**I own nothing you recognize**
"Hey, Babe…"
The sound of Jax's voice instantly has her near-breathless like it's always done. But this time, it takes her breath away in a wholly different way, cutting straight through to her heart and sending it pounding against her chest like she's just run a sprint. He's standing there…here, outside the front door of her apartment, feet hip-width apart, his hands hidden in his pockets- always a sure sign he's uncomfortable. God, she'd actually be sure if he'd look at her, except his gaze focused on his feet; his bright blond hair is past his chin now, and it hangs forward, obscuring most of his face. By the way his jaw is set, though, he's looking a bit sullen –and a lot nervous.
As if to prove her right, his chest rises and falls in rapid succession. Tara's pulse quickens right along with it, as if to remind her that she hasn't seen her-
Her…
Christ, what the hell is he, at this point? Whatever Jax is to you, you haven't seen him in months. And now that he's finally darkening you door, you're wondering if he's fucking nervous?
And in a matter of seconds, she's gone from utter shock to full-on fucking panic. Tara's eyes slam shut, as if to ward off the blackness that had been zeroing in ever since she'd heard his voice. It's then that the dizzying bursts of light begin exploding behind her eyelids like fireworks, and she's resorted to sucking burning breaths into her lungs, when-
"Tara…"
God, the way he says her name- like no one else really, like he's savoring it just a bit. That's all it takes for simple shock to be displaced by a flood of emotions- like everything she's ever felt for him is rushing back in, all at once, returning from that dark, deep part of herself she'd buried him in. He's fixing his mouth to say something else, and her frenetic energy intensifies. All she knows, right now, is that he's opening those pretty lips to deliver yet another promise, and she thinks she might just fucking lose it-
And then… clarity.
It's not panic that's making her dizzy, sending the edges of her consciousness curling inward. It's not shock that's sent her hand twitching and her fist clenching.
It's anger.
Fucking rage, actually.
The reality of the situation finally lands, the audacity of him to show up here like this… Now- like nothing had changed between them. Wheeling back, Tara sets her jaw and claws for something- anything- to find an escape- despite the fact that her brain's screaming at her that she's waited all these months for this moment just to find herself desperate to leave it.
When her fingertips finally find purchase on the door's edge, it takes all her strength to hurl its substantial weight at him- the source of the past months of heartache, but also the person she loves most on this earth. And for a brief moment before he's obscured by the white metal, she finally catches a glimpse of his eyes- intensely blue and burning into her.
She awaits the satisfying slam of the door hitting home, waits for the blessed relief she can only pray will appear once Jax is back on the other side of it. Except, it never comes. Instead, there's only a muffled thud as it strikes something- one of his stupid, stark-white Nikes- and jolts back at her, juddering angrily with vibration. As the door swings open once again, this time seemingly in slow motion, she can't help but imagine some invisible force drawing back a stage curtain, revealing the player who would enact the drama that's about to unfold before her.
Jax hasn't moved that she can tell, except to jut out his chin, trying to level his gaze with her own. Somehow, though, she can't bear to look him in the eye just yet. But the rest of him is still as handsome as ever, and Tara can't help another look at the hair nearly brushing his collar, dwelling a bit on the strong lines of his jaw, the fine hairs he'd grown along it in her absence, the tense set of his full lips… All the way down the familiar planes of his chest and the familiar soft flannel that rests above it.
Finally, though, her eyes travel back up to his face, where a storm of emotions awaits her in the depths of his troubled blue eyes. Nerves, guilt, anxiety, love, relief come to life before her the moment their eyes meet, and all seem to whirl around her, blowing like a maelstrom into her apartment.
God, he looks like hell… But at least it's not just you, some part of her she's not sure she's ready to examine whispers in return. He looks like he hasn't slept for days, and there's a black eye marring the features she loves so much.
Loved, the inner voice whispers- sardonically this time. Don't let him pull you into his shit.
Despite herself, Tara's touching him before she even realizes it- how did you get this close to him- reaching up to skim her touch over the dark remnants of the bruise. Jax's eyes flutter closed as she trails her fingers along his brow, down the yellowing edge of his orbital, and across his rapidly flushing cheekbone. Just as she couldn't help but touch him, she can't help the dozens of questions that flood her mind as she does so. What the hell has he been up to? Has he been in danger? God, how the hell has club business inserted itself into even this?
She doesn't want to- shouldn't want to… but goddammit, she cares-
And then, Jax is melting into what's quickly becoming a caress disguised by an exploration of his injured eye, and placing a gentle kiss on the palm hovering near his cheek. Tara snatches her hand away like it's been burned- hell, it still feels like Jax's kiss is burning its way through her hand as she musters up the wherewithal to finally speak.
"What are you doing here, Jax?" she says, simply, quietly, taking a cautious step backward into the apartment. Hell, it's all there is to say. Wordlessly, nudging her fallen basket of laundry back inside the front door with his foot, Jax follows, reaching behind himself to push the door closed. And just like that, after months apart and what seems like a whole fucking world between them, Jackson Teller is here, in her apartment. Here, inside this very serious life she'd created for herself without him.
Jax closes his eyes, blonde lashes standing in stark contrast to his bruised lower lid- something Tara recognizes as his age-old way of gathering his thoughts. Needing him to speak, to say something other than fucking 'hey, Babe,' she quickly closes the distance between them she'd just created. Any closer, in fact, and they'd have been chest to chest- and she's sorely tempted to jab a forefinger right there. There, between the sturdy pecs she'd unfortunately noticed during her earlier perusal of his body.
Goddammit, Knowles…
"What do you want, Jax?" There. That was better. She'd let a hint of the anger coursing through her veins slip into her voice. No more wishy-washy bullshit. His eyes widen, likely surprised she's not yet thrown herself into his arms and begged him to stay with her, always…no matter how much she wants to.
Evidently taken off-guard- though he really shouldn't be, since her real first reaction had been to slam the door in his goddamn face- Jax huffs out a disbelieving laugh.
"I'm here for you, Babe, what do you-" Frustrated, she cuts him off.
"No, I mean why are you here?"
Frowning, Jax inches forward, his sneakered toes nudging against her own bare ones.
"You left without a word, Tara. I got back from a run and you were just… gone-"
Incredulous, Tara breaks into a laugh, and the sharp sound echoes in the quiet apartment.
"Are you really standing here, telling me you have no idea why I left? Why I wasn't just hanging around Charming, waiting for you to decide you were good and ready to keep your promises?"
"No, Babe… No!" Jax counters, frustrated. Well good, that makes two of us. "When I walked into our apartment and it was empty- when I realized you'd left- I felt like I was fucking dying inside. Christ, I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep…but through it all, I neverasked myself why you'd left. It's like- like part of me knew that even though you leavin' was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, you needed to get away from Charming… away from me."
Dipping his head to search her eyes, trying to gauge her response, Jax's expression reveals every bit of the state she'd left him in. She sees for the first time the turmoil Donna, Ope, and Angela had tried to warn her of as he clenches his jaw, restraint evident in his very posture. Still, Tara gathers what's left of her resolve, ignores the strain in his voice and the rapid blinking that warns her he's on the verge of tears. He doesn't get to do this, she reminds herself. Not now.
Now.
And suddenly, the anger comes seeping back in.
"So why now, after all this time?" What the fuck took you so long? she doesn't say, though in her head, she's been screaming those very words at him since the moment she'd heard his bike yesterday. Jax shakes his head but doesn't tear his gaze away from hers for the full minute it takes him to answer. When he does, his voice is quiet, thick.
