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Chapter 10: The Significance of a Mark (Part 2)

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Church is in session. Not the typical fanfare with pews and preacher, but a rite that is just as sacred. Church, to the Sons of Anarchy, is a time where men who live and die in the way of the outlaw can gather together in a semi-civilized fashion. The table is a holy place where transgressions and hard decisions are addressed. The boys are gathered around the table, sitting casually, and the tone is somber and grim. Today's topic isn't light fodder, and Clay is dreading his reign as president.

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Gemma had been watching them as time had passed. She sees them growing closer and is admittedly jealous. The tender exchanges, the shy glances, it's all a reminder of a relationships she once had. It too was innocent and pure, but that kind of love quickly fizzles out, and when the real world gets wind of it, it becomes a broken and mangled thing. Gemma knew, and she wasn't about to let it happen to her son.

The club was the one thing that would always protect him, and Gemma had screwed and fought and bled to cement her status within Samcro. She would ensure that he was safe, and this little bitch wasn't about to take him away from her.

Clay had snuck up behind her, wrapping her in his long arms whilst grinding his pelvis into her backside. "Hey, gorgeous," he said, inhaling deeply into her neck.

"Hey, baby," she said, and her voice was distant and monotone. Clay picked up on it right away.

"What is it? Tell me what's the matter," he crooned. She knew better than to try and hide it, such was the nature of her relationship.

"It's Jax," she said, and Clay let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Don't," he said, already tired of the conversation he knew they were going to have. It was a subject broached all too often lately as he witnessed the increasing paranoia of his hovering wife.

"Just listen. That girl is trouble. He's been spending time away, and the others are noticing too. If he's going to be YOUR heir, you need to win them over…HE needs to win them over."

"What are you getting at Gem?" he asked, scrubbing his hands over face, for he already knew the answer.

"It's time for the Mayhem patch," she said. They had had this argument before, shouted it out, both switching sides and opinions as they saw fit. It was too dangerous, he's too young, he's not ready for that responsibility. Gemma was not keen on the idea of Jax spilling blood for the club, but he needed a reality check. He needed to understand that this was the life and certain people didn't belong in it.

After two hours of screaming and fighting, both of them were hoarse. Gemma's hair was ruffled, and Clay had scratches on his face. She had calmed him down with a blow job, and now they both sat down on the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor, exhausted.

"Alright. I'll take it to the table," Clay conceded.

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Chibs and Otto were against it. Opie thought that he should have the chance for the Men of Mayhem patch first, as he was older. Piney stayed neutral, but Tig, Bobby, and Clay were for it. Jax stayed silent as he contemplated his capacity for murder. That was what they were asking for. Could he do it, take another man's life? Two years ago, when he had been dumber and more eager he would have said "yes" right away. But now? Now he had Tara and her opinion to consider.

Two years ago, he would have jumped at the opportunity to prove himself. This would cement his status in the club and elevate him from his father's shadow and murmurs of nepotism. He couldn't conceive of the idea of not being a member of the club, in the same way that he couldn't conceive of not being with Tara. The decision had already been made for him, so he did the one thing he could do, and agreed.

Everyone was silent as they watched Jax nod his head in the affirmative. It was a moment of pride for some and agony for the others. "Arre ya sure ya waunt ta do this, boy?" asked Chibs, his heavy Scottish accent warm and reassuring.

"Yeah…SAMCRO for life, right?" said Jax. The others sounded their agreement and each put their two cents in for advice. Tig was sadistic as usual, though Jax suspected most things he said were half true, or so he hoped.

"It's easier than taking a woman," he said, twisting his dark, curly hair round his finger, "yeah sure there's screaming and fighting, at first. But then there's warm, liquid blood, and all you have is adrenaline pumping in your veins." Clay threw a book at him. Otto and Piney just shot Tig a bewildered stare. Bobby and Otto were a little more practical, trying to ease the moral conflict that he would face afterwards. As always, Jackson appreciated their advice, and Church was dismissed. The logistics were decided; he would start off with something small, a lackey of the Mayans. They'd gotten wind from the 1-9ers that a crack dealer was stepping in on turf that was too close to Charming. It would be the perfect hit, and they were going in tonight.

