"I remember, you were conflicted,

Misusing your influence.

Sometimes I did the same-

Abusing my power, full of resentment;

Resentment that turned into a deep depression.

I didn't wanna self-destruct.

So I went runnin' for answers…"

Jax limped, his leg screaming in pain from the wound it had suffered earlier. He was trotting his sorry ass up the walkway of Jennifer's house, though he didn't know why. It appeared he couldn't help himself. He always found his way back to her, whether he was content, full of anger, beat up, or vigorously alive. Somehow, since he had met her, he always found his way back to the warmth and comfort of it, the way he felt right when he was with her. Whenever he felt that he was close to the edge, somehow, her earthy, vital energy brought him back before he slipped too far.

He still hadn't made heads or tails of it all. Nor, could he understand why he couldn't stay away from her. They hadn't fucked in well over a month. The fact that he could continue to pour his energy into her when she usually offered him nothing lately but a plate full of bitter fights and resentment was beyond him. He had never pegged himself as a glutton for punishment. Sure, he had his past relationships that rang of dramatics, trying to make shit work with women who were so far removed from his lifestyle that it never brought anything more than frustration from him and tears of grief on their end. He didn't know why he didn't just match up suitably with someone more well-versed in the world he lived in. They were easy to find. Girls, hard with the realities of the world, far on the fringes of respectability in society, flocked to him and would have gladly fallen at his feet at the shot to hook up with him indefinitely. They would keep house, hold him down, turn themselves inside out for the Club. And yet, somehow, he always found himself drawn into relationships with women who were too fierce to bow down, to head-strong to assimilate.

He supposed Jennifer was like that, in her own way. But she was some strange tonic mixture of both. She was on the fringes of society, no doubt. Raised in a ruthless and vicious gang and all it implied. And she didn't give a damn about what the world thought of her or the way she made a living, and God knows, that particular part of her life was nothing for a normal person to be proud of her. But she bore herself as thought she deserved all the respect in the world, and in doing so, she commanded it; which was a feat in and of itself, considering she had done nearly everything wrong in life to the eye of a commoner. He had come to realize that she was not deeply analytical of life and its meanings, choosing to live in the present moment and stay out of her own mind too much. She didn't dwell on the philosophical 'why' of life like some people, like himself even, and spirituality and religion were nothing but a bargaining process for her. She did good things, sometimes, in exchange for satisfactory results. But she had no moral compass. For Jennifer, most things fell in one of two categories: useful or useless. She didn't dwell on the right and wrong of it all, and her conscience seemed non-existent unless it was where her children were concerned. And that, too, endeared her to him. Of all the things he could respect about a woman, her love and protection for her offspring seemed to stir in him all the possessive and begrudgingly respectful feelings he possessed. For, he assumed, anyone who would kill and die for their children, couldn't be so bad in the inevitable after-all. In some ways, that he refused to address, she reminded him of his mother. Angry, disillusioned with the reality of life, she had forged her own path, hanging on to her family like they were the very lifeblood that would keep her thriving, setting such a store by her children that they were the only thing worth working for, worth fighting for, worth dying for. Gemma was all those things and then some. They moved in different worlds, but they were alike nonetheless. He had always heard that men and women sought out partners similar to their father's and mother's, and he now started to wonder if that old adage held some truth to it.

Jennifer let him in the house without much preamble, her hair piled loosely on top of her head, her makeup worn down from the day, clad in nothing but oversized gray sweatpants and a tank top. She had watched her eye him up and down warily, taking note of his maimed gait, but she had chosen not to fuss over it. It wasn't the first time he had come to her like a wounded animal, and she rarely let down her guard enough to bother over him in some imposing motherly show of concern. She had more important things to worry about, and she wasn't opposed to taking him down a notch by letting him know all about it through her indifferent silence.

They made their way over to her couch, Jax sitting down finally in relief, his body pulsing with pain and screaming for relief. He pulled a joint out of his kutte, lighting it up without asking and passing it to her after a long, slow drag. She didn't usually indulge herself, but tonight, she did, inhaling the smoke into her lungs indolently and relaxing into his side, burying her face into his neck and kissing him there softly. He wondered idly if she felt the same draw to him as he did to her. He could only assume she did, as she hadn't cast him out of her life yet, and sometimes she called for him, her voice a gentle plea, and when he arrived at her side, she held onto him like he was the only thing keeping her from floating off to some dark place there was no coming back from. Part of him wondered if she feared him too much to try to be rid of him. He had hoped that wasn't the case, but she wasn't dull or dumb. She had already gotten too deep with him, and maybe she just felt it was safer to keep herself on his good side.