"Like I said, I was a goddamn wreck after you left, Babe. When I finally picked myself up off the floor of your apartment, I… I did what I do best. I buried myself in the fuckin' club, worse than after Ope got locked up." He looks away, now, swallowing; his Adam's apple matching the strain in his voice when he continues. "But distracting myself from just how much I needed you- how much I still need you- well, it only worked for so long."
"So, what, Jax, you want me to be grateful you just couldn't distract yourself anymore? Thankful you finally took time away from club runs and parties long enough to remember you'd made another promise?" She can't keep the withering sarcasm from creeping into her voice, and for once she doesn't give a shit.
"That's not what I'm saying. It just-" Frustrated, Jax runs a hand through his hair. "Look, you leavin' was somethin' that I should've saw comin- but I never would've thought you'd leave without lettin' me…well, someone, know where you were headed. And I know I should've figured it out a long time ago, but Christ- nobody knew where to find you-"
"I won't apologize for that, Jax. I had to leave- I just…" Frustrated, Tara switches tacks. "You said you felt like you were dying inside when I left, right?" She waits, catches his eyes, and he nods, slowly. "I was dying. In Charming- in that goddamn purgatory you left me in after Opie got put away. Somehow, I was the only thing that was keeping you from losing yourself in all the bullshit piling up in your life- but at the same time, you shut me out of it. And when you broke your promise to me-I knew you were in hell, and it was only a matter of time before I was trapped there with you." Jax closes his eyes, and despite her resolve, Tara's heart still twists as a shadow seems to cross his face.
"I was wrong for that, too- letting the club, what I thought I owed Ope and Donna, come between me and the promises I made to you." He chuckles, hoarsely. "Christ, I've been hearin' about it since you left, from everyone who had two brain cells to rub together to form an opinion." Sobering, he shakes his head. "It was just a lot of shit at once. Ope's arrest, the thought of him spendin' 25 years behind bars, the promise I made him. Christ, we were just gettin' our own shit figured out after the whole pregnancy thing, and then the college thing…" He trails off, and Tara bites the inside of her cheek in frustration.
"That's not an excuse, Jax. Things got hard like they always do. And you checked out on me- on us!"
"I know, Babe- trust me, I know. But that's the truth of it. I get caught up in my own head, in fuckin' agony over all those choices, all the outcomes of my decisions."
Tara can't help but laugh, bitterly.
"And what about the decisions we made together? You fucking bailed on all of them!" Ignoring the flash of guilt that crosses his face, Tara presses a palm to her chest. "So I came up here and put myself first, for once. Did what I could to keep moving toward the only future I'd ever imagined for myself, even though my heart was breaking because that future no longer included you. And I was doing it, Jax, passing all my classes, holding down a work-study position in a field I love, and even making some friends- even though I was missing you so much I could barely fucking breathe."
She wills back the frustrated tears pricking at the corner of her eyes even as she lets the angry words continue to pour from her mouth. "And just when I was finally…Christ, Jax- I don't hear from you for months and you blow through town on a run with your precious club and dump some 'I'm sorry' gift on my doorstep?"
Jax opens his mouth to protest, and Tara clenches her fists, physically preventing herself from clutching at the gift in question, now hanging around her neck. Goddammit.
"This compass, Jax…what the fuck? Was this all just part of some fucked-up plan to make me realize how big of a mistake I'd made? The perfect gift to push me in the right direction, towards Charming?" From the dumbfounded expression on his face, it's clear he hadn't expected this reaction. Well, fuck what he'd expected.
But instead of the excuse she's bracing herself for, Jax only sighs, and backtracks instead.
"You can't have thought I'd stay away forever-"
"Don't tell me what I thought, Jax. Just-" Jax reaches to take her hand, and she steps back, warily, out of his reach.
"Look…I bought it for you when I was on that last run-" he stops, momentarily, and their eyes meet, both of them knowing exactly which run he was referring to. "It was your birthday, and the moment I laid eyes on it in that antique shop, I knew it had to be yours. Because it said what I couldn't say out loud, just then."
"Jesus, Jax- I gave you everything… all of me. What the hell couldn't you say to me after all we've been through together?" God, she sounds like such a bitch- but she just can't help it. She needs this- needs to get him to be real, for once. Needs to cut through all the bullshit that follows so she can tell him what he's got to hear. But Jax just shrugs, his mouth twisting into a sad smile, his eyes still fixed, intensely, on her own.
"That you're a part of me, Tara, and you always have been. Like Auden said, 'my north, my south, my east, my west-' and it's never been more true than it is right now."
His words end on a sigh, but his chest goes still- he's not moving, not breathing… just waiting. For what, she's not sure. Argument? Absolution? Instead of either, silence settles between them, and countless seconds tick by before she manages to break it.
"Jax…" As his name crosses her lips, he breathes again, but whatever relief he might be feeling doesn't last long.
"I cried myself to sleep for weeks after I left. Weeks. Did you know that?" He shakes his head, miserably, but Tara barely notices. "I needed you, too, Jax. I needed your support with those decisions about our future, and I needed your reassurances after one of my best friends got sent to prison for taking the same fucking risks you take every goddamn day for your club. I needed you to back me when your mother was grilling me about my plans, and I… I needed you to just… be there for me, hold me when things got hard. And I needed you to let me do those same things for you." His jaw tightens, but he nods this time, as if acknowledging what was obvious to them both.
"And then, when I couldn't take the silence and the guilt and way you were torturing yourself anymore, I did the only thing I could think to do. You're the only person I've ever loved, and I needed you- but I couldn't let you be my whole world, Jax, and I couldn't be yours. And I will stand behind that decision for the rest of my goddamn life, because when push comes to shove, you bailed, long before I ever did." She's crying now, hot tears rolling off her cheeks and down her jaw, and she can't stop them from coming any more than she can stop the truth that's pouring out along with them.
"And now you think you can make it all go away? With what, a gift? A few words you should've sacked up and told me months ago?" Jax's jaw works, and he looks away, flushing. It's a long moment before he responds, one in which Tara swears she can hear the tapping of her tears as they drop onto her feet.
"I saw you, you know? Yesterday, at the student fair.." Tara's face must have registered some surprise- she'd heard his bike, but had convinced herself he'd been on his way to her apartment. Told herself no way could he have tracked her down at the fair, much less actually found her there. But those thoughts flee as he breaks into a fond smile, as if remembering.. "You were in your element, Babe- that's the only way I know how to put it." And just like that, the smile fades. "You were with people who understand what it's like to want more out of life than what an MC can give them. Helping people who didn't fuckin' set up a stakeout or interrogate a small-time drug lord yesterday." He shakes his head, sadly. "You're happy, here Tara- I could see that from a mile away. And you deserve that, more than anyone I know. I just can't compete-"
"Jesus Chris, Jax!" Tara explodes, fury roaring back through her veins at his words. "It's not a goddamn competition! It's…" She makes a frustrated noise, faced once again with this idiotic notion Jax seems to have that he's not capable of being…enough. And she tries to find the words to tell him that she's loved him for who he isn't just as much as for who he is. But before she can find her footing, Jax just shrugs, as if what he's about to say is the simplest, most obvious thing in the world- despite the tears she spies glinting in his own eyes.
"Doesn't matter what you call it, Tara. I stood there, just watchin' you be happy, and I knew I had to let you go. In that moment, I knew that the worst thing I could do was to come between you and the life you wanted."
"ALL I WANTED WAS YOU!" she practically screams, the hoarseness in her throat giving way to a sharp sob. Tentatively, Jax steps forward, reaching towards her with one shaking hand, then another. Gently, he brushes her tears away. Then, framing her face, he tilts her head up towards his own.
