Jax in another life/if he'd gotten out

A cry splits the air. It's a wail to stop traffic, to strike the fear of God into any man. It's of terror, of horror, of murder. It would send even the bravest man running. A hair raising kind of cry. And all Jax Teller does at the sound of this noise is roll over and nudge his wife.

"She's all yours." He mutters and Tara groans loudly, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"I got her last time." She insists and he shakes his head.

"Nope, last time was the blowout and I got that one." He states, not bothering to open his eyes.

"I birthed her." Tara plays her trump card and so with a groan, he gets out of bed and pads down the hallway, eyes not quite open.

"Why the fuss, why the fuss?" He mummers, reaching into the crib and scooping up the little girl. She stops her banshee shrieks and settles into fussing for her father so Jax begins to sway, checking her diaper. She's not wet, she's not dirty, ad she's not hungry- Tara had nursed her less than two hours ago if his bleary eyes are reading the clock correctly. Still, she's fussing.

"Daddy?" Jax turns and sees Abel standing in the doorway, his hair comically standing straight up.

"Hey buddy, did she wake you up?" Jax says gently and Abel nods, rubbing one eye. "I'm sorry, go back to sleep."

"Is she sad?" Abel asks, walking over and peering at his baby sister in his father's arms.

"No, I just think she's not very sleepy." Jax says with a wry smile. "Or maybe she just missed her big brother."

"I missed you too, Gracie." Abel mutters to his sister. Jax sits down on the couch and Abel crawls up next to him, gazing down at the little girl. "Why does she sleep in the day but not at night?"

"Babies are silly that way." Jax says, as Gracelyn calms down and contentedly sucks on her pacifier, staring at Abel. He begins to make silly faces, making the corners of her mouth twitch up. "They get night and day mixed up."

"Daddy." Abel looks up at him seriously. "Is Gracie a werewolf?"

"Is she a what?" Jax tilts his head, thinking he's misheard him.

"A werewolf." Abel repeats as if it should be obvious and Jax blinks a couple times, his sleep deprived brain trying to answer the question.

"Why would you think that buddy?" He asks, giving up.

"Cause werewolves sleep in the day and are up at night." Abel explains, as though this should be obvious and Jax can find no flaw in his son's logic so he just nods dumbly. Satisfied, Abel brushes Gracelyn's hair back.

"I spy with my little eye a boy who should be in bed." Tara's voice is teasing and both boys look up. She's standing in the doorway, a robe wrapped around her slender form and her arms crossed, a smile on her face.

"Mama." Abel says happily. "Did you know Gracie is a werewolf?"

"A what?" Tara frowns slightly, coming to join them on the couch and looking at her daughter.

"A werewolf." Abel repeats and Tara glances over his head at Jax, who just shrugs.

"Oh." Tara says, stroking Gracelyn's cheek with one finger. "I did not."

"Cause she sleeps in the day and not at night." He explains and Tara raises an eyebrow.

"You're not sleeping at night. Does that make you a werewolf?" She points out and Abel looks at her, giggling.

"No, silly mama!"

"You're my silly boy." She pulls him close and kisses the top of his head. "I think all my silly babies need to go to bed."

"Can we sleep with you tonight?" Abel mutters and Tara glances at Jax. He shrugs, hiding a smile.

"Who's we?" Tara questions and he gives his best imitation of an innocent little gesture.

"Me and Gracie and Tommy."

"Are you going to go wake up Tommy?" Tara folds her arms and Abel glances between his two parents.

"Daddy could carry him." He suggests.

"You get these two settled, I'll go get little man." He says lowly, passing the baby to her.

"C'mon on then mister Abel." Tara stands and offers her hand to Abel. "Let's go to bed."

"Yay!" Abel follows Tara and Jax creeps to Thomas's room, gently pushing the door open. Thomas is fast asleep in his little bed, splayed out among baseball and racing car pillows. Jax carefully picks up his sons small frame, wondering when his little baby got so big. He cradles him close and carries him to his bedroom.

"Don't wake up your brother." Tara warns Abel, situating Gracelyn in her old side along bassinet.

"I won't." He whispers and Jax lays Thomas next to Abel. Abel beams, snuggling into the covers. Jax climbs under the blankets and glances across his sons at Tara, who is carefully placing her arm over Abel. The little boy is already half asleep, his lips still turned up in a smile. Tara catches his eye and they look at their little family.

"I love you so much." Jax mouthes and she presses a kiss to Abel's head.

"I love you more." She mouthes back and grinning, the two of them lie down, the Teller family safe and sound, sleeping in a kingsized bed.


Juice's old girlfriend

"Mariah." Her abuela's voice rings out loud and clear. As she wanders down the stairs, Mariah wonders to herself how such a frail and weak old woman can have such a strong voice.

