Once You're Gone, You Can't Come Back

by tellmesweetlittlelies

**Final sequel to Into the Black and Out of the Blue** After a drastic decision regarding her future, Tara finds herself unsure whether she'll ever be able to face up to the choices she's made. Meanwhile, with Opie in prison, Jax has his own crises, leaving them both in previously unexplored territory.

5. Chapter 4

**I own nothing you recognize**

The Charming Elementary playground is relatively barren at this hour, despite the fact that the school day is in full swing. Sitting back on his bike and surveying the space in front of him, Jax finds that the wave of nostalgia that's been washing over him since he'd kicked the center stand into place is neither unpleasant nor surprising. After all, it's Charming- the town is practically crawling with memories and many of them took place right here on the soft green grass in front of him. But… this place isn't his territory anymore- he hasn't climbed the old valley oak in the corner of the lot for close to a decade now.

Today, he's here to pick his kid sister up from her first day of school.

Christ, Jax doesn't even want to think about how long it's been since he spent any real time with Trinity- unlike either of his parents, she doesn't make regular appearances at the clubhouse and he's been avoiding his childhood home like the goddamn plague. But, after weeks of successfully sidestepping nearly everyone in his life- breaking yet another heap of promises in the process- he'd found himself simply unable to turn her down when she'd cornered him in the lot last week.

She'd taken Jax's hand, looked up at him with wide blue eyes, and all but begged him for a ride home on that all-important first day. And when the brotherly guilt he's been resolutely pushing away in favor of steeping in his own self-pity came rushing in, it had effectively stamped out any last inclination he'd had to say no. And so, he'd begged off the end of his afternoon shift at T-W today, arrived early, and parked the Dyna just across the way from the main entrance.

He's here because he's made yet another promise, one he intends to keep- unlike so many he's failed at in the past couple months. Unfortunately, he'd also found himself roped into dinner at Gemma's once they're done here- and an extra twenty minutes to kill before school's out.

His own shortcomings- as a brother, as a friend, as a boyfriend- weighing on his mind as heavily as they ever have, Jax finds that he's itching for a cigarette as he always does when he starts thinking too damn much (a state he finds himself in constantly, lately). But while his mother had never had any qualms about cruising through the school pickup line with a cigarette dangling from her fingers, he bites back the urge; he's been a shitty enough brother lately without adding secondhand smoke to his laundry list of flaws.

Instead, Jax shifts on the bike, settling in more comfortably and extracting the practically-new journal JT had tossed at him from his kutte pocket. Sighing, he tries to refocus his nervous energy on the entry he'd started that night.

...what I've realized now is actually shit Tara's been trying to tell me for years- it's time to shut out all the noise. The love of a brother, a father, my girl- those are the things worth living for, the things I need to hold onto when I'm broken. But while they love me unconditionally, they can't fix what's broken. And eventually, if I can't let them in, every last one of them will stop trying.

Because at the end of the day, even if I have the Harley and the kutte… it's not enough. This is who I am without Tara and Ope, but there's nobody responsible for what I've become but myself.

I've spent years waiting for people to lead me to the answers, to tell me the truth and the reasons why. But, my own choices turned out to be the only things holding me back...and I'm done letting the weight of them pull me under. I decide who I am, within the club, with my best friend, with my girl. It's time to move forward, start the journey of finding all the things I've lost for myself- and try like hell to be worthy of them by the time I get there.

It's time to start writing a different book.

Jax flexes his fingers, relieving the slowly tightening ache that had been winding its way around his palm ever since he'd started the newest page. Slipping the small pencil into the binding for now, he can't help but glance over the words he'd written- the first he'd managed to finish since Tara had gone. Disjointed as his penmanship- and his thoughts- look on the tiny pieces of lined paper, their appearance actually makes sense, since he'd been operating in fits and starts ever since he'd started writing again. He'd written the words over the course of the past week or so- when he'd had the luxury of a few minutes to himself at the garage, waiting for a meetup on a run, and even now, parked outside his old elementary school- driven to put pencil to paper in an effort to sort out his thoughts without drowning in them.

Of course, writing a new book is only half the battle- especially if that book turns out to be more of a personal manifesto than a goddamn how-to manual.

Still it's time to make a change, own his shit and the fallout it's caused- and find a fucking way out of it… starting with today. And while it's clear that change won't come easy, he's got to stop letting the ghosts of his past draw him under.

Jax snaps the journal closed, decisively, tucking it and the pencil away into the pocket of his kutte. Things certainly look a bit brighter, here in the light of day and surrounded by happy memories of the way things used to be. And for the first time in weeks, he finds that the memories aren't so much a painful assault on his senses as they are a sort of hazy filter – one he's got to find a way to pass this new motivation through in order to figure out how the hell to move forward. Because, God knows he's got to pull his head out of his ass and get a handle on what to do with his life with both Ope and Tara gone- especially if he's ever going to have a shot in hell at getting Tara back in his life.

Having arrived at the same conclusion his father had days ago, Jax checks his watch for the thousandth time just as the double doors burst open.

Thank Christ

Hordes of kids pour out of the old brick building, filling the once-quiet square with shouts and laughter, and Jax finds he can't help but look for himself, Ope, and Tara in the throng. He finds them, too- in that cluster of boys racing toward their bikes, jostling each other as they all had, years ago. Smiling, fondly, he watches as a scuffle breaks out, sending two boys skidding into the peat gravel of the playground. Laughing, the others crowd around until one emerges, face smudged with dirt and grinning triumphantly as his opponent punches him good-naturedly.

The boys are riding off in a group and crowing like roosters when Jax is practically knocked off his bike, sent reeling sideways by an yet-invisible force that slams into his side. It's wrapping him around the middle as he tries to regain his balance and stop himself from tumbling over backwards, and is still there, squeezing the life out of him when he's finally upright again. In any other circumstance, Jax wouldn't hesitate to launch himself off the Dyna- much as he'd just watched the boys do a minute ago- and pound the living shit out of whoever had dared to fuck with him… especially if it meant some dead asshole had laid a hand on his bike.

Instead, Jax finds his face splitting in an ear to ear grin, and before he knows it, he's bolting up from the Dyna anyway and taking his attacker with him.

"Jackson!" Trinity squeals as he spins her into a hug, stepping away from his bike for the first time since he'd pulled to a stop amongst the soccer dads and room mothers. "I can't believe you're really here!" she gushes as he sets her back on her feet, taking his hand and beaming up at him. At the sight of her freckled smile, Jax realizes that despite everything, he hasn't had to force the matching grin on his own face for the first time in months.

"'Course I'm here. I promised you on the phone the other night I'd pick you up from your first day of school," he reminds her, squeezing her hand and resting his ass back on the bike seat.

"Oh, I know, it's just..." Trinity's voice falters as she suddenly busies herself with her backpack strap. "Well, y' promised you'd come to Gemma's dinner for Uncle Bobby. And then the one for Miss Luann... but-" she shrugs, looking up at him with wide blue eyes- and for the first time since she'd arrived, Jax's good humor fades. This time, however, it's shame bubbling over instead of self-indulgent pity.

"Trini, look… I'm sorry, I really am. I- I've been-" Aw, shit. "Well, it's not somethin' that's easy for a kid to understand." Rolling her eyes in response, Trinity taps her foot impatiently.

"Jackson… I'm near ten, and not a little kid anymore."

Well, I guess that's true...

Cocking his head, Jax studies her a moment- the girl who'd unwittingly thrown his entire world into a tailspin a few short years ago- biting her lip and waiting for him to explain why her big brother had been a fucking ghost for the last several weeks. He shakes his head, knowing his little sister doesn't need to hear about the absolute shit his life had turned into since Tara left him- most of it of his own making. At the same time, she deserves an explanation as to why he's made himself scarce- it's just that he doesn't know where the hell to start.

Trinity shuffles her feet impatiently- probably wondering what the hell had happened to render her normally talkative, constantly teasing, older brother mute when he isn't absent. And as two women cross the street towards them, swinging a chubby preschooler between them, he's suddenly more aware than ever that he's still parked outside his- Trinity's- elementary school. That whatever he does tell her deserves to be said somewhere other than surrounded by throngs of her teachers, classmates, and their parents.