"And I'm here now."
Jax's voice is warm and soft, but sure. As he leans closer, his nose bumping against her own, Tara wants nothing more than to finally feel his lips against hers once again. His eyes are searching hers for some sign that she feels the same- that she's in this with him- and she knows the moment he makes the decision to kiss her no matter what he's found there. His eyes flutter closed as he angles his head, and hers drift shut as they always have with him this close.
"It's too late, Jackson," she whispers. her lips brushing his, the slight contact zinging through her as if it were the first time. He pauses but refuses to back down, freezing them in this almost-kiss, his hands buried in her hair, noses touching, lips barely a millimeter apart. God, how am I supposed to do this? Somehow, though, she musters the will to continue her last-ditch effort to hold onto her sanity. "What we had… I've loved you since I was fifteen- probably even before that, I don't know. But when is it enough? When are we gonna stop hurting each other?"
Jax inhales, sharply- God he's trembling- and his breath heats her lips as he murmurs-
"I thought I told you- I'll never get enough of you."
And before she can reply, he's pressing those full, soft lips to hers, his fingers tightening in her hair just enough. She lets out a sharp gasp at the contact, and tentatively, he dips his tongue into her mouth, groaning low when she responds in kind. Greedily, he sucks on her lower lip, and she relishes the knife's edge of need that slices through her at his long, slow pulls, welcomes the solid warmth of his body against hers at long last. Despite herself, she's skimming a hand along the stubble at his jaw, angling her head to fit her mouth even more perfectly to his.
It's love, and lust, and home all at once- everything she'd been missing for the past months and everything she never wants to go without again…
Except, she already has. She made a choice, months ago- and he made his own many times over, before and since…and none of them included her, until today. Not a goddamn one.
Despite the way he's still kissing her and the slowly unfurling warmth spreading throughout her body, her mind races between a dozen thoughts.
It can't be this easy…
You can't afford to break your heart again…
But this time could be different…
God, why can't this be easy…
Until she breaks and pushes Jax away, sending him stumbling back a step, his lips still wet and swollen. And when he catches her hand before it leaves his shoulders, all she wants is to shut off her tears and pull him right back. Instead, she stands stock-still, tears streaming, as he presses her palm to his chest.
"Jax-" is all she can say, interrupted by her own inner turmoil- but he carries on as if she hadn't spoken.
"Can't you feel that? That pull, between us? What it does to me?" He reaches out, rests his free hand against her own chest, where her heart is thumping wildly beneath her sternum. "I know you feel it too."
Shaking her head, teardrops flying from her cheeks and dampening her hair, Tara steps back once again.
"It's…It's just lust, Jax," she lies- but a lie isn't really a lie when it prefaces the truth…is it? "I can't deny that I want you, even now. I always have. But lust, passion… it isn't enough. I need all of it. The good, the bad- I need every part of you, and you've never been able to give it to me." Jax's face falls along with his hand, slender fingers flexing even as desperation tints his burning blue gaze.
"I can. Right now, and as long as I have you. I just need you to let me."
And suddenly, just like last night, Tara can't talk about this, can't think about this anymore. Christ, even worse, she can't trust herself to stand strong with him this close. She's too damn exhausted and too damn weak to keep saying what needs to be said, doing what needs to be done… especially when he looks straight into her goddamn soul with those haunted blue eyes and asks her to let him back in.
Tears starting anew, transforming everything around her into little more than a watercolor smear, Tara stumbles back a step. Then another, and another, and another, until the backs of her legs hit the side of the bed and she's safe as she can be with him here. Gratefully, she sinks into the mattress seconds before the first wave of sobs hits, stealing her breath and sending her chest heaving at the same time. She curls in on herself, clapping a hand over her mouth, but her sharp gasps seem to fill the room just the same.
She sucks in breath after breath, willing away the tears and the dizzying whirl of emotions that accompany them- until she feels the bed dip next to her, and a strong arm snakes around her shoulders. Shaking her head almost violently, she shrugs it off.
"Just go, Jax.." she manages between sobs, and he stills, waiting. Then, he's sliding closer as his voice comes, hoarse in her ear.
"I'm not leavin' you, Tara. Not now, not ever again."
Goddamnit, why can't he just let her be? Give her the space to think?
"I said go."
"Tara-"
"Go. Go! Gooooo…" she howls, turning her face sharply away from him, the air leaving her lungs and leaving her bent near double. But this time, both his arms encircle her, one hand gripping the back of his flannel that she's wearing, the other threading into her hair. Gently, Jax guides her head to his shoulder, her tears instantly soaking through his hoodie. She tenses, wants to push him away, wants to shove at his chest so she can clear her head- and at the same time, she wants nothing more than to give in, cling to him and accept the comfort he's offering her. God, it's been so long since someone has touched her, held her like this…since the last time he'd held her, actually. And in the end, he feels so good- and it's so tempting to give herself this small gift, allow herself to have this piece of him, even if it's not forever- that she just can't resist.
Ignoring the conflicting emotions struggling to fight their way into her consciousness, Tara relaxes against him and lets the tears come, sighing as much in relief as in exhaustion. Jax buries his face against her neck, his own tears falling, hot, against her shoulder. Despite them, he holds even more firmly, whispering things she can't quite make out- not that she has the energy to try- but soothing her just the same. He strokes her hair as she cries, and she can't help but lean into the gentle kisses he lays against her temple, her hairline, her cheekbone.
Minutes go by- hell, they may have been hours for all she cares- and still she cries, She cries until her limbs feel heavy, until the angry words she'd tossed at him seem to return to weigh upon her body. And as the sobs give way to shuddering sighs, the hours of fitful, fragmented sleep finally take their toll, and she sags against him, safe in the circle of his arms. She barely registers the moment when he eases himself back onto the bed and gently arranges her limbs, numb from exhaustion, next to him. It seems only natural as he stretches out and tugs her close, alongside his body, until her head rests on that familiar place on his chest. And, as he wraps his arms securely around her and lays a final kiss at the crown of her head, Tara slowly drifts off to sleep.
Of all the scenarios Jax had concocted in his head over the past days, weeks, and months… Of all the ways he'd imagined himself holding her, kissing her once again- he'd never anticipated this, Tara physically shoving him away. Christ, she may as well have jammed a blade into his chest, all the way through to his goddamn heart. Then, she'd further devastated him by pointing out his single biggest mistake in the time leading up to her exit from Charming- his stupid fucking refusal to let her in.
By far the worst, though- worse than anything she could have said or done- is the sight of her crying, because of him. She's not just crying, his brain points out, dully. She's sobbing so hard that he's left helpless to do anything but watch as she practically shrinks in on herself on her bed, as if she's desperate to get away from the situation, from him.
Right now, he almost doesn't recognize her- she's nothing like the steel-spined Tara he's loved since before he knew what the word meant. But somehow, she's also everything in this moment, the only face he'll see for the rest of his goddamn life, no matter what happens here today- whether she lets him back in or pushes him away in the end. And by the time she's half-screaming, half-sobbing at him to go, ordering him out of her apartment- out of her life- his own tears are pricking at the corners of his eyes.
She doesn't want you anymore, the voice in his head reminds him, though it doesn't manage to drown out the remaining echoes of her howls from moments ago. And yesterday, he'd have listened to both of them, adding her words and his own to the quickly-growing mound of misery and self-hate he'd been piling on his own back since Ope had gotten locked up. Shit, he'd have been in the parking lot by now, filled with nothing but useless fucking rage and prepared to start drowning his sorrows somewhere on the 705. And they'd be right back where they were days, weeks, months ago- alone, miserable and hurting.
