AN: This chapter includes a flashback inspired by a deleted scene from "Brick" (4x5). It's one of my favorites (thus the reason for my photo avatar); never understood why KS cut it out of the episode.
Chapter 3: EVERY DAY IS A NEW BOX
Lieutenant Althea Jarry shakes her head as she stares at the mountain of files stacked in front of two deputies, who've done nothing but read reports from the pile for the past few hours. Nick Reese had ordered them to scour Roosevelt's jacket, a body of work that included over 15 years in Oakland before he got promoted to San Joaquin County Sheriff. Frankly, it's a fucking waste of time; she knows that Tara Knowles had to be the primary victim given the savagery of her murder compared to Eli's. It doesn't make sense that someone who had a grudge against Eli to kill him quickly but then torture-kill the innocent woman with him.
But both Reese and his boss, the Attorney General, define the term "political animal"; no doubt they see something here that's fueling their ambitions for state law and for their careers. She doesn't know Reese well, but she's heard enough about him - good and bad - to know that the man doesn't do a damn thing without a larger purpose. The violent murder of a decorated cop - not to mention a doctor and mother of two small boys - well that could have death penalty judicial review all over it.
Closing her eyes, she tries to erase the images of the bloody crime scene from her mind as anger and regret pierce her once again. Eli was one of the best - a good guy and a great cop; he didn't fucking deserve this, especially after all he'd been through with losing Rita and their unborn baby. As for Dr. Knowles, holy hell…no one deserved that.
"Hey boss, check this out…" One of the deputies hands her a file folder. "This report wasn't found with the others…I remember a while ago Roosevelt had something on this guy, but I don't know more than that 'cause he kept us out of the loop. Looks like he was working with the feds."
Jarry thanks him and takes the file, dubiously eyeing the single sheet of paper until she spots the infamous acronym "SAMCRO" and a single name scrawled at the top of the page: "Juan Carlos Ortiz."
"I said it before, and I'll say it again - you look like shit. Are you sure you're okay?"
Jax runs a shaky hand through his wet hair; the shower he'd finally taken hasn't done shit to make him feel better. His head's pounding like a son-of-a-bitch while his stomach churns violently, like he could fucking heave at any second - puking up the bottle of Wild Turkey 101 that he drank for dinner last night. And when he'd looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, he saw the ravaged face of a man who's aged a hundred years in the past few days. So no, he's not fucking okay - he's just not admitting shit to Bobby. "I'm fine," he mutters.
Bobby eyes him doubtfully but doesn't argue, probably knowing it'd get him nowhere. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that I know shit about what you're going through right now…Just remember that we're here for you, Brother - anything you need, you just have to ask."
Nodding, Jax forces a strained smile. "I know," he replies softly. No doubt Bobby and the others have felt his distance - that they've noticed he hasn't set foot in the ice cream shop nor returned any of their calls since getting out of the hospital. And last night he was supposed to call Chibs to check in; however, reeling from the devastating discoveries about Tara and his sons, all he'd managed to do was feed his boys and put them to bed before shuttering himself in his bedroom to find escape in a bottle of 100 proof bourbon.
So he'd not been surprised this morning to find Bobby at his front door with a bag of freshly made muffins in hand. Usually it amused Jax when his bad-ass Brother would go into domestic baking mode, but now since he's got no fucking sense of humor and no fucking appetite, a weak murmur of thanks was all he could muster when he let Bobby inside.
The older man must've had plans to spend some time playing fun Uncle Bobby with Abel and Thomas because he'd been visibly disappointed when Jax said he'd already taken the boys to daycare. Jax doesn't tell him that he would've been more disappointed when the little boys ignored his overtures, like they did with their own father. Abel continued to remain silent, picking listlessly at his food, while Thomas had cried himself to sleep last night and then again almost non-stop this morning. As much as he loves his sons - they're all he has left now - he'd been almost relieved to turn them over to the daycare manager; it's fucking unbearable to see his own pain mirrored in their faces.
"So we're having Church in an hour," Bobby announces, wolfing down a muffin. "Would be really good to have you back at the head of the table, Brother. Where you belong." It hadn't escaped Jax's notice that, in addition to the bag of muffins, Bobby also brought the leather cut that Jax'd left on the ground at St. Thomas - the President's patch still intact.
Ignoring the cut and the muffin that Bobby pushes in his direction, Jax shakes his head. "Can't. Got to head over to Rosen's office now to meet with him and Lowen. She's got Tara's will." He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what that might entail. Jesus, it's fucking hard enough to get through each day knowing that Tara's gone, but these constant reminders of what he'd lost was slowly killing him.
Then like yesterday in the DA's parking lot, Bobby's eyes fill with grief, once again proving to Jax that he and his sons aren't the only ones suffering the pain of Tara's death. Feeling Bobby's hand clamping his shoulder, Jax meets his friend's intent stare. "Have you thought about what you want to do…with Tara? You know, it's okay if you don't think you can handle making the arrangements. It's fucking hard when it's someone that close. If you need us, we can do that for you."
