM before four." He heads towards the exit and out the doors, hoping that Ope and Tara are following. Christ, it's a relief to get outside. His relief is short-lived, however, as he spots Melissa Rourke draped across Opie's passenger door. Knowing it would be too much to hope that she's here for Ope, he slows a bit. Jesus. While it's true that he'd given up high school chicks and that as a group, the Pussy Parade was an irritating, if not overwhelming, distraction- he had to admit that one-on-one attention wasn't completely unwelcome. Having a girl fawn all over him was usually at least an ego boost, if not a turn-on. Yesterday, he'd have reveled in the thought of Melissa, hands down the hottest blonde in school, waiting around for him. Shit, he's an almost sixteen-year-old, red blooded American male. But today… after spending so much time working shit through in his head, he's just ready to be done thinking, done worrying about what someone else thinks. And the last thing he needs to start worrying about is what Tara thinks about Melissa Rourke.
"Hey, Jax" Melissa purrs in what he's sure is supposed to be her sexiest voice, lightly stroking his arm. Notably absent is the spark, the tingle. Thank God.
"Hey, darlin'." Jax tosses his backpack into the bed of the truck and faces her. Jesus Christ, Ope needs to hurry the fuck up with the keys. He's regretting stalking off without them tenfold, now. "Listen, Ope and I, we need to get to the clubhouse right away. Club shit." He tries his best to look hurried, though he's not that worried about whether or not she's buying it.
"That's alright, I just need a moment." Melissa chooses that moment to reach up and play her fingers in his hair, pushing a lock away from his forehead. Opie and Tara choose that moment to appear at his side. Great.
"Aight, darlin', what it is?" Jax asks, exasperated. Clearly, this day is never meant to end.
"Well, you know the cheerleading squad?" Jax has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes- no shit he knows the cheerleading squad. Christ. "We're having a party on Friday. Sort of a kickoff to the school year. It just wouldn't be a party without you there." Her hand leaves Jax's hair and trails down his cheek on the way. She turns her attention to Opie briefly, tossing him a smirk before sliding her eyes sideways to Tara, who's standing silently, her big green eyes inscrutable but focused on Jax. Melissa continues. "If you wanna come, too, Opie, that'd be great. Just leave your new plaything at home." Both Opie and Tara shift at this, but remain stoic as the dismissal in Melissa's tone all but echoes across the parking lot. Jax grits his teeth as she raises on her tiptoes until her lips are a breath away from his own. "I'll see you Friday night," she breathes against his lips. Shifting just a bit, her lips meet his own and he can't help the sharp intake of breath that accompanies the sheer shock and displeasure he feels when it happens. God dammit, he doesn't do lips; a talk with half her cheer squad would have informed her of that. Melissa evidently takes this as a show of enthusiasm, however, because her tongue darts out to touch the seam of his lips before she's gone, swaying her hips as she heads towards the rest of the Pussy Patrol, gathered around Stacey's new red Mustang.
Jax sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. What's really crazy about this shit is that one of the hottest chicks in school can do, well… that and he feels nothing- maybe even borderline revulsion- but a simple smile or a touch on the arm from Tara has his every nerve firing. Shit, Tara. She's still standing there, looking at him, though he guesses her eyes are a little wider than they were before Melissa had practically licked his face. He isn't even sure why he cares what her reaction to all this is, but the bottom line is, he does. Suddenly, he realizes Ope is chuckling and Tara shakes her head.
"Jesus, no wonder you get distracted on your way in to school. Are all the girls that hung up on you, Jackson?" Her eyes flash and Jax is unsure what to make of it.
"That's the understatement of the century" Opie scoffs, drawing a glare from Jax. "The Prince here has to fight off more girls on a daily basis than the rest of us see in a month."
"Shut the fuck up, Ope." Jax returns savagely. Opie chuckles and heads around the back end of the truck while Jax opens the passenger door for Tara. She makes no move to get in the truck, frowning at him as if trying to work out some equation.
"The Prince?" Jesus, he hates that shit.
"It's a stupid nickname a few of the guys came up with. I'm supposed to run SAMCRO some day, my dad runs it now. So if he's the King, I guess I'm the Prince. Plus, it sounds extra fucking stupid when they say 'the Prince of Charming'. Come on, get in and you can come with us to TM, listen to them rag on me all you want." Opie shoots him a look from across the seat at this. "I thought maybe Piney'd like to see Tara," Jax explains, "and I got that meet up with JT. Figured you could introduce her to some of the new guys that weren't around when she left." He turns his attention to Tara- "Unless you have somewhere else to be." She reddens, and climbs into the truck, Jax immediately behind her.
"No. My dad won't be home from work until late. Well, if he comes home. He doesn't always." Her voice is steady and Jax is tempted to press for details, but her face quickly shutters, her once open green eyes brooking no more questions on the matter. Opie catches his eye over Tara's head and he slightly shakes his head. Okay.
As they pull into the TM lot, the sheer novelty of having Tara nearby washes over Jax all over again. Shit, he almost feels like he's bringing his girl home to meet his parents- which, he supposes, is sort of true. The difference is, most everyone here has already met her and- perhaps most importantly- she's not his girl. Brushing off whatever that revelation makes him feel, the three of them head towards the clubhouse where a few of the guys are gathered at the picnic tables.