Well, no fucking more.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jax gingerly sits on the bed next to her. He hesitates only a moment before wrapping his arms around her, his heart breaking all over again as the sobs shake her body.
She doesn't push him away- doesn't tug him closer, either. Just curls even further within herself, shoulders heaving. And though he wants nothing more than to curve his body around hers, make her feel better in all the ways he already knows how, he finds himself acting cautiously for maybe the first time since she'd reappeared in Charming years ago. Then, he hadn't known how to deal with all the feelings she'd inspired in him, had had to take things slow and learn who she was again- as much for himself as for her.
Now… Well, he doesn't know how the fuck to handle this, her. He only knows that if he doesn't find some way to get her to stop crying, he'll be crying right along with her.
And by the time he realizes it's too fucking late for that and his tears are mixing with hers, he's giving in to instinct, holding her tight. He's stroking her hair and brushing kisses against her temple before he even realizes he's whispering to her- as if breathing his truth into her skin is the only way she'll truly hear it.
"I'm sorry, Tara… Shhh… I'm so sorry…"
The words keep coming even as his own tears take over and Jax is burying his face into his favorite place on her neck a moment later, willing the tears to stop. It's several beats before he's recovered enough to trust himself to turn her in his arms and fit her against his side. Then, needing more, he gathers her in his arms once again. Gingerly, in the hopes that he won't spook her and send her scurrying away from him, he stretches out on her bed. He takes her right along with him- wanting, needing to hold her, as much for himself as for her. And when she's finally right here, nestled against him with her head resting against his chest, Jax realizes that he feels whole again for the first time in goddamn months.
As her choking sobs turn to sniffles, then to deep, even breaths, he finds that he can't help it- he just has to pull her even closer. Has to brush the remaining moisture from her tear-stained cheeks and thread the silky, heavy weight of her hair through his fingers. Needs to press his lips to the damp skin at her temple. Can't let himself believe this is real until he breathes the three words he's yet to say out loud- for reasons that elude him even now- into the shell of her ear. And even though he realizes as he says them that he's too fucking late, always too late- that she's fallen asleep and won't hear him anyway, he repeats them again, again, and again.
She stirs in his arms, humming low in her sleep, and he allows himself to believe she still feels the same way, that the brief curl of her pink lips is a dreamy smile that flickers across her face. He lets himself believe she's responding to him, and not some figment of a dream brought on by the past hour or so of emotional upheaval. Christ, the only thing he can't fucking believe is that she's finally here, in his arms…It feels so good, so right, like his world is setting itself back on its axis, despite the fact that he's no closer to winning her back than he was yesterday. She sighs, then, curling into him in her sleep, and he can't help but feel a bit of hope beginning to wiggle its way through the clashing feelings of relief and guilt.
Seizing it, Jax tries his damndest to empty his rapidly whirling mind of everything but the here and now so he can revel in the blissful sensation of having her close, despite the circumstances. He's fighting, at the same time, the impending exhaustion that's weighing down his very bones, the result of two nights (if not more) with precious little sleep. Resolutely, he weaves his fingers with hers, determined to stay awake and unwilling to miss a single moment with her, even if she is asleep.
And so, he presses another kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent he'd been missing for months, and hugs her tight. Thinks to himself that if this was it for him- if he were to go to sleep only to never wake up again- he'd die a happy man, with the woman he loves nestled in his arms.
Still, he's not completely delusional. Christ, there's a long goddamn road ahead of him- he's still got no fucking clue how to get her to let him back in. Evidently, she's still the strong, determined Tara he'd fallen in love with years ago. She'd been hesitant to take their friendship to the next step but once it was clear to both of them how deep their unique bond went, she'd stood behind him through it all- through countless jabs and insults from her father, his own father's assassination attempt,and everything in between. It had taken nothing short of his own stupidity to finally break her, and now, she's using that same strength and determination he'd always admired to hunker down and protect herself from getting hurt by him yet again.
She's the same girl he fell in love with- and Jax is quickly realizing it's him who's got to be different. It's just that proving it to her is looking to be the biggest challenge he's ever faced- fuck Rick Knowles, Clay, the Mayans, Cameron Hayes, and every other goddamn person that's ever stood in his way…
Christ, Teller.
Willing his mind to shut the fuck up, Jax takes a deep breath, tries to return to the state of bliss he'd been in just a minute ago. He can't handle this shit right now, can't let his mind race and his insecurities run wild like they always do when he has too much time to think. Instead, he refocuses on the fact that he's got his whole world right here, wrapped in his arms.
He looks down his body and sees Tara, right back where she belongs. Drinking her in, he marvels at the way her sleek hair shines against his shirt, studies the smudge her fan of dark lashes makes against her pale cheek. His heart hammering once again, Jax runs a thumb across her lower lip, and smiles a bit when it curls back at him. She sighs in her sleep and he lets out his own shaky breath, allows his hand to trail up and down the soft skin of her arm before anchoring itself on her hip, as if to keep her here with him, forever.
The word forever is still floating on his mind as his eyelids lose their mooring and begin to drift closed. His determination to savor every moment he has with Tara fades as her breaths heat his skin and the rise and fall of his chest slows, until it matches hers. His last thought is that they're finally in sync again- almost as close as two people can be- and it's only then that Jax finally lets the warm, blessed darkness close in.
Jax startles awake from what feels like a days-long sleep, though from the headache rapidly building between his eyes, he's guessing he'd been asleep one or two hours at the most. Blearily, he takes in his surroundings, unsure for a moment where the fuck he actually is. The sparsely furnished apartment, the tiny kitchen, the small double bed escape his memory for a moment, and he rolls over to try to gather his thoughts- only to be faced with a yellow Post-It note on the far pillow.
"Back later- T"
Jax returns to his back as the events of the last two days come rushing back, barreling through his chest like a goddamn freight train. The weeks he'd spent in Tacoma mere miles away from the girl who'd left him, his inevitable- but almost subconscious- decision to put himself out of his misery and go to her, the agonizing minutes he'd spent watching her at the fair, his self-righteous bullshit and his utter stupidity at leaving her there… Then, her unexpected anger when he'd finally attempted to rectify his mistake, her utter refusal to buy into his bullshit followed by her gut-wrenching sobs and the way she'd screamed at him to leave…
And the blissful hours he'd spent wrapped around her.
Now, though, Tara's gone yet again. Forcing down the wave of deja vu washing over him at what's becoming a theme in his goddamn life- the sight of the empty apartment and note- and swallowing the sick sensation rising in the back of his throat, Jax sits up on Tara's bed. Sighing heavily, he runs a shaking hand down his face.
Okay.
At least she'd left a note- a vague one, sure, but it indicates she'll be back and that she had expected him to be there when she returns…which is something. Isn't it? Only, neither the note nor his fairly generous interpretation of it even begin to answer his other two questions: namely, where the hell had she gone, and what the hell is he supposed to do with himself until she returns?
Forcing himself to breathe deeply, in an effort to fend off the uncertainty crowding his mind, Jax finds himself shifting to the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. Alone in the small apartment, he takes in his surroundings like he hadn't bothered to do earlier, when his sole focus had been on Tara and then their heated exchange. One by one, he notes the things that had surrounded her in the months they'd spent apart. Small bed with a rumpled quilt he doesn't recognize. Nightstand adorned with little but an ancient alarm clock, a cordless phone, and the remnants of the box he'd left on her doorstep the evening before. Desk with a few scattered papers, a lamp, and a towering stack of books. Kitchenette, complete with a small table and single chair, sparkling countertops, and what looks to be a work schedule adorning the otherwise-empty refrigerator. A few pairs of shoes arranged neatly by the front door, and a backpack hanging on a hook above them. Vaguely, Jax realizes that the laundry basket she'd dropped at his feet earlier seems to be missing.
