Chapter Eleven

Everything seemed to be falling apart.

First, Cameron Hayes' body disappeared. Although the dead Irishman, wanted on four continents for his involvement with the real IRA, had been identified and the police notified prior to his corpse being stolen from the hospital, Tara wasn't sure how much the case would help Jax. True, Hayes was a bigger whale, but there was no body now... which made it damn near impossible to investigate his murder. Despite his loyalty to Clay and Gemma, Unser had reported the death before allowing Samcro to abscond with the body, but Tara had no idea if that was enough to make the ATF pull Stahl off of Jax's case, which would, in turn, pretty much insure that he'd be set free. Without Federal support, Hale wouldn't last long in his vendetta against Jax and the MC; he just didn't have enough evidence or pull on his own. Tara did not like the uncertainty, however.

Then, there was tension between Jax and Clay; between Jax and his best friend, Opie; between Jax and his club; and between Tara and practically everyone in his life except for Abel. And, while Tara could admit, at least to herself, that she loved Abel like her own child, the bond between them did nothing to keep either of them safe. In fact, it probably made Abel more vulnerable, and it was definitely one of the main reasons why Gemma loathed her. True, the feeling was mutual. She hated Jax's mother with the same intensity as Gemma hated her, but Tara and Gemma were wired entirely different. She wasn't rash, or confrontational, and she certainly didn't act first and then think about what she did afterwards. While Tara could be just as vindictive and cruel as Gemma, she was meticulous; Gemma, in her impulsivity, was reckless and unpredictable – a danger to them all.

And, now, to cap off everything else that was going wrong, Abel's sleep apnea was dissipating to the point where Tara had been forced to cancel her consult request with the specialist. While she was truly grateful for the progress the little boy was making – pleased with how strong and resilient he was, with every step forward Abel took, he came that much closer to being out of her care and released from the relative safety of the hospital. If Jax was still in jail when Abel was sent home, Tara wasn't sure what extreme Hale would go to in his attempt to use Jax to hurt Samcro. It was one thing to call in favors to get a man convicted of murder when there was proof of self-defense and entrapment working for the accused. A judge couldn't afford that kind of bad publicity, especially if he ever wanted to be re-elected. But to take a child away from his junkie mother and his incarcerated father and make him a ward of the state? That was a whole hell of a lot easier to justify with the press and with constituents. Hale might not be powerful enough to sentence an innocent man to death, but he held enough sway to take Abel from them.

Shaking those thoughts away, Tara knew she couldn't let her panic take over. She needed to remain focused. Plus, Abel wasn't being released that day. She still had at least another twenty-four hours to come up with a plan, to strategize, to keep the little boy who meant so much to her safe while she still could. Needing to reassure herself that Abel was just fine and wanting to offer him the same comfort, she decided to delay starting her shift and spend the morning with Abel. She'd feed him, bathe him, change and dress him before rocking him back to sleep... only, when she stepped into the nursery, someone else was already taking care of the baby.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Wendy Teller looked up from the child in her arms, smirked, and said, "I'm taking care of my son." While her tone was completely serene, Tara could hear the confrontation lurking purposefully behind the composure.

"You shouldn't be here."

Wendy chuckled. "Yeah, Gemma said you were even more full of yourself than you were before. I didn't think that was possible, but it looks like Gemma was right."

Ignoring the insult, Tara questioned, "and did Gemma tell you that she's not even allowed to visit her own grandson without supervision? Either Jax needs to be with her or I do when she comes to see Abel. I think Jax would agree that the same rules need to apply to you, too."

Instead of answering, Wendy posed her own inquiry, "speaking of Jax, where is my husband?"

For a moment, Tara froze. Instinctively, she just knew that they did not want nor need for Wendy to learn about Jax's incarceration, but she also didn't want to lie either. So, settling for a half truth, she squared her shoulders and responded, "he usually spends the night here with Abel."

"And how is he doing?"

