Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Jax smirked to himself as he made his way down the hall leading to the dorms. These walls are really way too thin, he thought with some amusement, hearing the very vocal exploits of his brothers and the women they were fucking.
It suddenly dawned on Jax just what a pathetic bastard he was. Here he was, the SAMCRO President and probably the only man in the Clubhouse unwillingly not getting laid. It really didn't make a difference anyway, Jax reasoned as he approached Marlowe's door, the one woman he craved but couldn't have.
The Club's medic was an enigma to him, a puzzle Jax knew he would love to unravel. This was something of a first for him when he considered the copious amounts of pussy he had enjoyed in the years subsequent to his old lady's departure. For over a decade, Jax had comforted himself by bedding at least a hundred different women, one face blurring into the next. None had ever managed to make the impression on him that Marlowe had and he hadn't even fucked her.
Yet.
For the first time since Tara Knowles had entered in his life at sixteen, Jax had met a woman like no other—even Tara herself—in the form of Marlowe Guthrie. Marlowe was strong, independent, and skilled, as well as smart, fearless and beautiful.
And as Jax would soon discover, she was also tortured, flawed and vulnerable.
As he raised his hand to rap his knuckles soundly on her door, Jax was startled to hear soft whimpering emanate faintly from the room. Had he not been standing directly in front of the door, it was unlikely that he, or anyone else for that matter, would have heard the distressing cries, for it was distress and emotional pain that Jax was hearing.
Rattling the knob with concern, Jax cursed under his breath when he realized that the door was locked.
"Shit," he muttered, torn. Unsure of his next move, Jax was on the fence, thinking that it might be best if he just left Marlowe alone when he heard her cry out, her voice raised.
"Kozik!" came the half-choked sobbing, settling the matter for Jax.
Turning away, he quickly—yet silently as to not disturb his preoccupied brothers—ran down the hall towards his own room. Digging out his keys, he let himself in. Flinging the door open, he went to the opposite side of the room and searched first through one, and then another drawer before finally finding the set of master keys Clay had turned over to him along with the gavel. Leaving the drawer open, its contents spilled out on the dresser and floor, Jax turned and, slamming the door behind him, ran back down the hall to Marlowe's room. After several attempts to unlock her door, he finally found the right key and the lock clicked open.
Ducking inside, Jax closed the door behind him and found himself standing in the pitch darkness. Feeling for a light switch by the door and finding none, by remembering the layout of the room and its meager contents he was able to slowly make his way over to the keening woman on the bed. Feeling for an empty space, he sat down and reached for the lamp he knew was sitting on the lone night table and flicked it on.
The weak lighting illuminated the room enough for Jax to make out Marlowe's restless figure as she tossed and turned on the full-sized bed. Wearing nothing but a black tank top and sinfully brief hi-cut black panties, Marlowe writhed and lashed out, the bed sheet twisting itself around her long legs as she desperately tried to fight her way out of a horrific nightmare. Her frantic mutterings, first at a whisper, then rising in volume, sent pangs of sorrow straight through the outlaw biker's heart.
"So much...blood," Marlowe moaned miserably. "Have to stop the bleeding first...Stupid asshole...should have blown his ass to hell myself...so tired of this shit...No! No, wait! I won't cut off his leg...Help will be here soon...We just have to hold on, damn it!" she groaned, continuing a series of almost incomprehensible dialogue from what seemed like fragments of very painful memories.
Caught off guard and seeing her thrash about in emotional pain, Jax was at a loss of what to do for her—that is, until she started screaming Kozik's name again at the top of her lungs. Moving quickly to silence her, Jax wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the bed and onto his lap.
"Shhh, its okay, darlin'," Jax tried soothing her, but Marlowe continued thrashing about, frantically trying to escape his hold.
"Let me go!" she cried as she fought against him. "I have to help him...please, let me help him!"
With tears falling rapidly from behind her tightly closed lids, Jax was desperate to do what he could to comfort and give her solace. So he kissed her, covering her mouth with his own.
At first, it seemed like he had made the right move in that it immediately quieted her down, even though she briefly struggled in his arms. It quickly dawned on Jax, however, that it was the wrong move for him as her hands found and caressed his face. His name escaping her lips in a cry of both desperation and need immediately caused his body to ignite and respond. Disgusted with himself, Jax felt his cock hardening in his jeans, a totally uncalled for response when all he wanted to do was help Marlowe.
She's Happy's family. She's Hap's little sister and the Club's medic, Jax continued with the internal mantra until he finally managed to get his body under control as Marlowe continued to wriggle against him.
Pulling his mouth away from hers with a wet, smacking sound, Jax tenderly replaced his lips with his fingers. "Shhh, darlin'. It's okay," he murmured in a soothing voice. "You're safe," he promised.
