I Have Some Scars
"He who wishes to fight must first count the cost."
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
She slides the soft cast over her hand, covering the ugly surgical scars that symbolized not only the demise of her career as a surgeon, but also to the dreams that she'd soon escape Charming and SAMCRO for that fairy tale life with Jax and their sons.
Once fastened, her green eyes instantly dart away to focus on anything else besides the pliant material that'd once ushered in so much hope - the chance of full recovery, of a promising new practice in Oregon. Now the cast taunts her, a cruel reminder of what could've been before the reality of her life had crushed her once again - like SAMCRO's deadly reaper bent on destroying everything it its wake.
Her gaze drifts over to the foot of the bed where her husband had been sitting just moments ago. Over the years, how many hours have the two of them spent in this room - on that bed - stripped bare, literally and figuratively, as they shared their bodies and innermost thoughts?
She'd been fifteen when Jax first brought her here to SAMCRO's cabin, initially to party with friends, but then they'd spent the entire time locked in this room lost in each other. And so every time she'd been here with him - during high school and after she returned and they re-connected - this room had been a haven for them to be alone together, shutting out the rest of the world.
But after everything that's happened over the past few weeks - her arrest and that stupidly desperate faked miscarriage to ostracize Gemma, his full-blown embrace of SAMCRO's darkest side and infidelity with that hooker - there was no escaping the friction radiating from the both of them; palpable tension so thick that not even Jax's razor sharp ka-bar could penetrate it.
"I understand... why you did everything you did. I'm sorry being with me took you to that place." Briefly his blue eyes had locked with hers, imploring her to say something… anything, before rising and leaving the room.
His words had stunned her, that he could understand her motivations and forgive so quickly; speechless, she'd just stared at him. Could it really be that simple to cast aside all the hurt and betrayal, to look past the emotional scars still so fresh and raw?
She can't stop staring at them, the angry red ridges marring her pale hand with such grisly precision. Thanks to an abusive father and a psychotic ex-boyfriend, she'd suffered more bruises and broken bones than she cares to remember - yet no beating by dear old Dad or crazy Joshua had left scars like these or threatened her future with such heartbreaking devastation.
Unless Dr. Balian's cautiously optimistic prognosis during her exam today turns in reality - that she could one day perform surgery again - those scars would be a permanent reminder of what she's lost, all her hard work and sacrifice for nothing…
"It's a good sign, right? The new cast?"
Glancing up to see at her husband framed in the doorway, she forces a small smile at the hopeful expression on his gorgeous face. Jax's felt so guilty about what happened to her, blaming himself even though they both knew fault rested solely with that bastard Clay.
"Dr. Balian seemed somewhat positive…as much as he can be." Self-consciously, she hides her hand under the blanket; no need for her beautiful husband to see her ugliness. "Did you just get home?" Another late night for SAMCRO.
Shaking his head, he plops down on the couch beside her. "No, I got home a while ago…you were passed out right here. Must've been a tough day."
So that's how the blanket had been covering her when she woke up; he must have draped it over her. She lays her head on his strong shoulder, melting thoroughly as he wraps his arms around her.
It'd actually been one of her better days until she'd tried to patch up the crazy bite on Tig's ass, and her hand couldn't stop shaking. That's never happened before, and it scared the holy shit out of her - enough to come home and get baked in her living room while Gemma watched over the boys. Not exactly a mother-of-the-year moment for her. Christ, it hurts like hell to know that she's turning into her own mother - whenever it got too hard to cope with the shit in her life, Grace Knowles got high and ignored her kid.
As if sensing the bleakness of her thoughts, Jax hugs her tighter against him and presses a kiss to her forehead; he gently pulls her damaged hand from under the blanket and brushes his lips across her fingers. "I know I don't tell you this enough…" Softly, he strokes her skin between the sutures. "Since I was a little kid, you've always been the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
Actually, he's been telling her that since high school - every time he's come back to her after a run, every time he's seen her naked…which is a hell of a lot. Warmth spreads through her as she nestles closer to him; all's perfect when she's wrapped in his arms.
"But what I love most is that you've always been the bravest person I've ever met." He cups her cheek as his riveting blue eyes bore into her. "We're going to get through this together, Babe. I promise."
Unable to resist, Tara slams her mouth over his, kissing him hungrily until she feels his stiff cock bulging against her stomach. Tweaking his goatee with her fingers, she beams at her slightly dazed badass biker. "I love you, Jax; so much…"
Her hand balls into a fist - that same hand which just saved a man's life less than an hour ago. With only Chibs and a motley assortment of borrowed/stolen surgical tools to assist her, she'd sailed through Bobby's surgery like the formidable doctor she'd once been. For the first time since the botched kidnapping that'd crushed both her hand and her psyche, she'd felt that old confidence surge inside her. Once again she was Dr. Tara Knowles, blessed with gifted hands and brimming with a surgeon's self-assured omniscience that others often construed as godlike arrogance.