"Thanks, man." Jax grips the hand Bobby placed on his shoulder. "Rosen said Lowen needed to talk to me about Tara's will before the coroner releases…Tara… tomorrow. Maybe she'd already made arrangements." Although Jax hates the idea that Tara might've anticipated her own death, it wouldn't have surprised him given the letter she'd written him right before she died. "…once I was convicted and sent back inside, I knew I wouldn't be coming home again."
Bobby nods somberly as they walk out the door to the bikes parked in the driveway. "Ok. Just let us know what we can do, Brother. Anything…"
"I will," Jax promises, straddling his bike. He's about to fasten his helmet when Bobby grabs his arm, forcing him to meet his old friend's concerned brown eyes.
"There's one more thing…Look, I know I'm about the last person who should be lecturing anyone about hitting the bottle when they shouldn't be. Tara gave me hell for drinking and smoking after she took those slugs out of my shoulder." Bobby smiles sadly. "Don't think I've forgotten how fucking bad you got after she left for college. And this…well I can't imagine anything could feel worse for you than this. But you got those boys to think about…" He waves aside Jax's attempt to defend himself. "A long time ago, I knew a guy who lost his wife and tried to find relief from the pain at the bottom of a bottle. Problem was that he never stopped, and no one suffered more for it than his little girl." Bobby shoots him a meaningful look before he starts his bike then takes off down the street.
Stunned, Jax sinks down on his bike, staring sightlessly down the street as Bobby disappears around the corner. Last night he knew it was completely fucked-up to get obliterated with his sons asleep down the hall, but just like the night before, the intense pain had clawed at him until only the bottle could bring relief. The pounding in his head grows louder as he flashes back to memories of Frank Knowles stumbling around town in a drunken stupor, screaming abusive obscenities at his only child, passing out in public places - of the ugly, painful looking bruises on Tara's arms and face…Holy shit.
Rubbing his blood-shot eyes, Jax silently vows to toss the booze that's left in the house. There's no way, no fucking way he'll let himself turn into that goddamn bastard. He won't do that to his boys, won't do that to Tara. Feeling his phone vibrate, he pulls it out of his pocket; glancing at Rosen's name flashing across the screen, he hits the answer button and tells the lawyer that he's on his way.
Jax's known Ally Lowen for years, and although she'd always been tighter with Tara, they'd always gotten along. That is until that day from hell when he'd threatened her until she confirmed Tara's secret plan to divorce him and hand custody of their boys to Wendy. Apparently, he'd terrified her enough to leave town, forcing Tara to hire another lawyer to fight the criminal charges against her for Pamela Toric's murder. But now Lowen's back temporarily, apparently determined to set aside her fear of him to ensure that he honor Tara's last wishes.
Sitting down at the table in Rosen's personal conference room, he nods at her in greeting - only to receive a cold glare in return. No doubt, Rosen's former partner believes him guilty of Tara's murder; either by killing her himself or causing it to happen by constantly putting her in harm's way. Like Margaret Murphy, Lowen may despise him and wish him dead instead of Tara, but neither woman could possibly hate him more than he hates himself.
In stark contrast to Lowen's open animosity, Rosen eyes him with worried concern. "Jesus, Jax you look like hell. Maybe you need to go back to the hospital, have the doctor take a look at you. We can always do this at another time…"
"No." Jax shuts him down firmly; he's fucking sick of people harping on his health. Although he may look and feel like complete shit, he's not the goddamn fragile piece of glass that his mom, his Brothers and his lawyer seem to see when they look at him. He's got a lot to do in the next few days, and there's no fucking way he'll let anyone derail him. "Let's get this done."
Rosen stares at him for a long moment - as if debating whether to concede or argue - then nods at Lowen, signaling for her to begin. She shoots Jax one more baleful glare before opening the manila folder in front of her and pulling out a thick stack of paper. When she looks back up at him, he's surprised at the quick shift from open hostility to impassive professionalism.
But Lowen's unexpected change in demeanor was fucking nothing compared to the series of staggering revelations that wound up knocking Jax on his ass. Although Tara's will was originally dated not long after her stay in Stockton, she'd set the wheels in motion years before.
He'd been floored by the discovery that she'd started a trust account for Abel right after Jax'd brought him home from Ireland, even before Wendy transferred custodial rights. Suddenly he's swamped by images of Tara visiting him in Stockton: pale and exhausted from dealing with pregnancy and parenting a toddler by herself, working too many goddamn double shifts in order to make ends meet - and apparently to secure their son's future…make that sons' futures as she'd started an identical trust for Thomas just a few days after his birth.
"Tara didn't have a lot to start with given that she wasn't making much as a resident when she opened Abel's trust and had just earned her surgical board certificate when Thomas was born. However, she steadily added what she could to both accounts, although now…" Lowen's voice breaks while Jax closes his eyes as it hits them both that Tara won't be making any more regular contributions. "…now the boys' share of her life insurance policy will go into those accounts. So even if there are no further deposits, the compounded interest alone should result in significant annual growth. By the time each boy is eighteen and able to access his trust account, the annual distributions should be quite considerable."