"Si, abuela." She calls, stopping in the kitchen to grab a glass of water and two sugar cookies. Usually that fixes most problems. "Que necessita?"

"La television." Her grandmother mutters, gesturing to the grainy tv. Mariah watches for a long moment as a dramatic Spanish soap opera plays out, setting the water and cookies on the table beside the rocking chair.

"Si, abuela." She says unsurely, not sure what the problem is.

"Donde esta mi programa?" Her grandmother snaps and Mariah glances back at the tv, not sure which of her grandmothers many soaps she's asking for.

"Cual programa?" She questions and her grandmother frowns deeply.

"Con Hernando y Lolita." Her grandmother explains and Mariah turns, pretending to study the tv so her grandmother doesn't see her trying to recall which show has those characters.

"Abuela, pienso qui ese programa termino." She says slowly and her grandmother blinks, then waves a hand, shooing her away with grumbles about a stupid child not knowing anything. Mariah takes the chance to escape back upstairs, locking her door so that her grandmother's yells will be muffled. She picks up her phone, grinning at the sight of a text.

need u

Whats wrong?

bad day can i come over

Sure but abuela is in a bad mood so you need to sneak in.

c u in 10

She tosses her phone aside, sitting on her bed for a moment, pondering what could be wrong. Her sometimes boyfriend hardly ever texts her. He prefers to show up spontaneously, coaxing her out of her bedroom window or sometimes picking the lock to get in, tiptoeing past her sleeping grandmother.

She doesn't have to wait long before a rumble on the street alerts her to his presence. She sneaks back downstairs, glancing to make sure her grandmother is sleeping before unlocking the door. A moment later, a dark figure slips through and gently shuts the door behind him. Without words, they both creep upstairs. Once they're back in her bedroom she shuts the door and turns to beam at him.

"Hi." She says, a little breathlessly and he pulls her in for a hard kiss, tangling his fingers in her hair. They don't speak as they sink down onto her bed, tugging at bras and kuttes as they go.

"Sorry." He mutters when they're done. He's lying on her chest, arms wrapped around her tightly, as she gently scratches the mohawk atop his head.

"For what?" She asks him and he shrugs.

"Doing this."

"What's this?" She asks cautiously. She's made the mistake before of trying to claim Juice as her boyfriend. It was a mistake.

"This." He gives her a tiny squeeze. "I shouldn't just show up unannounced at your place."

"I don't mind it." She reassures him. "It gives me something to do besides take care of Abuela."

"Still." He whispers and she keeps scratching his head. For awhile they're quiet, until she can't hold her question back any longer.

"What happened today?"

"What do you mean?" He asks, without meeting her eyes.

"You said in your text that it was a bad day." She reminds him carefully.

"Oh." He's silent, so she scrambles to cover her tracks.

"If you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine, that's alright, I just thought I'd-"

"Club shit." He explains, cutting her off and she pauses, wondering just how much she should ask.

She loves him. She has since the day they met, when she was nothing but a scrawny teenager, thinking she was so cool for sneaking into a bar. He'd taken one look at her, laughed, and bought her a drink for being ballsy. From that moment on, she'd been in love with his laughter, his sparkling eyes, his eager smile. She didn't care that her friends thought she was crazy or that if her grandmother knew what she was up to, she'd be shot. He was her first love.

"Was it bad?" She asks, leaving the question purposely vague. Best case, he'll give her a half hearted answer. Worse case, he'll crawl out of bed, swing his kutte on and pull his jeans up, giving her a short nod and leave.

"It's never good anymore." He admits and she holds her breath, staying as still as possible, like she might scare him off. "Things are always shit these days. We're always in some sort of trouble. I mean, we always have been, but before it was like we'd figure it out. Now, I really wonder if we can. We're in deep shit. I don't even know who I am in this shit."

"I'm sorry." She says, once he falls silent and she's sure that he's done talking. "I didn't know."

"I know." He struggles with himself for a moment, hesitating like he's on the brink of saying something. "I shouldn't bother you with this stuff."

"Wait." She tightens her grip on him, trying to get him to stay in bed with her. "Don't, I just meant… We hardly talk anymore." She tries to catch his eye.

"I've been busy." He says tonelessly, avoiding her gaze.

"I know." She tries to keep the hurt out of her voice. "But you come in here all hurt and sad…" She traces marks on his skin. "And then you leave when I try to ask you what's wrong. I'm not judging, you know that. I just want to know why I'm good for sex and comfort, but not good enough for a relationship and more."

"Because you're too good for that." He says sharply. "Mariah, you don't know what my life is like because I don't want you to know what my life is like, don't you understand that? Because you'd just get hurt, or worse. You don't deserve that. I don't deserve you. But I can't quit you. You're the only thing I have when times get tough."