Shuddering violently, Marlowe's eyes snapped open, her heart racing in her chest. The air expanding her lungs hurt as if she had been holding her breath during her exertions. Barely aware of her surroundings, it was taking Marlowe a moment to determine whose arms were holding her. Not understanding how or why Jax Teller was in Kabul, Marlowe quickly decided that she didn't care as long as he didn't stop holding her. Burrowing herself against his warm chest, she tightly wrapped her arms around him as waves of emotion threatened to pull her under.
Presently unable to separate reality from memories, later Marlowe would realize that she had picked a bad time to wean herself off of anxiety medication. Knowing she should have expected this to happen after enduring the last forty-eight hours, Marlowe would kick herself for not properly preparing for it. This latest nightmare, a combination of past and recent events, had been terrifyingly vivid and probably the worst she had experienced in months, but nothing would affect her more than knowing she had fallen apart in front of the SAMCRO President.
At the moment, however, she didn't care and continued to cling to him as tears rained down her face. The last thing she wanted was to be alone. As she buried her face into his neck, Jax tightened his hold on her as her body was racked with sobs, making it almost impossible to hear her soft pleas.
"Please don't leave me alone, Jax," Marlowe whispered. "Please," she sniffed brokenly.
Protectively holding her in his arms, Jax knew that come morning Marlowe would most likely bitterly regret asking this of him and would definitely give him shit for it. She was far too strong, proud and independent to allow anyone to see her so vulnerable and broken, but there was no way he would abandon her now. Feeling responsible for involving her in what had turned into a fuckin' bloodbath, triggering what was undoubtedly an episode of PTSD, Jax was determined to see her through it.
Knowing how Marlowe felt about letting herself get too close to him, Jax knew getting Happy to come comfort his sister would have been the right thing to do. But seeing the terror in her eyes, her body still shuddering against his, he just couldn't do it. Because he had asked her to, Marlowe had stepped up in her duties to the Club and she had done her job brilliantly. Now she had asked him for comfort and Jax wanted nothing more than to be the one to take her pain away.
Damn the consequences, he thought as Tara's face dimly crossed his mind. He was starting to wonder whether the distance between them had even registered with Tara and, if it had, it was obvious she had very little shits to give. And it didn't surprise or cause him pain to realize that he didn't give a shit either.
Gently pulling Marlowe from the crook of his neck and brushing her wild hair away from her face, Jax looked into her eyes. "I'm not leaving," he whispered. "Okay, baby?"
Her heather gray eyes, dulled with pain, tentatively met his and Jax saw her nod her head, her relief apparent. Slowly pulling Marlowe out of his embrace, Jax stood up and walked back to the door to lock it. Quickly shedding his kutte, he walked to the desk and hung it neatly from the back of the chair along with his shoulder holster. Kicking off his sneakers and socks, Jax quickly unstrapped his knife and placed it along with his prepay on the nightstand. Leaving his boxers on, he shucked his jeans and t-shirt and returned to the bed. Untangling the thin blanket wrapped around her legs, he draped it over Marlowe, who had curled up on her side into a fetal position.
As he reached to turn off the lamp, she protested, reaching a hand out to him imploringly, "No, please. Leave it on."
Acceding to her wishes, Jax got under the covers with her and found the full-size bed quite comfortable in spite of the lack of elbow room. Pulling Marlowe's unresisting body into his arms, Jax gently guided her head back into the crook of his neck. With a soft sigh, Marlowe burrowed her head snuggly under his chin as her arm snaked around him to wrap around his waist.
Softly tangling his ringed-fingers in her long wavy hair, Jax almost held his breath as Marlowe continued to shudder sporadically against him. After a while, she finally stopped and the only sound he heard was her shallow breathing, indicating that she had fallen into a fitful sleep.
Finally, after placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, Jax Teller allowed himself to drift into an exhausted sleep as well.
Mmmm, so warm, Marlowe thought drowsily as she snuggled down in the powerful arms wrapped around her. Damn, solid too. So real, it's the best fuckin' dream ever. She was in danger of purring like a kitten as she felt the weight of a muscular thigh wedged between hers and hairy, masculine legs entangled with her own.
In and out of sleep, Marlowe felt as if she were wrapped in a deliciously warm cocoon as she enjoyed a wonderful world of peace where the rat-tat-tat sound of gunfire didn't exist, blood didn't stain her hands and face and the stench of death didn't cling to her skin. Instead, she inhaled a heady mix of cigarettes and smoky aftershave, and warm, sun-kissed skin.
In her half-awakened state, Marlowe allowed her free hand to explore the wonderfully warm, granite-like surface she was pinned against. Her fingers lightly brushed against a small nub that instantly contracted, tightening into a hard bud. Giggling softly to herself, Marlowe tweaked what felt strangely like a hard nipple. Tracing its outline with the tip of her index and middle fingers, Marlowe suddenly felt before she actually heard a deep, sexy growl.
What the fuck?