"Well, he's out of the NICU, so obviously he's getting better. Stronger." Tara knew that Wendy had not been asking about her son, but she also wanted to take any opportunity she could to remind the other woman what she had done to her own child. In Wendy's absence, Tara had almost forgotten about her, about her claims to both the man Tara was sleeping with and the baby she was caring for like he was her own. Because Wendy had long since stopped being a consideration for Tara, her sudden reappearance caught her off guard and made her feel extremely awkward, uneasy, and troubled.

"I meant Jax," Wendy snapped, finally showing some cracks in her feigned self-possession.

"He's fine."

"Two words," the other woman pointed out, raising her finely sculpted brows in challenge. "Is that because I make you nervous and you don't want to tell me anything, or is it because Jax has already tired of you and tossed you aside?"

Not even acknowledging either insinuation, Tara crossed the room, bent over slightly, and held her arms out for Wendy to transfer Abel to her. "Give him to me." Once she held Abel, Tara chastised, "you can't just shove a bottle in his mouth and then ignore him. When you feed a baby, you have to pay attention – make sure that they're actually eating, that they don't choke, and you have to periodically stop to burp them."

Still sitting in the rocker, Wendy replied, "I might not know everything about taking care of a baby, but I can learn."

"I think right now you should be focusing on your sobriety."

"And I am," the other woman assured her, finally standing up. She took several steps towards Tara and Abel, coming to stand directly in front of them. There was no way to interpret her actions but as a threat. "I completed my rehab problem, and now I'm moving into a sober living facility, but, before I go, I wanted to spend some time with my son. Because I am going to be a part of his life, Tara."

Once more, she didn't address what Wendy said. Engaging with the other woman would just encourage her or, worse, make Wendy think that she had managed to rattle Tara. The less she said, the less ammunition she gave Jax's soon-to-be ex-wife. "I think it's time for you to leave."

"Alright, I'll leave," Wendy agreed, stepping away to grab her purse and toss it over her shoulder. "But I will be back."

Dismissing the other woman by turning her back on her, Tara gave all her focus to the baby in her arms. "I won't let her hurt you – not again," she vowed, pressing her lips against Abel's impossibly soft forehead. "I won't let anyone hurt you. That's a promise."

The precinct was in pandemonium. Since the morning after Jax's arrest, Tara had avoided the place during regular business hours, electing to sneak in early or wait until night fell and there was only a skeleton crew working. But Wendy's sudden return to town was too suspicious, too potentially risky, for Tara to wait and tell Jax when it was more convenient and less of a hassle. However, that certainly didn't mean that she was going to announce her presence or alert any more people than necessary.

As she stuck to the perimeter of the room – trying to blend in, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Tara observed the utter chaos surrounding her. Unser, Hale, and Stahl were caught in a battle of wills – Unser insisting that their focus needed to be on the missing dead man, that it was his station, that it was his case, that it was his call; Hale wanted to continue pursuing Jax, claiming that, in doing so, their investigation would inevitably lead back to the Irishman; and Stahl was simply trying to remain in control, her frustration with both men evident, especially when Hale tried to not so subtly use their more personal connection to his benefit. In the confusion that ensued, there were at least a dozen cops and agents circling the argument, waiting for instructions, waiting to see who would emerge victorious and finally tell them what to do. It was an exercise in futility, in incompetence.

Heading towards the evidence locker and where Charming PD had a guard posted at a desk before the hallway which led back into the cells, Tara hoped that she'd find the same woman who had helped her procure John Teller's accident report. While perhaps not the most ambitious of cops, the woman seemed resigned to the delicate balance that existed between Samcro and law enforcement. She was neither a zealot in her pursuit of the club like Hale, nor was she essentially on the Sons' payroll like Unser, and Tara could work with that middle ground. It made the other woman reasonable and capable of compromise.

"Good morning, Officer Eglee."

"Hi, Doctor Knowles," the cop returned, though she didn't look at Tara. Instead, her attention was firmly locked on the battle of wills taking place in the center of the bullpen. "Here to see Jax?"

