**I own nothing you recognize.**

They sit across from one another at the tiny table situated in her kitchenette, eating mostly in silence- except for Tara's soft hum of appreciation at the sight of the decadent slice of cheesecake he'd added to the order on a whim. The sandwiches are legendary, according to the print on the paper bag, the house-made chips pleasantly crisp and the sodas appropriately fizzy. But it all may as well have been made of fucking cardboard, because Jax doesn't taste a goddamn morsel of his first meal in a day or more.

He's too busy studying her to care what the hell he's eating. Too busy noting all the little things that have changed about her- and all the other little things that are exactly as he remembered- to give a shit about whether this is truly the best sandwich in Tacoma.

Her hair isn't as luxuriously long as it was back in Charming- but it isn't as short as it had been in her headshot for the clinic, either, and he itches to reach across the few feet that separate them and graze the dark, silky tips like he used to. It's tucked behind her ears as he remembers it so often had been, revealing every inch of her pink lips, soft green eyes, dark lashes, and luminous skin. To his mildly pleasant surprise, her cheeks pinken every time she glances up and catches him watching her like this.

Christ, he just can't help it. She's just so fucking beautiful- somehow every bit the girl he remembers and at the same time, she's brand new to him. He notices the way she's biting her lip nervously- she hadn't been nervous in his presence since she was fifteen and newly returned to Charming. Can't help but catch the new calm, cool poise that somehow seems to be magnified in his presence, when he'd once been the recipient of her rare, real smiles. His eyes land on the watch she now wears on her thin wrist, and with a jolt, he notes the absence of nearly every other piece of jewelry he'd ever given her except the compass, yet another sign that she'd all but erased him from her life, however she could manage.

And still, Jax can't seem to stop cataloging every little piece of her- as if by doing so, he'll build a picture of who she'd become without him and fill in all the parts he'd missed.

Of course, those parts he'd missed are exactly why they're sitting here, eating in silence instead of talking, teasing, laughing, flirting, like they used to. Jax sighs, finishing the last of his chips and pushing the empty container away- not that he'd tasted them, anyway. Mentally, he also pushes away the looming self-doubt and blame that's been lingering in the back of his mind since she'd opened the apartment door. Hell, way before that.

But though it's not like it used to be, it's enough, just being here with her.

Who the hell are you kidding?

Mentally shaking his head at himself, Jax comes, once again, to the conclusion that this will never be enough. Not until he's somehow able to prove himself to her and get her to let him back in. Tara inviting him into her apartment's the first step, but he's got to find a way to get her to let him back into her life- this time, for good.

Christ, say something, Teller…

Jax clears his throat.

"So, uh… how are you liking your classes?" The irony that he'd have felt like a fucking dork asking that same question of anyone but Tara doesn't escape him. She's the only person he's ever met that revels in essays, exams, and lectures- but it's also their first real conversation about something other than their fucked-up situation. Still, as that familiar, unguarded grin blooms on her face at the prospect of sharing one of her true passions with him, Jax knows he's landed on safe ground.

"They're wonderful," Tara says earnestly, placing the remnants of her own sandwich on the plate and dropping her napkin on top. "Because of my internship in Charming, and all my advance credits and the second summer term, I was able to take some advanced classes this semester." And as her cheeks flush with excitement as she details all the new and interesting experiences she'd had at one of the state's best schools, Jax is once again hit with a rush of emotion. God, when's the last time he'd seen her this excited about something- this goddamn happy?

Then, pride, affection, and love mix with a swirl of envy- envy that she's found her place here, away from him. And now, when he's no longer even sure that he still wants the spot he'd been groomed to fill his entire life, Jax can't help but face the nerves that loom on its heels.

Hell, Tara'd grown, changed, and is thriving in her new life. All he'd managed to do is fall the fuck apart and half-drown himself in Jack and bud. Even the main reason he'd resisted the idea of leaving town along with her- his sense of duty to his father's club- rests squarely on his ability to get his head out of his ass and prove himself. Jax can't help but chuckle, humorlessly, at the thought that six months ago, he'd had all he'd ever wanted- his girl, his club, and his best friend. Now, a series of cruel twists of fate and his own goddamn pride had him sitting here, in polite conversation with someone who may as well be a stranger. Someone who used to be the one person who'd once known him better than anyone on the face of the earth.

"Jax?" She's looking at him, a mix of curiosity and something he doesn't recognize resting on those beautiful features, and it's clear she'd been waiting on him to respond. His brain scrambles to come up with something, anything to say in return besides what he'd just been thinking. There's no goddamn way he's up for that discussion. Not yet.

"I uh…" Jax clears his throat, flailing for a moment before landing on what seems like a safe topic. "I was just thinkin'- you excited about school like that, it's reminding me of Trini. Shit, we can't nearly get a word in edgewise afternoons she's over at the garage after school." He pastes on a grin. "Only person I've ever met likes school as much as you." Tara returns his smile, but he doesn't miss the flash of pain that crosses her features a moment later. Shit.

"I think that's one reason we connected like we did, me and Trinity. But not the only reason" she says, sadly. "Neither of us had ever had siblings before she came to Charming. But once she was in my life, she was like the little sister I never had." Tara looks down at her hands. "I just hate that I can't be there for her now, you know?"

Jax is quite literally swallowing the urge to blurt out what's on the tip of his tongue- that she could've been there for Trinity (and him) as much as she goddamn wanted over the past several months- when Tara draws in a shaky breath and bites her lip. The strain of guilt- and the glint of tears in her eyes- have him reining in his indignation and reassuring her.

"Trini's fine, Babe. She misses you, but she understands, as much as a kid her age can." But Tara's already shaking her head.