The place is clean- just like she'd kept the apartment back in Charming. Somehow, it's both strikingly similar to the place they'd shared above the vet clinic garage, and totally different at the same time. Jax glances around again, searching for something- anything- that might silence that nagging voice deep in his subconscious telling him that something is off, here. What the hell could it be?
And suddenly, it dawns on him.
Just like when she'd left him and he'd returned to find the apartment still furnished, yet void of all the unique little things that made it truly theirs, her current place is… barren. Lifeless. There are no snapshots of them on the walls, no framed concert tickets on the nightstand, no photo booth strips, trinkets, or mementos strewn about the desk. Hell, the only clue there had ever been a Jax and Tara was the shirt she'd been wearing on her back- his shirt- and even that is missing, currently. It's like she'd erased them, then and now. Erased him from her life the moment she'd gotten in the Cutlass and reduced Charming to little more than a dot in her rearview.
Jax's gut churns with the realization, and it worsens as he recalls her words to him mere hours ago.
I cried for weeks after I left you, Jax. Weeks…
I couldn't let you be my whole world.
Christ, it kills him to see firsthand what she'd had to do to move on- and the knife gouges even deeper as he realizes it's not so different from what his own mother had tried to do to nudge Jax himself into getting over Tara. Not that that was fucking possible. Gemma had decided to clear the clubhouse apartment of anything that might remind him of Tara, earning his drunken rage in return. But Tara had decided to remove him altogether.
Listlessly, Jax rises to his feet, burying his hands in his hoodie pocket, at once desperate to do… something, and wholly unsure exactly what the fuck that is. Then, his fingers brush against his pack of smokes- long since forgotten, and a bit crushed from the way he'd pulled Tara to him earlier. And suddenly, he feels the familiar craving rising from beneath the hole that seems to have taken up residence in his gut.
Outside, with the afternoon sun warming his face and smoke filling his lungs, Jax finds his head clearing- if only a little. Sighing, he leans against the side of the building and takes another drag, then another, and another. When the cigarette is gone, he's no closer to answers than he had been when he'd retrieved it from the battered pack to begin with. So, he simply flicks it away and fishes out a second, along with the Zippo he habitually keeps in his jeans pocket. When it's smoldering and dangling from his fingertips, he takes in his surroundings- this time outside her apartment rather than inside- and finds them relatively unchanged from yesterday.
No sign of Tara, but the Cutlass is still parked where it had been the night before, alongside the Dyna. Where it belongs, his mind supplies. Across the way, a couple practically bursts out the front door of another apartment, kissing and laughing, and he can't help but smile a bit, recalling the two that had asked him to take their photo by the fountain two evenings prior- though it seems like years have passed since then.
While he's watching them head off down the walk, hand in hand, another guy about his age or maybe a little younger pulls up on a late-model sports bike and parks. Jax watches, intrigued, as he swings his leg over the bike- maybe a Honda, he can't tell- and tucks a helmet under his arm. He fishes a set of keys out of his own hoodie pocket and jogs up the walk, slowing only briefly when he spots Jax. Then, he's nodding a greeting before clambering up the stairs, two by two.
Christ, it's all so…normal. Not necessarily better than their life in Charming, nor is it worse. If anything, it serves as yet another reminder that her days, here, without him, had been just fine. Hell, she'd been just fine once she'd put some distance between them, at least before he'd showed up and apparently thrown her into a tailspin. Shaking his head- and not really ready to confront the odd pit that thought leaves in his stomach- Jax smokes cigarette after cigarette, sucking in the poison until his lungs burn. He flicks them away one by one, littering the gravel alongside the building with the still-smoldering butts, until he's somewhere south of sure just how much time has passed. And it's only after he reaches for another and comes up empty that he feels real again- and maybe the slightest bit ready to face what's coming.
Which is a good goddamn thing, because before Jax has a chance to gather his thoughts and move somewhere past chain smoking to figuring out how in the hell he's going to dig himself out of the mess he's created, Tara's rounding the corner to his right. She walks right past him at first- laundry basket on her hip and keys in hand- before jumping a bit, evidently not expecting him to be hanging around by her front door. As her troubled gaze settles on him, leaning silently against the block wall of her building, he doesn't miss the way her plump lips drop open and her cheeks flush at the sight of him.
Christ, he knows just how she feels- he's not used to seeing her appear right there in front of him, either- at least not anymore. As a result, he has to physically restrain himself from reaching out to touch her, the consequences of doing so- which she'd readily demonstrated this morning- fueling his sense of self-preservation. Somehow, despite the reaction the sight of her inspires- has always inspired- in his body, he's guessing stepping forward and slanting his mouth over hers like he wants more than anything in the world isn't going to get him much more than a well-aimed knee to the balls.
The look she cuts at him after she gathers her composure and reaches past him to open the door- all without a word- confirms his instincts. Silently, he tosses away this final cigarette and raises his gaze to the sky, wordlessly asking whoever the hell is up there for some semblance of an idea what to do next. Finding none, he follows her inside, thankful, at least, that she didn't lock the door behind her.
Tara doesn't look up when Jax slips inside the apartment and quietly clicks the door closed behind him, or when he hesitantly takes a few steps in her direction. Instead, she busies herself with the contents of the laundry basket, meticulously folding- sometimes re-folding- each item and placing them in neat piles on the still-mussed bed. He watches her for a long moment that stretches into several, her sharp jaw tense, eyes diligently avoiding his gaze. Still, he notes the absence of dried tears on her cheeks, the way her eyes seem to focus on something he can't see on the far wall. And he realizes she's used her time away from the apartment- away from him- to carefully rebuild the walls that had come crashing down, along with the dam that broke earlier when she cried herself to sleep in his arms. Fuck.
Apparently having no such regrets herself, Tara bites her lip and reaches back into the basket.
Fold.
Stack.
Fold.
Stack.
Fold.
Stack.
And on, and on, and on it goes, the silence seeming to scream through his veins until Jax swears he can hear it echoing in the dim apartment- and he just can't take it anymore.
"Tara…"
Though his voice is intentionally soft- gentle, even- Tara flinches, as if her very name is an attack he's launching at her from across the room. Then, as if catching herself, she raises her eyes to his- her expression guarded, neutral. And before he can continue with whatever the hell he'd intended to say, she's filling the silence as if he hadn't said a word a moment ago.
"I want you to answer a question for me, Jax. No bullshit." It's not a question, that much is clear. But still, she pauses- seems to assess him, detached- until he answers, helpless to do much else.
"Okay."
Nodding, her eyes leaving his once again, Tara folds the final piece of clothing in the basket and places it atop the pile, needlessly smoothing it. Then, seemingly without something to do with her hands, she lets them drop near her sides, fidgeting with the hem of her- his- faded flannel shirt. Christ, is she nervous? Then she's speaking again, jolting him out of his thoughts.
"Why are you here, Jax? I mean… what do you want out of all of this?" She sounds resigned, exhausted… distant- and it sends a shiver down his spine. Aw, hell, he can only hope he kept the very physical reaction he's just had to her demeanor off his face- no good can come from revealing just how desperate she has him feeling. So, he chooses instead to shrug- as if he doesn't have his whole life, maybe even his goddamn sanity, riding on this conversation.
'It's simple, Babe. I want you."
Tara smiles, sadly, and shakes her head.