Letting the smile slide back onto his face, Jax reaches behind himself, seizing one of the few things of Tara's she'd left behind for him to hold onto- the helmet he'd first settled onto her head the day he'd turned sixteen. He guesses it's a good thing he hadn't been able to bring himself to remove it from his saddlebag, and manages to keep the twinge of pain he experiences at the thought off his face this time. Hell, he even has his sister smiling back at him by the time he shoves the helmet into her thin arms.

"You wanna come for a ride with me, Darlin'?" The way Trinity's face lights up is answer enough, and before he knows it, she's buckling the helmet while he swings her up onto the back of his bike and shoots her a familiar smirk.

"Let's blow this joint."

---

They drive out past St. Thomas, slowing just short of the curved stretch of pavement that had almost taken their father's life- instead, making the turn up into the hills that overlook Charming itself. It's a route he hasn't taken in…he's got no idea how long, Jax realizes as he navigates the first in a series of tight switchbacks- and that's because he's also got no idea when he'd last taken the time for a ride with either Trinity or his girl.

Sure, Tara'd been on the back of his bike plenty- between the clubhouse and her apartment, maybe to and from Gemma and JT's… but when was the last time they'd just gone for a ride- just the two of them, the open road, and the wind at their backs? And who the fuck knows when he'd last offered to take Trinity for the afternoon- either in or out of Charming. It's just one of the good things in his life he'd given up in favor of his club and the hole his best friend had left in it- only now it turns out that neither Opie or his club Pres think he made the right decision.

No matter how he slices it, the vast majority of his rides these past months have been either in formation with SAMCRO or pushing his Dyna to the limits- sending the needle quivering past eighty, eighty five, ninety miles an hour… Until there's nothing to worry about except what's right in front of him. And even then, he's struggled, until these past few days, to get out of his own head.

As if she knows his mind's wandering down this exact path, Trinity squeezes him tight and rests her head against his back, and he can't help but smile at the road in front of him. He knows that with his kid sister on the back of his bike- and especially on this windy-ass road- he doesn't dare approach the speeds he does when he's alone and trying to become part of the road. Mostly because he'd never do anything that would put her in danger- a courtesy he doesn't extend himself. And maybe a little bit because he knows that if he ever went down with her on the back of his bike, JT would likely come find him in whatever hospital he wound up in and finish what the road hadn't.

The rest of the reason he's not chasing the sweet oblivion speed always seems to bring him is that he's enjoying the ride the way he hadn't in a long time – taking the rolling California countryside and sun-drenched blacktop for what it is. He's enjoying the simple presence of someone else, even though they're not talking- hell, maybe even because they're not talking. And for now, it's enough.

By the time they cruise past the Welcome to Charming sign once again, Jax is almost feeling loose, languid- like he used to after a long ride with Ope or a trip up to the cabin with Tara. And, as he slows to a stop and parks his bike on the far end of Main, he finds that he's truly looking forward to the next hour in a way he hadn't looked forward to anything lately- despite the memories the place stirs up.

"What're we doin' here, Jackson?" Trinity asks, still a little breathless from the ride as she takes his hand and swings her leg over the seat. He shrugs, as she hops off, angling his head at the small cafe he'd stopped in front of moments ago.

"Thought we'd grab somethin' to eat before I take you home." Trini's mouth drops open in horror in that way only a kid can pull off, but she's unable to hide her own apple-cheeked smile as she removes the helmet.

"But we'll ruin our dinner! Gem will-"

"If you're not tellin'... I'm not tellin'," Jax responds, waggling his eyebrows conspiratorially. "Unless you really do wanna go straight home-"

But she's already ten steps ahead of him, shoving the helmet into his hands and skipping towards the glass door that serves as the diner's main entrance- and he can't help but chuckle to himself at the way her strawberry blonde hair flies in her wake.

By the time Jax manages to secure both their helmets and pocket his keys so he can follow her inside, Trinity's already claimed the best seat in the house, waving to him merrily from the rounded booth situated in the sunny corner windows of the cafe. The place is practically deserted- CHS hasn't released yet and it's way too early for the dinner crowd- so there'd been nothing to dissuade her from sliding into the seat Jax himself had grown accustomed to making a beeline for every time he entered the place.

Since both he and Tommy were young, they'd both thought of the uniquely rounded booth as their own, spending more late Sunday mornings than he can count laughing and sliding back and forth along the cracked leather while Gemma and JT bit back smiles and talked quietly. As a result, it had taken him a while to come back here after Tommy's death- much like the cabin, the thought of revisiting the happy memories they'd shared here had hurt way too much. Then, it had taken his parents so long to recover from the loss of their son- and even longer to return to the normal shit they'd done before his death- that he hadn't even considered the idea until Tara had returned.

Not for the first time, Jax finds himself thinking about how she'd truly given him an outlet for his grief, a way to deal with the pain and the sharp pangs of loss he'd felt for so long. How he'd been able to enjoy the place with her and Ope (and eventually Donna) not long after she'd come back to him. They'd shared a shitload of good times here over the years, and it's one of the places he's found his memories hit him the hardest. Hell, he can still see them- almost the same way he'd found them in the throngs of kids outside the school earlier- laughing over a shared basket of fries and basking, unknowing, in the presence of the ones they'd eventually lose.

Jax bites back a sigh at the thought, managing to keep his face neutral as he slides into the booth next to Trinity, relieved she seems to be studying the menu instead of him.

"I'm havin' a caramel sundae," she announces a moment later, sliding the menu away and smiling up at him. He can't help returning it, noting the eager way she looks at him- plainly happy just to be here with him. He ignores the wave of guilt that emerges, once again, at the realization that this is the first real time he's spent with her in a couple months, and does his best to engage her in conversation.

"So, how's home?" Jax asks, though he can't help laughing a bit. Christ, he sounds like some frat boy, dutifully asking after his family back home- instead of someone that not only lives just across town from his parents but spends his working days with them, too. Still, it's probably best he knows what the hell he's walking into. For her part, Trinity just shrugs.

"It's okay. Da's been tryin' to spend more time at home, I think, 'cause he always stays for dinner unless he's got a run, n' he comes home to tuck me in even if it's late. He says it's 'cause we gotta finish readin' the newest Ramona book-" Trinity leans across the table, her voice lowering to a loud whisper. "But I think it's 'cause he's tryin' to make Miss Gemma feel better."

Huh? At what must have been Jax's befuddled expression, Trinity continues, earnestly.

"She's been actin' mad at everyone but she won't say why, 'specially if I ask. I heard her and Da arguing though, the other night when they thought I was sleepin'." She bites her lip, hesitates almost apologetically, but seems unable to withhold this new information even though she knows it might be unpleasant. "She's mad at Tara, 'cause she broke your heart, an' she says she'll never forgive her- but Da says to leave it alone. But mostly, I think she just misses you, Jackson." Trinity settles back into her seat, glancing at her hands. "We all do."

Jesus Christ… Jax doesn't have time to formulate a response to that one- hell, he's actually a bit relieved he doesn't have to, as Peggy makes her way across the deserted cafe, forcing him to turn his attention to the approaching waitress.

"Afternoon, Tellers," she says brightly, plucking a notepad and pen from the front pocket of a faded apron, surveying them both with a smile.

"Hey, Peggy," Jax responds, easily falling into the back and forth he and the slight, gray-haired waitress have shared practically since he was a kid. "Trini here is havin' a caramel sundae, and I'll have the chocolate-orange milkshake." Silent a moment as she scrawls their order onto the pad, Peggy nods. Then, finishing up, she sends Trinity a kind smile.

"Got it. You keeping your big brother here in line?" Trinity nods in return, blushing a bit at the extra attention, which Peggy seems to notice, winking at her response. Then, Peggy shifts her attention to Jax, the smile seeming to fade a bit as she studies him momentarily. "And how have you been, Jax? We've been missing you all these past couple of months."

There's no question who she means by you all- even though Jax's not sure what she, or anyone else in town, really knows about Tara and Opie's absence. From her expression, though- maybe a bit sad but unfailingly kind- as well as her job at Charming's number one gossip hub, he's got the feeling she's got a general idea about the circumstances that had taken them away from him.

All Jax can give her is what he hopes is a halfhearted grin and a shrug- more of a careless lift of his shoulder than anything, really- and Peggy seems to understand. She tucks her pen and pad away, shifting her eyes away from his for a moment to nod at the broad expanse of the table in front of him.