Unwilling to open her eyes, fearing that her sexy dream man would go away, Marlowe continued to lazily play with what, oddly enough, she knew was definitely a nipple. Smiling to herself in her half-asleep state, she reasoned that she might have to nibble at it first with her teeth before she could be sure. Her eyes suddenly flew open, however, as a deep, manly voice rumbled in her ear.
"Darlin', as much as I love that you're playing with me, if I don't stop you now, you're gonna get a whole lot more than you bargained for."
Without lifting her head, Marlowe cracked her eyes open, squinting them in confusion as they bounced around the room. As they landed on the chair next to the bed, she could clearly see a kutte and holster hanging from it. As her mind attempted to process what her eyes were seeing, her body was one step ahead when she realized that she wasn't just lying on the bed.
She was practically lying on top of the hard, muscled body belonging to Jax Teller!
Quickly untwisting her legs from Jax's, Marlowe sprung into an upright sitting position and focused gray eyes blazing with anger on the man that was grinning up at her.
" 'Morning," he greeted shamelessly.
"What the fuck—" she started loudly before dropping her voice down to a hoarse whisper, "are you doing in my bed?" she demanded.
Propping himself up on one arm, Jax reached out to tuck several stray hairs behind her ear. "I'm afraid you're not gonna like the answer, Doc," he responded quietly.
Marlowe's eyes widened. "Fuck! We had sex?!" she hissed at him.
"Babe," Jax started with a sexy smirk. "If we had, you would definitely know it."
"Then tell me why you're here before I stab you in the fuckin' eye," she shot back, her eyes wild.
Jax ran his hand over the hair on his chin and sighed. "I'm here because you asked me to stay," he explained softly as she eyed him with shock and suspicion. "You weren't yourself last night, darlin'. I didn't want to leave you alone like that."
As his words sank into her brain, Marlowe froze, the way he said them giving her a single moment of clarity. Suddenly, she remembered everything.
"Oh shit," she muttered as she covered her face with her hands. Despite the attempt to hide from him, Jax could see she was flushed red with mortified anger.
"There's no reason to be embarrassed or mad, Marley," he said, using her nickname for the first time. "Look at me," he gently pulled her hands from her face. "Nothing happened. You didn't want to be alone and I didn't want to leave you alone. That's all. Nobody needs to know about last night, especially because there's nothing to tell. You were dealing with some personal shit and I just wanted to be here for you."
Marlowe moistened her tight lips. "So what you heard—"
"Is just between you and me, darlin'," Jax promised.
Marlowe nodded stiffly but then focused narrowed eyes on him in confusion. "How the hell did you get in here? I always lock my door." She watched as he shrugged his shoulders.
"Let's just say I'm a resourceful outlaw and leave it at that," he smiled. "I won't make a habit of invading your privacy, I promise."
Remembering how comforting and caring he had been the night before, Marlowe suddenly felt remorse for practically accusing him of taking advantage of her. "Thank you, Jax," she said looking him in the eye, hesitating slightly as she felt her heart quiver in her chest before finally saying the rest. "I'm really sorry you had to witness my meltdown."
"There's nothing to apologize for. You were having a nightmare."
"Yeah," Marlowe chuckled bitterly. "Well, my nightmares are more like night terrors and tend to get a little out of hand."
Jax nodded his understanding and sat up to face her. "Post Traumatic Stress?" he asked gently.
Marlowe nodded, letting her eyes fall to her hands in her lap. "Yeah. I was diagnosed with PTSD after my second deployment. I considered bailing on the Navy on a medical, but I just couldn't do it." She stopped and shook her head before looking up at Jax again. "The Navy has taught me a lot over the years, but the one thing they never teach is how to deal with the shit you see, the shit you do. They just expect you to deal."
Jax reached for her hand and Marlowe let him take it. Her mind was buzzing and her stomach fluttered nervously thanks to all the emotions she was feeling all at once—anger, embarrassment, gratitude, and a surprising amount of lust.
Gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, Jax said, "We have a Club full of Vets who have gone through the same shit, Doc. You can always talk to them. You won't be judged here. And, if you're not comfortable with that, darlin', you can always talk to me."
Hearing those words coming from Jax soothed Marlowe's soul. In spite of being a woman in the male-dominated MC world, she was being offered a kinship she hadn't felt since leaving the Navy. If she hadn't felt it before, she was certainly now feeling a special connection to the Sons of Anarchy and one member in particular.
"I'll remember that," she replied, wanting to smile at him, but found herself unable to. Instead, looking at his chiseled physique as he lay back on the thin pillow, Marlowe felt her pulse racing at the base of her throat. Suddenly flushed, she was taken by surprise by how achy and desperately needy she was feeling.
Her latest nightmare had been her worst since arriving in Charming and knowing that Jax had used his arms and the warmth of his body to soothe and comfort her was doing strange things to Marlowe. For instance, instead of recoiling from Jax at the sight of the large tattoo of his son's name on his naked chest, her fingers were itching to caress the well-defined pec it decorated before letting her tongue swirl lazily around his nipple.