"We both know it isn't that simple. If it was, I'd probably still be in Charming-"
"And instead, you've made a life here for yourself. I get that, Tara, I swear. The moment I saw you the other- hell, probably from the moment you left me- I knew you'd made the right choice, as hard as it was for both of us. And I know I fucked up. Christ, it was a series of fuckups I can't even begin to make up for…and the worst one was takin' so long to get my shit together and tell you how sorry I am. But I am." She tilts her head, her quizzical expression belying her confusion. "Sorry, I mean," Jax clarifies.
"Jax-"
"Just let me finish," he insists, though he's got no clue what the hell the end of this conversation will even look like. "You have no idea what it was like in Charming without you." He ignores the way her mouth drops open, circumvents the protest he's sure is about to cross those pink lips, and fixes his gaze squarely on hers. "I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep… Christ, I was like a dead man walking, and for a while, I didn't much care what happened to me. And it took me a long-ass time to pull myself out of it." He shakes his head. "Even once I got my head outta my ass and realized I couldn't go on livin' my life without you in it, I was still fuckin' lost. I had no clue where you'd gone, and I think that was almost worse than bein' alone. Knowing you were somewhere in the world where I couldn't hold you when you were sad, see you smile when you when you were happy…" Tara closes her eyes, and he seizes on the opportunity to drive his point home.
"Jesus, Babe, I had to take desperate measures to find you before I lost you for good, and lost myself along with you." Despite his words, Jax chuckles, ruefully. "I'll have to tell you about it some time- I got on the wrong side of Koz and Tig and got me this black eye to show for it." He sobers quickly, but his courage is fueled by the memory of the sheer anger and frustration he'd felt the day he'd left Charming. "It was hell, Tara- I almost lost a good friend…shit, Gemma may never speak to me again. But I'd do it all again to prove to you that you're what matters to me." Skeptical, Tara raises a brow. "To answer your question- I'm here because it was killin' me to be away from you and I won't put us through that. Not ever again."
Tara regards him cooly for a moment- and not for the first time, Jax thinks to himself that she'd make a fucking excellent Son, with that rock-solid poker face and almost tangible resolve. He has no doubt she'd make fools out of even the most shrewd club presidents, gangsters, and businessmen if it came down to holding her thoughts close to the vest and doing what needed to be done.
"Everything's about physical distance for you, isn't it?" Her voice is steady, sure, but Jax wisely stops himself from actually blurting out the words on the tip of his tongue- No shit. Christ, what is she not understanding? She looks away for a moment.
"We made plans so we could stay together, stay near enough one another and the goddamn club so we could have it both ways. And I was happy to do it, Baby- mostly because it made you happy." Nonplussed, Jax blinks. What's she getting at? Evidently noticing his dumbfounded gaze, Tara huffs out a frustrated breath.
"Jesus Christ, Jax, we spent months like that- physically as close as we had ever been… but it was the goddamn emotional distance that was killing me- and you couldn't see it. I'd be lying there in bed with you, knowing that you might as well have been a hundred miles away. Worse, it was like I was actually watching the guilt and misery eat at you from the inside- but you still couldn't bring yourself to let me in. And when I couldn't take it anymore?" When he doesn't react, she shrugs, sadly. "That's when I found out I needed the physical distance after all. It was the only way to be sure I didn't lose myself completely."
Blindly, Jax pushes off the desk he'd been leaning against, filled with just enough righteous indignation to forget about handling himself, this situation, and Tara, carefully.
"So why are you here?" he challenges, his voice rising for the first time today. "Of all the places you could've gone, why are you fuckin' here, Tara? In Tacoma, where you know good and goddamn well we got a charter, instead of San Diego like your mom? Or Fresno, USC, Stanford, or any other one of the dozen schools willing to give you a scholarship?"
Tara rolls her eyes, something he's seen her do a thousand and one times in his life. But even in his irritation, he doesn't miss the way bites her lip- a sure sign she's uncomfortable. Good, he finds himself thinking. It's time for her to drop the fucking poker face and have a real goddamn conversation.
"You gonna answer my question, or-"
"UW offered me a scholarship too, and they have a good intern program." She narrows her eyes, her sharp edges returning just a bit as she responds. "Besides, this is just my undergrad- I could go any of those other places for med sch-"
"That's bullshit and you know it." Jax shakes his head, the near sneer curling his lips before he can stop it. Why can't she just admit it? "It's like I said earlier, you can't tell me this is some kinda coincidence. Why here? Why pick somewhere you knew the club visits on a run at least every-"
"Jesus Christ, Jax! Do I need to draw you a fuckin' map?" Tara explodes, taking an incensed step towards him, then another, until she's nearly in his face, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "Of course that's why I picked Tacoma! At least…one of the reasons. I was hoping you'd know we still had a chance. Hoping you'd realize that I still loved you- I just didn't know how to do it in Charming, anymore." She throws her hands up, helplessly. "God, I was waiting for you to wake up and figure out that you don't owe anyone the next 25 years of your goddamn life- not Ope, not your father, not SAMCRO, and especially not Charming. But I never thought it would take you this long- and I sure as hell never thought you'd take one look at me and decide to leave me here."
Oh, she's pissed now- her eyes are welling up with the frustrated tears he'd long ago learned to recognize as a sign of imminent danger… But despite himself, Jax rolls his eyes and can't keep the edges of a smirk from creeping onto his lips.
"Nah, Babe. I don't need a map and you know it- I'm a fuckin' outlaw." She blinks at him once, twice, nonplussed. Then, she closes her eyes altogether, her reluctant, low chuckle at once warming his heart and inspiring him to join her. His heart softening a bit, he chucks her under the chin until she looks up at him once again- and he's instantly lost in her unguarded expression. He can't help smiling softly as she waits for him to continue."I just wanted you to admit it- that you came up here because you thought there was still hope for us,"
Then, the mirth is gone and he quickly sobers, swiping a hand down his face.
"But I am an outlaw, Tara- even though JT's got us earning smarter, straighter than we ever have. It's just who I am. And that means that no matter what happens, no matter which of your dreams you decide to follow, I'll never deserve you."
It's silent for a beat, and the ultimate truth seems to hang in the air between them. Tara's expression is unreadable, and Jax finds himself in the dark once again. His heart is thudding so loudly he's at once irrationally convinced she can hear it, giving away all his fears, all the secrets he'd long ago reassured himself she was better off not knowing.
"My God, Jax…" she whispers, dumbfounded- and he's as transfixed by her words as he is by the tears once again shining at the corners of her moss-green eyes. "Where did you ever get this idea that you weren't- aren't- good enough? I've loved you since we were kids. Been in love with you for almost as long. I know who you are, what you are- and I know that the club is part of that." She swallows audibly and shakes her head, jarring her tears loose from her lower lashes. They roll, seemingly unnoticed, down her cheeks, and Jax aches to brush them away- but it doesn't quite cancel out his desperation to learn what it is she has to say. "I also know it's not all of you, no more than wanting to be a surgeon is all of me. But in the end, I couldn't just watch you drown in it anymore…So I had to learn to live without you, as much as it hurt me to do it."
She looks away, then, blinking back more tears, and Jax's feet are moving almost before he realizes he's stepping towards her. Christ, he can no more stop himself from going to her now than he can stop his heart from beating. Slowly, deliberately, he cradles her face in his hands, burying his fingers in the warmth of her hair. And as he dips his head to level with her gaze, her eyes widen- he can't tell if it's panic, arousal, or something else. At once, alarm bells are clanging in his head, reminding him that he's got to tread carefully with her. As much as he's practically dying to claim her lips and lose himself in showing her, physically, everything that's practically bursting its way out of his chest at this very moment, he suddenly realizes she needs to hear it, first.