It's mere seconds before Jax's fingers reach the heavy maple table, zeroing in- as if by muscle memory- on the scars he'd left there a few short years ago. At some point, the table- along with all the others in the place- had been coated with a heavy dose of the dark, thick varnish that had masked the rest of the scattered carvings. It had seeped into the cracks and filled the shallow scratchings of most of the initials, jagged hearts, and misspelled profanities, glossing over them with a dark sheen like they'd never really existed at all. Somehow, though, it seems like the deep valleys he'd created with his pocket knife that afternoon after school were even more prominent than ever.

"Jax, stop!" Tara had admonished him at the time, her voice a fierce whisper, her eyes nervously darting to the front register where a few waitresses- including Peggy herself- lounged. Still, there had been no mistaking the pleased pink flush that had rushed to her cheeks as the point of his knife dug ever deeper into the wood.

"Relax, it's done-" he'd declared, sweeping away some remaining splinters and pausing to admire his handiwork before snapping the knife closed. Tara had responded with a soft noise of disapproval, so he'd leaned in, waited until green eyes met his again. For some reason, Jax had bitten back the words that were fighting their way onto his tongue- chose to let them simmer until later, when they could be alone and he could breathe them against her bare skin. In that moment, he'd settled on smug- grinning instead of making reference to the pull in his heart that had led him to carve their initials into the wood in the first place. "Now all of Charming's gonna know you're mine-"

She'd lurched forward and kissed him then, right there in the diner. She'd poured everything he hadn't said a moment ago into the kiss, and he'd been half-considering pulling her right over the table when she drew back, her fingers brushing over the newly scarred wood.

"Promise?" she'd whispered, and he'd instantly realized she wasn't referring to his possessive statement at all, but the words her delicate hand had been stroking lightly.

JT+ TK = 4ever

And it had been the easiest thing in the world to respond, this time against her lips just before he'd claimed them once again.

"I promise."

Peggy's hand, gently squeezing his shoulder, halts the rush Jax's thoughts are taking towards wondering which of them had broken the promise first and flings him back into the present. Here, their initials are softened by a few years' wear instead of fresh and splintered; mellowed by a layer of thick varnish but still unmistakable- stark and deep compared to those surrounding them.

"When she's back in town, you have her come in here and say hi, alright?"

Jax nods in return- or at least, assumes he does- his thumb running over the scarred wood for a moment before shifting his gaze to Trinity, who's settled back into the comfort of the booth and is regarding him with wide, pale-blue eyes.

"D'y' think she's right, Jackson? Is Tara really comin' back?" He sighs, mostly because he had hoped to steer their conversation away from the topic, especially after the information Trinity had revealed earlier… but also partially because he knows the answer to her question already. He knows Tara better than anyone- knows her drive, her steely ambition, her ability to simply straighten her jaw, set her spine and move forward, no matter what. In that way, she's his opposite, and it's one reason they fit together so perfectly. But somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind, he'd realized right away that once she'd been pushed far enough to leave him, there's no fucking way she'd fold- no way she'd just come back to him and give up on the next part of her life. It's part of why he loves her so much- and also the source of the single worst two months of his life.

"I don't think so, Darlin'," Jax responds, measuring his words carefully- not that it matters, because Trinity's face falls before they even finish crossing his lips. "Not for a long time, anyway."

Or without some drastic fucking measures.

He sighs again, in lieu of unloading the scrambled mess inside his head on his kid sister, and tries to focus. "Tara's real smart, Trin- smarter than I'll ever be anyway. And she needed to go somewhere she could go to school, be a doctor like she's wanted to for a long time-"

"But I thought you were doin' that too, Jackson… at the school here in Charming. Da said-"

"I know what Dad said, Trin... and we were. But with the club and everything, it was just too much. And then Opie got arrested and I…" his voice falters as he watches Trinity's expression shift, marveling at the way his sister's actions mirror that of Gemma herself- the one parent they don't share. Just the way she's looking at him says everything her voice does not as she folds her arms, raises her brow and waits for him to continue.

"Well Tara, she… We-" Jax amends, fidgeting a bit under Trinity's intent gaze, suddenly knowing he needs at least to be fair, honest if nothing else. "We knew this was comin', sort of. The school here in Charming doesn't offer all the classes you need to become a doctor, so Tara was gonna have to go somewhere else. We were gonna wait until after I did a couple years here in SAMCRO, with Dad, and then…" He shrugs, briefly picturing them together, somewhere, and not bothering to hide the ghost of a smile it inspires.

"But she went without you." It's a statement, not a question, and the challenge in Trinity's eyes has the smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"She did, Trin. And no matter what Ma says, it had to happen. I had responsibilities here, stuff with the club you won't understand until you're older-"

"I hate the club sometimes," Trinity murmurs, obstinately, her gaze finally sliding away from his and fixing on something in the distance. She bites her lip, fidgeting with a silver bracelet and avoiding his eyes- and instantly, Jax is transported back to the first time he'd dared to speak those same words aloud.

It had been the first time his father went to jail for the club- at least that he remembers- and Jax had been a bit younger than Trinity. He'd been tucked under his mother's arm in their front yard, watching the squad car bearing JT getting further and further away. Funny thing is, while he can no longer remember any of the details leading up to the arrest- what JT had gone inside for, why the police had seen fit to pick him up at his home instead of his business or the club's compound, he does remember Gemma shooing him inside to get ready for his Little League game later that afternoon… And then it had dawned on him that, although his father had missed all the others due to club runs, he wouldn't be making this game, either.

He'd hated the club in that moment- and also simultaneously longed to have a bike and a kutte of his own. But Trinity's lost more because of the Sons of Anarchy than probably anyone he knows. First, her father- who she hadn't known for the first several years of her life- then her homeland, and finally her mother and stepfather, too. Then, both Tara and himself practically disappear off the face of the earth… Christ.

Still, the club isn't the reason Tara had left. No, that's all down to his own actions.

"Trin," Jax says gently, bypassing the initials carved into the tabletop to cover his sister's small hand with his own much larger one. "Tara leaving didn't have anything to do with the club." He sighs- Christ, this is harder than I thought.

"Then why'd you let her go?"

The question- simple as it is- rocks him, coming from his kid sister. Jesus, it's the same question he'd been asking himself since Tara had left- how they'd gotten here, how he'd let this happen.

"It was my fault- I… I hurt her, 'cause I thought I needed to be what the club needed. I stopped talkin' to her, stopped lettin' her in, and I guess she just felt like she couldn't wait for me to figure myself out anymore." Cautiously, Trinity raises blue eyes to meet his own, but they're expressionless- waiting. "And me, not bein' here for you these past weeks… well, it's just more of the same mess that had Tara leaving town. I've been a shitty boyfriend, and an even worse big brother." She doesn't argue with him, just shrugs and withdraws her hand to once again twist the bracelet around a pale, freckled wrist, sending a brief rush of familiarity jangling somewhere in the back of his head. Jax brushes it off in favor of ducking his head a bit to meet her eyes once again.

"I'm sorry, Trin- I am…for everything." He hesitates, watching some unknown emotion swirl in his little sister's eyes. "Let me make it up to ya?"

And as Peggy reappears with two tall, frosty glasses, causing Trinity to crack a smile once again, he's hoping he's off to an okay start.

"Now, tell me all about what you've been up to…"

---

As Jax pulls up to his childhood home, he can't help but feel the effects of the day so far- the beginnings of the figurative new page he's turning over, parallel with the fresh new journal his father had given him. Somehow, he feels like he's got something riding him, something he'd been missing in weeks past. Almost like he's about to surface from a cage that's been deep, deep underwater, and his lungs are burning with the need to breathe freely… He just has to get past the next couple hours with the one person who could always be counted upon to tell him exactly what she thought- about fucking everything.

Despite the ride and the stop at the diner, they're a good ten minutes early for dinner- not that it's stopped Gemma from impatiently anticipating their arrival, apparently. As Jax unbuckles his chin strap and gives Trinity a hand down from the seat behind him, he notes his mother peering down at them from behind the curtain of the large front picture window, her lips pursed- and he snorts softly to himself.

"Dinner with mom…"

Trinity just grins and squeezes his hand before heading up the front walk.

Here we go...

JT's the one to open the door almost the moment they reach it, and he grins briefly before ushering Jax and Trinity in through the front entry- and not the back door off the kitchen- for maybe the first time since Jax had brought Tara to one of Gemma's dinners as his official girlfriend. It's… odd- formal, like he's entering someone else's home. And, he guesses, that's exactly what it is.