"Yes... if that's alright?"

"Go ahead back," the other woman instructed.

"What about signing in," Tara asked. She appreciated Officer Eglee's pragmatism and didn't want to be the reason she was reprimanded.

"I'm more worried about what's going on out here than I am anything you two could get up to back there," the police officer replied honestly. "I'd rather break the rules this once than take my eyes off Agent Stahl even for the few minutes it would require to grab the log book." Meeting Tara's gaze just for a fleeting second, Officer Eglee admitted, "I don't trust that woman."

"That makes two of us."

"Just don't stay back there too long, okay," the cop requested.

"I won't," she reassured. "I need to get back to the hospital soon anyway."

Eglee nodded once, the acknowledgement brisk. "Have a good day, Doctor Knowles."

"You, too... and thanks."

Already heading for the hallway which would take her back towards the cells, Tara glanced over her shoulder, but the female police officer was already absorbed once more in her quiet yet intense observation, the worry she felt for her boss and her precinct clouding her features. While Tara hoped that everything worked out for the other woman – after all, it would serve Jax and Abel better that way as well, she, frankly, had more important things on her mind than some pissing contest between law enforcement.

Rounding the final corner, Tara didn't make the effort to disguise her approaching steps. Despite the melee that was the rest of the station, it was quiet in the cells, so she knew Jax was alone, and she didn't have to worry about interrupting something or needing to stay silent in order to hide her presence. "Jax, we have another..."

Her words died away when she heard Jax gasp and watched as his body jerked awake. He had been asleep, sitting up and leaning against the cold, cement block wall before she arrived, but her sudden appearance startled him awake. As she approached the bars of his cell, Tara observed Jax blink several times as he struggled to regain his bearings, his eyes finally opening wide as he forced awareness to return. While Jax lifted his hands to his face to rub his bleary features, she offered a murmured, "sorry."

"It's a'ight." The reassurance was accompanied by a rather powerful yawn.

"No, it's not," Tara argued. "You're exhausted."

"I'll sleep once I'm out of here and I know that you and Abel are safe."

"Yeah, well, who knows when that will be." She hated to be so pessimistic, but Tara also knew that they had to be practical. "In the meantime, you need to be sharp, so try and get some sleep, Jax. Please."

"This isn't the most comfortable of beds, babe."

Offering him a very meaningful glance, Tara lobbed back, "if you can sleep in the bunkhouse, you can sleep here."

Jax smirked but stood. He stretched, causing his t-shirt to ride up slightly. It was another plain white one. At least while he was in lockup, it was best if Jax didn't wear the Samcro colors or insignias. So, when Unser had asked her to pick up a few things for Jax the day after he had been arrested, she had grabbed just the basics from his house, using his keys he had left with her before being arrested, and packed him a small bag. It wasn't the Ritz, but it wasn't the state pen either, and Jax had a daily opportunity to shower in a small, private bathroom inside of the precinct. As he strolled towards her, she noticed that his hair was still slightly damp. "What's up? Not that I'm complaining, but why are you here?"

Getting straight to the problem, she told him, "Wendy's back."

"Shit." Jax's lids fell, shielding his clear blue eyes from her, and he shook his head several times in regret, eventually letting it fall to connect with the metal of his cell. With his hands wrapped tightly around the bars, he leaned towards her. Several moments later, he glanced up, asking, "she left rehab?"

Tara shrugged, because all she had to go on was Wendy's word. "She said she was released, that she finished the program."

"So, two months and suddenly she's cured?"

As the daughter of an alcoholic, Tara knew it was never that easy, that there was no cure, yet she wouldn't lie to herself or Jax. "She was clean, poised. Even when I took Abel away from her, she didn't lose her cool. I'm not saying that she isn't a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, but right now... with everything else going on – Abel about to be released; you in jail; the mess with Clay and the club; Kohn, the ATF, and now the dead Irishman?"