She looked up at him after a shared moment of relaxation, her eyes glazed and hooded.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

Not really, he thought to himself. His mind drifted back to the events of the day. He didn't know how she would react to the knowledge of it. He hadn't meant to beat the shit out of her brother. But when it had all went down, he had been in such a rage that there was little that could have dissuaded him from completing the task. They had been on main street, in Charming, in front of the cigar shop when shit had went down between all of them. And when he had locked eyes on her brother, Nucky, he had found a target for all the rage he had built up in him over the last month. He didn't know what was pulling Jennifer away from him, but he couldn't help but believe it had to be her family, at least partly. She had been so distant lately it was practically driving him insane. And he knew, in the depths of his soul, that he was missing part of the story. Whether she was back in bed with her husband, or her family was trying to pull her away, or something else entirely, he didn't know. All he knew was that something wasn't right, and he had found an outlet for all that defeat when he had finally been able to unleash his physical rage on her brother today. And Nucky was a good fighter, he was a big man. The had beat the living shit out of one another, and he was sure part of it was because her brother was enraged that he had taken up with Jennifer, especially since she was still married to someone in the Brotherhood. The had fought their way through main street, ending up in a vicious quarrel on the ground after Nucky had put him through the front window of Floyd's barbershop, where Nucky had stabbed him in the leg with a pair of scissors, and Jax had beat him unconscious, honestly believing he would have beat him to death if Charming's finest had not pulled him off of him.

He ran his hand across his face, willing himself to speak.

"Me and the Club… We got into it with your dad's crew today."

Jennifer pulled herself up and away from him, her eyes raking his body again for damage that she had not paid close enough attention to the first time, her concern for him and her anger that her family was involved waging an internal battle against her judgement, playing across her face in quick succession as he watched her keenly, wary of the final outcome. Eventually, her loyalty to her family won out, and her lips curled in indignation before she lashed out at him.

"How could you do that?" She wondered aloud, anger in every one of her words. "How could you do that, when you know what it might mean for me?"

Jax didn't understand her family, the way the Brotherhood functioned, at least not in any way that was more than surface level. Jennifer had grown up with them, from a brat to a woman, and she had seen the things they could do, the type of ruthless payback they could inflict. Unlike the MC, the had no code of honor, nothing keeping them from partaking in the cruelest things imaginable. Nothing was off limits. To the Brotherhood, all was fair in the pursuit of money and power. And she had kept her own pain under wraps this whole time, in a weak attempt to avoid any confrontation between the two sides of her life. And he had gone and fucked it all up for some useless street brawl.

Jax looked up at her, silent in her reproach, waiting for the next blow. "My father, my brother, were they there? Were they involved?" She asked tersely, her body on edge like she was spring-loaded and waiting for a reason to unleash.

Jax shrugged uselessly. "Your brother and I got into it. He stabbed me in the leg, I beat him unconscious." He looked at her again, unable to feel sorry for his actions, but too tired to try to glaze the truth over for her benefit. "He fucking deserved it."

Jennifer was almost out of her own head with anger as she shot up off of the couch, walking towards the kitchen. She was high, on the weed the Jax had so generally offered her, but she felt the insatiable urge suddenly to drink in order to calm every part of her that was on fire. She knew it was weak and predictable, but she couldn't help herself. She took a few strong pulls of the bottle before he followed her into the kitchen, his normally confident and strong swagger marred by the beating he'd received earlier. He opened her sliding glass door, tossing the half smoked joint into her backyard.

She looked at him in a confused rage from her side of the kitchen, as he stalked towards her and grabbed the bottle out of her hand, looking at it in disgust as he slammed it recklessly on the counter out of her reach, the liquor sloshing around in indignation. "Can you stop with this shit?" He spit bitterly, nodding towards the bottle. "Stop trying to drink yourself to death and deal with your fucking problems?"

Jennifer looked up at him at him and shock and anger as she unleashed on him, her ego smarting from the blow he'd just inflicted on top of it all, insinuating that she had a drinking problem. "As far as I can see, the only problem I have in my life lately is YOU."

Jax's lips curled cynically as he pulled himself back from her, nodding.