In fact, it hasn't been his home- at least not really- since he'd moved into the clubhouse apartment and then into Tara's garage apartment over at the vet clinic. Even after Gemma had encouraged him to come occupy either her couch or his old room again, sensing his hesitancy to stay anywhere her ghost still roamed, he'd come to realize that he'd truly lost any real sense of home the moment he'd lost Tara.

"Jackson!"

And just like that, his brief moment of introspection is over, and Gemma's closing in on him right there in the middle of the front room, her arms spread wide and the filmy sleeves of her black cutout shirt flowing behind her. She fairly crushes him in a hug, the heavy scent of her perfume settling around them- somehow familiar, yet strange, just like his presence here in her house.

Jesus, it's as if he'd been on some long run with the club instead of across town- or across the T-W lot- avoiding her questions, her probing looks, her words of sympathy. Still, Jax's got to admit that there's something to be said for hugging his mom after what have been some of the worst several weeks of his life. And while there's not a feeling of home here anymore, Jax feels the proverbial barbed wire that's been squeezing at his heart loosen that next tiny bit.

When Gemma finally releases him, she doesn't, really- at least not fully. She just steps back to hold him at arm's length, hazel eyes narrowed slightly, roving over his features as if she's committing them to memory once again.

"It's good you're here, Baby," Gemma says, finally, like she's made some decision in the intervening moments. "I've- we've been worried about ya, you know."

Oh, he knows.

"Thanks, Ma," Jax manages, letting the easy grin that's been anything but easy lately slide back into place. Gemma raises a brow, purses her lips in that way she does when she's about to say some shit she knows he doesn't want to hear.

"We were thinkin' we'd have to come drag you over here by your hair, force feed ya a good meal…'' She trails off, smirking a bit, and her hand drifts up to brush against the ends of his beard- which has definitely filled in some over the past weeks of neglect. "Started wonderin' whether you were plannin' to audition for ZZ Top or what."

"Jesus, Gemma, let the boy breathe," JT sighs, but he's smiling a bit, and Jax gratefully extracts himself from his mother's arms to exchange a brief, back-slapping hug with his father. Still, it's only a momentary reprieve because he catches a glimpse of Gemma, still studying him thoughtfully. Fleetingly, Jax wonders just how much his father had told his mother about what they'd talked about in the chapel that night- or about his and Tara's failed plans to leave Charming, together. But his thoughts are once again stopped in their tracks when Gemma crowds in and leans up to kiss his cheek.

"Well, let's get some food in you, sweetheart. God knows the last time you ate somethin' that didn't come from a goddamn convenience store." With that, she's patting his cheek and brushing past him and on into the next room, leaving him to send a wink and a grin in Trinity's direction before they all dutifully follow her towards the table.

The dining room is warmly lit and lined with photos of him and Tommy, just as it had been practically his entire childhood- except now, of course, there are plenty of Trinity, too. But, the photo of him and Tara on his bike the evening of his sixteenth birthday, the one taken before the only school dance Tara had ever talked him into- hell, even the photo of Jax, Opie and Tara sporting missing teeth, giant grins and smudged faces that had graced his mother's sideboard as long as he can remember… All are conspicuously absent.

He has little time to wonder what, exactly, had inspired Gemma to begin removing them before he notices the long table- home to many a "family dinner" for their extended SAMCRO family, and piled as high as it's ever been. Christ, there's enough food here to feed a goddamn army- an enormous platter of fried chicken, a bowl of whipped potatoes, a gravy boat he's only seen make an appearance at holiday meals, and too many sides to count.

And despite his conflicting feelings, the knowledge that Gemma's still harboring some resentment for Tara, the missing photos, the residual oddness of feeling like a stranger in his childhood home… Jax feels a smile making its way back onto his lips. Gemma really had pulled out all the stops.

"Jesus, Mom, just how many people did you think I was bringin' over?" he teases, his grin broadening when his mother manages to look a bit embarrassed before waving him off and brandishing a set of tongs in his general direction.

"Just sit down and eat, will ya? The girls'll be over later to cart anything that's left over to the clubhouse for the boys." Emphatically, she points the tongs at his chair- always at his father's right- before seizing several pieces of chicken and piling them on his plate. He obliges her as JT snorts, wagging his head teasingly.

"Don't let her fool ya, Son. Bobby's been tellin' everyone who'll listen that he's on a diet, and Tig and Kozy ain't spent a night at the clubhouse in weeks." He pulls Trinity's chair out for her before settling into his own.

"Figured you all could use some stuff in the fridge over there, no matter who eats it." Gemma says defensively, seizing the bowl of whipped potatoes. She serves Jax a pile that covers half his plate, leaving JT to smirk as he snags a piece of chicken for both he and Trinity. "'Sides, you could stand to put a few pounds back on, get out and socialize with the guys some and have a good time. It ain't healthy for you to be mopin' around like you have been, and tonight's as good a place as any to start-"

"Gem…" JT's voice is mild, but holds a note of warning even Jax picks up on. His father's mouth is set, his face neutral, and at once, Jax is grateful he'd confided in him all those months ago and again the other night. Thankful that JT, at least, understands the heartache that had had him near-immobile for so long. Christ, he can only imagine his life now if Gemma had been his only parent…

Resolutely, Jax pushes the thought away as his parents seem to exchange a brief, wordless conversation he's pretty sure may as well have happened out loud. He can practically hear his father's easy Remember what we talked about? and his mother's protests in response.

Then, Gemma's raising her hands in surrender, sending the serving spoon clattering back into the bowl.

"Fine," comes the curt reply as she sinks into her chair and pushes the serving bowl towards JT, waiting until he's dishing up before changing the subject, thank God. "The guy's comin' back tomorrow to finish settin' up that computer shit."

And as his parents' mundane chatter fills the room, Jax breathes a sigh of relief, thankful his mother's attentions are focused elsewhere- at least for a little while. Anxious to continue flying under her radar for as long as he can, Jax digs into his heaping plate, realizing with some surprise that he's hungry- fuckin' starving, actually- for the first time in a long time. For the first stretch of Tara's absence, he'd survived on a diet of weed and whiskey plus enough of whatever he'd found in his stash in the clubhouse apartment to keep him going. He'd also scoffed at the few who'd dared to approach- Donna, Koz, Chibs, JT- to tell him he looked like shit and offer him anything besides another drink or a pack of cigarettes.

It had taken his father telling him to get his head out of his ass to snap him back into somewhat of a regular routine- stopping off for a greasy burger on a run with the club and raiding the clubhouse fridge, evenings, whenever he'd felt the need. But right now, as much as his time at his mother's table had been everything he'd been avoiding in the intervening couple months- and as much as he's come to realize that some distance was probably best for the both of them... He can't help but feel grateful once again that Gemma's a fantastic cook.

Jax is in the midst of loading his plate up with a second helping- avoiding Gemma's approving smirk by sending Trinity a wink and a grin across the table and causing her to snicker behind her napkin- when his father asks her about her day at school. Much like she had earlier in the day, Trinity lights up, describing her school day in cheerful detail to JT's rapt attention. Jax smiles to himself as even his mother joins in, chatting and laughing with his father and sister, as if there had never been a time when the very mention of Belfast, Maureen, or even Trinity would have resulted in a goddamn shouting match.

Trinity's in the midst of a story about how some kid in her class had accidentally come to school wearing two odd shoes, waving her hands for effect, when it catches his eye once again- her bracelet, glinting in the light and snagging on a corner of a memory he'd failed to put back in place before now.

And now that the pieces are in place, Jax wonders how he'd missed it. Christ, he'd seen it countless times, in countless settings, but always on the same wrist- the thin, silver band that widened a bit at the center, just enough to hold a narrow plate with a delicate T filigreed into its surface. It had been a gift from Tara's aunt or grandmother or someone, and she'd worn it religiously, along with the ring Jax himself had given her their first Christmas together and the locket he'd given her for her high school graduation. And now, here it is, on his sister's arm and setting his mind whirling with possibilities.

Had Tara talked to Trinity on her way out of town? He doesn't think so-she'd have mentioned it during their time together today- but he can't afford to let anything, even the smallest scrap of knowledge, slip through the cracks. Not when it could mean the difference between getting her back and spending the rest of his life feeling like death warmed over. Maybe this is what he's felt coming down the pipe all day- all week- and he'll be damned if he lets another opportunity pass him by.

