Blood of My Enemy

Fingers lazily tapping against the steel table in the visitation room, Jax took in the space he was currently sitting in.

It had been a while since he had been in one of these, his stint at Stockton having ended years ago and luckily, none of his guys had ended locked up since; not for the lack of dubious shit they had been getting themselves into daily since before Tara had moved to Charming.

The room itself wasn't much different than in any other prison; there was the usual tidily scattered steel furniture that in spite of its supposed durability seemed worn out and stained, and with the walls that were in dire need of a coat or five of new paint.

Even so, the sensation it aroused in him, aside from familiarity, was that of discomfort as well.

There weren't many people in today; just a few tables occupied with families or significant others of the inmates awaiting their passage through the room's main entrance. It all felt sad, hopeless, pathetic even that for a brief moment Jax regretted coming here and stirring up the old, unwanted memories of his own prison days.

Jax was no stranger to jail cells, prisons nor visitation areas of various degrees of decrepitness. Yet, this one made his skin itch, more so due to the person he was there to see than the despair and monotony the room itself exuded.

There was no need for him to be here, not really. Whatever message he wished to convey to anyone he could as well do it via the Sons locked up in here. There were many who could and would do his bidding gladly, no questions asked.

So, what prompted him to leave his family by themselves for a few hours today and come to this cursed place?

Morbid curiosity? The desperate need to see the suffering of the other for himself; that need that had been suffocating him for days, months even?

Jax knew there was a mean, cruel, perhaps even sadistic streak in him. The life he was born into, the life he had been leading for the majority of his teenage and adult years forced him to be a specific type of person, to act in a particular type a way. Jax grew up seeing his father and the men of the MC behave in that way and though he might not have been completely aware of it in his preteens, the older he got the more he understood this as the desired, and more importantly, expected manner of behaviour.

So, perchance, this sadism and cruelty required something to feast on.

Indeed, it had been awhile since the wretched monster within him was fed with a proper bloody meal.

Nowadays, Jax's default mode was showing love and affection to his Tara and Abel, dedicating his every moment to them and them alone regardless of the club. True, it had become easier to do so since Chibs had silently taken over most of the business, understanding that, despite the mantra they had all memorised since the moment they had set foot into SAMCRO, the club always comes first, it couldn't stay like that anymore.

Not for their President at least.

The rattling of handcuffs drew Jax back to the reason he came here in the first place. As he lifted his head, his eyes met that of his prey: Joshua Kohn.

After the events that transpired several months ago, the agency immediately disassociated themselves from the agent, stating he had acted on his own accord and had used the agency's resources without proper authorization. Any crimes he might have committed while on a personal leave had no ties to the agency or any other branch of government.

Kohn was stripped of any and all titles he was holding at that moment, while the cases he worked on were being reopened and began being further investigated, now that the truth of the former agent's wrongdoings and propensity to go around the rules had come to light.

In that moment, Jax wondered what it would be like, feel like - to be shun away from the place that for years had provided you with a sense of entitlement, belonging, and safety. What would it be like, losing that safety net you had always relied on would back up your dealings with the world?

Then he shook the thought away. No use in thinking of something he wouldn't ever let happen to him. He kept the people he loved close, closer now than ever before and wouldn't ever risk losing any of them. He was doing things the right way this time and there was no way anyone could take his family or his club away from him.

The sorry excuse for a man was hobbling to the table, dragging one foot behind him as if incapable of losing contact with the ground lest he fell.

The look on his face was the second thing Jax noticed about him: shocked and frightened. It was the kind of terror one feels when meeting their doom, knowing their existence was close to end. Though Kohn's eyes were almost bloodshot to the point Jax wondered if the fucker could even see him, the emotions he bore in them told Jax he was on the brink of cowing, turning around and rushing back to his cell.

The first thing that caught Jax's keen gaze though, was the asshole's appearance - the sight of it bringing a sordid type of satisfaction to Jax.

Kohn's face was a canvas of different shades of black, blue, green, red, and yellow. Several deep cuts marred his cheeks, the scabs seemingly having been picked on several times since the wounds showed little sign of healing. He wore a buzzcut, a head bandage covering one part of his boot-smashed skull, bloodied splotches and bruises spreading from the side of his head, across his face, undoubtedly over his entire body till the very tips of his toes, though Jax couldn't see all of them. A string-shaped bruise encircled his neck, one arm imprisoned in a cast, the other one hanging limply as if completely useless, now that it had been released from the cuffs.

"What're you doin' 'ere?" Kohn croaked as he sat across from Jax, words coming out of his mouth as a garbled mess. He could hardly speak, Jax realised, as if his jaw was messed up as well.

"Came to check on you," was Jax's response, devoid of any emotion, though deep down he now knew why he came.

A sense of morbid gratification, some sick perversion enveloped him the second his eyes fell on Kohn.