"Ayyyy, Opie! Jackie Boy!" Chibs nods towards them as they approach. "Who's the lovely lass?" He appraises Tara with an approving nod and as genuine a smile as his scarred cheeks can muster.
"You remember Tara, don't you, Chibs? I think you'd just patched in the last time she was here."
"Remember, Jax's birthday party? The one with the bike ramps?" Opie supplies. Gemma had gone all out and had several ramps set up in the lot, and Opie, Tara, several boys from school, and half the club had spent the day riding to their hearts' content. Jax snickers at the memory of Bobby on a BMX bike.
"Ahh, that's right. Shite, little girl, ye had all of them boys tryin' to impress ye on them wee bikes. Too bad Kozik's scrawny arse wasn't here to show 'em how its done." Tara smiles indulgently and turns her attention to Kozik, who rises and takes her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. Tara blushes while Jax cringes, and from the looks of Chibs, he 's not missed the look on Jax's face- all doubt's removed as he cuffs Jax on the back of the head to draw him in with an elbow around the neck.
"Sett-le down, boyo. He doesn't mean any harm." Chibs murmurs, low, in Jax's ear. Disentangling himself, unwilling to lend any credence to what Chibs has just said, Jax looks on as Opie introduces the third Son sitting at the table. It's probably best Ope had introduced the other Prospect, because Jax isn't sure how he feels about Tig. Where all the other members are comfortable joking around with Jax, even if the joking sometimes turns into out and out roasting, Tig's difficult to read at best, surly at worst.
"C'mon." Throwing an arm over Tara's shoulder- if Opie can do it, so can he- they head into the darkened clubhouse to find JT. Pointing out the new pool table, the tap system that's been recently installed behind the bar, and the full kitchen that's been added behind that, Jax and Opie lead Tara on a semi-tour as they wait for JT to make an appearance. Tara's quiet, but appreciative of the new and improved clubhouse, and Jax thinks yet again at how right it feels for her to be here with them again. They approach the Chapel and Jax slows to a halt outside the doors, which are cracked open a bit. He knocks tentatively, struck again by how much he's really dreading this conversation, which he guesses is pretty fucked up. It's a conversation with his dad, about his birthday, for Christ's sake. Still, it isn't as if they'd talked- at least not really talked- since Tommy, and the thought of faking his way through his birthday, the Harley, the shit that goes with it, just seems…fucking daunting.
"Yeah?" JT's voice rings out from inside the Chapel, and Jax pushes the door open slowly, dropping his arm from Tara's shoulder. His father's sitting at the head of the Reaper Table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts evidence he's been in here for a while.
"Ma said I should come talk to you, set up my birthday?" If there's anything Jax is sure of right now, its that they're getting right down to business so this shit can be over.
"Alright, son, go ahead and come on in, sit down. How ya doin' Opie?" JT inclines his chin at Opie.
"I'm aight JT. First day of school, 'sabout it." JT smiles, stubbing out the cigarette he's holding.
"Jesus, spoken like a true scholar." He chuckles. "But you boys make sure you keep showing up, get your work done. If there's one thing nobody can take away from you, its brains. Brains over bullets, don't you ever forget that." He turns his attention to Tara, who is standing slightly behind Opie, evidently a little nervous. Suddenly, Jax is nervous, too, but he isn't sure why. "Afternoon, Tara. Piney said you were back." Shit. Had JT known Tara was back and kept it from him? As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he realizes it isn't fair, since he effectively shut out any semblance of conversation JT may have tried to have with him last night. "it's good to see you around here again. Maybe you can help keep these two chuckleheads from screwin' around and breakin' more bones. I know Gemma'd appreciate it." JT gives Tara as genuine a smile as Jax has seen from him in a long time. Interesting. Tara beams back at him.
"Thanks, Mr. Teller" her clear voice echoes in the Chapel as JT waves off the formality. "I'll do my best."
"Opie, why don't you take Tara and find your Pops? He's out in one of the bays giving Lowell hell, most likely." Jax nods at Opie and Tara, a little disappointed he won't have them to act as a buffer, a little relieved Tara won't be subjected to the tense conversation that's come to embody his relationship with his father. As they head off in search of Piney, Jax crosses the room to the desk chair just behind JT and pulls it out.
"No, son. Sit at the table." Holy shit. Shocked, Jax takes a tentative step towards the Reaper table, unsure where, exactly, he's supposed to sit. Everyone knows non-members don't sit at the table, but he's not about to argue with JT on this. "Sit there." JT nods toward the seat at his left- Piney's seat. Holy. Shit. Jax exhales in an attempt to calm his nerves, which ratcheted up at his father's request, and lowers himself into the VP seat. Folding his hands expectantly on the table, Jax eyes his father, silently. JT seems to be waiting for him to speak, first, but there's no way Jax is going to be the one to initiate this conversation. No way. It's JT's fault he's been absent- both physically and otherwise- and he's going to be the one to fucking bring it up. With a heavy sigh, JT begins to speak.