Jax spends the rest of the meal pushing the remaining food around on his plate- bides his time, waits until Trinity's finished her stories, until his father's outlined the business ventures SAMCRO has coming up, dodges some of his mother's questions…He waits them all out, until they've cleared away the dishes and Gemma's in the kitchen cutting the pie, the tension building with each passing moment until he can catch Trinity's attention out of his mother's earshot.

"Hey, Trin-" he hisses, his eyes darting towards the kitchen only briefly.

"Hmm?" she responds, distractedly, only looking up from the weird little electronic pet-on-a-keychain thing she'd received for her birthday after he nudges her with his foot under the table. "What is it?"

"Your bracelet- uh, where'd you get it?" His voice is an urgent whisper, causing Trinity to wrinkle her brow curiously.

"Uh, Tara?" Now she's looking at him like he's lost his mind- which might not be too far from the goddamn truth.

"No, I know that. I just… did she talk to you? I mean, before she left?" Slowly, Trinity shakes her head.

"No. 'Twas just sittin' on my bed one day when I got home from school, all done up in a box, y'know- but I never got to tell her thank you. She left me a little note, though, sayin' she'd thought of me 'cause both our names started with T- an' to take care o' my big brother…" Trinity's voice trails off as she shrugs and refocuses her attention on the toy once again.

Still, the thoughts begin churning their way through Jax's head, sending a sudden burst of energy ripping through his chest for the first time since that night he'd awoken, certain he'd find her under their tree. If she'd stopped to leave Trinity the bracelet, chances are, she'd made other stops on her way out of town- although he'd already crossed a few of them off his list. Pulse quickening, he racks his brain for anyone she might have spoken with or given a hint as to her plans.

Donna's out- he'd been spending Sundays with her for weeks, heading up to see Ope, and he'd broken down and practically begged her for any information she might have almost immediately. His mind briefly flits to Piney, but that grumpy bastard had had plenty to say about him letting Tara leave town, had even groused about her being unprotected wherever she was- like Jax doesn't fucking know that. And while Piney's never been forthcoming with information, Jax is pretty sure that hiding shit about Tara deliberately doesn't really fit his MO, even though he's always seen himself as some sort of pseudo-father figure-

Holy shit.

It's a moment of clarity that seems to hit him in the chest, so much so that he presses his fist there as the name washes over him- strange in a way he'd never have anticipated months ago.

Rick Knowles.

Jesus, why the fuck didn't he think of him before? Maybe it's because the man has barely had the time of day for him- or Tara for that matter- since she'd come back into town years ago. Hell, maybe it's because he knows the chances of Tara stopping amidst her escape from Charming to reminisce with her drunk of an old man are slim to fucking none.

Or maybe you've just been too fucking caught up in feeling sorry for yourself to think clearly.

For the first time since she'd left him, Jax ignores the nagging voice in his head in favor of action- sliding his chair back abruptly, the hardwood screeching against the tile beneath and causing Trinity to start, JT to shift in his chair, and Gemma to stop short just inside the dining room. Christ, she almost drops the pie she's carrying in her surprise.

"What's the matter, Jackson? Are you alright?" He's not sure what the expression is that's on his face- nor does he particularly give a shit- but he must look as desperate and eager as he feels, because the next thing he knows, his mother's setting the pie down at the other end of the table and making her way towards him. Unable- or unwilling- to waste even a second of time explaining himself, Jax dodges the palm Gemma attempts to rest on his cheek and leans in to placate her with a brief hug.

"Dinner was great Ma, but I gotta go." He pulls away, grazing her cheek with his lips before extracting himself to round the edge of the table and squeeze Trinity's shoulder. Shaking her head in bewilderment, Gemma takes a step back and finds her voice again just as Jax bends to drop a kiss on the top of Trinity's head.

"What's wrong? Is it the club? John-"

"Let the boy go, Gem," JT counters, evenly, reminding Jax of his presence at the table for the first time in several long minutes. His dark blue eyes fix on Jax's own for a moment, twinkling, before he shifts his attention to Gemma. Tugging gently on her hand, he draws her closer to his chair, grinning up at her before playing his trump card. "Dinner was amazing, darlin'. Now, how about that pie?"

Reluctantly, Gemma sinks into JT's touch for a moment before sending Jax one more pleading glance. It quickly turns to exasperation, her brows furrowing as he ignores her in favor of fishing his bike keys from his pocket, turning on a heel, and beating it for the door- like the man on a mission he's suddenly become. The time for wallowing- and even for writing- is over.

"Jackson-"

"I got somethin' I gotta do."

---

When it comes to the exterior of the Knowles residence, precious little has changed since the first time Jax had pulled up onto the driveway to break bread with Rick Knowles. Hell, the property looks the same as it had since they were kids- though that first Christmas Eve after Tara's return is somehow fresh on his mind.

In fact, if the night had been cooler, with a frigid wind instead of the uncharacteristically warm fall breeze that licks at his cheeks as he slows to a halt at the end of the driveway, he's sure he'd have felt it even more acutely- this sensation of being transported back in time. He'd noticed the difference back then, too- the way the Knowles house seemed so dark in the rapidly descending dusk compared to the other, pleasantly lit homes on the block. Now, it's the front stoop that's flooded in black instead of warm gold, while five years ago it had been the utter lack of Christmas cheer that stood out among the neighbors' twinkling lights. Hell, even Piney had had a simple star tacked up above the garage-

Unable to help himself, Jax glances over his shoulder at his best friend's childhood home. The star's still there, though unlit and a bit weatherbeaten- but awaiting the beginning of the next Christmas season. A flash of where Ope would be spending his next Christmas momentarily assaults his senses, but Jax resolutely peels off his gloves and focuses on his target.

That night, his first Christmas Eve with Tara, he'd knocked at the front door of the dark dreary house- a marked change from his usual habit of rapping at Tara's bedroom window. He'd been greeted by a mostly-sober- but fully cynical- Rick Knowles. Still, in stark contrast to the home's exterior, the house had been filled with Tara- her warmth, her love… It had been everything his 16 year old self could have wanted, everything he'd been missing since she'd left- and is probably the entire fucking reason he hasn't been haunting this street for the past weeks.

Now, though, he's got a mission- a purpose for the first time in a long time- and it's this new resolve that has Jax stashing his helmet and stalking up the Knowles driveway for the first time since they'd moved Tara into the garage apartment.

Pausing on the front step, Jax notes the rhythmic blue flickering of the TV that illuminates the sheers, the only indication of life inside. Again remembering the various states he'd seen Tara's father in over the years- half-conscious in his chair, painfully sober and ready to break, mild and half-lost in grief- he's thoroughly distracted from knocking for a moment by wondering which version of Rick Knowles he's hoping will answer the door… And then the door in question swings open.

"Heard the bike," Rick says, by way of explanation, emerging from the darkness to nod at the Dyna over Jax's shoulder and looking no more thrilled to see Jax on his doorstep than he ever had. He leans against the doorframe, effectively barring entry- not that Jax has any intent on sticking around to fucking reminisce. Although the faint scent of bourbon precedes him into the doorframe, Rick's without his customary white, porcelain coffee mug full of the stuff. Still, while the man looks more… put together than Jax can remember seeing him since he was a kid playing in the Knowles backyard, he's clearly getting through his days much as Jax had been, lately.

Still, Rick's clearly holding down a job, as evidenced by the late-model Chevy pickup truck Jax had passed in the driveway. He appears to be taking far better care of himself than he ever had when Tara had lived here- clean shaven and sporting a relatively fresh work shirt. Then again, he's also alone and glassy-eyed at just before 8 PM on a Monday.

All told, though Rick Knowles is no longer a drunken fucking mess, he's clearly a man who's lost almost everything that was once important to him- a scenario Jax himself has been hurtling rapidly towards in recent days.

"She ain't here, ya know." Rick says abruptly, evidently growing weary of his daughter's mute ex-boyfriend taking up space on his front stoop. Christ.

"Yeah, I know… I just uh-" Jax sighs. Jesus, the man's never been easy to talk to- especially because he's never really approved of Tara's relationship with either Jax or SAMCRO- but this shit is beyond uncomfortable. "I was just wonderin' if you'd heard from her. Or if, y'know... if she'd told you where she was headed, or-" RIck chuckles humorlessly, cutting him off.