"It's fucking sad that you really believe that shit." He spoke aggressively, slowly. "You're so fucking dense you can't even understand why your own life is fucked up. And it's got very little to do with me, darlin'." He moved towards her again, and Jennifer pushed him with all the strength she had inside of her. She knew how crazed, how insane she must look right now, brushing her hair back out of her face with her hands as it flew wildly about her from the force of the impact. Everything in her was breaking, and she was screaming silently because no one knew why.

Jax's anger clouded his judgement as he moved towards her again. She raised her hands, to push him or hit him, he wasn't sure, but he made quick work of grabbing her by the wrists, pushing her back towards the counter in a violent frenzy as she struggled against him. Suddenly, his mouth was on hers, and as was the standard in their encounters, it was hard for her to fight him off. Something about him near her intoxicated her, she was useless in trying to push away the lust he invoked in her. She opened up to let him in, sighing in pure adult appreciation as he ravaged her. Eventually, she was able to break a hand free as he lost his grip grabbing at her to bring her closer, and she loosened herself away from his pull, smacking him across the face. But he was on her again in an instant, a low, mercenary growl emanating from deep inside of him as he picked her up, forcing her legs around his waist.

He stalked back towards her bedroom, making easy work of carrying her weight. It wasn't as though he hadn't fucked someone in the month-long stand-off they had been engrossed in, with her offering him very little in the way of physical affection. But for how sex-starved he felt now that he was getting a taste of her again, it may as well had been like he hadn't fucked anyone at all.

Jax laid her back on the bed roughly, pulling her pants off of her, her arching her back to let them slide off easily. She raised herself back up to reconnect with him again, pulling her shirt off in the process so she was exposed to him completely, and he took her touch like a starved man, but only for a moment before pushing her onto her back again. He was so goddamn sick of the power push between them; it seemed as though the only time he was ever really in control was when she was naked. And he needed that right now.

He moved on top of her, ready to take her in every sense of the word, when she suddenly stilled beneath him. She was so unreactive to what was going on he stopped, looking down at her in concern. This wasn't his girl. This wasn't Jen, the one with a lust for life, heated, unconquerable. The stoic look in her eyes shook him. No, this wasn't her at all. This was a shell of the woman he had grown to know so intimately that he could predict her next moves as though they were his own, in his own mind.

She pushed him off of her, and he let her, moving off of her in daze, his anger fighting viciously with his concern. She covered herself up, working her way to a standing position to better show him her resolve.

She bit her lip, a range of emotions playing across her face so quick he could hardly catch them. Miserable, terrified, sad, angry, indolent, all in a moment.

"You have to leave. I never want to see you again." She said, her voice a hard baritone echoing through his head.

When Jax made no move to leave, she carried on, the courage of the first words leaving her mouth spurning her on.

"You are the most… the most, vile person I've ever encountered. And I don't want to see you again. You'll never mean anything but misery to any woman."

Unable to bear the words coming out of her own mouth, Jennifer stalked to the master bathroom, shutting the door behind her hardly and definitely, just short of slamming it, mindful of her sleeping children.

Jax was in a daze, warring with himself internally not to go after her. Something was wrong with his girl. Something inside of her was broken, and he didn't know what, and he was fiercely desperate to know. Sadly, on top of it all, he couldn't disagree with the words she had spoken so harshly to him. They were all the things he had feared were ultimately true about himself. He didn't know what he had done to earn her hatred, but he accepted it, knowing she was probably right - if had taken the time to take his moral inventory based on all that had happened in his life with the Club over the last year, surely he would have agreed with her. He was vile. And he didn't bring anything but misery to those he got close to, that was a historical fact. Jennifer was supposed to be different, though. She was supposed to be brave enough to accept their likenesses. But as long as he had lived, he had found that life rarely gives you the things you think you deserve.

SOASOASOASOA

Jennifer had carried on the rest of the week in a kind of bemusement, her shoulders squared with the world and her head held high, despite the misery she felt inside. If her kids had noticed something was off about her since what had happened that terrible night, they hadn't let on. They were their usual rambunctious selves, and they had no problem hanging onto her coattails as always, expecting her to keep their small worlds turning. And for that she was thankful. She didn't know what she would do without them, without their dependence on her. Her life had revolved around it for so long, she honestly wondered what would become of her when they were grown, with lives of their own. She didn't have anything else.