Shaking her head slightly to clear the fog, Marlowe closed her eyes. Her breath quickened as her thighs squeezed together, an involuntary action that somewhat eased the slow ache building between her legs. Raising her hands to brush through her undoubtedly wild hair, Marlowe's fingers unintentionally skimmed over her breasts, causing their peaks to stiffen and tighten almost painfully. Marlowe was afraid to contemplate the disheveled and messy picture she painted, but when she opened her eyes, she was confronted with blazing blue ones that mirrored her own lust. Marlowe reckoned she didn't look too bad as Jax started moving slowly over her until she was flat on her back and pinned underneath him on the bed.
Gently using his knee to pry her legs apart, Marlowe inhaled sharply as through his boxers she could feel Jax's semi-erection brush her thigh. Bracing himself with one arm, Jax hovered over Marlowe, his free hand caressing her hair and face as he dipped his head to drop gentle kisses along her jaw line. Pulling back slightly so he could gage her reaction, Jax's eyes closed of their own free will as Marlowe gently ran her fingers through his golden hair, sending a tingle down his spine.
Letting Marlowe take control as she pulled him towards her, Jax found himself involved in a sensuously choreographed dance of lips, tongues and teeth as they kissed softly at first, before hungrily devouring each other. Jax felt the blood rush to his thickening member as Marlowe mewled softly beneath him. She arched her back as his hand fell to her side, his fingers breaching the hem of the cotton tank she wore, wrapping themselves around a supple orb. Tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth, she managed a lusty moan as Jax tweaked her already-hard nipple. Breaking their clinch, he lowered his head as he lifted her shirt and latched onto the small pebble, biting it gently, then sucking on it to soothe the sting.
Noting that the sensuous ache between her legs had morphed into full throttle throbbing, Marlowe gently pulled at Jax's hair, forcing him to look at her again.
"Jax, are we really doing this?" she asked somewhat breathless, her voice shaky with need.
Knowing that he would now be unable to go back to a cold and unyielding Tara after being with Marlowe like this, there was nothing Jax wanted more than to say yes. He wanted to promise Marlowe that they could give into what they both wanted and that shit would work itself out because he and Tara were done. But even as he spoke the words to himself in his own head, Jax knew how it would sound. He wasn't about to use Marlowe as a way out of a dying relationship. More importantly, he didn't want Marlowe to think that was what he was doing. This time, Jax was determined to end things with Tara the right way because he owed both women the respect they deserved.
Even though he wanted nothing more than to make love to Marlowe, Jax was about to call a halt to their would-be tryst when his prepay started buzzing wildly on the nightstand. Prepared to ignore it, Jax cursed his undeniable need to do the right thing as he lingered above Marlowe, who was looking beautifully disheveled and ready to be fucked.
"You should really answer the phone, Jax," she said, her brow furrowed. Jax shook his head and Marlowe braced herself against his muscled shoulders and gently nudged him back. "It could be the hospital calling about Kozik."
Jax's jaw clenched with tension as her logic penetrated his conflicted and sex-starved mind. "Yeah, you're right," he said rolling off of Marlowe and into an upright position. The phone had stopped ringing, but he figured he might as well check to see who had been calling anyway. Noting Bobby's number, the prepay buzzed in Jax's hand, indicating he had voice-mail.
Marlowe climbed onto her knees on the bed in order to admire Jax's back tat up close. She had never seen it before and was completely mesmerized by it. Punching in his passcode, Jax brought the burner up to his ear as he reached back to grab Marlowe's hand. Pulling her forward, he wrapped her arm around his middle and Marlowe found herself snuggled up against his back. Hating herself for how good and natural it felt to hold him like this, she cradled her head on his shoulder as Jax checked his messages.
"Head's up, brother," Bobby's familiar baritone started. "Seeing as your bike's still on the lot, I'm not the only one assuming you're somewhere inside the Clubhouse, and your old lady looks fit to be tied."
"Fuck," Jax muttered under his breath as he snapped the phone shut.
Marlowe's head shot up. "What's wrong?" she asked quickly. "Was that the hospital?"
Jax shook his head. "Nah," he turned to face Marlowe. "Just some housekeeping issues that need to be dealt with ASAP," he explained, unwilling to mention Tara.
"Now?" Marlowe raised an eyebrow, dumbfounded. Although somewhat relieved that their sexy game of cat-and-mouse would be postponed yet again, she also felt a little disheartened by the fact that he was about to bail on her.
Almost as if reading her mind, Jax smirked. "I'm sure if I hung around a little longer, darlin', I could make those panties drop," he said, laughing at the look of shocked indignation on her pretty face. "But right now I need to avert some trouble before it gets started."