"That's just it, Jax. I was only nine when my mom died and everything happened with my dad. A little younger than Trinity is now, but not much. All I can remember is wondering why he didn't want me anymore- why whiskey was so much more important to him than being a dad. I didn't understand any of it until I came back to Charming when I was almost 16- and probably not even then." Her chin quivers, and Jax's heart lurches- Christ, he hates seeing her hurt. "But Trinity- she lost her mom, her stepfather, and her home all at once. Moved halfway around the world to live with a family she'd just learned about. I hate that I'm just someone else in her life that abandoned her."

"Tara-"

"And it's not just Trinity, either," Tara continues, as if he hadn't spoken. "We all struggled after Opie got arrested, but Donna…" She swallows and looks away from him then, her eyes glistening. "The person she loves more than anything is in prison, probably for years, she has no family in Charming anymore, and nobody but her friends to help her through it." Biting her lip, Tara lifts her shimmering eyes to meet his. "I'm her best friend, Jax, and I abandoned her, too, because I just- I couldn't stay in Charming one more minute. And I couldn't trust myself not to come running back the minute someone asked me to."

Jax smiles, sadly, reaching across the table to grip both her hands.

"You needed a clean break, Babe. I get it, and Donna does too." Though he doesn't- not really. Christ, would it have been so terrible if she'd have told him where she was going and given him a chance to get his head out of his ass? If he'd followed her up here, gotten on his knees and fucking begged her for foregiveness? If they'd have made some sort of plan so she could go to school and he could make the trip on weekends or school breaks- though he knows from experience it would've practically killed him to be away from her even that long.

But even as his mind starts traveling down its familiar path, that inner voice is right there to remind him of precisely why that shit would've never worked. Jesus, Teller, you'd already made her that promise… and when was the last time you kept your goddamn promises? Tara's one of the most caring people he knows, evidenced by the way she already feels guilty as hell for leaving Donna. By the time he and especially fucking Gemma had had the chance to press hard on that sore spot, he knows she'd have put herself last once again.

As if reading his thoughts, Tara shakes her head, frowning.

"We needed a clean break, Jax. God, the first weeks I was here, I knew I only had the strength to leave Charming once. But Donna and Trinity didn't deserve to suffer because I can't trust myself to do what's smart when it comes to you." Christ, that hurt. Still, Jax manages to keep the wince off his face as Tara continues. "I'm not proud to admit that it took me weeks to build up the courage to even call Donna- and even then I was more than a little drunk."

The fuck? This is the first he's heard of Tara reaching out to anyone but Angela Carlson over these intervening weeks. Evidently, the fact that Donna had talked to his girl was on a need-to-know basis, and Donna hadn't thought he needed to know. Jesus, had she known where to find Tara? Maybe weeks before he himself had worked it out? Then, his bristling anger is quickly tempered with Tara's next words.

"Even then, Donna was more concerned about me, you, and Opie to even think about herself. Said she understood why I needed to leave, and asked that I think about calling you to let you know I was safe." Tara chuckles, humorlessly. "Maybe you know how that ended up." Christ, he'd all but forgotten about the phone call he'd missed, the crow eater who had gone out of her way to give Tara exactly the wrong impression…So much shit had happened since then. Jax shakes his head, ready to explain what she'd overheard- but she silences him with a look. "Opie explained what happened, Jax, it's okay. And even if he hadn't, I just…" Tara extracts her hands from his, gesturing vaguely. "Look, I left you. It wasn't my business anymore what you, um, what you chose to do."

"Jesus Christ, Tara-" Jax stops short, suddenly unsure whether he's reacting to her insinuation that she wouldn't have cared if he'd moved on because she'd moved on- or because she'd needed Ope to explain to her that there's no way in hell he'd ever have replaced her with anyone, let alone a goddamn croweater.

And then, the other shoe drops- she'd talked to both Donna and Opie in the past few months, and neither of them had mentioned it during their near-weekly visits? Gritting his teeth, he tries to stifle his quickly-rising fury- the last thing he needs is to scare her off or do something dumb and get himself kicked out of her apartment. So, instead, he closes his eyes to give himself a moment. Take that up with Ope…later.

"I just…" Jax pushes a breath out through his nostrils, which has Tara narrowing her eyes at him. Apparently he's given himself away again. Great. "It's sorta a mind fuck, is all. Bein' the only one who didn't know where you were for months-"

"What are you talking about, Jax?"

"Donna, Ope, fuckin' Angela…" He meets her bewildered eyes. "And none of 'em said a damn word-"

"Because Donna didn't know," she counters.

"You just said-"

"I said I called Donna, because I hated myself for leaving after Opie got locked up and I wanted to make sure she was OK. But like I also said, she was pretty great about the whole thing. She didn't even ask where I was, because she knew what it was like for us in Charming, and I think she knew the pressure it would put on me then. All she asked was that I go see Opie, both for him and for me." At this, Jax's eyes widen.

"You went down to Cali to see him?" Tara nods, silently, and Jax feels his anger dissipating, replaced once again by affection for the girl before him, one of the most caring people he knows. Of course she'd been to see Opie.

"And before you ask, unlike Donna, Opie did want to know where I was- he said someone should know in case something came up. But I didn't want to put that burden on him- I knew he'd feel disloyal to one of us no matter what he decided. So I just reassured him that Angela knew because she'd given me a reference for my work-study job, and if an emergency came up, she'd know how to reach me."

Too late, Jax realizes it hadn't even occurred to him to ask Opie if he'd had any updates on Tara- not that he'd known anything anyway. Hell, the guy had been completely taken by surprise by the fact that Tara had left in the first place. Still, he can't help but wonder what- if anything- Opie would have revealed if he'd asked. Or what he'd have said if JT or Piney had asked, instead…which triggers another question.

"Why'd you call that night, Tara? What difference would it have made?"