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Tara's new routine included going over to Jax's house after she finished her household chores. They had grown thick as thieves the past year, and her father did not approve of their relationship for obvious reasons. However, he was usually too drunk to take a significant notice, and as long as she maintained the household, it was never an issue.

She had grown a little more wild and reckless since meeting Jax. The other students and people around the town treated her with something like respect, but more along the lines of caution. The gym incident was now legendary, and Tara had felt more isolated than ever. Loneliness would have conquered had it not been for the comfort of her whirlwind romance with Jax.

She had just finished cleaning the house and as school was dismissed for the summer, she went to see Jax right after. She had not intended to overhear the conversation, and had, in her defense, knocked and rang the doorbell before going to the garage to find Jax. The raspy baritone of Clay and the worried hushed tone of Jax stopped her in her tracks. She would have interrupted them were it not for the next word to clearly make it to her ears. Murder.

Jax had said "murder" and the serious of his tone paralyzed her in disbelief. Surely she'd heard wrong. The nature of the conversation turned our normally very open Tara into an eavesdropper.

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"You sure you can do this, kid?" asked Clay. He had taken off his shades to interrupt Jax during his therapy session: turning a wrench in the garage.

"You mean MURDER?" he answered solemnly. He was deeply troubled and even though he tried to hide it, the anxiety was plain across his face.

"It's a relief, you know," says Clay, the two gentlemen now sitting side by side on a work bench. "Murder…taking a man's life, it's the most freeing thing that you'll ever do. If you can bring yourself to that point, nothing can stand in your way, no one can stop you." The air was pregnant with tension, and the weight of the conversation. Clay had this fire in his eyes, and behind it, Jax could see a certain madness lurking underneath. And then he saw guilt, regret. It was always there in Clay's eyes when he looked at him.

"But then there's this blood on your hands, you see," Clay then looked at his massive, veined hands, curling his fingers, searching for invisible blood. "It's so easy to kill a man; it takes less than a pound of pressure to cut flesh, a fraction of a second to squeeze a trigger. The act is easy…it's that aftermath that gets you…the blood never goes away, no matter how hard you try to wash it."

It was deathly quiet, and the conversation was too dark for the perfect California sunny day. It was surreal. Jax was at a loss for words. It was the most vunerable he had seen Clay, in almost his entire life. They were close, sure, because of the club and because of his mother, but there was always a certain distance (rivalry) caused by the legacy of John Teller. Moments like this brought them closer, and yet somehow pointed out the gaps in their relationship.

"It's gotta be tonight…" Jax said, finally breaking the silence. "Tonight my hands will be stained."

"And you'll get the patch that makes you a core member of the club," said Clay. All of the sudden Tara walked in, and the conversation was put to an end. The air was tense, as Jax was terrified that she may have heard part of the conversation. He didn't think he could go on if Tara knew. He couldn't see that look of revulsion in her eyes, and he thought about calling off the whole thing…but he wouldn't, because this was the club, and sometimes things had to be done.

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Tara had played it cool, staying calm as the conversation trickled out, and when she had gathered all the information, she had stepped in. The shock was enough to numb her, but she would get through this. Her hands were shaking, but she willed them into stillness, a trait that her anatomy teacher had complimented her on. Steady hands that would make a good surgeon, he said. Tara wouldn't let them have Jax, and she certainly wasn't going to let him live with that kind of guilt; so she came up with a plan.

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A/N: Had a power outage as there was a massive thunderstorm last night. Oh, shitty Missouri weather, how you plague me! Third part of this chapter should be up soon, as well, and it will cover a topic I know you all will be eager to read about! I'm thinking this may be a four part chapter, because there is a lot to say about this particular scene, and I want to make sure it's built and layered just right. To all my reviewers, thanks for taking the time. I'm trying to be better about responding to each of you. Peace!

Belle, the previous chapter was as difficult to write as it probably was to read, but I really wanted to tap into the creepiness of Kohn and push Tara into a corner where she would be forced to fight back. And stalker Jax is sexy! LOL. That's what I really wanted to explore as Jax and Josh both have this obsessive, potent love for Tara. I believe that firmly; the difference comes in the fact that Jax would never harm Tara, even if it means pushing her away to keep her safe, and Kohn uses that violence to manipulate her into being with him. Thanks for your reviews, as always!