Can I just say a massive thank you for the reviews and PM's, especially to McIlwain and Elbeewoods for their frequent support. To the people who take the time out to review regularly, such as wishuy and mellymel22, thank you for your feedback and the kind words too. They're much appreciated and I'm humbled and thrilled that you follow the story, let alone enjoy it xx

So on with Catherine's list...

…a boy who will comfort you on difficult days….

The lactic acid surged through Tara's legs, begging her to stop the punishing run, but she ignored the agony as she forced them to keep going. Her chest felt tight, her lungs desperate for more oxygen, but she urged herself to keep moving, as fast as she could, as far away as possible from the words that she had just been told.

"This is difficult to tell you sweetheart but mommy's sick…very sick"

The words played over and over in her head and as she ran she pictured her father's face as he had leaned closer to her, his voice trembling as he held his young daughters hand. Tara had looked across at her mother, her face slightly gaunt and ghostly white, a brave smile on her face. But her crystal blue eyes didn't seem so bright now.

Tara had ran out of the house, trying to digest the carefully worded information her parents had told her. Catherine Knowles had cancer and although Tara's young mind didn't exactly know what it was she did know that it was bad. That people could die. That her mom could die.

Both of her parents had said that the doctor was giving mommy medicine to try and fight the bad cancer, that they were hopeful that they could get mommy better again. But Tara had seen her mother's expression when her dad said this, the slight glance down into her lap, her smile wavering for a second. And that was when Tara knew that Catherine suspected she wouldn't live.

That was why Tara had ran.

As soon as she rounded the corner of her street she knew where her legs were taking her, her body went into autopilot as she punished her small body, ignoring her father's pleas as she ran down the street. She needed to see him, he would make her feel better, give her the comfort she craved.

She was only eight but she had travelled this route to his house so many times that she could do it blindfolded. As she reached the top of his drive she saw that the lamp in his bedroom was on, giving the room a warm welcoming glow. Tara stopped for a second and crouched over, desperate for air. Whilst gasping for breath she glanced at the front door to the Teller's house but decided that she didn't want to go in the house through there, only to be bombarded with questions by Gemma about the untimely hour and why she wasn't at home. Also, were those tear stains on her face? Tara knew that Gemma wouldn't rest until she had the answers she needed.

But Tara didn't want question, she just wanted Jax.

So, as she had so many times before, she expertly climbed the oak tree that grew in the Teller's garden, a perfect staircase to the haven of Jax's room. Ignoring her tired and aching limbs she hoisted her tiny frame up and along the sturdy bow of the tree, carefully balancing as she inched closer to the pane of glass that separated them. When she got just outside his window she peered in to see Jax sitting up in bed. He was entranced by the latest comic Gemma had bought him, his curious blue eyes reading intently and he was smiling to himself as he followed the story.

Tara leaned over and gently tapped on the pane of glass, alerting Jax to her presence. Jax hastily looked up, momentarily annoyed that someone had disturbed his reading, but as he saw the desperate look on Tara's face he scrambled from beneath the bed sheets over to his window. As soon as he had opened it Tara climbed through, thankful that she was now with him. Her aching limbs forgotten, it was her aching heart that needed fixing.

Jax looked down at her expectantly, his tousled blonde hair fell messily over his face as he stared down at the ground where Tara now sat. It wasn't unusual for Tara show up at his bedroom window but she had never visited this late. Jax looked across at the Harley clock his mom and dad had bought him at Christmas. It was 9.15pm and it was a school night. Tara never usually visited when they had school the next day, Catherine never allowed it, even if both had protested that Gemma didn't care as much.

In the moonlight he could see that tears had streaked down her face, that her cheeks were rosy from her frantic run. Even at eight years old it hurt him to see that she was upset.

"My mom's sick" she whispered as she stared down at the floor, her small fingers picking at the blue fibres in the carpet.

Jax stood still for a minute, his face contorting with confusion. Innocently, he asked "Does she have a headache or something?"

Tara's body became more rigid, she held her breath, not wanting to say the words, clamping her eyes shut to stop yet more tears. She shook her head frantically. "No she's really sick Jax"

She didn't need to tell him what it was, or what her parents had told her, he instinctively sat down beside her. His arm rested over her shoulders, bringing her closer to him and he promised "It'll be ok"

With those three words she sobbed, and he held her more tightly, doing what he could to desperately take some of her pain away. He didn't like it when girls cried, his dad had told him that girls should always be respected and that they rely on men to be strong for them. That was what Jax was deciding to do, be strong for Tara.

That night, after a worried Catherine Knowles had rang Gemma to inform her of the heart breaking situation, Gemma climbed the stairs to her house and opened her eldest son's bedroom door slightly. As she peered in she could make out the silhouettes of the two small children, huddled together in Jax's small bed, lost in peaceful dreams.

But they were only peaceful dreams because Jax had held Tara whilst she cried herself to sleep, giving her the words of comfort that so had so desperately needed.