"And don't forget Gemma," he added. Tara could see the wheels turning in Jax's mind. "She hates you, and she's pissed at me. Who knows what she would do if she felt she was backed into a corner." Tara had a feeling Gemma had already made her first move – that she was responsible for Wendy's sudden reappearance in Charming and Abel's life, but she had no proof of that – just her suspicions, so she kept them to herself. "Did Wendy say what she wanted, why she was here?"

"She just said that she wanted to spend some time with her son before moving into a sober living facility."

"And when is she doing that," Jax pressed.

Tara shook her head, unsure. "I don't know." She had been so caught off guard by Wendy showing up at St. Thomas that she knew, during their little confrontation, she hadn't been thinking straight. Her main objective had just been to get Abel away from his addict of a mother. Needing to know how to proceed, Tara queried, "what do you want me to do now? How can I help?"

Jax's eyes darted back and forth as he mentally worked through the situation, considered her questions. Finally, he said, "get in touch with my lawyer. Tell him we need to meet, because I want to set up guardianship for Abel. If I'm not out before he's released, I need to make sure that he's taken care of."

"I can do that," Tara promised. And she would. What Jax had asked of her was probably something they should have done for his son as soon as he had been arrested – perhaps even before that given how unpredictable Jax's life was.

"How are you?"

"What," Tara questioned, caught off guard by the inquiry. She was so focused on Abel, so focused on what their next step needed to be, that, quite honestly, she was her own last concern. "Me? I'm not the one locked up."

Jax stood up straight, shuffled closer to the cell door so that only the bars were keeping them from really touching. He angled his head, seemed to be practically examining her. "Babe, don't take this the wrong way, but you look... scared. Sad. Haunted."

She was all those things and more. Sighing, Tara knew she couldn't, wouldn't, lie to him. By not confiding in him when they first started to get to know one another, Tara had almost pushed Jax away, and, maybe if she had been more forthright in the very beginning, they wouldn't find themselves in their current mess; perhaps the situation with Kohn could have been resolved differently. Better. "I'm not sleeping well."

"And who could blame you," Stahl's unexpected and very unwelcome voice rang out, startling Tara. Glancing over her shoulder, she found the other woman lounged in the doorway to the cells, her hip and shoulder propping her up, while her arms were crossed confidently over her chest. "It can't be easy being Helen of Charming – the woman who divided Samcro." Though the words were spoken with feigned sympathy and compassion, the sentiments behind them were anything but.

Jax remained silent – not giving the agent the satisfaction of rising to her bait, so Tara followed his lead... even going so far as to turn her back upon the Fed. That didn't deter Stahl, however. "I won't stay long; I don't want to interrupt. But I did want to give you a little food for thought." After a brief pause to allow for her words to sink in, Stahl continued, "I know that neither of you are willing to cooperate, but what's to stop the club from thinking that Tara turned, especially once Jax is released? Because, whether David wants to admit it or not, we will be cutting you loose soon, Jax. But everybody knows that you killed Kohn, so, when we don't press any charges, they're not going to understand why, because we made sure to keep all those other details – Chicago, the bullet-proof vest, the absolute lack of physical evidence – under wraps. The only thing that will make sense is that Tara cut a deal for your freedom – that she gave up the club in exchange for you. And, when that happens, Samcro will turn on you, and you'll be left without options, because, once you're released, my offer to help keep you safe is off the table."

"We'll take our chances," Jax bit out. Tara noticed that he was barely holding onto his temper, Stahl's not so veiled threats hitting their mark.

"Suit yourselves," the agent responded casually. Without looking, Tara heard the other woman's feet shuffling as she stood up straight, her heels clicking against the cement floor. "But don't blame me when one or both of you end up in shallow graves out on 44."