"You don't- we don't have to live without each other, Babe. Not anymore." Tara closes her eyes as if in defeat, releasing another dormant river of tears that pool beneath his fingers.
"I just don't see how this can work, Jax. Today, tomorrow- whenever the club's done with this run- you'll be on your way back to Charming and I'll still be…here," she manages, the thickness of her voice revealing just how hard this is for her, too. "And then what happens? You ride ten hours up here on weekends? We see each other on school breaks?"
"You-"
"Could come back to Charming? Is that what you were gonna say? I can't go back there, Jax. It was killing me- it was killing us." Her eyes flash angrily even as she narrows them, and he's simultaneously glad to see the fight back in her and fucking terrified at what it might mean for him.
"I'm not goin' anywhere, Babe. This ain't a run so much as its an agreement between the SAMTAC pres and my old man." Jax grins as the surprise washes across her face- though it's mere seconds before it's gone, replaced by the infuriatingly neutral expression she'd worn most of the time he'd been here. Repressing a sigh, he rushes on with the rest of the story, suddenly confident this, at least, could work in his favor. "The day after I almost burned my bridges with Koz, figuring out you were in Tacoma?" She nods, and he can tell she's practically dying to ask him what had happened to cause his black eye, which spurs him to grin even wider. "Happy turned up in Charming, needed two guys to come up to Tacoma and help with an issue they were havin' with some local player. It was like a fuckin' sign, Tara- this job comin' up just when I'd finally gotten my shit together and tracked you down. So I volunteered…even though it was still a while before I grew the balls to come find you."
But again, Tara's shaking her head, sending his heart plummeting.
"So you're here for what, a day? A week? A month, even? And then what? We'll be right back where we st-"
The explanation's pouring out of his mouth before he even has time to think about what he's saying- before he has a chance to consider anything but convincing her this is their shot, that they're still end game. And as he blurts out what's been in the back of his mind for weeks, now, Jax realizes, suddenly, just how much he truly means every word.
"I'm applying for a transfer, Tara. A permanent one." This time, Tara apparently can't check the shock that registers on her face any more than he can prevent himself from getting even closer and resting his forehead on hers. Never mind that it's at least partially to give himself a moment to get a handle on the thousand and one things rushing into the space those words had left behind. Christ, as much as he means it, as much as he realizes for the first time ever that a transfer is what he wants- what they need- he's no closer to making it happen than he had been the moment he'd volunteered for this run.
"Jax-" Tara begins, her voice soft, yet filled with something he knows he's not quite ready to handle.
"It'll take a while to happen, Babe" Jax interrupts- just as much to stop her from saying something he doesn't want to hear as out of his newfound desire for full disclosure. Still, he can't help but feel a bit of hope as she draws back from him, the tint of disappointment evident in her eyes. "I need to prove myself to these guys- especially Lee, the president. And I got a real good opportunity to do it while we finish out this job. Then, I'll need to sell him on the idea- him and my old man-"
"And Gemma," Tara bites, drily. "SAMCRO's reigning queen is definitely going to have something to say about her precious boy leaving the nest." Jesus Christ… Irritated, Jax can't help but glare back at her- since when did she turn into fucking Tig?
"I'll handle my mother," he responds, icily, and Tara rolls her eyes, laughing humorlessly.
"You can't deny it, Jax- she's a factor in every decision you make, especially if that decision takes you away from Charming." From her, she doesn't say- though the implication hovers, unspoken, between them for a long moment.
And he hates it. Hates that she has a point, hates that she's got his defenses up again. For the second time today, he can feel his temper getting the best of him despite the fact that she's right and she knows it. Hell, it's because she's right- and they both know it. He snorts, shaking his head, lets the self-righteous anger take over- probably because it's a hell of a lot easier than truly discussing his mother.
"She already knows, Tara. I told her I was comin' up here the same day I volunteered for the run." Sure, some part of him is aware he's intentionally leaving out the fact that he's yet to tell anyone in Charming but Kozik that Tara's up here. That same part of him realizes it's a good fucking thing Tara doesn't know he'd waited until Gemma was nowhere to be found before he'd practically snuck out of town under her nose. Still, it somehow serves to fuel his anger all the more.
"Christ, I practically told Ma to fuck off before I came up here. What the hell else do you want from me?" And maybe his voice is a little louder than he'd originally intended it to be- but he just can't bring himself to give a shit. Still, she ignores his question, narrowing her eyes before pinning him with one of her own.
"Even if the transfer goes through, that doesn't solve our problem, Jax- you not letting me in. How do I know we won't be right back where we started the minute you patch SAMTAC?"
"Look, I promise-" She shakes her head in frustration, cutting him off.
"You've made- and broken- the same promise before." And, although he knows just how fucking true that is, there's only one thing he can say in return.
"You're just gonna have to trust me, Babe."
The look on her face says everything Tara doesn't in that instant- that she's not altogether sure she can trust him.
Then, a knock at the door interrupts any chance of an actual response. Goddammit. Jax sighs, frustrated, raking his fingers through his hair and backing away from Tara before retreating to the desk. He has only a moment in which to settle himself on its surface before the knock comes again- louder, this time. Who the hell can possibly be at the door? Raising an insolent eyebrow, Jax gestures at the door in question.
"Think someone's at the door," he deadpans, drawing a glare and an eye roll from Tara. Not bothering to respond, she brushes past him and yanks the door open just as the knocking begins again.
Standing outside- fist still poised at the door, and a slightly surprised expression on his face- is a guy he's never seen before. Actually, that's not quite accurate. As he looks him over, Jax vaguely recalls him as the same kid who'd arrived on the sports bike earlier. And from the way Tara immediately has a smile for him, he realizes she knows this guy.
"Uh…hey."
"Hey, Juan. Um… what's up?"
Apparently nervous, the kid's eyes flit towards Jax, briefly assessing him in a way he hadn't when they'd encountered each other outside. After a moment, he turns his attention to Tara, pasting on a wide grin.
"I uh… Well, I noticed the Statistics book you had last time I was here. Uh… last night." He seems to look meaningfully at Tara for a second before rushing on. "And I was wondering if maybe you had notes, too? Like for the test, tomorrow?"
As Jax watches the kid- Juan, his mind supplies- ramble on nervously about the test, and as he watches Tara smile warmly in response, Jax can't help but feel an all-too-familiar flare of jealousy. Juan's awkwardness, the kindness Tara shows him, the way the guy keeps glancing over at Jax like he hadn't expected him to be there… Jax shakes his head trying to jar loose just why he's irritated. Tara's clearly not infatuated with the guy or anything, but the way he's looking at her- it's all just a bit too reminiscent of the years Jax had spent gritting his teeth over David Hale.
It's then that the memory of his conversation with Hale surfaces- the one they'd had right before he'd left Charming. The way he'd just assumed Jax and Tara were still together had fuckin' hurt, at the time. Then, unbidden, another realization crops up. There's no way any visitor to Tara's apartment would expect some boyfriend- old flame or not- to be lurking in the shadows. After all, there's not a damn trace of his existence anywhere in the place.
Resolutely, Jax pushes that thought away too, forces himself to maintain what he hopes is a casual stance, leaning against the desk, and tries not to listen in on their conversation. But as it continues, and they chat and laugh about subjects unfamiliar to him, he finds himself shifting uncomfortably. With every moment he stands there watching this guy get cozy in Tara's doorway, he's more antsy- and it's a foreign sensation. In fact, it's something he hasn't felt since… God, probably since he'd been waiting on the lot to hear if he and Ope had patched into the club, what now seems like a hundred years ago. Sighing, Jax clears his throat and shifts again, suddenly itching for a cigarette- and Tara's shooting daggers over her shoulder.