"I…" She struggles with the right words and he pushes himself up off the bed, shaking his head.

"I have to go."

"Wait." She tries to tug him back towards her, but he's already grabbing his boxers off the floor.

"I'll talk to you later." He says shortly and she's stubbornly trying to stop her tears, tilting her head back and squeezing her eyes shut. Why is this any different from all the other times he's left her bed? At least she's awake this time.

"I don't want you to go." She says in a trembling voice. When she opens her eyes, he's looking at her, fully dressed, a sad look on his face.

"It's for the best." He promises her then kisses her forehead and disappears. For a long moment she sits in silence, trying to swallow the tears. Then she grabs a pillow and screams. Damn him.


Grandma Gemma- The babies

She's not even really that mad that Clay tried to kill Tara. Sure, she's pissed he went back on his promise to her. It always annoys her when he lies. But that's not why she's mad. If she's being honest, she thought about killing Tara all the time in the past. She's not even completely sure it was the wrong thing to do, with Tara's unflinching resolve to leave Charming.

No, she's not mad at Clay for hurting Tara. That's fine and forgivable. What she's furious about is him letting those men within a 5 mile radius of those babies. Her boys, her grandsons. How dare he be so careless?

Those boys are her everything. If she thought her love for Jax couldn't be trumped, she would have proven herself wrong. Those boys have become the center of her world, objects are which she orbits. They are her purpose. Her grandsons.

They remind her of her youth, when she would go around Charming with one boy on her hip and the other holding her hand, parading the princes. There could be nothing better than that, she had realized. Nothing better than be a mother. But being a grandmother…

It's like she'd forgotten to love until she smelled Abel's sweet, gentle head. It was like he brought some softness back to her, making her feel like the world was little kinder again. Thomas too, her happy, calm Thomas, with his easy smile and pretty eyes. She loves them, perhaps even more fiercely than she loves Jax.

Clay doesn't understand. He doesn't understand what it is like to have family. To see yourself in a tiny face. He doesn't know the connection, the bond you have with them. He can claim to love them, but he knows nothing. Jax isn't his true son, the boys aren't his true grandsons. All his cares for is himself.

Gemma's loved Clay for a long time. Over a decade, in the face of the few scant years she's had grandsons. That does not matter. These boys are her blood, her future, her everything. So it doesn't matter that Clay tried to kill Tara. She's only a little pissed he had the nerve to do it with Jax there. But he sent a trained killer after her grandsons. Innocents. Children. Babies.

And for that, Gemma will kill him.


Tara's hand/Tara's dreams

It's a weird thing, to have your whole career wrapped up in your hands, Tara reflects. It's odd, that the two fragile things are the most valuable part of her. It doesn't matter that she is pretty and kind, or that she's funny and smart. No, no hospital will hire her because of her jokes or her thick eyelashes.

They want her hands. They want what her hands can do. Her hands can do marvelous things. They are thin and strong, capable and firm. Her brain may know what to do but her hands are what do it, gently repairing even the tiniest broken body.

Her brain is useless without her hands and her hands are broken. Her hands were her life. They're why she gave up Charming and Jax, why she left. Because she knew her hands could do amazing things. They're why she survived on freezer meals and the dollar menu, going to bed hungry and exhausted. They're why she stayed up for nights on end, running through every nerve, bone, and artery in the human body. They're why she's in debt up to her eyeballs. They're why she has purpose.

For her whole life, she wanted to be a doctor. She wanted to help people. And she gave up everything for that dream. And she succeeded. She could fix a tiny heart, the smallest pair of lungs, heal the most fragile of bodies. It was a gift, one that she cherished. She loves Jax. And she loves her boys, more fiercely than anything else. But she loves being a doctor.

It's her identity, reminds her that she's more than just Jax's old lady, a queen to be of Charming. She's valuable. She's got a brain and a degree, unlike any of the crow eaters and hookers that sit around the clubhouse. She is special. That's what she has to tell herself.

But not anymore. Not with pins in her hand, nerves damaged, never likely to work again. What is she if her hands can't be swift and sure? Useless. She might as well sit back and just have Jax's babies till the end of days, always pregnant and miserable, Jax sneaking around behind her back. It would be easy. She'd just stay home, raise the next generation of bikers and crow eaters. Be fat. Stop caring.

That's when the despair rips her heart open. The one thing that made her different, made her unique is gone. Her dream is gone. And it is Jax's fault. Because now she and her boys will never escape Charming or the Sons.

AN: Guys! This story is officially a year old! Happy birthday to my little story, we have a whole year to go still... Sorry if the Spanish isn't 100%, I have a degree in this language and yet still can't figure out how an old woman would yell about telenovelas. Anyways, leave me reviews!