Marlowe bit her lip and nodded. "Say no more, Pres. Duty calls. I get that."
Not really, Jax thought to himself as he cupped Marlowe's face in his hands. At this point, he would almost welcome having Tara walk in on them. But with their relationship suffering a slow death for a long time now, it would be unfair to have Marlowe blamed for its demise.
Leaning in, Jax kissed her softly. "I have some shit I need to take care of first, but we will finish what we've started. You have my word on that," he said earnestly.
"At the very least, I know you're gonna try, Pres," she teased.
"Hey, quitters never win, darlin'," Jax flashed her a sexy grin, "and I hate losing."
Getting up, Jax walked over to the desk chair to retrieve his clothes. Watching him get dressed, Marlowe's fingers were itching once again, but this time for her sketchbook. She needed to draw him with his back tat while the image was still fresh in her mind.
Finally, shrugging into this kutte, Jax made his way to the door. "Jax," she called out, stopping him in his tracks. "Thanks again, for last night."
Crossing the room, Jax leaned over the bed and placed a lingering kiss on Marlowe's lips. "Anytime, Doc," he said with a wink before leaving the room.
Standing in the Clubhouse kitchen, Gemma rubbed her forehead with irritation. It was just too early in the day for her to have to deal with her son's thoroughly pissed off and completely clueless old lady.
"What the hell is going on here?" Tara practically hissed, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared balefully at Gemma. "Jax didn't come home for the third night in a row and coming in here, I feel like I'm on The Walking Dead," the doctor said, gesturing to the main room where several patches sporting heavy bandages on various body parts sat having breakfast.
What the hell happened to full disclosure, Gemma thought as she stared in disbelief at the angry old lady standing across from her. The SAMCRO matriarch didn't like being put on the hot seat by the new Queen, especially not an absentee one at that.
With Clay filling her in on the reason for the Club's previously unscheduled run up North, Gemma had stepped up and had been fully on board to render aid to her old man, her son and their brothers. Having organized the old ladies and croweaters to prepare food for the Club's return from what promised to be a brutal retaliation against Lobos Sonora, Gemma had gone a step further by having the Clubhouse thoroughly cleaned and additional medical supplies brought in for Marlowe in case shit went south.
And in hindsight, Gemma was glad she had taken the initiative because things had not gone completely according to plan. Club members and some of their associates had been hurt. With two Cartel soldiers dead and Kozik suffering the gravest of injuries, Gemma had done her best to see everyone through this difficult time. Tara, however, had been MIA during the call to arms. When Gemma had pressed her son for the whereabouts of his missing old lady, Jax had cryptically replied that Tara was at the hospital where she belonged.
With a giant eye roll, Gemma had snorted loudly once her son had been out of earshot. In spite of her day job as the savior of sick children at St. Thomas, Tara's place should have been by her old man's side. As much as she wanted to make allowances for all that Tara had endured by associating herself with the Club, Gemma's patience and understanding were wearing thin. Instead of having the new SAMCRO Queen by her side supporting the Club through their latest crisis, Gemma had instead watched as Marlowe Guthrie did the job that Tara should have been proud to do, and had done it extremely well.
And I wasn't the only one who noticed that shit either, Gemma realized as she remembered that Jax had not left Marlowe's side as she ministered to the several injured Mayans and Cartel soldiers on site. Marlowe had not only done her job well but according to Bobby, had even fought Jax to make sure that Kozik received the medical care needed to save his leg. She had managed to do so by running interference with the St. Thomas staff, feeding them half-truths and bold-faced lies to keep them from suspecting that Kozik's injuries were the result of some criminal activity.
Now, after two back-breaking days at the Clubhouse, it was obvious that Gemma was expected to placate Tara by making her feel that her failure to handle her obligations as Jax Teller's old lady was just fine and dandy.
Well, that shit is not happening today.
"Some shit needed handling and those bruised and banged up men out there are proof that it was handled," Gemma started off as she folded her arms across her ample chest. "Just exactly what shit needed handling is something that you should have known as Jax's old lady. None of the old ladies here for the last couple of days knew jack shit about what was going down, but they were here all the same, supporting their old men and the Club," Gemma pointed a finger at Tara. "All of them, except for you."
"Oh, so now you're bashing me?!" Tara sputtered. "Why? Because I didn't show for up for something I didn't know shit about?!" she asked incredulously.
"Maybe you should ask yourself why it is that you never know shit anymore!" Gemma tossed off. "When the Clubhouse is attacked and a bag of fuckin' heads gets tossed on the lot, not showing up to help prepare your man as he's going into battle is pretty fuckin' pathetic!" She watched as horror dawned in Tara's eyes and winced.
Shit! Clay's right. I do go around setting fuckin' fires.
"What are you talking about, Gem?" Tara demanded and watched as the matriarch ran a well-manicured hand through her hair in frustration.