"Someday, you'll sit at this table, Jackson. Eventually, in that chair you're sitting in right now. I hope to be here when that happens." Christ, why wouldn't JT be here? Jax's prospecting in two years, maybe one if he can convince the guys to buck tradition; he'll probably be VP a few years after that. He smiles a bit- he and JT at the head two spots at the table. "That's why this shit between us- this… distance- well, I know it's my fault. But we gotta work this shit through, son." Jax remains silent. Is this where JT's going to explain why the fuck Belfast is so much more important than his family? "I've been gone just as much as I've been here, I know, but I feel like Belfast is in a decent place, now. McGee and the guys over there are solid. That's a good thing. But this last trip, well… I got to thinking about some shit, son. SAMBEL needed me, but my family here needed me more. The Sons, your mother, you, Thomas…" Jax watches as a flash of pain shoots through his father's face. He's experienced the same crippling flashes himself over the past year, understands when his father takes a few moments before continuing. "Thomas' death- it hurt, son. I think I was glad when this shit with Belfast came up because bein' here was hard."
Christ, that's hard to hear- he's hard to be around? JT seems to read his facial expression immediately, because he says, hurriedly, "No, son, being around you and your mom wasn't hard for me. But Thomas' empty room, his spot at the kitchen table, his bike in the garage… all that, well… I've seen a lot in my lifetime, lost some brothers in 'Nam, lost some Brothers here. But nothin' got me through the day after Thomas except the Jameson. After I couldn't even manage that anymore the only thing I had was thinkin' about the Club, puttin' one foot in front of the other. Gettin' through that day, then the next, then the next, staying alive because SAMCRO, you, and your mom needed me. And all of a sudden, here I am, gettin' close to the other side of it. I'll love my baby boy until the day I leave this world, but I ain't crippled by it anymore. I guess what I'm tryin' to say, mostly, is that I'm close to the other side of this mess, but I got no idea if you are, son. And as a father, that's a hell of a thing to be wonderin' about your own goddamn son. Your mom doesn't say much, so I guess we Tellers are sort of alike that way- we rage, then we suffer in silence. I guess what I'm askin' is… are you OK, son? With Thomas, with all of this?" As JT finishes and looks at him expectantly, Jax feels himself growing angry. Wasn't the time for this talk months ago? And even if he still felt like shit about Tommy's death- which he arguably does- how the fuck's he supposed to answer "you OK?" That's some shit his teachers said to him, weeks after it happened. It's not like JT had shown he cared at all, when it mattered. He'd been too wrapped up in his own head.
Jax finds himself, for the umpteenth time that afternoon, longing for fifteen minutes, an empty sidewalk, and Tara. She'd always understood back then that listening with zero expectations was usually exactly what he needed- and that's just what's pissing him off about this talk with JT. Jax's conversations with Tara were always about what he needed; this one seems to be about what JT needs. Well, fuck it. He may not understand what's come over him where Tara's concerned, but he's going to have to find a way to catch her alone; it's clear nobody else in his life is going to cut it when it comes to really talking. Resolute, he looks up at JT, steels himself, and answers with a curt-
"Yep. I'm good." JT's eyes search his own, but Jax doesn't let the mask slip, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible. Admittedly, it felt good to have JT address some of the things he's been thinking over the past year, but the fact remains that there's only one person he knows who could help him work through his shit. Thank God she's back.
"About your party…" JT continues, leading Jax to groan.
"I know mom's gonna make it a whole thing. She said something about the club needing this celebration or some shit- I'm fine with that, I just don't give a shit about the details. You two can do whatever you want, just let me know the time and I'll be here." Subject closed, for him, Jax eyes his father impatiently, suddenly anxious to locate Ope and Tara and get the fuck out of here. JT looks disappointed, but recovers nicely.
"Alright, alright. We'll set it up for Saturday night then. Your mom can handle the details. Just one thing, though… your bike." JT peers at him, searchingly, smiling in anticipation as if expecting him to jump up and cheer at the mention of his bike. A year ago, he might have. As it is, Jax forces a smile and humors his father.
"Dad, as long as it's a Harley and won't fucking die on me on the way to school, I'm in." He ventures a smile, and JT returns it, grinning wickedly.
"I think you better add another requirement to that list- it's gotta be a Harley- one that runs- and one that will hold your girl." What? Jax's words mirror his thoughts.
"What? Dad…"
"Now don't tell me I can't see what's in front of my face. I may have been locked up during a chunk of your childhood, but I didn't miss how you and that little girl were around each other."
"Dad, that was elementary school…" JT continued, almost as if Jax hadn't spoken.
"And don't tell me it was a long time ago, 'cause she's back here now. Don't give me any bullshit about how the two of you are 'friends', either. Even if you're too stubborn to see it, I guarantee you she's not. That girl's smarter than all of us put together, and then some." JT smiles indulgently at his son, who hasn't been more uncomfortable since they'd had the sex talk a few years ago. First Chibs, now his father…Christ, is he that fucking obvious?
"Just one thing, son- don't fuck it up."