"Shit, she didn't even tell ya where she was goin' huh?" He shakes his head, ruefully. "Guess we've got more in common than I thought, you and I." At Jax's questioning expression, Rick looks away, studying something unknown off in the distance. "I was a shitty father when her mom died. I know you saw it. Couldn't get my act together long enough to be what she deserved, both before and after she came back to me. And as much as I hated the thought of my kid gettin' tangled up with some motorcycle gang, she swore you were different- and eventually, I realized it'd do me no good to argue with her. So I did the only thing I could do for her, back then- I let her go, let you make her happy." Rick pauses, swipes a shaking hand down his face before fixing his gaze on Jax once again. "Until you didn't."

Jax only has a brief moment to feel like he'd been punched in the gut- to wonder if the actual punch would follow on its heels- before Rick continues, smiling faintly.

"I saw her, you know. Right before she left town- right after the Winston kid got put away. Christ, it was the first time in over a year I'd seen my girl, and she looked a lot like you look right now- lost. Tired. I'm assuming you know what that was all about?" Guiltily, Jax nods his head as Rick continues.

"She wouldn't hear a word against you even then- hell, she prob'ly never will. But it was clear she wasn't happy in Charming, at least not anymore. So I wasn't surprised when I heard through the grapevine that she'd moved on." Narrowing his eyes, he looks Jax up and down for a moment, seemingly assessing him. "And I wasn't all that surprised when that vet said you didn't go with her- though I figured you'd at least have tried keepin' her on the hook somehow. Keep her close until she forgot all about the things that made her special. You bikers seem to have that effect on your old ladies." Jax ignores the slight jab in favor of focusing on the one word that stands out like a glowing beacon among all the others.

"The vet- I mean, Dr. Carlson. Did she say-"

"Naw," Rick snorts, "Guess if she wants to be found, Tara woulda left word to tell one of us where to start, right?." He clears his throat, somewhat uncomfortably. "Which brings me to my point, I guess. I love my daughter- though I've never been good at showin' it- and there's a reason she didn't see fit to tell me she was leavin' town. Just as there's a reason she ain't filled you in, either." He pauses, then, flexing his fingers around some imaginary bottle before fixing Jax with an intense gaze, clear as Jax has ever seen him. "Do you love my daughter, Jackson?"

And, just as it had been when JT, and Tara before him, had asked him the same question, the answer's an firm, unequivocal-

"Yes."

The declaration seems to bounce into the wind, for all it's worth to Rick Knowles. He just shrugs, looks away before stepping back behind the door frame and grasping the knob with one hand.

"Then let her be. She deserves more'n this place has to offer her- more than I, or you, can give her. If she's smart- and my Tara's always been smart- she's in San Diego, where she shoulda been the moment she graduated high school. If you love her, let her go, let her make somethin' of herself."

Jax is still standing there, silent, minutes after Rick's retreated to his television and his whiskey. Christ, he hadn't- he can't- argue with the man's assertion that Tara deserves better than what the both of them had given her. Can't deny that she'd needed to leave, no matter how much it had hurt him. And as recently as last week, he'd have let himself be pulled under by the knowledge that his perceived duty to the club, to his best friend- his propensity to get lost in his own head when shit starts weighing him- had caused him to lose what he loved most...

Just like Rick Knowles.

Today, though, while the guilt is already spreading through Jax's chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to move… His newfound determination to get his head out of his ass and do what needs to be done, as JT had so delicately put it, has him fighting like hell to keep from drowning. The only way to stay afloat, despite what RIck's just said, is to find Tara- and the only way to keep moving forward is to seek out the next target on his list.

Making his way back to his bike, Jax checks his watch- 8:30. It's late, but there's a chance Dr. Carlson's still over at the vet clinic. She'd always been dedicated to her patients and accustomed to staying late to care for a particularly needy animal- it's why she'd hired Tara in the first place. But wIth Tara gone and Donna working full-time with only minimal time to spare to check in on any lingering patients, he's overheard Kozik grouse about Angela staying at the clinic sometimes well into the evening. He's just got to hope tonight's his lucky night.

Jax's heart kicks into overdrive the closer he gets to the small vet clinic, once the site of Tara's- and his- apartment. Maybe it's just muscle memory from taking this exact same route so many times over the past year or two. Or, maybe it's just his nerves getting the better of him since he knows Tara's former boss had become a true friend during her time here- and would likely be no happier to see him than Rick Knowles had been.

Hell, there's a reason she hasn't sought him out at any point in the last weeks- one that's much better than Jax's own reasoning for doing the same. Though his avoidance of Kozik's old lady hadn't been intentional- unlike the way he'd been steering clear of Gemma- between her work schedule, the club's steadily increasing business ventures, and his own reclusive behavior, he hadn't seen Angela Carlson for weeks.

As Jax makes that last right onto the clinic's street, however, cutting the throttle out of habit, it's clear tonight's probably not going to be the night that changes. Deflating quickly, he rolls by the big old Victorian that contains the vet clinic, disappointed to see the darkened windows of the office as well as the work and storage spaces above.

Strike fuckin' two.

Frustrated, Jax opens the throttle once again, the bike's roar splitting the silence of the mostly residential neighborhood. He's got no clue where the hell Angela officially lives- and something tells him showing up at Tig and Kozik's place when they're not home wouldn't be well-received. So, after weeks of selfish, stupid inaction, he's no closer to finding Tara now- with this new fire lit under his ass- than he was the day she left.

Rick Knowles had been a bust, Dr. Carlson's elusive… and all he wants- fucking needs- is somewhere to direct his energy. Some scrap of evidence that will do him some fucking good.

For a moment, Jax is as lost as he's ever been, rumbling down the streets of Charming with no direction, no outlet. Then, making the turn towards Teller-Winston and the clubhouse strictly by habit, a potential solution emerges, lighting his way like the streetlamps slowly flickering in the darkness. If there's anywhere Dr. Angela Carlson might be- a solution that's not stepping all over Kozik's dick in the process- it's with Koz himself. And he finds that's exactly where he's already headed.

Frustration ebbing into grim determination, Jax pushes the Dyna even harder, as if the few miles' distance between the clinic and the clubhouse is suddenly leagues, instead. As if the answers he needs are slipping between his fingers even as they grip the throttle. Somehow, though, the odds are in his favor- every light is green, every crosswalk deserted- as he speeds towards what could prove to be one of his last shots at learning Tara's whereabouts.

By the time he cruises down First and along the familiar side street leading to Teller-Winston, he's almost shaking with anticipation. It's a feeling that doesn't let up as he coasts onto the lot and backs his bike into its spot near the clubhouse.

Christ, Teller- get your shit together.

Shaking his head and extracting a battered pack of cigarettes from his kutte pocket, a wisp of a memory floats in, just as they'd been doing all day- hell, ever since he'd managed to pick himself up off the apartment floor weeks ago.

Just breathe, Baby. Don't let him get to you.

Tara'd been sitting on his lap on that picnic table across the patio, doing her best to help him reel in his temper after Tig had made some snide comment or other. Christ, Jax can't even remember what it was, now- just that he'd been ready to jump out of his seat and finally, finally clock the guy like he'd been itching to do since he'd started hanging around the club when Jax was in junior high.

Instead, he'd found his enmity melting away as Tara'd fixed her warm green eyes on his, her lips tilting in that way he could never fully interpret. At least, not until she'd either donned a teasing smirk or that full-on, devilish smile that almost always meant she was about to do something that'd make him forget his own goddamn name.

The image of Tara leaning into him- placing a hand on his chest as he made a concerted effort to breathe deeply as she'd asked, then stealing his breath anyway with a sizzling-hot kiss- flees as quickly as it appears, leaving Jax to light a cigarette instead. And as he takes a series of drags, one after the other, breathing the smoke deep into his lungs and exhaling deliberately just like she'd taught him, his own dreary reality slaps him in the face once again. It's just one more example of how everything is different- better- with her in his life.

The clubhouse is buzzing for a Monday night- apparently, everyone who'd spelled him at the garage earlier in the afternoon had seen fit to make their way over here to get a head start on relieving the stresses of the long work week ahead. Shana's working the bar, and Jax ignores the brief moment of conflict that plays out on her face before she seems to settle on a friendly- if tentative- grin.

Okay. First things first.

"I'll take a beer, darlin'"

As she scurries to retrieve the beer, Jax takes a moment to assess the crowd. He notes, with some relief, that neither of his parents seem to have made their way over here while he'd been interrogating Rick Knowles and driving fruitlessly around Charming. However, his relief vanishes when there's no immediate sign of Angela Carlson either- and his prospects get dimmer and dimmer with each second he takes to scan the room.