She clutches her arms, as if she'd just caught a chill. Jax is sure as shit feeling one, since her rapidly ascending emotions from a few minutes ago are once again walled 's back to the cool, composed Tara he's all too familiar with since his arrival on her doorstep. Well, he's not letting her shut him out again. Not a goddamn chance.

"None of that matters… not now."

"You'll always matter to me." Tara shrugs, looking away, and Jax pauses, carefully considering his next words. "Just wish I could say the same for you."

"What the hell does that mean?" She asks, narrowing her eyes.

"You cut me out of your life, Tara, in every way possible. Look, like I said before, I get why you had to leave. I get that you needed a clean break- I fuckin' get it, OK? But you didn't give me a goddamn chance to make things right-" he can't help it, his gaze seems to travel to her ringless finger on its own accord "-and you erased me from your life here as much as you could."

"Are you fucking serious?" Now, Tara's sitting ramrod straight in the chair across from him, cheeks aflame, green eyes piercing into his own to the extent that Jax actually has to look away. And now he's torn, between hating himself for picking this fight with her, desperation to say what's been on his mind for the last hour, and the sheer satisfaction that comes with taking her to the point she'd been so diligently avoiding. "You're really going to sit there, after shutting me out for weeks whether we were in the same room or a hundred miles apart, and accuse me of cutting you out of my life?"

"Point taken, Babe." Jax smirks, though it quickly falters as he continues. "But it doesn't make it hurt any less seein' every bit of us just…gone. Christ, Tara, you got rid of every gift I ever gave you, every picture, every memory you could. It's like I never existed- like we never happened."

"And why do you think that is, Jax?" Tara asks, eyes glinting with tears once again. "Why do you think I can't stand to be surrounded by reminders of what we used to be? Why do you think I left our quilt behind, packed up all our photos, took off my ring-"

"Because you moved on!" Jax roars, unable to stop himself from bolting up out of his chair, sending the small table skidding across the tile- his vision narrowing until all he can see is her. And at once, he's assaulted with visions of her, leaving him all over again. "You started your new life, and you left me behind, like we were nothing. Christ, you said it yourself, Tara- I'm not your business anymore, right?"

"Jackson-" The combination of his given name and her voice- soft and plaintive- has him stopping in his tracks, his heart pounding even as his momentary temper diminishes. Christ, she hadn't called him Jackson since-

"It was the only way I could survive this- being without you. Seeing us- seeing you everywhere I went…it was just too painful. So I didn't- I couldn't-" her voice breaks, and Jax's heart breaks all over again along with it. And now, she's suppressing a sob and sliding back from the table, righting her now-empty soda cup as his vision clears. Shit, he'd jolted the table enough that he'd knocked over her damn cup, sending a steady stream of soda dripping over the edge. The foggy remnants of his self-righteous anger dissipate almost as quickly as they came, as he watches her hastily dab at the front of the flannel shirt she's wearing. A shirt that, much like the girl wearing it, had once been his.

And just like that, Jax becomes suddenly, painfully aware of exactly how bad he'd messed up. He'd lost his shit, exactly what he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't do. Now, Tara's sniffling outright, the hurt and desperation clear on her face as she once again cleans up the fucking mess he'd made of everything.

Fuck.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Let me help-" Even as he reaches across the table to toss a few napkins on the quickly-spreading puddle, Tara's moving away from him and towards the sink. He watches as she whips off the flannel and turns the tap handle, holding the shirt under a steady stream of water.

Christ, her shoulders are shaking, you asshole…

Momentarily abandoning his cleanup efforts, Jax moves slowly into the kitchen, cursing his clumsiness but most of all, his goddamn temper. He'd promised himself he'd tread lightly with her, vowed to steer clear of the shit that had caused the emotional upheaval of earlier in the day- and he'd just done exactly the opposite.

Gingerly, Jax takes the few steps to the counter, where Tara's silently working at the shirt. As he edges past her to retrieve a kitchen towel, he touches her side, diligently ignoring the creamy expanse of skin at her shoulders and arms she's revealed now that she's wearing only the spaghetti-strap tank top she'd had on underneath the flannel. She jumps, slightly, once again reminding him that she's no longer accustomed to his touch, and stifles a sob. How the hell had he let it come to this? Sighing, he leans against the counter next to her, the mess all but forgotten.

"I'm so sorry, Tara. I didn't-"

"No, I'm being stupid," Tara returns in a sort of strangled, half-chuckle, half-sob. "It's just-" she lifts her eyes to his, wide and shining with tears, sending another jolt of guilt slicing through his chest. "I told you I needed to cut you out just to stay sane… to keep myself from getting lost in the memories of what we used to be. And it's true- I knew, somehow, that if I let myself keep wearing your ring, looking at our photos, getting caught up in the life we'd planned, there was no way I'd ever start living the one I really had. But this-'' she gestures weakly at the sodden heap of flannel in the sink, "This is the one weakness I let myself have. When things got too hard- when I was missing you so much I couldn't breathe- well…Wearing your shirt- it helped, some." She shrugs, swiping at the tears on her cheeks, and turns back to the sink. "I hate myself for it a little more every time, so I guess it's only fair that you hate me, too."

Distracted from reassuring Tara that he doesn't hate her- could never hate her- because his mind is suddenly flooded with images of her, missing him and wrapped in his ancient flannel shirt, Jax almost misses it. The moment when Tara reaches to the far end of the counter for something- what, it doesn't matter- the bottom-most layers of her hair slipping off to the side, the top of her tank straining to cover the smooth expanse of her upper back. Almost misses what the soft fabric had just barely revealed. Except- apparently excluding the fact that she'd been drowning back in Charming- there's very little he misses when it comes to her.