"Why don't you go ask your old man, huh?" Gemma retorted and watched as Tara's eyes narrowed into what some would call a death glare before turning on her heel and heading for Jax's dorm.
Gemma shook her head contemptuously, disappointed in Tara, but worried that she had just opened Pandora's Box.
And she had, but if Gemma only knew how opening that box would finally liberate her son from his own guilt, the SAMCRO matriarch would have done cartwheels down fuckin' Main Street!
Jax had just rounded the corner by JT's bike when he spotted his old lady storming down the corridor.
"Oh shit," he murmured under his breath, thinking how close he had cut it by lingering in Marlowe's room. Noting the angry expression on Tara's face, Jax wished he had at least made it to the kitchen because it was too early for this shit without a cup of coffee. In an attempt to forestall Tara losing her shit, he was about to greet her when she completely cut him off.
"Don't even start," Tara stage-whispered angrily, "unless you plan on telling me what the fuck is going on around here!"
Jax's jaw clenched as over her shoulder he could see several patches and hang-arounds look in their direction. "Tara, you need to calm down."
"What I need are answers, Jax. Right now!" Walking past him, Tara grabbed his arm and half-dragged him towards his dorm.
Fuck! Jax inwardly winced as he followed her into his room and closed the door behind him.
With Tara facing him, her back was to the bed and Jax realized just how apocalyptic shit could get if Tara noticed that his bed hadn't been slept in. The last thing he was ready to discuss was where he had laid his head the night before.
"I need to know what's going on, Jax. You haven't been upfront with me and now I find out that on top of the Clubhouse getting shot up, someone dropped off a bag of HEADS! Why didn't you tell me?!" Tara raged, her voice loud and bitter as she stared at her old man.
Jax ran his ringed hand over his face. "I didn't tell you about it," he started in a calm voice, "because you as good as told me there was shit about the Club you didn't need or want to know. You can't demand that I respect your wishes only to bitch at me later when you find out that I only did as I was told."
"How convenient that you start respecting my wishes NOW!" Tara stated heatedly. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I needed to know what was going on this time around? Not only is a bag of heads a real threat, Jackson, but I just had your mother tear me a new asshole for not being a good old lady by being Johnny-on-the-spot and patching shit up. So what happened?"
Cursing his mother to perdition, Jax sighed and then quietly related all of the events that he had been keeping from Tara over the last few days. Watching as the color drained from Tara's cheeks, Jax assured her, "The threat has been dealt with. I spoke with Romeo last night and the message we sent to Lobos was received loud and clear. It's unlikely that they'll be targeting SAMCRO again now that we cleared them out of NorCal."
"Are you even listening to yourself?!" Tara said with despair, her eyes wild. "The Club keeps getting deeper and deeper into this cesspool and nobody wants to admit that we're never getting out of it, at least not alive! Jax, you are making decisions that affect me and Abel and I never get to have any say when I'm the one that it always bleeds over! Now I'm supposed to just believe that everything is all unicorns and rainbows because some Cartel guy says so? What guarantee can you give me that this rival cartel won't retaliate? What if next time they go after Abel? Or me?" she demanded as Jax ran agitated hands through his hair. "Don't you care about us?"
"You know I do," Jax implored as he put his hands on her shoulders. "Everything I have done up to this point has been about making a better life for my family."
Shrugging out of his grasp, Tara focused dark green eyes on her old man. "Where? Here, in Charming?!" she laughed bitterly, almost hysterically. "You know that's not what I want. If you really cared, you would do what I want for once. You would do something for me, Jax and you need to do it now."
Monday, June 14, 2010
Watching Jax chain-smoke himself through half a pack of cigarettes in the last hour, Clay sensed his stepson's foul mood wasn't just the result of their meeting with the Irish. Being as that was all he had to go on, however, Clay decided to use it as an opening.
"You know, I'm not totally surprised at how this shit played out," Clay started soberly as he blew a trail of smoke from his cigar. Jax tore his gaze away from the glowing embers at the end of his cigarette to look at the older man. "Galen O'Shay is not a trusting man."
"Yeah, I think I get that now," Jax responded grimly.
The two brothers—two generations of SAMCRO Presidents—sat in the Chapel alone, having just returned from the Club's meeting with the Irish and the Cartel. All things considered, it had been nothing short of a miracle that Galindo and the RIRA had finally agreed on a deal, but it had not gone according to Jax's liking.
Galen O'Shay was now the point man for the Irish in Northern California. With the RIRA-sanctioned murder of Jimmy O'Phelan, Galen had been transferred from their operation in Eastern Europe to handle their stateside affairs after a seventeen-year absence. A hardened IRA soldier, Galen was an overly suspicious man whose prime focus was in advancing the Cause. He only liked dealing with people he trusted, men in his own likeness who were controlled and experienced in handling their shit. It had come as a complete surprise to Galen that there had been a sudden change in SAMCRO leadership and he wasted no time in calling into question the wisdom of putting Jax Teller at the head of the table. Galen, a long-time friend and associate of Clay Morrow, was a loyal man and his loyalties were not easily transferred.