Seeing him this broken physically gave Jax the relief he had been craving for months - as he watched Tara relive the agony and trauma of Kohn's assault, as he witnessed her starting to heal, little by little, the bruises disappearing and her belly swelling as their baby girl grew stronger each day.

It took Kohn awhile to retort, jaw clenching followed by a wave of apparent pain shooting through his face. Jax saw it and smiled cruelly, not trying in the least to hide his enjoyment at Kohn's suffering.

"You mean, came to check if your goons did the job?" It was spoken sharply, with disdain, since he was aware there was nothing else he could do or use to try and defend himself with.

Jax smirked lazily, leaning back, eyes assessing the creature before him with utmost satisfaction at his condition. "Don't need to," his gravelly voice answered, "Word gets around... So do videos."

Jax never felt more grateful to Opie than when he showed him the first video, just a week after the ordeal with Tara and the horrific days and nights they had been having, all caused by this fucker.

His blood was singing in his veins, warming up his body, adrenalin pumping as he watched his SOA brothers beat the life out of this sick fucker; Jax felt pleasure in seeing him writhe and howl in pain as his bones crunched and broke; as bruises, along with blood and spit, quickly covered his scrawny body.

Jax wished he could do it himself - choke and kick and stab at the monster that dared touch his Tara, but knew well he was needed outside. This piece of shit didn't get to destroy his and Tara's life, didn't get to ruin their family.

Luckily, SAMCRO's hands were long-reaching and his brothers loyal and trustworthy to fulfil the task Jax himself couldn't.

It had been months now and the videos kept on coming - biweekly, each one more brutal than the previous one. Jax made it clear the Sons could do whatever they wanted to Kohn, but he had to be kept out of infirmary, not visiting it too often just to avoid arousing suspicion. This way, it looked like the usual prison fights and paybacks at a cop that managed to find himself amongst those he and his fellow agents had sent there.

It was obvious Kohn wanted to react; maybe cuss at Jax, attack him, or something simpler that his body, being in such a poor condition as it was, could take. However, he remained silent, teeth gnawing at his cut lips, eyes blazing with hatred and unaccomplished revenge.

Jax revelled in it, fed on every vein that popped on Kohn's face and neck as he attempted to rein himself in, on the twitching of his weak limbs that had been rendered useless under Sons' mighty feet and fists, on the blood that started trickling from his lip down his chin as he undoubtedly choked on the words he would otherwise spew at Jax.

Leaning over, voice lower and far more intimidating than usual, Jax spoke.

"I wanted you to know that you have brought this on yourself. For every slap, every kick, every punch you ever gave to Tara, you'll get a thousand more. And while you are rotting here like some rancid, dried up candy ass, choking on your stale blood and spit, wondering when exactly your worthless life went to shit, Tara and I will be enjoying the outside," he paused for a brief moment then continued, fuelling his tone with the hatred he felt for the person sitting across from him. "With our family. All the shit you made her go through... It's only gonna get worse for you. Of that, I will make sure."

There it was - that pang of pleasure at having rubbed the salt into this fucker's wounds and watching as the disdain he must've felt for Jax spread further into his rotting self.

Jax wanted him to know he didn't succeed in destroying neither Tara nor him. He wanted Kohn to know their life would continue to be blissfully happy as if never touched by his perverted hands. Saying it to Kohn's mangled-up face was far more gratifying than just repeating it to himself for comfort.

The physical wounds - that hurt, Jax was well aware. But the emotional ones? Those destroyed you, ripped you open anew just when you thought you'd overcome them. For those like Kohn, who enjoyed manipulating those he perceived weaker, this would be the ultimate defeat.

He didn't succeed in ruining Tara's life, she didn't let him. And for as long as he is locked up in here, Jax wouldn't let him breathe a day with ease.

Jax didn't wait for an answer, couldn't care less if the guy had any. Jax got this off his chest and he could move forward without ever sparing a second thought to the shithead that was the former ATF agent Kohn.

As he stood up and started moving towards the exit, he could hear faint grunts and cussing coming from the prisoner and the guards that handcuffed him again, but those died out as soon as he was out under the scorching California sun, dialling his fiancée and hearing her voice in his ears.

Your eyes are not deceiving you. It is indeed an update. I was watching Mayans MC and a wave of nostalgia overcame me. I started missing jax and Tara and decided to rewatch SoA. I was halfway through s01 when I got hit with inspiration. I always intended to finish this story. Life, uni, things in general have been preventing me from doing it, but hopefully, this will be the year! No promises bcs I'm obviously terrible at keeping them lol I hope there are still people reading Jax and Tara fics or SoA fics in general. I wouldn't mind any of the OG people stopping by to say hi. I really do miss interacting with other fans and my readers. Read you soon xo