Happy's got some girl in his lap off in a corner, and everyone looks to be- wisely- steering clear. The couches are occupied by Chibs and two- no, three- croweaters, who seem similarly occupied. The tables are filled with a scattered few hangarounds he can't identify, mostly downing beers and occasionally breaking into laughter. Piney's where he is most any night of the week- taking up residence on his favorite bar stool and directly adjacent to Bobby, who's got a sheaf of ledger paper spread across the bartop. Jax notes with some amusement that the only thing Piney appears to be working on is his way through a bottle of Patron. Still, he catches Jax's eye over the top of Bobby's head and raises his mug in a silent toast.

Jax returns it with the beer Shana's just slid across the bartop before returning to his search, growing more and more desperate as the moments pass. With one final area of the clubhouse hidden from his view, he heads toward the pool table in the back corner. Along the way, he only briefly acknowledges Chibs', half-muffled Jackie Boy and sends a grin and a nod in Happy's direction, before the latter returns to his tanned, teased distraction.

To Jax's disappointment, Angela's not near the pool table or the cluster of high tops near it- a frequent destination back when she and Tara would lose themselves in discussion about some patient and only half pay attention to the game they were supposed to be playing. However, his eyes soon land on the next best thing- Kozik, who seems to be engaged in a particularly contentious game with Tig. In fact, he's currently dangling his beer bottle just above the pocket, a steady stream of smug sarcasm flowing from his lips as TIg takes aim.

Gripping the bottle tightly, Jax wanders within earshot just as Tig takes his shot, sending two opposite-color balls skipping into the pocket. Groaning, he acknowledges Jax with his customary, acerbic greeting.

"If it ain't the dickless wonder…"

"Jesus Christ, Tiggy- decide if you're solids or stripes will ya?" Kozik snarks, jerking his head up to acknowledge Jax's presence before fishing the cue ball out of the pocket and tossing it back onto the table. "At this point, I don't know what the hell balls you're shooting."

"Oh I'm shootin 'em," Tig returns, grinning wickedly. Kozik bends to take his next shot, drawing closer to the table and cupping himself. "Right into your mom's p-"

The crack of the cue ball against the 8 ball cuts him off, but not before Kozik dissolves into laughter, completely missing the entirety of the 8's slow roll into the corner pocket.

"And that's game, asshole," Tig crows, collecting the bills laid out on the side of the table as Kozik straightens, groaning good-naturedly.

"Jeeesus Christ." Still, he rolls his eyes and moves to retrieve the rack.

"Hey do me a favor, will ya?" Tig lights a joint, gesturing with it as he exhales the smoke. "Rack 'em up real nice for me, a'ight? You know how I like 'em." Kozik snorts.

"Tighter'n your old lady… and just as cold?"

Tig ignores the jab in favor of inspecting his joint, the smoke curling around his fingertips. "Speakin' of old ladies though... " He ignores Kozik's groan this time, too, continuing as if he hadn't interrupted. "Yours get that special dog food I've been askin' her about? Missy's still real fussy when it comes to that shit." Evidently satisfied it's burning evenly, Tig hands the joint to Jax, who takes a hit, needing to tamp down his restless energy before one of them starts asking questions.

"Jesus, I'm startin' to think there's more'n one reason you're startin to prefer the company of a goddamn dog to the, uh, local entertainment." Koz shakes his head and gestures towards the croweaters on the couch before tossing the rack on the table. "Like I told you, Angela's out of town at that conference- she won't be able to attend to your new old lady until at least Wednesday." At this, Jax's ears prick up, despite the smoke currently flooding his lungs. "Y'know, the same shit I told you yesterday when you asked about- what the hell was it again?"

"That weird spot on her ear. I'm tellin' you, it's got me worried, man."

As Koz and Tig continue bickering, Jax finds himself tuning in, for once, instead of tuning out. Maybe he can find some way into this conversation about Angela, casually see if Koz has a line on what she might know about Tara. She could've hinted at something Kozik hadn't found important at the time, could've needed to mail her some paperwork or some shit… Hell, she might even have something over at the clinic that could help. Christ, he's willing to take anything that could get him closer to tracking her down.

Fuck it.

"A conference, huh? She, uh, go outta town often?" Jax ventures, immediately cringing, inwardly. Jesus. He'd always been shit at feigning nonchalance, especially where Tara's concerned. Real smooth, Teller. Predictably, Tig rounds on him, smirking and plucking the joint he'd already forgotten about from between his fingers.

"What, Jackie Boy, you makin' a play for Koz's old lady? Gonna finally get over that Tara chick by gettin' under a new one?" Jax snorts, despite himself.

"Naw," is about all he can manage to say before Tig continues, shaking his head and stubbing the joint out in a nearby ashtray.

"'S'what I thought. Christ, you're just as pussy whipped as Kozy here. I'm tellin' ya- it ain't healthy… always thinkin' about tappin' the same chick when there's a good half dozen of 'em just waitin'. " For his part, Kozik continues setting up the next game, but shakes his head dismissively, rolling the rack back and forth.

"What I'm thinkin… is that little bro here is learnin' the hard way that not everything is gonna fall in his lap." Pausing to scrutinize his placement, he also gives Jax a long, pointed look before returning his attention to his work. "He might just have to go outlaw to get his girl back."

Ignoring Tig's jeers, Kozik whips the rack off the pool table with a flourish before bowing, deeply… patronizingly. "Your balls, sir."

As Tig snickers, Koz takes his place at the high-top, fishing through his pockets before depositing a crumpled wad of cash, some change, and a smattering of keys onto its top.

"Yeah, yeah, next time your girl can polish my balls for me. " Tig ambles to the head of the table, chalking his cue with a smirk.

"Yeah, well, at least my girl's a human." Kozik returns, somewhat absently, flattening a mangled twenty.

"You know what they say, man- a bitch is a bi-"

Tig doesn't even get the chance to finish his sentence before Kozik is on him, somehow- moving lightning-quick from Jax's side to Tig's spot at the table and forcing his head under an armpit. Koz is laughing outright and alternating between a well-placed, wicked-looking noogie and raining a series of sharp jabs into Tig's side before he takes a breathless moment to respond.

"Now you know I ain't about to let you talk that way about Ang... 'specially when she ain't here to defend herself. Sure as shit not without payin' the price," Koz returns through gritted teeth, smirking as Tig struggles to free himself.

Jax, however, doesn't take the time to enjoy the sight of Tig getting his comeuppance as he usually would. Instead, he's on edge, itching to move. The mention of Angela, coupled with the echoes of Kozik's previous comment in his ear, has the seed of an idea taking root, sprouting as quickly as the friendly scuffle in front of him intensifies.

Might just have to go outlaw to get his girl back.

By the time Tig's strangled voice is calling for Hap to come and back him up, just as Chibs is reluctantly rising from his position on the couch, Jax is leaning over the high-top, surreptitiously glancing through the assortment of keys Koz had tossed onto the table only moments before.

Maybe...

The small, silver bike keys aren't it. Neither are the assortment of gold ones, nor the midsized silver key clearly marked "home." Then, he spots it- a large, brass key that looks just like it would belong to the century-old home that served as the vet clinic… and just like the one he'd been given (and subsequently lost) right after Tara had moved into the garage apartment. Swiftly, Jax sweeps it up along with his beer and his own keys, pocketing them both together under the guise of jamming his spare hand into his pocket.

"Jesus, Koz, you're gonna make him cry," Jax offers awkwardly, covering his unease by smirking and downing a good portion of his beer. Somehow, he's feeling the weight of the key in his pocket, serving as a strange sort of counterpoint to the familiar heft of what was supposed to be Tara's gift in its twin. Still, its potential- and all the renewed energy he suddenly finds himself with now that he's got another plan- has him smiling for real this time, even as Kozik finally releases Tig and receives a solid blow to the shoulder for his efforts.

"Cry? Shit, I ain't cried since my twins were born," Tig sniffs, rolling his shoulders and picking up the pool cue that had clattered to the floor during their scuffle. Kozik approaches the high-top, and for a brief moment, Jax freezes, the gulp of beer he'd just taken seeming to stick in his throat, burning insistently. Thankfully, it trickles away in relief when Kozik scoops up everything but the bills and drops the miscellany back into his pocket without a second glance.