And it'd felt damn good. Staring at herself in the mirror, Tara nods at her reflection - since her release from jail, she'd tried to avoid the mirrors in her house, not recognizing the complete stranger gazing back at her. But now…she's there - a spark of the old Tara Knowles, who'd battled through a miserable childhood, a grueling ascent through medical school and residency, Joshua, Jax...Survivor. Warrior.
Fuck being a victim of everyone else's ambitions. Fuck Patterson. Fuck Gemma. Fuck the stranger in the mirror who'd been too scared and too stupid to remember that Tara Knowles was a goddamn fighter. And fight like hell she will…not just for Abel and Thomas to escape a fate tied to SAMCRO, but for that bright future that had once been hers.
The bullet she'd dug out of Bobby's shoulder suddenly weighs much lighter in her pocket.
"What the hell does she want?" she snaps at Roosevelt when the sheriff greets them as they emerge from the elevator.
Mitch, her lawyer, had called Patterson this morning to inform her that Tara had nothing to say to help her nail SAMCRO; the DA then demanded that they meet with her at her office in the County building. Tara hadn't appreciated the summons for she had to drop everything and leave the cabin, where Bobby was still recovering, and trek to Stockton.
Roosevelt regards her impassively, although there's that flicker of sympathy in his eyes - as if he knows what Patterson is doing to her is all bullshit but can't do anything about it. "You'll find out soon enough," he murmurs cryptically then motions to them to follow him.
Tara rolls her eyes at Mitch, who shrugs helplessly, then turns to join the sheriff. "Mitch already told her that there's nothing I can do or say to help the two of you," she coldly informs the man who'd arrested her, effectively killing off what was left of her medical career; the state medical board had revoked her license soon after that.
From the weary air of resignation that seems to weigh heavily on him, she suspects that - like her - Roosevelt's been just another pawn of other people's ruthlessly fucked-up agendas - first Toric's, then Patterson's. However, she can't afford any empathy for him; while Eli wears that sheriff's badge and obediently executes the DA's bidding, he's the enemy.
She can sense Mitch's disapproval as he trails behind them; he'd wanted her to listen to what the DA had to say before making any decisions about cooperation. While she appreciates his caution, making sure she thinks through all her options - that's what she's been doing her whole life, her damn brain never stops. However, now she's made her choice; it's time for him to man up and fight beside her.
Roosevelt remains silent as he guides them to a closed door at the end of the hallway; shooting her one last inscrutable glance, he opens it and ushers them inside.
Storming into the room, Tara opens her mouth to tell Patterson that she's not interested in talking about any more deals - only to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of Jax sitting at the interrogation table across from the DA.
From the stunned look on his face, he hadn't expected to see her either. "What fucking game are you playing?" Jax hisses at the other woman. "You need to leave my wife alone."
"I thought this would be a good time for a family chat," Patterson tells him then beckons Tara and Mitch to join them at the table. "After so tragically losing a close member of your family, I thought you'd want to be together."
Tara bristles at the thought of Clay, that poisonous son-of-a-bitch was emphatically not family; despite her dedication to saving lives, she's waited and wanted for that bastard's death for some time now - the more painful, the better. After it was done, she'd spotted the faint flicker of regret in Jax's eyes for brutally killing the man who'd been his step-father since high school; for a moment, she'd shoved aside her anger at him and grasped his hand in brief solidarity. He'd done the right thing.
So if they've been summoned here to talk about Clay's murder, it's going to be a hell of a short meeting; there's no way she's saying shit about it. The bastard's dead, like he should've been long ago. Justice had been served.
Sitting down in the chair Mitch pulls out for her, she darts a quick glance at Jax, who's clearly pissed, before facing Patterson. "So what are we doing here?" On a rational level, Tara understands that the DA has a job to do - getting justice for the kids who'd been savagely murdered in that school shooting as well as closure for their families - however, she deeply resents the woman for her cold-blooded tactics.
"I just wanted to inform you both that we've learned something new in our investigation." Patterson's dark eyes flit around the table before resting on Jax. "Good news for you, Mr. Teller."
Crossing his arms, Jax just glares at her. "Great, we're always happy to hear about good news."
Patterson's expression remains implacable. "We've been doing some follow-up work on what happened on that tragic day, to try and understand what could've caused that boy to do what he did to his classmates. One thought was that he'd been so enamored of SAMCRO and your guns, that he wanted to impress you so that maybe one day you'll let him join your gang."