As a matter of fact, Galen believed that John Teller's boy was hot-headed and dangerously reckless, thus making him untrustworthy. That belief had been somewhat justified when against orders, Jax had used the weapons sent by the Irish for the Cartel show-and-tell during the fight against Lobos Sonora the week before. It mattered none to Galen that Jax had only done so to protect his brothers, Clay among them. The fact remained: he had disobeyed a direct order.
His friendship with Clay and Jax's past and present actions combined to create a rather large chip on Galen's shoulder where the Club's new President was concerned. Adding fuel to the fire was Galen's own personal history with Father Kellan Ashby—a man who had lifted him off of the streets of Armagh and saved him from a broken life. The murder of Father Ashby at the hands of Jimmy O'Phelan put Galen at direct odds with Jax, whom he blamed for the priest's death.
The distrust and mutual dislike was only compounded further when Jax—doing a favor for Galen by acting as hired muscle with several other Club members—had completely lost his shit when he discovered the Irish were running another black-market baby selling ring on this side of the pond. After the smoke had cleared, Clay had tried to smooth shit over by explaining how Jax nearly losing his own son to the Irish arm of that business was why shit had jumped off. But Galen, while slightly sympathetic, felt that Jax was still too volatile and too much of a loose cannon to run point on the new operation.
Regardless of any reason, it had been enough for Galen to insist that, if the Irish were to go through with the Cartel deal, Clay must serve as point man for the Sons. It was bad enough that the Irish Kings had decided to do business with godless wetbacks; he wasn't about to trust Jax with this new deal, despite the fact that the first two runs under his leadership and authority had been successful and profitable.
Now as the two men sat musing over the events of the last week, Jax wondered how he would be able to make his plan for getting the Club completely out of gun-dealing work if Clay was still in the thick of the shit. Replacing Clay at the gavel had been part of a strategy, a necessary step in neutralizing his stepfather's power as Jax navigated the Club into legitimate businesses and out of guns for good. With Clay as point man on this new venture, it now appeared unlikely that any of Jax's plans could be put into motion anytime soon.
Feeling as if every time he took one step forward he was pushed two steps back, Jax wondered if maybe what Tara wanted from him wasn't so unreasonable after all. At the very least, it would give him breathing room if he didn't have to worry about his family's safety 24/7.
"Son, I know this isn't exactly what you wanted," Clay began, interrupting Jax's musings, "but I don't see a way through this situation other than to play it out Galen's way. He is not a man who trusts easily, but I think if you go along with the program for now, eventually you will get the chance to show him that you have the leadership skills necessary to run this Club as well as the business with the Cartel. All I'm doing is keeping your spot warm." He watched as Jax lit up yet another cigarette with the one he was just about to finish.
"There ain't shit I can do about it, right?" Jax sighed. "I'm just tired of working on things, hoping they go one way, only to have them go the other. I'm looking at the big picture, Clay, and now I can't see an end to it all." He grinned mirthlessly. "Can't make Galen happy and lately, I sure as shit can't make things right for Tara."
Clay's eyebrows rose with some sympathy at the introduction of what he sensed was the cause of Jax's melancholy. "She giving you shit?"
"Yeah," Jax eyed his former president. "She wants to take Abel away for a while," he said cryptically.
"What? You mean like for a vacation or something?" Clay tapped the ashes from his cigar into an ashtray before raising it to his lips, but paused in midair as he heard Jax's reply.
"No, more like for some months. Maybe even a year." Jax watched as his companion lowered his cigar and dropped it into the ashtray.
"Are you fuckin' shitting me, son?" Clay asked disbelievingly.
"Nope, 'fraid not. This last situation with the Cartel has her spun out. She's afraid that something bad will happen to her and Abel, and I'm no longer sure that she's overreacting," Jax explained. "After what went down with Salazar and the kidnapping, I can't really blame her if she is overreacting. I failed her and I failed my family," he said, feeling a tightening in his chest as he thought about the baby they had lost.
Clay nearly rolled his eyes as he shook his head. "She still milking that shit with you, son?" he asked, catching Jax off guard as his head snapped up to look at Clay. "Hey, before you jump all over me, I just think it's unfair that, over a year later, she seems to have cornered the sympathy market when it comes to the miscarriage. I know losing the baby must have been devastating for her, especially in the situation she was in with that Calaveras piece of shit, but I know you're still hurting too. It was your baby too, Jax, and you haven't let yourself mourn because you feel responsible. Shit, and I'm sure seeing Tara moping around all the damn time with a hang-dog face adds even more guilt to the pain you're already feeling."