His glimpse of it is so fleeting that by the time she's back to scrubbing furiously at the shirt, the silky strands of her hair once again falling in waves past the tops of her shoulders, he's wondering if he's imagined it. The briefest flash of black ink peeping out from behind her faded, gray camisole.

Suddenly, Jax's mind is whirling, the questions and conjectures coming so rapid-fire it's almost dizzying. Had Tara really gotten a tattoo? When? Most importantly, of what? Despite their recent separation- and the chasm that seems to have grown between them because of it- he knows her. Knows fundamentally that she's not the type to get just anything permanently inked onto her skin. Hell, they'd had at least two heated arguments- and one particularly memorable make-up session- regarding the crow so many women associated with SAMCRO had chosen to adorn their bodies. What had been so close to her heart that she'd chosen to inscribe it on herself, forever?

Almost without realizing it, Jax is closing the short distance between them to move behind her- only to stop short, once again, hating that all the shit between them has him this unsure, hesitant. Remembering her reaction just minutes before, he has to physically restrain himself from touching her like he wants to and shoves his hands into his pockets instead. He's not altogether sure what the rules are, here- how to navigate whatever they've become…But he has to know.

"Tara…" He's careful to keep his voice soft, gentle- the polar fucking opposite of how it had been just a few minutes ago. At the sound of her name, her hands still beneath the water streaming into the sink. From his vantage point just behind her, Jax can see her breathing pick up, but she doesn't answer. Reaching around her, he eases the tap handle to the off position, and in the quickly descending silence, he tries again.

"Tara, is that- Are you-" Why is this so fucking hard? He clears his throat and makes a final attempt at what's suddenly the most important question he's ever asked. "Did you get a tattoo?"

From the way Tara flinches, Jax instantly realizes she'd forgotten all about her ink in the moment. He tries not to wonder if he'd have ever been aware of its presence had he not lost his temper a few minutes ago, and focuses on the soft skin now out of his view, the shuddering breath she takes in as he waits. Then, she's nodding, wordlessly, though she makes no move either towards or away from him. And at once, it's like his blood is screaming through his veins, urging his hands to move the damned shirt out of the way so that one more piece of her puzzle- the Tara she'd become in his absence- clicks into place.

The desire to know wars with the knowledge that he has to be patient with her. Tara's body's frozen into place, and Jax finds himself altogether lost as to what to do next. As a result, it's a few, excruciating moments before he manages a strangled,

"Can I… Can I see?"

The silence that follows stretches on even more interminably, as his every thought, his every sense, zeroes in on her. The familiar scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils, the slender arms braced tensely against the counter in front of her, the quick rise and fall of her chest just over her shoulder- and the spot he's now desperate to see, hidden beneath a fall of chestnut hair. Then, slowly, she lowers her head, reaching back to draw her hair over a narrow shoulder. Jax's vision tunnels until all he knows- all he can see in the world- is the sliver of crisp black contrasting against the pale skin between her shoulder blades.

When it's clear she's done all she's going to do and he's going to have to take over if he wants his questions answered, Jax moves cautiously, as if, with one misplaced touch, she'll spook and disappear from his life all over again. Still, though he could have simply tugged down her tank top and been done with it, he can't resist grazing his fingers along her skin and over the delicate ink just visible above its border.

Lettering, he realizes as he dips his fingers beneath the hem, gently sliding the fabric down just enough- or so he thought. Instead, the movement reveals an expanse of ink he hadn't expected, its striking lines traveling well down the smooth skin of Tara's back.

Holy. Shit.

The thought of all that soft skin forever marked with something that evidently means a great deal to her instantly has all his blood rushing southward. It's a hell of a tattoo, and he hasn't even allowed his rapidly scattering mind the time to decipher what it reads. Carefully, he moves her top down until the thin elastic straps are nearly threadbare and threatening to break- and only then does he allow himself to focus on the elegantly flowing script.

He can only see the top few lines in full, before the letters are lost in the shadows that meet the fabric of her tank top, but his mouth goes dry as he begins to read.

He was my North, my South,

My East, my West,

My working week
And my Sunday rest,

"My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,

I thought that love would last forever;" Jax mumbles, continuing the rest of the excerpt from memory, although he can't make out where, exactly, the tattoo ends.

"I was wrong…"

Tara's soft, sweet voice murmurs his least favorite part of what had become "their poem" and Jax isn't sure whether the finality of those words or the realization of what it all means is what has him struggling to breathe.

It isn't the old lady tattoo, his name, or any other symbol he'd seen around the clubhouse; instead, she'd inscribed him on herself, as only she could. She'd cut him out of her life in every way but one, and the evidence is right there before him in stark, black ink.

Jax wants to ask a thousand questions- when she'd done this and why, if she'd included the final line he'd avoided saying…the one she herself had recited a moment ago. But, almost before he realizes it, he's bowing his head instead.

Slowly, he brushes his lips over the N- he'd always thought of her as his true North- hesitating a moment as she draws a sharp breath inwards. Then, she shivers, goosebumps prickling like wildfire over the once smooth expanse of skin- and instinct overtakes him. He mouths kisses across the rest of North- situated in the slight hollow between her shoulder blades, and as her breathing quickens, so does his own. He lingers there, paying due reverence to the one sure sign she's given him that there's still hope for him- for them. She gives him another when her head drops forward and she releases a deep, shuddering sigh.

And in the end, Jax finds that he just can't help it- can't not taste the sweetness of her skin after having been denied the pleasure for months, can't stop exploring what's been forbidden territory during those lost days with his lips, then his tongue. He travels this way on and on up the column of her spine, his breath heating her skin, her response sending fire through his veins. She's silent, sure, but the way her breath catches when he finally reaches her neck speaks volumes.