Fuck it.
"Hey, uh- Tara?" Christ, he hates getting knocked off his stride, especially when it means he's as hesitant as this kid had been when he'd shown up on Tara's doorstep, putting them on the same fucking footing. Desperate to get the fuck out of here, he pushes himself off the desktop and strides over to the door like he belongs here- no matter that the last few hours has done everything but convince him it's the truth.
Briefly, Jax stops to rest a hand on Tara's arm, relieved when she doesn't recoil at his touch like she'd done earlier. "I gotta go burn one." He doesn't bother telling her the rest of his cigarettes are in his saddlebag. Still, she nods, almost imperceptibly, and it's then that an idea strikes. It's about fucking time something went his way. "Thought maybe I could run out and grab us somethin' to eat- bring it back?" He pastes on a smile, which isn't too hard, considering he's mentally patting himself on the back for coming up with a reason to get the fuck out of there- and a reason to come back.
"Oh.. yeah, okay." She has a smile for him, and he's momentarily lost in the near-heartstopping beauty of it, the thrill of having that gorgeous smile directed at him once again… Then, Juan clears his throat- and Jax is reminded once again of his presence. Gritting his teeth, he manages to maintain the grin. Guess it's time for introductions.
"Name's Jax, I'm uh… here from out of town." God, what else is he supposed to say, at this point? To his credit, Juan has a smile for him in return.
"I'm Juan, Tara's upstairs neighbor. Just figured out last night that we have a class together." Juan extends his hand, and Jax reluctantly shakes it. "You must be uh, Tara's… boyfriend?"
The silence that ensues as Jax meets Tara's eyes stings- but not as much as the thinly disguised panic that alights on her face. But somehow, Jax can't bring himself to look away- even as Juan shifts somewhere on the edge of his field of vision. Can't force himself to let her off the hook just yet- not when his own brain has been screaming its own version of that very question since the moment he'd laid eyes on her yesterday.
He's not sure how long they stand there- could be seconds, minutes, hours, for all he knows- until the silence is broken when Juan clears his throat once again.
"I should go, let you two have a chance to catch up," he says, rubbing at the back of his neck, clearly as uncomfortable as Jax is. Good.
"No, it's okay- you should-"
"Naw, I gotta go- I mean-"
Jax and Tara's simultaneous responses- and their ensuing interruptions of one another- effectively break the tension, setting them all laughing, if a bit awkwardly. And as much as Jax is practically dying to press harder- learn the whole story behind this guy and why he'd been here last night- he just can't. Not if it means making this a big fucking deal and pushing Tara even further away than she already is; and not if it means losing the tiny bit of progress they'd made before Juan came knocking at the door.
Though, he still has to admit to himself that the old Jax probably would have risked it anyway if he'd really thought there was something between the two of them. Gotten in the guy's face, taken more than a little pleasure in watching the nerves turn into trepidation, quickly followed by fear… Instead, Jax finds himself extending his hand once again, and smiling ruefully when Juan shakes it, firmly. And he hopes she realizes just what it had cost him to walk away and leave this guy in her apartment.
"I'm sure we'll meet again…Juan."
And he finds that he can't help but stake his claim just a little bit, leaning in to rest his hand on Tara's hip and kiss her chastely on the cheek. He doesn't miss how she blushes as he draws away, but the restraint necessary to keep him moving past her and out her door has him biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Still, he manages to make it halfway down the front walk before taking one last look at her over his shoulder, standing in her doorway pink-cheeked, her pretty mouth just that tiniest bit open in surprise. His grin widens.
"Be right back, Babe."
As is typical in Tacoma, heavy traffic turns Jax's "be right back" to nearly an hour-long journey to and from the sandwich joint he'd noticed earlier, just a few miles up Pacific. Still, he's thankful for the distraction- both from his incessant thoughts about what, exactly, Tara and Juan are talking about in his absence, and from the rumbling of his long-neglected stomach. And as he slows to a stop in front of her building, he tries not to think too hard about the fact that he's relieved to see that Juan and Tara are both sitting on the concrete step in front of her door.
They look up at the sound of his bike and both send him a brief wave, Juan with a sheaf of papers and Tara with a slender hand. Jax unclips his helmet as they rise from the step and talk briefly- there's that gorgeous smile of hers again- and he has to push away the remaining bits of his jealousy that she no longer seems to be saving it for him. Then, Juan's bounding up the stairs, papers in hand, and Tara- to Jax's mild surprise- is heading down the short concrete walk to meet him.
Wordlessly, they unpack the saddlebag he'd left on his bike the night before. He hands Tara a large, brown paper bag before taking the other himself, gathering sodas, chips, and a large foam carton containing her favorite- New York cheesecake. She raises a brow at him and he can't help but shrug in response- he hadn't wanted her to have any excuse to leave again, at least not until they'd hashed this shit out.
Tara's headed up the walkway, past the big old oak that shades the front of the property with Jax following close behind, when she freezes. It takes him a moment to realize why she's stopped- and yet another for her to turn, slowly, to face him. For the umpteenth time today, he can't read her expression- probably couldn't have even if he wasn't currently drowning in the troubled green of her eyes.
"You were here. Last night." Barely moving, she angles her head towards the scattered remnants of his presence there the night before- a dozen or so cigarette butts strewn across the grass beneath the tree. Maybe more, he'd lost count after he'd opened a fresh pack somewhere around dawn.
He hadn't really intended on spending the night under the tree, but he'd found himself unable to stay too far away once he'd set his heart on going to her. He'd arrived well past 2 AM, and his first instinct had been to pound on her door until she answered, then scoop her up into his arms, to hell with the fact that it had been the middle of the goddamn night… But then he'd wisely decided against that. So, he'd fallen back on old habits and spent the next few hours, off and on, with his back resting against the gnarled trunk, just like he'd done countless times before beneath their tree on the Wahewa reservation.
Her statement seems to hang in the air between them, and when she glances back up at him imploringly, Jax sighs.
"Yeah, I was. Got here late, didn't want to wake you- so I just… waited."
Tara nods again- and her silence is a pretty damn good sign she's picturing exactly how he'd been as he'd waited for a decent hour to come. Smoking, pacing, cursing- alternately stopping himself from banging on her door and convincing himselt that throwing his leg back over his bike would be the biggest fucking mistake of his life all over again. But there's no need to say all that out loud- not with the way she's gazing up at him, something in her eyes that hadn't been there before.
And before Jax has time to wonder what, exactly, it might be, Tara's shifting the takeout bag to the crook of her arm and extending her hand to squeeze his fingers. His eyes widen and he's still staring in near-awe at their joined hands a moment later when she lets her fingers slip free. Jax stares after her, hope building in him once again, as she turns and continues up the walk. So he's not altogether prepared when she reaches the front door and turns to look at him over her shoulder, that rare, genuine smile of hers sending his heart pounding and his pulse racing. But all it takes is two words to get him moving toward his favorite place in the world- wherever Tara is.
"You coming?"
**A/N: I hope you don't hate me too much, but after all the pain, miles, and time that have come between them, this isn't going to be easy. Also, it's Jax and Tara- when are things ever easy? Still, they're making some progress, I think.
Thanks for sticking with me, even though I'm painfully slow at updating. I have a cross-country move coming up, but I'm hoping things will settle down after that. And, as always, endless thanks to Ang R. for helping me keep this story going. 3**