She wasn't going to be intimidated, and it was proving difficult task. Tara had been raised to respect her elders, but she regarded Gemma with a certain disdain. She loathed her take no prisoners attitude, but secretly wished for her confidence. Her hard, black eyes bore into hers, but she was determined to stay cool. She had done something good tonight, and she wouldn't regret her decision.

"You don't know how tough this is for me, do you Cupcake?" said Gemma in her husky timbre. "I have a family and lives to run."

"And the club," said Tara, trying to gauge Gemma's reaction. Gemma narrowed her eyes, trying to determine what all Jax had told her. Tara stuck her chin out defiantly.

"Do you know what Jax was going to do tonight?" she asked, trying to keep the venom out of her voice. How could a mother be so blind?

"Shut the fuck up," said Gemma, slapping her palms on the desk. "You know nothing about jack shit. I know everything that goes on in my house. Nothing goes on in this town that I don't know about. The club is our life. And no snot nosed little-"

"YOU BITCH!" yelled Tara, her chest heaving as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. "You knew," she lowered her voice when Gemma's eyes darted out to potential eavesdroppers outside, "you knew, what they asked him to do…and you were gonna let him go through with it?"

"This is what it means Sweetpea. This is the side of Jax that you can never understand. Can you live like that? Because if you want to be with my son, that's what you're in for. Chaos and blood."

"You oughta be ashamed of yourself," said Tara, but her voice was sad and defeated.

She pulled her shirt low to show off her ample bosom and the dark tattoo that marked her breast. A crow. A symbol. "You see this? This means that I can handle it. It's a mark of all the shit I've done and all the shit I will do. Chaos and blood; I wear it proudly."

Tara's eyes lingered on the elegant lines of the wings, trying to fathom living a life that was marred by violence. She was disturbed by the reverent tone Gemma used to describe the club. Disturbed and intrigued. What would it be like to live without barriers? She was too scared to find out.

"Jax is better than that," she whispered, trying to keep her voice from quaking.

"No one's better than that, Cupcake," she said, and she seemed to take on a melancholy tone as well. The entire atmosphere of the room had gone from an exploding supernova, to the deep quiet calm of space. They both felt empty and alienated.

"Jax doesn't know any other way. He's going to have to man up, or he will die, Tara. And I know neither one of us wants that to happen. You're distracting him. And you're going to get him killed."

With that, she picked up her purse and sunglasses, pulling her shades on. As she stalked out of the room, she thought, Well, at least the girl has balls. No one called Gemma a bitch and left the room unscathed, and even though she didn't like the twat, she reluctantly decided that she respected the young Miss Knowles.

…

Jax sat in the holding cell, with only the company of Homeless Joe sleeping in the corner. He was worried sick about Tara. She was probably really pissed at him. And the fact that she might know. That was what terrified him the most. She couldn't know. If she did, she would've dumped him. She was too good of a person to live her life like that. She was too good for him.

The sound of footsteps brought him out of his tentative despair. It was Officer Unser and Clay. Unser opened the cell and let Clay in, a breach of protocol, sure, but Unser was a smart man and acquiesced to the club's "requests." Clay sat down on the cot, and put his forehead into his folded hands. "Tig got shot."

Jax's eyes widened and the guilt crashed over him in rolling, stinging waves. "What happened?" he asked, voice strained and shy.

"You weren't there," he said, and it was as simple as that. He continued to guilt him, enforcing the fact that they needed an extra man. They needed Jax to be there, and because he'd screwed up, the simple hit had turned into a full blown shoot out. The Mexicans were furious and hungry for retaliation. Tig was their saving grace, and he had paid for it with a bullet in the arm. Chibs had patched him up, and the wound was mostly superficial, but he was pissed. He blamed Jax, and that moment would spark an animosity that would last both their lives.