Jax zeroes in on the pulse tapping crazily against her delicate skin, drawing it into his mouth until she practically melts back against him, tilting her head back until it rests on his shoulder. Encouraged, he drags his lips up the smooth lines of her neck, dropping kisses where it pleases him. His hands- idle, thus far- suddenly spring to life, skimming her hip bones until they meet in the middle, drawing her even more firmly against him. It's almost enough to make up for the time lost- the taste of her skin once again, the feel of her backside nestled against his zipper, the way she tilts her chin, expectantly…

But it'll never be enough, he remembers, having chastised himself with exactly this realization earlier. And the thought is echoing in his brain right up until his mind empties completely, when Tara closes those last few inches and meets his lips with her own.

Turning her in his arms, his earlier caution is a distant memory as he plunders her mouth with his tongue. His hands leave her hips and skim up her sides before burying themselves in the thick mass of her hair, tilting her chin just how he wants her- needs her- stringing kiss after kiss after kiss until they're both breathless. Even then, he takes only a moment's pause, granting her no refuge, no chance to take it all back.

Fuck, he loves her so much.

Christ, had he even told her that? Or she, him? Determined, Jax sets about proving it so without the words, with exactly what he knows she likes, biting down gently on her lower lip and sucking it into his mouth for a taste. Slowly, he gives it several long pulls, drawing her even closer until she releases a breathy moan. She's soft and hot, and everything he's ever wanted- everything he felt like he was dying without during those months of torturous misery. And as she reaches up, first to frame his jaw with her delicate hands, then to twist her fingers into his hair, he's assailed with the knowledge that she'd experienced the same pain.

Desperate to set them both free from their shared misery, Jax runs his hands down her back and curls his own fingers against her ass, setting up a rhythm that's somehow both familiar and foreign after so long. Tara's hum of pleasure is lost in the abyss as he claims her mouth hungrily and they kiss, and kiss and kiss. And somehow- though he'd never forgotten the exhilarating mutual passion that had always flowed between them- at the same time, it's more intense than he even remembers, the electricity crackling between them and firing his every nerve almost until instinct takes over.

Months ago, he'd have followed their tumultuous clash together to its foregone conclusion- just like he wants more than anything to do right now. He wants to palm her soft curves and lift her up onto the kitchen counter; he wants- Christ, he needs to reach in between them, tear open his fly, tug her shorts and panties to the side, and drive them past the point of no return… Move inside her until she loves him again, until they're back home at long last.

Instead, Jax gathers the few functional brain cells that aren't currently screaming at him to take her, bury himself in her, and wills his fingers to release themselves from the death grip he'd had on her ass- though he continues to hold her against him. Christ, he wants her so fucking bad- but somehow, he's got the sneaking suspicion she'd never forgive him if he pushed her too far right now. He consoles himself by pressing lingering kisses to her full lips until he's no longer sure he's sane, then rests his forehead against hers, their ragged breaths mingling as they slowly descend back into reality…together.

Jax opens his eyes long before Tara, and so he has time to study her features anew while he waits. Nearly breathless, he takes in the dark smudge of her lashes against her pink cheek, the way the delicate bow of her lips remains slightly open, the strand of hair caught beneath the sharp line of her chin. As his fingers drift up to trace the outlines of the new ink between her shoulder blades, he realizes that all the same questions are still there. The slow, steady, pulsing in his groin had served only briefly to drive them out of his head, but even now as the heat of the moment has passed, he can't bring himself to ask them. Somehow, he can't move, can't speak, until he hears what she says next.

At long last, Tara takes a deep, bracing breath, and then her lids flutter open. She's peering up at him through those long lashes, the uncertainty clear in her slowly widening green eyes until he wishes like hell he'd just kept on kissing her like he'd wanted more than anything in this world. Because now, she's repeating her protest from the first time he'd kissed her today- or maybe it's just what had been floating in his mind then, too.

"It can't be this easy, Jax…"

And he doesn't know if she's trying to convince him, or herself- but he's ready for her with the simple truth.

"Lovin' each other is the easy part, Babe." She blinks up at him, slowly, and he's struck, once again- this time while he's got a relatively clear head- with the realization that he's still not said the most important part of all this aloud. Time to rectify that. Dipping his head, he kisses her gently again, though it's far too briefly for his liking, he's got shit to say. Then, withdrawing the smallest fraction of an inch, he does what he can to hold her gaze before continuing. "I love you, Tara. I think I always have."

Maybe it should be telling that she closes her eyes again briefly before murmuring her response.

"Me too."

Through it all- finding the apartment empty, reading her letter and learning she'd left him, those months without her, and even watching her find happiness away from him- Jax'd certainly felt pain on various levels. Some of it was practically unbearable, to the point that he'd doubted his ability to go on without her; some stayed with him nearly all the time, a constant ache he'd learned to carry with him even as he continued about his days. But he hadn't been prepared for the knife to twist in even deeper even now, after he'd found her.

Jax knows he's done a lot of stupid shit- too many things to even count at this point- but he's never been an idiot; so, he knows by now he can't fix this overnight, even though he'd held out hope for far too long that just showing up for her would be enough. Hell, though he's barely through his prospect year, he's been in the life long enough to know fairytales are few and fucking far between.

But…holy hell, she can't even tell him she loves him? Is this what they've come to?

No, fuck that, the inner Jax roars, indignant. And he has to agree. Christ, he knows he'd hurt her, knows she'd hurt him in return, probably more than most other couples he knows could withstand. But the tattoo, the kiss they'd just shared, the fact that she's still the caring, loving person he's known since as long as he can remember, has him pressing closer, insistent.

"Do you love me?" Jax demands. Again, she hesitates, as if trying to gauge the situation. Maybe its fitting that it's one he finds extremely fucking straightforward. "It's a simple question, Babe."

"It's… not a simple answer."