"Yeah, 'cause you knew you were gonna be payin' a fortune in child support," Kozik smirks, tossing his next bet onto the rail. Tig's about to make what Jax is sure is another cutting remark in response when a chorus of shouts rises from the front of the clubhouse- Chibs' voice, as always, ringing out above them all.

"Aye, Pres!"

The room fills with the sound of laughter and joshing as JT makes his way from the clubhouse door to the bar, shaking his head ruefully at the attention. He speaks briefly with Piney, then with Shana, before turning to face the room again.

"Since you degenerates are all in here- on a Monday night no less… how about joining me for a drink?" At the roar of approval, JT turns back to Shana, and Jax can barely hear him over the noise.

"Set 'em up!"

As Shana lines up a stack of shot glasses and his brothers make their way toward the bar, Jax realizes he has precious few moments to make his escape before someone inevitably corners him. Chibs had been occupied on his way in, but only rarely does he let Jax pass by without anything less than a warm chat and an off-color joke- especially recently. As a result, Jax begins circling around behind the crowd, drawing closer to the door and- he hopes- not attracting much attention to himself and his nervous energy. He's got what he hopes is the key to the vet clinic- and the figurative key to Tara's location- burning a hole in his pocket, and the relentless, driving force that's kept him pushing all day.

He's almost home-free when JT catches his eye. His father's expression turns thoughtful for a moment, even as Jax continues to sidestep croweaters and hangarounds on his path to the door. Then, a faint grin curls his lips and he lifts his beer in a silent salute, much as Piney had earlier. Jax returns the toast, draining his beer and abandoning the empty bottle on the table nearest the door.

The last thing he sees before the clubhouse doors close behind him is JT's nod in his general direction. And somehow, he can't help but feel his father's approval washing over him as he jogs to his bike, twice as eager as when he pulled onto the lot.

---

The clinic is dark, quiet as it had been the last time Jax saw it under an hour ago. Only this time, instead of speeding by on the Dyna, he'd parked about a block away- mostly to avoid tweaking Donna. He'd briefly wrestled with how to deal with the fact that she's probably home now on the way over here, and had considered just asking her to let him into the clinic. Truth be told, though, he isn't all that sure she'd be on board with him digging through Angela's files and pulling this private eye shit to try to locate his girl.

He can't blame her, really- he hasn't exactly done a spectacular job of earning his way back into Tara's life over the past couple months. Plus, the last thing he needs is to implicate her in his bullshit. He feels pretty fucking low about breaking in like this as it is, especially since it's Angela.

Dr. Carlson had always treated Tara- and by extension Jax- so goddamn well. Christ, she'd been good enough to extend Tara's unpaid internship, offer her both a job and a place to live when she needed them most, and had accepted Jax himself as a mostly unpaid, unofficial second tenant. And it definitely wasn't because she needed or wanted anything from the club- he's pretty sure Tara had been the one to talk her into giving in to whatever mutual attraction she had going on with Kozik, but not until well after the two of them became friends.

At the thought of Kozik, Jax has another brief pang- the guy's been nothing but the epitome of a good club brother, had been concerned about his headspace since Tara had left. Grimly, Jax pushes it away as he nears the clinic and cuts across the grass- taking the familiar path he'd taken so many times on his way to drop in on his girl over her lunch break. No matter what it takes to find her, he rationalizes as he climbs the front porch steps, Jax figures Kozik and especially Angela would just want them to be happy. And since he's sure as shit not happy without her, he's willing to take his goddamn chances.

Tentatively, Jax tries the door handle- may as well keep things as simple as possible.

Locked.

Sighing, he digs the key out of his pocket, momentarily cursing himself for not swiping some of the others, as well- he would have upped his odds of success and could have just as easily slipped a few back to Koz as this single. The truth is, though, he'd been so focused on what he was about to do, where it might lead, that he hadn't even thought about how he'd cover his tracks later.

Gently fitting the key into the lock, Jax twists his wrist, smoothly turning the knob and pushing a bit, holding his breath until the door swings open, freely. Too late, he flinches in anticipation of the blare of an alarm- but there is none. And, he guesses, who needs an alarm in Charming- especially when your boyfriend's SAMCRO?

Jax closes the door behind him with a soft click- careful, as if there's someone awaiting him in the darkness to hear. He finds with some satisfaction, as he's creeping through the darkness of the clinic, that he remembers his way well enough- even though it's been months since he's set foot in here. Through the waiting area, around back of the old desk that serves as the receptionist's desk… Then, he finally approaches the squatty, black file cabinet he'd seen the receptionist, Angela, and even Tara herself use many a time. It hurts, a little, being back here- just as with every other memory he's forced himself to relive without her today- but finally, it's like his singular focus is driving him forward instead of keeping him prisoner.

The top drawer is filled with patient files, all labeled with an almost amusing variety of pet names- there's Ranger, Rider, Sparky and Spot, plus Princess, King, and everything in between. These, he sifts through only briefly before proceeding to the second drawer.

Fuck. More of the same.

The last drawer is full of what looks a hell of a lot like the files Gemma keeps in the office over at the garage. Just in case, Jax flips through several folders marked Accounts Payable, Accounts Receivable, and the like- and he's just beginning to feel hopelessness set in when he spies it, way in the back of the drawer behind a final divider marked Employees.

Knowles, Tara

Christ, it's like he can't pull the file fast enough- even though he's got no fucking clue whether or not there's actually anything in here that'll help him. Still, he's shaking as he places the bland manila folder gently on the desk, its unassuming appearance doing little to curb his eagerness to find out what's inside. Hastily, Jax lifts the cover, then fishes his Zippo out of his kutte pocket and strikes the flint, casting a warm, flickering glow on the words below.

Jax shuffles old W2s and training program hourly logs out of the way immediately, but pauses for a moment over Tara's initial internship application. It's filled with her handwriting, her accolades, and her outright fucking enthusiasm at attaining this internship- and her hopes of one day securing the college scholarships that will ensure her future. Swallowing, hard, he pages past it, too, along with her lease agreement and various employment-related shit. He's nearing the end of the thin stack when, finally, his eyes alight on something that might prove helpful- a letter, dated just a couple months ago and on the clinic's official letterhead… the recipient's address prominently at the top.

To Whom It May Concern,

It is my pleasure to recommend Ms. Tara G. Knowles for the work study position at the University Student Health Clinic. I had the opportunity to have Ms. Knowles in my employ for the past two years…

Jax scans the rest of the document, lifts it to examine the other side, but finds nothing but the other side of the manila folder of Tara's file. In all truth, it doesn't matter what the fuck else comes after those first few lines, because he's got it. He's fucking got it. Holy. Shit.

It's almost unreal, finally seeing the address right there on the page in front of him. His fingers itch to skim over it- as if touching the words would somehow could take him to her. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind, he knows it's not her home address, but Christ, how amazing would that have been?... This here, though, is just the contact info for some job- hell, a job he doesn't even know if she'd gotten, in the end.

Who are you kidding, Teller? Of course she got the fucking job.

But still, now he knows without a doubt where she'd settled long enough to apply for a work study position- one she felt strongly enough about sticking around to accept that she'd asked her former boss to write a letter recommending her... And he feels like a fucking idiot for not figuring this out a long fucking time ago.

Seizing a pen from the cup on the desk, Jax scrawls the address onto a nearby sticky note and stares at it, this time in his own handwriting. Somehow, though, he knows it's a precaution he won't need- doesn't know if he'll ever forget the words on the paper in front of him now that he's seen them. It's like they're already burned into his vision like they'd leave a lingering trace behind, glowing like phosphenes each time he closes his eyes.

Bursting with possibility, already fighting the urge to get on the road right-fucking-now before he's got a chance to gather more information, Jax has precious few moments to kick himself over wasting so much time already. To wonder, once again, why he hadn't thought of her location himself- before he hears it.

The sound of motorcycles approaching, cutting through the relative silence of the quiet street outside… and it's quickly growing louder.

**A/N: what can I say, except to apologize for my ridiculously long absence. I've been hit hard with personal drama and plagued by writer's block- but as you can see, I'm still here. I hope you're all well, and that there are still people out there who love this couple just as much as I do. This was a bridge chapter, but necessary for Jax to finally start pulling his head out of his ass and take some action. I think you'll find that things begin to pick up from here- but I can't promise weekly updates or anything, as I'm now faced with another cross-country move. If you've stuck with me this long, please consider leaving me your thoughts to let me know you're still here. Thank you all so much for reading, and special thanks to Ang R, without whom this story would still be stuck only in my mind.