Jax couldn't even gather the words to apologize. He just stood there numb, and ashamed. The fact that Clay was so calm about it jarred him even more. He wanted Clay to be angry, hit him, call him names. But no, his disappointment and resolve had stung harder than any fist could.

He ripped off his JR. VP patch and handed it to Clay. "I don't deserve it," he said. Clay put his hand over Jax's, curling his hands around the thin ribbon.

"Is she worth it?" he asked.

Yes, thought Jax, though he quickly squashed that traitorous voice down. Hadn't he been told that the club was everything? Didn't he know that this is what his father had wanted for him?

"The club comes first," said Jax, his voice gathering strength as he said this with finality. "But I think I love Tara."

…

He and Clay had had a heart to heart. Surprisingly, Clay had a lot of insight about women, and despite his philandering ways, he knew a lot about romance. He was deeply devoted to his woman and managed his household and the club in unison. In the end, he was forced to keep his patch, and deep down he knew his status and the club wasn't something he could just give away. The club was for life, and that made what he was about to do even more painful.

On his way out of the club, he caught a flash of dusky skin through a bent up blind. It was too much of a coincidence, and yet he was sure he saw her. His principal, Eliza Skinner. It was the closed off office of the branch liason. Usually they handled the undercover affairs and relationships with other branches of the law. He had only seen a brief flash of her, but it made too much sense for him to ignore.

The gym incident should have cost him his graduation. He should have been expelled, but he was let off with no more than a slap on the wrist. He had thought it was due to the club's connections, but now he saw the deeper implications. She was a plant. And in Charming, there was virtually no crime that wasn't initiated or regulated by Samcro. This was a huge problem and it made him steady his resolve even further.

…

"We need to talk," they both said in unison. It had been the next day, and both were uneasy about how this conversation would pan out.

"I need you to tell me everything," said Tara.

"That's what I came here for. But you're not gonna like what you hear. I think you'll run away…and…" he couldn't finish because the pain was becoming intense. His heart was pounding.

"I know what you were going to do last night," interrupted Tara. The silence was deafening. It was thick and tense, and it was choking the both of them.

"I know that's not who you are, Jax. You know that you're better"

"-Better than what?" he roared. "I'm not good or smart like you are. I don't give a fuck about anything! This is my life, and when everything around me crumbles away, the club will be there." He sat, trying to check his temper. The outburst was unexpected for the both of them, but he was stripped raw and deathly afraid that Tara wouldn't look at him the same.

"I'll be there too," she whispered. It was like a break in the clouds on a stormy day, and that one stream of sunshine lit up his soul. "I love you Jax. The real you, and the bad you. I accept that."

They were the words he wanted to hear, but he suddenly realized that Tara accepting his life of crime and potential murder was almost worse than her leaving him. Tara was a good person, and she deserved better.

"Tara, you can't be involved in this…with me. It just won't work. You want to be a doctor for fuck's sake. You want to save lives and last night I almost took one."

"I don't need to be a doctor, it was just a stupid thought. Who knows what I'll decide in the future, but right now, I just want you."

Jax just shook his head, overcome with emotion. She was too much. "You can't handle this. It isn't you, and you'll never be one of us," he mumbled and walked off, leaving them both all too aware that he hadn't said "I love you" back. As he walked away, Tara was left alone and broken, and she started to cry.

…

It had been forever since he'd seen her cry. Tara Knowles, who had ripped him apart over a decade ago, was just sobbing in his arms outside the hospital. Today, Opie was getting out of prison, a welcome sight and distraction from the fuck ups in his life. Op had grown a fearsome beard, and put on prison muscle. He had spent the day with his family, Donna protesting the get together that Gemma had planned. He showed up with the kids and wife in tow, and put on a happy face, even though parties weren't really his thing. Opie was always a quieter, almost shy person, but prison had isolated him, and his social skills were lacking. Still, Jax was comforted that his best friend was home, and that things were slowly coming full circle.

"So Tara's back, huh?" said Opie. They were sitting on the front porch, beers in hand, while Jax took a long and deep drag.