Well, at least it's not a no, his mind supplies, uselessly. But as Tara bites her lip, looking trapped and a little desperate for the first time, he relents, if only slightly- his subconscious chiding him once again that she's been hurt just as much as he has. So, he adjusts his line of questioning, if only a little.

Straightening, but refusing to back away from her and let her shut him out once again, Jax reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Flipping it open, he extracts the folded square of paper he's carried with him for months, worn soft to the touch, to the point that the ink is visible on the blank side of the paper. He holds it between two fingers, dangling it in her line of vision, and knows the precise moment she recognizes it for what it is because her mouth drops open the slightest bit. Wisely, he doesn't let his answering smirk reach his lips.

"The shit you wrote in this letter… that you'll always love me, that you'll be hoping and praying the universe brings us back together- is it true?" He doesn't give her time to answer before curling his hand around her waist, sliding it upwards to cover her tattoo. "The way you felt when you got this…" She closes her eyes, and he can't help but drive his point home even harder. "The way you felt for me- do you still feel that way now?"

For the second time in as many minutes she practically impales him with the force of the mistrust and conflict in her green eyes. It has all his guilt and self-doubt coming howling back, quickly supplanting his brief moment of hope. Her answer, though, has his pulse ratcheting up again.

"It's like you said, Jax…loving you is what's easy." His heart lurches in his chest, like it's picking up speed and racing towards some type of precipice. It's not an I love you, but it might be as much as he can hope for at this point. She confirms his suspicions as she steps away from him and rests her hand on his chest, like she knows all too well the wild ride he's on as he waits for her to continue. "What we had, though, it wasn't easy… It was fucking hard- especially at the end. That I've gotta be with you every minute or I'm gonna kill myself kind of hard. By the time I left Charming, I barely knew how to survive without you- and from what Donna and Opie told me, you were the same way." Jax nods, silently. Everyone in Charming with a goddamn kutte or crow- and more than a few people without either- had borne witness to the way he'd completely lost his shit when he'd lost her.

Tara shakes her head, as if seeing him as he'd been, lonely, miserable, and lost in a sea of Jack and bud without her.

"I can't do that again, Jax. Can't let you be my entire world and take the risk that it'll all come crashing down on me the next time something happens to us." Tara smiles, sadly. "And even though there's all this…shit between us now, I care too much about this-" she moves closer, taps her fingers on his heart "-to let you do the same. We're miserable when we're apart- I know that now…God, Baby, do I know it… but picking up where we left off isn't the answer. Maybe we're not the answer." She looks up at him again, shadows of doubt and resignation where love and trust had once resided. And all at once it's like his heart's plummeting over the edge, entering freefall as she finishes, "Maybe it would've been easier if we'd just ended this after graduation."

Silenced by the truth she'd just drowned him in- and altogether uncertain how to reassure Tara, himself, that things will be different now- Jax does nothing but study her beloved face, searching fruitlessly for answers he knows in his heart will need to come from him, not her. But when he feels her fingers begin to drift away from his chest, sees her move to turn back to the sink, away from him, desperation finally spurs his response. He snags her wrist just before it leaves him altogether and tugs her back, releasing her only when he's sure she's going to stay put. Pushing out a breath, he rakes his free hand through his hair, as if to give her an inkling just how much he has riding on what he's about to say.

"How do I fix this, Tara? I know you still love me, even if you won't say it. So how do we get there? How do you trust me- trust us- again?"

Tara smiles up at him, but it's a sad smile, her eyes shining not with love for him, but with unshed tears.

"If I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't be here, would we?" He's still turning that over in his mind when she finally does back away from him- but just enough to rest against the countertop, her arms crossed tightly against her chest, as if protecting herself from what she knows is coming next. Jax moves slowly, then, cautiously assuming the position that once felt so natural to him- at her side, his arms similarly folded and brushing against hers with every deep breath. The glancing contact- insignificant enough to go unnoticed had it been anyone but her- sending shivers radiating up his arm and down his spine.

"Well, we're here, Babe- as much as I wish I could take it all back," Jax manages, doing his best to ignore the response she's inspiring in him even now. "But I can't. I hurt you by pushing you away, by making you feel like you had no choice but to leave. And even though I know, now, that you needed to go, it hurt me, too." He dares a glance at her, standing motionless by his side, and doesn't bother to categorize the emotion that rushes through him when the tears that had threatened a minute ago are running down her cheeks.

"We can't take any of it back, and we can't change what happened. And maybe it would've been easier if we'd have just given up-" Jax pauses, searching for the words to tell her what he knows is true. "But we're just better human beings when we're with the person we're supposed to be with- and that means I'm never giving up on us." She's silent, still, so he continues, his voice echoing through the quiet apartment. "Just tell me what I gotta do for you to let me back in- and I swear on my fuckin' life, Tara, I'll make it happen. I promi-"

"You know," Tara interrupts, her voice steady, even, despite the tears streaking her face, "You've made promises before… And you've broken every one of them."

"Babe-"

"I'm not trying to be a bitch, Jax, or hold shit over your head that you can't change. I'm not delusional. I just-" she makes a frustrated motion with her hands, bumping his arm in the process. "You asked what it would take to trust you again, and I don't… I don't know when I'll ever trust you to keep one of your promises."

On some level, he'd known that truth long before he'd shown up on her doorstep. Hell, it's probably half the goddamn reason it had taken him this long to get his shit together and go to her. Still, it's worse than a fucking knife to the chest to actually hear it- her uncertainty that she'd ever be able to let him back in again.

Only this time, he's ready for her.

"I know that, Tara. Trus-" Jax stops himself just in time, before he asks her to trust him yet again. "I know," he finishes, with- he hopes- some goddamn conviction. "Sayin' it ain't enough, I get that. That's why I'm here- to show you I'll do what I gotta do to make this work. Starting with getting the hell out of Charming, so I can be with you and live the life we shoulda had all along." Now it's her turn to protest.