She had pushed everyone away, whether she had meant to or not, it had been an involuntary, natural reaction to all that had transpired. She didn't want anyone's help or sympathy anymore. She wanted to live her life again, without the help of anyone, the way she had become accustomed to. She wasn't weak like everyone else. She didn't need the pleasant feeling of human connection, no, not her. She was fine to forge on her own, where the emotions and grand plans of others didn't constantly interfere with her sole mission in life to earn and to walk to the beat of her own drummer in life. No, she didn't need any of them. She didn't need over-bearing fathers and brothers, baby daddy's, vicious bikers with sharp tongues. She wanted them all gone, and she wanted them to stay gone. And she was naïve enough to think that she could make it happen. She had kept a good majority of them at bay thus far in her life, there was no reason to believe she couldn't cut them out permanently. There was nothing inside of her that was magnanimous enough to see the big picture. To her, people in life were all pawns, a character flaw she could pin down to her upbringing. And if she wanted all the pawns out of the picture so she could concentrate on breathing again, that didn't seem to big a stretch in imagination for her.

And she had her way. She had wanted to liken it all up to the fact that when she told people to stay away and gave them the what for, they listened. But it was broader than that. Jax was neck deep in shit with the club, which directly correlated to her family and her estranged husband being neck deep as well. Before they had separated, Jeremy wasn't prominent in the Brotherhood. He made his appearance here or there, and he was always on the front lines if duty called, but he was a background character that made no waves and carried no weight, despite the prominence of his father. When he did hard time, though, all of that changed. He had been so fucked up in the head, so shocked by the loss of his family, he had put all of his energy into it. And in doing so, coupled with the weight of his father's status, he had risen quickly and harshly in their ranks, with the viciousness of his actions backing his every move. Jeremy may have been quiet, but it had come to everyone's attention that he had no problem killing, even if it were with his bare hands as his only weapon. And if his father put down word that something needed to happen, Jeremy was the first to act on it. And he never missed a mark.

So, the Club and the Brotherhood were so engrossed with their cold war that things had gone silent on her end from the lot of them. It didn't help that both Jeremy and Jax had felt the brutal sting of her rejection keenly, so much so that they avoided her despite their desire to do otherwise. They had no time to dwell on her for too long, because in spite her standing within all of it, she was pussy, and pussy always took a backseat to business that needed to be handled.

Jennifer had seen Gemma twice since she had revealed all of her dark secrets to her by way of desperation rather than openness. Once, she had seen her at the grocery store in Charming, which was where Erin's dance recitals were. She had to pick up a few things for dinner that night, Erin and Michael at her heels, when Gemma bumped into them. Gem had been friendly and sweet to the kids, but Jen couldn't miss the odd look of pity and sadness in her eyes when their eyes locked. And it was enough to make Jen want to claw her eyes out. If she had ever stood a chance of liking Gemma, it was all dashed by the fact that Gemma knew the terrible things she was hiding, and she pitied her. That alone was too much to take. If she had ever thought to want anything from the mother of the man she was spending time with, that was at the bottom of her fucking list.

The second time was when Luann had called on her to do the books one Wednesday afternoon and get everyone paid out for Friday. Jennifer hadn't touched the books there since their little scheme had been found out, but Bobby was unavailable, and Luann was in a bind. And Luann paid damn good. And since she hadn't been on cam since she had been raped, she had been hard pressed to turn down the offer, despite the fact that she was keenly aware that her presence there was taboo. She needed the money, so she had shown up, praying that she wouldn't see anyone from the Club there. And she hadn't expected to see Gemma, who in her mind was just as much a part of the Club as any of the men with their leather kuttes and patches. Gemma had embraced her warily, rubbing her back absent mindedly as though she were ill. Gem had tried to corner her into a private conversation, but Jen was having none of that bullshit, not as long as she could help it.