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. We're mechanics and motorcycle enthusiasts…"
"…so we decided to check your alibi for that day to make sure you hadn't been there, cheering him on."
Tara's not sure what Patterson's game is - provoking Jax like this, knowing how easily he could leap across the table and choke the living shit out of her. Jax's no saint, but there's not a chance in hell he'd ever have anything to do with child killings. To her shock, he remains silent while his blue eyes spit hot fury at the DA. If looks could kill, the woman would be a butchered, bloody corpse.
Apparently undeterred by Jax's lethal stare, Patterson continues her dissertation. "You may be surprised to know that, despite our relatively limited resources, we are very connected and have contacts all over this county's underbelly - including, your new escort business right here in Stockton."
Tara swallows back the bile that erupts inside of her at the mention of that repulsive hell hole; images of Jax with that whore flash through her vision, threatening to shatter her hard-fought composure and lunge for her cheating husband's fucking throat.
While the DA's gaze remains riveted on Jax, Tara can sense Patterson probing her rising emotions as well and struggles to rein in her temper. That's what Patterson wants - to rattle your resolve, Tara's rational brain chides her, don't give in to her…
"We were able to find witnesses, who'd been at Diosa that day and swear that you never left the company of the madam, Colette Jane. Even when the two of you were locked inside her bedroom all alone, they could hear both of you…solidifying your partnership, so to speak."
Tara's tenuous control collapses as hot blood rushes through her brain, drowning out all reason. She'd still been in jail when the school shooting happened, locked up because she'd tried to protect her dear husband and his precious Club. And while she'd been imprisoned at Stockton - alone, terrified and fighting fellow inmates in order to survive - Jax'd been a few miles away fucking that bitch. It'd been crushing enough to have caught him with the whore that one time, but then he'd been lashing out at her deception. But hearing of this betrayal…it's just all too much to process; Tara struggles to breathe as all the air rushes from her lungs.
"Tara…" Mitch's soft voice tugs her out of hellish reverie and back to the grim reality inside this miserable, suffocating room where her marriage officially died.
Christ, she can feel herself shaking but can't seem to do a goddamn thing about it. Somehow she manages to pull herself together and skewer Patterson with all the loathing she can muster. Despite her blurred vision, she can easily see through the vicious bitch's manipulations. Fuck her.
"I didn't know the DA's office now polices adultery…" Tara hates hearing the faint hitch of shrill hurt in her voice, but rising out of her chair, she holds her head up high. "If your goal was to wreck my marriage - then congratulations, you should be very proud. But it doesn't change a damn thing…I can't help you because I don't know shit."
She can feel Jax's intense stare boring into her, as if willing at her to look at him. But she can't. Not now, maybe not ever. Instead, she shoots Patterson another withering glare before turning on her heels to leave the room. Roosevelt, who'd been standing guard at the door, just steps out of her way.
"Tara!" Jax's shout shatters the quiet of the hallway. "Goddamn it, let go of me. I need to talk to my wife. Tara!"
Swiping at her eyes, she doesn't break stride on her way to the elevator, ignoring Mitch who'd apologized to the DA before scurrying to follow her. Turning around inside the elevator, she can see Roosevelt pointing a gun at Jax, while he struggles to escape the two deputies trying to restrain him. He's still screaming her name when the elevator doors close.
"Don't get me wrong, Tara - it's always good to see you - but what are you doing here?"
She accepts the mug of coffee from him and hugs it to her chest; anything to warm the coldness within, chilling her all the way to the bone. Although she much prefers this icy remoteness to the searing pain that'd eviscerated her in the DA's office; it's been her coping mechanism ever since she was a little girl, when she could pretend the bad hurts had happened to someone else.
The familiar cold resolve had enveloped her by the time she walked out of the county building. After dismissing Mitch with the promise to call him later, she'd blatantly lied to Rat - who Jax had tasked to follow her everywhere - telling him that his boss needed to talk to him, but the sheriff had taken his phone. She knows that Jax will probably kick the poor guy's ass for leaving her alone, but she doesn't need any of SAMCRO's spies following her - not where she needs to go. No one can know that.
She'd known that Patterson was ruthless…but this attack on Tara's family life clearly showed how low the woman was willing to go in order to get what she wanted. Mitch is a good guy - a solid lawyer; however, Tara needs help from someone who can fight even dirtier if she's going to emerge from this nightmare shit show with her freedom intact. And then she can take her boys and get the hell out of here for good. Fuck Jax.
So she decided to turn to the one guy who knew all of their weaknesses, SAMCRO and the DA; like Jax, she's known him for a good part of her life and also like Jax, his moral compass could calibrate in any way it takes to kick ass and win the day.
Taking a sip of coffee, she peers at him over the rim - her green eyes locking with his. "I need your help, Rosie."