Stahl's steps beat out a steady tattoo as she sauntered away, the volume fading until the point where silence greeted them once again. Tara listened to her leave with mixed feelings. While she never liked being in the female agent's presence, Tara also feared what Jax's reaction would be to the warnings. Because they weren't empty. There was validity to what Stahl was claiming would happen once Jax was let go, but that didn't mean she trusted the ATF any more than she trusted Clay and Gemma.

"This is why I want you staying at my place," Jax told her, recapturing Tara's attention. She met his imploring gaze, and he must have been able to read the question in her eyes, because he explained, "it sends a message."

"What kind of message?"

"That you're mine," Jax answered bluntly. "That's you're protected. That you're not to be touched."

After Kohn, the territorial vein of his statements should have frightened her, set her on edge, but Tara could easily recognize the difference. Whereas Kohn's obsession had been selfish, Jax's possessiveness went both ways. Whereas, if she stayed in his house, he would be claiming her, he was also telling the world and, more importantly, his club that she had a claim on him, too. "I'll... I'll think about it," she promised him. And she meant it.

Jax didn't thank her. In fact, he didn't say anything in response. Rather, he just closed the scant amount of distance that separated them and fused their mouths together. It was less of a kiss and more of a connection, but Tara met his ferocity with her own desperation, needing the reassurance of touch to ground her. When they finally pulled away, she was breathless, her lips bruised, and her courage, if not emboldened, then at least heartened. With a parting grin, she left to go back to the hospital, to Abel, and to the next confrontation that awaited her.

As Tara walked down the hall, she rolled her neck, popping the tired and stiff joints. It had been a long surgery and one of her least favorite to perform – not because it was particularly difficult but because of the lasting side effects which often were an inevitable consequence of necrotizing enterocolitis. The patient would live, and that was the most important thing, but what would be their quality of life? In addition to resecting the bowel, they'd been forced to perform a colostomy. Perhaps it could be reversed in the future, but Tara wasn't optimistic. In fact, she was even more worried about the possibility of the child suffering from short bowel syndrome due to how much of the dead tissue they'd had to remove.

It was already late afternoon, but Tara still had another surgery scheduled for early that evening – an assist with a plastic surgeon on a cleft lip and palate case. What she really wanted was a bubble bath, a glass of wine, and a good book, but she didn't have enough time to leave the hospital, and she certainly couldn't have a drink. So, instead, she was planning on spending her small window of downtime with Abel. He was a welcome substitute.

First, though, she needed something to eat. While Jax had been right that night they ate dinner together on the loading dock – St. Thomas' cafeteria wasn't exactly fine dining, it was fast and convenient. Plus, as long as she stuck to the basics – more focus on the food prep and less on the actual cooking, even an industrial kitchen couldn't mess up too badly. So, she grabbed a salad and an apple before heading back up to the labor and delivery floor, promising herself that she'd pick up some takeout after she was finally done for the day.

Tara moved quickly – avoiding the busier parts of the hospital and her coworkers. Not only did she just want to sit down and relax for a few minutes, but she felt like she was being watched. Although she kept glancing over her shoulder, she never caught anyone blatantly following her or staring, yet that prickling sensation on the back of her neck, the goosebumps covering her arms, simply wouldn't go away. Tara tried telling herself that she was being ridiculous, but she knew this feeling; she recognized this feeling. It was eerily familiar. Kohn was gone, however; he was dead. No matter how many times Tara said those words silently in her own mind, though, the awareness and the foreboding wouldn't dissipate.

By the time the nursery was in her sight, Tara was close to canceling her assist. If she was this distracted in the OR, she'd be useless to her colleagues anyway. But then she saw Wendy, once more holding Abel, through the nursery's large observation window, and any trepidation she had been feeling disappeared. Briefly, Tara wondered if her anxiety had been the instinct that something was wrong with Abel, but she quickly dismissed that thought. Wendy pissed her off, and Tara could even admit that the other woman made her feel resentful, but she didn't dread Wendy.

"You're looking a little green there, Doc."