Yes, life had gone on uneventfully since she had forced herself to turn Jax out of her life in an act of self-preservation. She had even managed to see Lacey and the kids, and the questions from her and her brother about her affiliation to the MC were almost too much to bear. But she had curved them all, insisting that it was none of their business. And Nucky, the ever-dutiful protector of his frail and modest wife, had chosen not press the conversation in front of her even though he had a million things to say. For once in her life, she was thankful that Lacey clung to her so tightly whenever she was in her presence, like she was shielding Jennifer from the wrath of their family through her quiet, soft-spoken manner. She simultaneously hated her and appreciated her for it, for Lacey never saw the best in anyone she loved, including Jennifer, despite all her transgressions. She was thankful for it, even if part of her despised Lacey for how dumb she was. She knew her father was next in line to come breaking down her door, and she waited for that moment to come to fruition. She could only assume he hadn't come down on her yet like a duck on June bug because he was too caught up in the silent war that was waging between him and the Club and everyone else the Aryan's were at odds with, the list was always ongoing and never-ending. But she knew it was coming, and she had been mentally bracing herself for the impact ever since he had seen her at the clubhouse that fateful night. For all of her father's posturing, she knew he was someone to be feared, and she did have a healthy fear of him. He was the most steadfast man she knew, and he didn't suffer fools or disloyalty lightly, and she knew she fell on both counts in his book these days.

SOASOASOASOASOASOA

It was another Wednesday at Cara Cara, not unlike many she had spent there before. She had to only assume the Club was deep in the shit by the fact that she had been here the last few weeks doing the books because Bobby was unavailable, but she didn't have the reach anymore to know that information, and she decided not to lower herself enough to ask.

She sat over the desk in Luann's office, her reading glasses perched on her nose as she ran the numbers. She could honestly say she enjoyed her career as a bookkeeper, although most would find it a dull one. She liked the solidarity of it, the monotony of it; she was good at numbers, they never changed and neither did the formula or the knowledge. She played out her life in the same manner, although, she had found that the unpredictable variable of human weakness often threw a wrench in her plans, and she was not pliable or empathetic enough to conform to it. Math and the concrete rules of accounting had come easy to her, as she was just as simplistic and unchanging at the base of her.

When the office door clicked open, she was surprised to see Gemma Teller walk in, the hard clicking of her boots her calling card. Jennifer subconsciously straightened her posture, not in the mood to deal with her and all that came with her. However, the sedate, frightened look on Gemma's face made her push her reading glasses up on her head, rising from her chair to meet her, unsure of what was going on.

Gemma swallowed hardly, her head nodding before she even began to speak.

"Jax and the Club got locked up." Gemma said, her tense words ringing through the air. Gemma had debated on telling Jennifer at all. In fact, Jen was on her shit list these days. She hadn't been around the Clubhouse since she had come out and fucked up the poor girl hanging off Jax's arm, and Jax had been around the Club 24/7 lately, which only led her to assume him and Jennifer were on the outs. There was very little that happened with him that got by her. And she thought Jennifer mighty pompous to turn down her son and all he had to offer as a man, and she thought less of Jen for it. She figured the dumb bitch was running scared, and part of the softness she had felt towards her had began to wane and fall back, developing instead into a languid distrust and unacceptance.

Jennifer stared back at her solemnly. It was not the first time she had heard a revelation such as this, and she doubted it would be the last, but part of her still twisted in hearing it, knowing that prison was a death sentence to anyone who was out bad with the Aryan Brotherhood. The Sons always had been, but the level of malevolence between them these days was at an all-time precedence.

Jennifer paced the office slowly as she spoke again. "Are they protected?"

Gemma arched an eyebrow at her, surprised at her question. For all she disliked about her, Jennifer was a smart bitch. Gemma could not recall one lover in Jax's past that would have had the intelligence to ask such a question after this type of revelation.

"No, they're not. And it's bad. Gun charges. They blasted in one some white power rally that Zoebelle was supposed to be at tonight, gun's blazing. The bail is way too high to get anyone out."

Jennifer shook her head in anger and despondence, a migraine already starting to form. Her mind ran through a million scenarios as she paced about the office, finally stopping and crossing her arms across her chest. She didn't know what to make of the situation, but she had come to know and accept that feeling where most things were concerned lately with her family and the MC. It was so hard to make any kind of decision anymore.

"I know who we can call. I can get them protected." Jennifer told Gemma. She didn't honestly know why Gemma had come to her with this knowledge. If she had been expecting her to help post bail, well, she was shit out of luck on that front. But Jennifer did have pull, even if she was wary of using it. And she didn't know why she was using it, honestly. All she knew was that Jax was as good as dead in prison with the way things stood now, and she knew her family and the Brotherhood well enough to know that it would happen. She had no doubt about that, as much as her heart sunk to admit it. And the idea of Jax dying in prison, bleeding out, twisted her stomach in a way she was loathing to comprehend, but she was quick to try to put an end to it. She pulled the prepay out of her purse, looking through her contacts for that unused number she had, the number for Ron Tully's lawyer.