"Jax-"

"Just listen a minute, okay? I already told you, I'm puttin' in the time to make it work up here. Koz n' me, we're here on a temporary transfer, but I got a real shot at makin' something of myself, really helping the club. They're legit, Tara, they got out of all the shit my old man was worried about at the same time SAMCRO did, and they got a real solid business up here. I'm learning more every day." Ignoring her raised eyebrow, he continues.

"And once I prove to Lee and the others that I'm worth a shit- worth more than just my last name- I'm askin' for a transfer. My old man- he'll stand behind me, and he'll put in a good word with the SAMTAC crew. I know he will- he knows I got to leave Charming to be able to stand on my own two feet, be someone besides JT's kid or the fuckin' Prince." Jax snorts, then, though visions of Tig and the guys taunting him flee just as quickly as they appeared. Sobering, he sighs heavily. "It's somethin' I gotta do, Tara- just like you needed to come up here and make somethin' of yourself, I need to be…whoever I am, outside of Redwood." He glances sideways at Tara to find her gazing straight ahead at the blank partial wall that just barely separates her kitchen from the rest of the efficiency and plays the only trump card he has left. "And I need- I want- to do all of it with you by my side."

"I won't be here forever, Jax…" Tara murmurs, almost as if she hadn't heard him. "As much as I love it here in Tacoma, my goals haven't changed. I still want to be a doctor- maybe even a surgeon- and that means I'll be in school for a while. They don't have a medical school here, so in a few years, I'll need to transfer somewhere else. If I'm lucky, that'll be up at U Dub in Seattle, or even down in Sacramento. If not-" she bites her lip and Jax feels the dread pooling in his gut. "My advisor says schools like Loyola Med and even Northwestern might be my best option."

Christ… Jax has no clue where the hell Loyola is, but he'd heard her mention Northwestern long ago before all this- and he's pretty goddamn sure it's in Chicago or some damn place. Still, he keeps his face blank, his voice even- because there's no fucking way they're going through this again. Not even if it means going Nomad.

"I'm stealin' your words, Tara- I'm not delusional. I know me comin' up here is just the start of the shit we got to do to be together. But it's happening, Babe. And when we figure out what's comin' next, I'll do what I have to do- we'll make a plan…together." Again, all she has for him is a shaky sigh, though this time, she angles her face up to his.

"We've made plans before, and look where we are now."

"I'm-" Frustrated, it's everything Jax can do not to slam his mouth into hers and shut her up- show her without words, with his body, just how serious he is. Knowing that will get them nowhere, he does the next best thing. "Christ, Tara, I'm here, whether you think you want me here right now or not '' Moving swiftly, he skims a hand up her back, rests it on the place he now knows her tattoo- his goddamn tattoo- resides. "But you should know, I'm done with tellin' you what I'm gonna do to make sure we stay together- I'll be showin' you. Proving to you that I'm not going anywhere this time, and that you still mean every goddamn word that's inked onto your back… And that's a fuckin' promise I'm keepin', Babe, whether you like it or not."

To his surprise, Tara merely nods. But as she moves to wipe her eyes, Jax notices for the second time just how exhausted and careworn she looks, and the guilt begins to seep in. Guilt over having made her cry countless times over the past months- and at least twice this morning… Guilt over turning their relatively pleasant meal together- the first they'd shared in what seemed like forever- into, well, this… Guilt over a thousand and one ways he'd made her life just a little bit worse instead of showing her every damn day just how much he loved her and all the ways she'd made his own life better.

And he knows it's a sentiment they share when Tara pastes on a smile he hadn't seen- at least not directed at himself- since the day she'd reappeared in his life a few short years ago. That weak, false, smile she reserves for times when she's about to make her excuses or say some shit the recipient doesn't want to hear.

"Well… I have an early class tomorrow, and a quiz I should be studying for, so…" Though Tara doesn't finish her thought, her meaning is clear: she expects him to leave. Seemingly reading his mind- and probably to banish any lingering fantasies he'd been harboring of her taking him by the hand and leading him to her bed, to put this behind them for good- she hurriedly adds "And I'm sure the club is expecting you to, um, report back in?"

Hell, he'd known it wouldn't be as easy as throwing her over his shoulder, hauling her off to bed, and not resurfacing for a week. He'd known it long before she'd just gently reminded him of his new position in her life- whatever the hell that is. So while he hadn't been expecting an invitation to stay over, it fucking stings just the same.

Returning her smile as best as he can manage, Jax catches her hands- currently clasped, one within the other, in what he'd long ago identified as a nervous habit- and folds them within his own. Silently, they both stare at their joined hands for several, long moments- before she shocks the hell out of him by squeezing, gently. Encouraged, Jax asks the only question he's got left-

"When can I see you again?"

As she peers up at him, some unknown emotion reflected in her eyes, he knows the irony of that question hasn't escaped her, either. After all, they'd once lived together, once been as close as two people can be. But her smile is real, this time, even if her answer isn't exactly what he wants to hear.

"I have a pretty full schedule of classes and work study all week. Then, I'm scheduled for a half day on Saturday, with tutoring after. But, um…" She clears her throat. "I'll probably be around in the evenings if you want to, you know- call…first?" Again, the strange prospect of having to call ahead to schedule a time to see his girl- if she's still his girl at all- hurts more than he'd expected.

Suck it up, Teller- you've gotta start somewhere.

"You got it, Babe."

That decided, Tara releases his hands and turns once again to survey the wreckage of her kitchen table, her eyes landing on the slowly spreading puddle of soda beneath. Shit.