"Hello, Gemma," she returned, frowning. Without looking towards the woman who had sauntered up to stand beside her, Tara dropped her right ear towards her right shoulder – the crack that resulted from the movement sounding off in the otherwise quiet hallway like a shot.

"You seem tense," Jax's mother observed, a smile in her tone. "Is there something wrong?"

"It's just... been a long day." A long week. A long life. Masking her exhaustion, apprehension, and envy as much as she could, Tara finally moved so that she was facing Gemma. "Are you here to see Abel?"

"Nah, we'll let Wendy spend some time with him. They deserve the chance to bond with each other, don't you think, Doc?"

Yeah, she wasn't touching that loaded question. Instead, she posed one of her own, snorting in disbelief of the very idea. "So, then, what? You're supervising?"

Gemma's dark eyes sparked with hatred, her features turned to stone. "It should be Jax here, introducing Abel to his mother, but you made damn sure that couldn't happen."

"What's that supposed to mean," Wendy inquired, walking towards them before coming to a stop, her arms folding over her chest. The gesture was both defensive and antagonistic at the same time.

"Frankly, it's none of your business, Wendy," Tara responded harshly before turning to the older woman beside her. "Gemma's just mouthing off and talking about things she knows nothing about." Lowering her tone and making it as hostile as possible, she encouraged, "aren't you, Gemma?"

Instead of falling in line, however, Gemma said to Wendy, "he's in jail, baby." The older woman was practically coddling in her faux concern for her soon-to-be ex-daughter-in-law.

"He's what," Wendy yelled, her ire directed at Tara. Briefly, she glanced around and found that several nurses and administrators were watching them closely. "I asked you about Jax this morning, and you didn't say anything about him being in jail."

Before Tara could respond, Gemma offered, "well, of course she wouldn't say anything, seeing as how she's responsible for him being there."

Tara took a step forward, tried to reach out and grab Wendy's arm in a reassuring gesture, but the other woman wrenched away from her touch. "It's all a misunderstanding," she covered. "He hasn't been charged with anything, and he'll be out soon. The cops..."

"Feds," Gemma interrupted. "ATF."

" … are just holding him for as long as they can. It's harassment and blatant abuse of power, but neither tactic is anything new."

"And what does this have to do with you," Wendy wanted to know.

Although her question was directed at Tara, it was Gemma who spoke up first, who jumped in before Tara could even form a thought, let alone an intelligible sentence. Gemma was the spider – it's web finished, just sitting there, waiting patiently for its prey. "It seems that the good doctor used to screw this crazy ATF agent. He followed her here, went after Abel, and Jax had to kill him."

"Gemma!" Vibrating with fury, she bit out on a whisper, "this is neither the time nor the place to talk about this. People are listening. Do you want to be the reason why Jax gets charged with murder? And Wendy cannot be trusted."

"Like you can," Gemma fired back – appalled, sneering. "Wendy's family. She's Jax's wife, Abel's mother." The older woman stepped into Tara's personal space, crowded her. "You're just some cheap, Fed whore who needs to learn her place."

"My place," Tara countered, not backing down from the confrontation. Her chin came up so she could meet Gemma glare for glare; she dropped the food she was holding, her hands lifting to emphasize her point. First, she stabbed her own chest, then she pointed to the spot on the floor directly beside her, and finally she gestured towards Abel's hospital room. "Is with Jax, is with his son."

"You're poison for my son, and Abel doesn't need you." Suddenly, Gemma took several steps back, her body language completely melting and softening when she moved to stand beside Wendy. "He needs his mother."

Tara watched as Wendy's eyes went wide with shock. "Since when?"

"I've made a lot of mistakes, baby," Gemma replied, reaching out to take one of Wendy's hands in both of her own. If Tara didn't know better, she'd think that the older woman was sincere, but Gemma was just a good actress. She knew exactly what to say and how to act in order to manipulate someone, but she also held grudges, was unforgiving, and never believed herself to be wrong. "After Abel was born, and he was so sick, I was scared. I just reacted instinctively – protecting my own... just like any mother would. But, afterwards, I realized that you're a mother, too, now, and you deserve a chance to protect what's yours as well."