"You're being a little unfair, don't you think, Clay?" Jax asked. "I humiliated Salazar, had Alvarez strip him of his patch and he used Tara to get back at me. It is my fau—"
"Stop it right there, son," Clay ordered. Reaching out, he clasped Jax's shoulder. "That shit was bad, no doubt, but you can't take the weight of that on your shoulders. You were in Ireland, searching for the son you already had. You didn't know what Salazar was up to and you certainly had no control over how twisted shit got. You never intended any harm to come to your family, so don't let that misplaced guilt convince you that Abel deserves to be with anyone other than his father."
Jax stubbed his half finished cigarette in the overflowing ashtray and crossed his arms over his chest. "I have no intention of letting my son go anywhere, Clay. I'm not gonna lie, though. When Tara brought up the possibility of relocating to Oregon with Abel, I considered it. Having a bag of heads personally delivered by an enemy will fuck with a man's head like that, but I know there's no place safer for my son then where I can protect him myself. Tara wants to leave, she's gonna have to do it on her own."
Unable to hide the look of disbelief on his face, Clay ran a hand over the hair on his chin as he straightened up in his chair. "Wait a minute, Jax. Tara's talking about leaving Charming for Oregon and you're okay with that?" he asked skeptically and Jax nodded. "Listen, you two may be having a hard go of it right now, but letting her go to Oregon ain't the answer."
"Nah, I'm sure it is, Clay," Jax assured him. "Tara was offered a job in a hospital up there and she wants to take it. She's not happy here and I'm tired of being the reason she's not. If I do let her take Abel with her, it'll only be for a few weeks, until I'm sure Lobos is really no longer a threat. In the meantime, I'll task Rogue River with their protection and I'll visit every other weekend."
"Son, I know you're concerned about your family's safety. Any good man would be," Clay countered, "but separating yourself from your son for a 'few weeks' is not the answer. Remember how that shit worked out for JT, and what about your mother? Look me in the eye and tell me Gemma's gonna be alright with her grandson living 5½ hours away, even if it is just temporary."
Jax shook his head. "If there is one thing I'm sure of is that Gemma will prolly kill me over this shit."
She'd have to get in line, Clay thought grimly. Abel's my blood too.
The old biker had been by Jax's side every step of the way working to get his grandson back from the Irish. There was nothing more important than protecting family and Clarence Morrow did not like the idea of Jax's son being so far away from his.
"You have a tough call to make, Jax, but I just don't see the wisdom of letting your son go with Tara if the intention is to end shit with her. I get that you're just trying to keep everyone whole by giving Tara what she wants, but if you ask me, I'm with Gemma on this. Abel belongs with his father and his family."
Jax shook his head. "Nothing's set in stone, Clay. Tara's meeting with Margaret Murphy about reaching out to Providence Hospital. If it's a good fit and she decides to take it, I'll have at least two weeks to decide what's best for Abel in the short-term," he replied.
Shit, that doesn't give me much time, Clay thought, his expressionless face not betraying his concern. I think its time to put Mama Bear on the scent.
A/N: Marlowe may be an experienced Corpsman and soldier, but she is not immune to dealing with the aftermath of war. Even though she puts a brave face on her past and despite the tough outer shell, like many veterans, she has to deal with the brutality of war everyday and has done so by internalizing the overwhelming emotions those experiences can bring.
For Jax, seeing this strong woman deal with her own fragile emotions helps him see that, although tough, she isn't perfect. Even though he hates himself for putting her in a position that forced Marlowe to face her demons, Jax now has a fuller picture of the woman that has so totally enthralled him.
Sharing several "moments" with Marlowe, Jax now seems to be facing the fact that Tara is not willing or capable of living her life with him during the most tumultuous time in the Club's history. In spite of that realization, thanks to his guilt over what he feels is his responsibility for the loss of their child, Jax is about to make a seriously drastic compromise in order to make Tara happy.
Or is he?
Maybe not, especially if Clay has anything to do with it! He's about to sic the fiercest old lady to ever ride bitch on a Harley on their son's ass in order to get him to see reason, so stay tuned.
I'm so glad that everyone enjoyed the extra chapter this past weekend. Forty-six of you showed your appreciation by posting a review and I really appreciate it. Some of you were incredibly good guessers about the opening scene of this chapter. I'm sure most of you are probably feeling as frustrated as Jax—again, but even he realizes that good things come to those who wait, so don't fret: it will be continued.
The question is, WHEN?
All I can tell you is that the next chapter has the potential of blowing the roof off the joint! Faithful readers have already pushed this story over 550 reviews, with 46 being the most reviews I've ever received for one chapter. Since ya'll have already helped me break several new records, I'm hoping you'll help me in breaking one more. I have a particular number in mind and the sooner I reach it, the sooner I'll post Chapter 26, and let me tell ya…you ain't gonna wanna wait too long for this next bad boy!
So get ready as things take a sharp left when Gemma gets put to the task of keeping her family together!
Much Love, Harlee.