"Yeah." Jax recounted his reunion with Tara, and Opie just sat silent and listened. He started pouring his heart out, glad that he wasn't criticizing him or throwing in a snarky two cents.

"So what are you gonna do?" asked Op.

"I don't know. I just don't know."

"Tara's right here."

"Yeah, she's always here with me," said Jax whistfully.

"No, I mean, Tara is RIGHT here." Opie then took lopped down the porch and gave Tara a big hug. Jax had been so distracted that he didn't notice the cutlass had pulled up behind a string of cars. Tara was dressed in casual clothes and she had a gift bag.

"It's good to see you, Op," she said, "I ran into Donna at the store, and I just wanted to get you guys a little something."

"That's really nice, Tara. I'm gonna go grab a beer, you want one?"

"No, I can't stay long, just wanted to drop that off." Opie said his farewells and walked back into the house, eyeing Jax with raised eyebrows.

"Do you have a minute Jackson?" she said, and he was instantly apprehensive at her serious tone.

"Sure Tara Knowles." They sat together side by side on the steps. Tara was careful to keep her distant and had to fight her instinct to lean into him. His scent and presence were intoxicating.

"I don't know where to go from here," she said. "There's too much history between us, and I don't know if it was a mistake to come here or not."

"It wasn't a mistake, Tara," said Jax, and the undertone was there. It wasn't a mistake for her to come back and what they did the other night wasn't a mistake either.

"I'm so fucked up," she said, and she let out a laugh that was borderline hysterical. "I just need a minute to sort out my life. I didn't mean to run into you, but in the back of my mind I knew. I'm just not ready to go back to that place ten years ago. It's still too raw."
"You think you're the only one who's still hurting?" asked Jax. They were both fighting back tears. "Do you know how I was after that shit?" He stood up and started pacing.

"We both were, Jax. But we were young and stupid. We got caught up in this shit. You left this mark on my heart, and I'm still trying to get over it."

He walked to her and pulled her to his body. She was struggling as he pulled her into a hard embrace. His arm snaked around her waist, while his other hand ripped up the back of her shirt, exposing her lower back. She felt the shock of cold air, but was lost in the tense hold of his arms.

"This mark is permanent," he whispered in her ear, and she heard the anguish in his voice. "You can never get rid of it." He let her go and cupped his hands around her face. "I have one too. You're engraved in my heart, and no matter how hard I try to dig you out, you're still there."

They stood that way for a long time. Both of them were too frightened of what might happen next. The important questions seemed trivial, and were left unanswered. Their parting was awkward and forced by a sense of propriety and the unspoken threat of Gemma walking out and catching them. That was a conversation both of them wanted to avoid. She walked out to her cutlass and reminisced about her mark, the visible one, on her lower back.

…

Tara wiped away her tears, ignoring the fact that he hadn't declared his love. It wasn't what she'd expected anyways. He was pushing her out, and earlier she had resolved that it would be okay. That things would be better this way. Gemma was rude and intrusive, but she was also right. She wanted to get out of Charming; it was what her mom would've wanted. She pictured herself in the city, traveling across Europe, and seeing exotic sites. Lately though, she had always included Jax in those pictures.

The harsh realization that things might be over between them had made her understand that she would give those things up. She would love him and accept him no matter what. She took Gemma's words to heart. They were meant as a deterrent, but know they stood to encourage her actions. Somehow she found her way to Jerry's Charming Ink. Jerry was there as usual, and it took a little coaching for him to remember her. But as soon as she mentioned the Sons, and that this was her first time, he warmed up. He skipped the id part, and Tara left him a generous tip. He knew exactly the tat she would want, as he'd designed most of Samcro's tattoos himself. The pain was agonizing and foreign, but still nothing compared to how she would feel without Jax. She would show him and let him know. This would be a physical representation of everything she didn't have the courage to say…and it would be there forever.