Before she can move, Jax crosses the distance quickly, stooping to toss several paper napkins- and, as an afterthought, a kitchen towel- on the brown, syrupy, liquid.

"Oh, I can get that, you don't-"

"Naw, it was my fault," Jax dismisses, silencing her protests. He makes quick work of the puddle before carrying the dripping heap of soggy napkins to the trash. "Besides," he jokes, as he finishes, pausing, briefly to raise an eyebrow in Tara's direction as she hands him a damp cloth. "You're forgetting I've been a SAMCRO prospect- we cleaned up way nastier shit at the clubhouse." She rolls her eyes, but her brief chuckle is genuine- God does it feel good to laugh with her again. And even as he returns his attention to the soda, thriving in the bit of normalcy they've found, he's already thinking of ways to make it happen again.

A few swipes with the cloth later, all that's left for Jax to do is toss it back into the sink- though he's dreading that, too, since it means his time with her is almost at an end. So, he's happier than he would have anticipated to find that the sink is currently occupied by the other half of the mess he'd made- the soaking wet flannel shirt that used to be his own. Following his gaze, then pinkening just enough for him to notice, Tara chuckles again- this time, self-consciously.

"I guess I better get that in the wash before it gets musty. Though now it doesn't matter." At his questioning look, her blush deepens. "I'd um…" She clears her throat, again, "I wore it 'cause it smells like, uh, home- and now…" She shrugs, a bit awkwardly, and immediately he knows what she's not saying. He knows because he'd done the exact same fucking thing, and hauled their quilt from the apartment all the way over to his desolate room at the clubhouse and burrowed beneath it night after night- all because it still smelled like her. Of course, Gemma had nuked even that small piece of comfort when she'd razed the apartment in a hunt to destroy anything that reminded him of Tara. But still, he gets it. And suddenly he's grinning, because this, at least, is one damn thing he can easily fix for her.

"I got you covered, Babe." Winking at Tara, he unbuttons his own flannel shirt, then whips it off, exposing his standard white tee. Carefully, he drapes it over her shoulders. Much like the other one, it swallows her smaller frame- but still, it just looks…right. And he can't help noticing how much it feels like they're still them as long as she's wearing his clothing.

Then, from some far reaches of his mind,a weeks-ago memory surfaces. He's hit once again with images of that too-small tee of his she'd stolen years ago, the one he'd found deep in a dresser drawer where it had evidently escaped Gemma's wrath. The one he'd felt led, somehow, to pack for his trip up here. Now, he realizes what should have been obvious at the time- he'd been desperately fueling his hope he'd have a reason to give it back to her.

"I've got somethin' else back at the clubhouse for you- but this will have to do until then." Pleased, his grin widens when she smiles shyly in return and slips her arms into the worn flannel. And just like that, he has another solid excuse to come back to her- even if he has to wait for the reunion he hoped for.

"C'mon, I'll walk you out."

Jax nods- despite his earlier revelations, he's still reluctant to part with her after going through hell and back to find her once again. Silently, he follows when she nods in the general direction of the front parking lot and snags his keys from the table on their way by. Though he's leaving her again, he consoles himself with the thought that for now, he knows she isn't going anywhere…at least not any time soon. Together, they make the short walk to her front door, and he's surprised when she not only opens it for him, but follows him outside.

It's just past sunset, that rare moment when reds and oranges seem to blend seamlessly into the blue-black of the darkening sky, and they both stop short to study it for long moments that stretch into minutes. Somehow, it seems a sign- though Jax just can't manage to summon the wherewithal, after the emotional fucking roller coaster this day has been, to even begin to figure it out.

Then he feels it- Tara's soft hand slipping inside his own, tugging him after her, down the walk and beneath the moon slowly breaching the horizon- and suddenly, it doesn't matter what the fuck it all means. Right now, there's only her, this moment, and the promise of the new day to come. And as they slow at the end of the walk, Jax vows to himself that this will be just one of the quickly diminishing number of nights they'll spend apart- because this time, he'll do what it takes to avoid ever hurting her (and himself) again.

When they reach the Dyna, Tara rounds on him, as if to start back up to the walk. He can't help but pull her gently to him, even though she's adorably unsure of herself. And maybe that's why the realization that she'd probably walked him out here to avoid another intimate moment in the confines of her apartment isn't as devastating as it could have been a half hour ago. Because all that matters is what's to come of his steadily growing resolve to do things different, better.

Dipping his head, he kisses her, his hands drifting up to their familiar place cradling her jaw, tilting her head back until the angle, the softness of her lips and the feel of her hair in his hands is exactly as he remembers. It's clear her walls are back up despite her acceptance of his touch (and the way she's been touching him)- she's not devouring his mouth like she once would have done, and not even like she had done just an hour ago. Still, the way she melts against him is almost enough to make up for it. And when her breath hitches the way it always used to, the evidence that Tara, too, is struggling to keep herself in check, has him biting back a grin in favor of dropping one more hard kiss on her slightly parted lips.

Another kernel of hope sprouts somewhere deep within his chest as Tara reluctantly lets her hand drift down his cheek, trailing away down his arm before she turns her face up to his, green eyes wide and luminous.

Then-

"Goodnight, Jackson."

Jax watches his girl walk away from him…again. Watches until the door closes behind her, hiding her from his view. Then, he clips on his helmet, digs for his smokes and lights one. When it's smoldering between his lips, he fires up his bike, eases onto the throttle, and leaves her alone once again.

**A/N: I'm sure by now you all hate me- both for taking so long to update and for not reuniting them as I know we're all wanting for them. But, they both have something to prove and a lot to work through before that can happen. Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter or any others!

Once again, immense gratitude to Ang R, without whom this story may not be progressing- and then Jax and Tara would have been apart in this AU forever. Neither she nor I will let that happen. :) **