"What exactly are you saying, Gemma," Wendy wanted to know.

"You need to fight for you family. You need to prove to Jax that you can be a good mother, a good old lady. You do this by staying, and, while Jax is in jail, you get temporary custody of Abel."

"Over my dead body," Tara vowed. Wendy looked up at the comment – shock towards Gemma's complete about-face and sudden support bleeding across her features, while Gemma herself glanced back over her shoulder – a corrupt, wrathful smirk twisting her face. "I will do whatever I have to in order to protect Jax and his little boy."

Without waiting for a response, Tara walked away. She went directly into the nursery, locked the door behind her, and picked up Abel, cradling him to her closely. If Gemma and Wendy wanted a war, that's exactly what they would get.

Perhaps she was just too tired to stay in the hospital one more night, maybe it was Jax's honest and heartfelt plea for her to stay at his house – the one thing she could do for him while he was behind bars for her, or it might have just been Tara's own pettiness coming out to play – knowing that it would annoy Gemma and hurt Wendy if she were to stay in the home the latter woman had once shared with her soon-to-be ex-husband, especially at Jax's behest, but, whatever the reason, as Tara made her way through the hospital that night and towards the back exit, she had every intention of driving to and then sleeping at Jax's house.

She hadn't even taken the time to shower after her final surgery of the night, electing to just scrub her hands and then grab her things, making a quick stop at the nursery, before leaving. She'd shower... or maybe she'd even take that bath... at Jax's. Tara would take her time, relax. She'd actually use the opportunity to unwind versus just clean up. And, while she didn't peg Jax for the wine drinking type, she wasn't a snob. Tara had nothing against beer and hard liquor. So, while relaxing in the tub, she'd have a drink as well.

Swiping her ID, she let herself out through the loading dock doors. While already striding forward, Tara repositioned the bag on her shoulder, adjusting it, because it was heavier and fuller than normal. Having stuffed in a change of clothes for the next day, her purse couldn't even be zipped. As she did so, Tara allowed the door to slam shut behind her, knowing the loud noise wouldn't disturb anybody – the patients too removed and the back parking lot otherwise empty... or so it should have been. It was just by luck – or perhaps it was instinct, all that time looking over her shoulder for Kohn – that Tara spotted the shadow moving and lurking about her car. At the sound of the loudly closing door, the unidentifiable person snapped to attention, their body angling towards her in observation. Tara froze, the keys she already held in her hand in preparation of leaving moving into a defensive position without her conscious thought. After what felt like an eternity but was really only a matter of seconds, the shadow melted into the night, and Tara was alone once more.

But the damage was done.

With what felt like a dozen pairs of eyes upon her, she turned and darted back towards the loading dock doors. Her hands were shaking when she tried to swipe her card, causing several misreadings before she finally managed to get her body under control. As soon as she was once more inside, Tara fell back against the doors in part relief, in part near paralyzing fear. Taking a quivering breath, she tried to convince herself that she had imagined the whole thing, that nothing was wrong, that no one was following her, but she wasn't a fanciful person; she didn't have an active imagination, and she didn't scare easily. Even after all of Kohn's harassment and torture, she was someone who kept her head in tough situations, who always remained in control.

Somebody had definitely been out there.

But maybe it was a coincidence – a homeless person looking for a secure place to spend the night, someone just passing through and using the lot as a shortcut. Hell, even the thought of someone looking to steal her car was preferable to the scenarios running through Tara's mind. Whatever was happening – a coincidence or something more sinister, however, she had to keep her cool. She couldn't afford to lose control, and Jax and Abel certainly couldn't afford for her to lose control either. She just had to be smart. She had to think ahead, and take precautions, and follow her instincts, and, right then, her instincts were telling her to just sleep one more night at the hospital.

Hopefully, everything would look better in the morning.