When Jax got out of Stockton and proposed to Tara, he'd told her that he couldn't live off his wife - had insisted on supporting them with his earnings from The Club. He never asked what she wound up doing with her doctor's salary; now he knows.
Meeting Lowen's steady gaze, he's surprised by the soft empathy in her eyes - as if she'd read enough in his expression to realize how much he was dying inside. "Jax, you know she wanted Abel and Thomas to have choices - that SAMCRO didn't have to be their future. And if they do decide on a different path and go to college, she didn't want them to struggle with money like she did." Given that, it doesn't surprise him to learn that Tara had named both Lowen and Margaret Murphy as the trustees for the boys' trust accounts.
Weeks ago he might've been furious that Tara had done all of this behind his back, that she'd empowered non-family members to have any say regarding his sons' futures. Now he's filled with stunned, grief-tinged gratitude; cruel fate had robbed his baby boys of the exceptional woman who'd been their mother, yet in the brutally short time they'd had together, Tara managed to set their sons on a path to a more promising future.
Lowen gives him more information regarding the boys' trust accounts and his responsibilities as the surviving parent. It reminds him of the guardianship papers he'd signed, naming Wendy as the boys' guardian if anything happened to him or Tara. His nose wrinkles in disgust at the idea of it, especially since Gemma told him that the fucking junkie piece of shit was back in rehab. Surely, Tara would agree with the decision to tear up those papers and find someone else more worthy of their boys (which could be anyone else - Wendy was dog shit in his eyes).
As if reading his mind, Lowen pulls out another set of documents from her pile. It's the guardianship papers he'd signed with the word "VOID" stamped in red ink on each page. "Tara called me not long after you signed these. Said Wendy wasn't to be trusted with the boys and that she had another option. But we never got the chance to make the revision…"
Jax nods and swallows hard. "I'm pretty sure I know who she has in mind. But I'd like to talk to her before we put anything in writing. That okay with you?"
"It's okay unless you're talking about your mother. You know Tara wouldn't…"
"Believe me, it's not," Jax assures her. "Gemma loves her grandsons, but I know Tara didn't want them growing up with her. I can honor that."
"Then it's okay with me," Lowen replies. Then pulling the last sheet of paper out of her file, she takes a long look at the document before turning back to Jax. "Did you and Tara ever talk about final arrangements for one another?"
Despite the violence that had surrounded his life since he earned his Prospect patch, he'd never given any thought to his own death or what would happen to him after he met the Reaper. Probably because he risked death so many times, he never wanted to think about it; he certainly never wanted to think of Tara dying. Jax shakes his head, although during last night's bourbon-fest, it'd hit him what he should do.
Exhaling loudly, Lowen hands him the final document. "During her medical internship in Chicago, Tara signed these papers donating her remains to the medical school for…"
"That's not fucking going to happen!" Jax savagely rips the document into shreds then throws the pile of torn paper at Lowen. "No way, no goddamn way anyone's going to dissect her or…" Fuck, he's so furious at the idea he can barely speak.
"Jax, it's what she wanted," Lowen reminds him. "Tara was a doctor; she…"
"I said NO! Fuck NO!" He slams his hand loudly on the table, causing Lowen to jump in her seat as fear spreads across her face. Jax leaps to his feet and stalks away from the table, trying to control his anger. Of course Dr. Knowles the surgeon would have a clinical, practical view of how her remains could further scientific study. But Jax's never liked anyone touching his girl while she was alive, that's not fucking changing now.
In the corner of his eye, he watches Rosen toss the shredded paper into the trashcan as the lawyer attempts to reinstate peace between his agitated client and petrified ex-partner. "Look, it's been years since Tara signed that consent form. And the medical school is in Chicago. Given the time elapsed as well as the distance, I doubt the school will enforce the claim - especially since her husband's clearly reluctant to honor the agreement. That said…" Rosen looks at Jax pointedly. "You'd better do what you plan to do before the news about Tara spreads to them."
"Thanks for staying." Rosen returns to the conference room after walking Lowen out to the lobby. "I won't keep you long; there's a couple more things I wanted to go over with you without Ally here…like what I learned about the AG's involvement in Tara's case."
Shit, he'd got so caught up in the surprises from Tara's will and his rage over the fucked-up plan to donate her body, he'd forgotten to ask the lawyers about the mysterious Nick Reese. But now that Rosen's brought it up, Jax thinks maybe it's better not to reveal that he'd met the Chief Deputy AG while threatening the county medical examiner. He decides to keep silent with what he knows for now - at least until he meets the cryptic state's attorney again and finds out what the hell game he's playing.
Shaking his head, Rosen plops down into the chair and sighs loudly. "Cane said he heard that the AG sent in someone with enough juice to reign in Patterson; he wasn't kidding. Shit, Teller, you've hit the big time with this one. Have you ever heard of a man named Nicholas Reese? He's the reigning golden boy in the AG's office and heir apparent to the top job when his boss wins the Governor's race in the next election. Hell, in a few years, Reese will probably be Governor."
Feigning nonchalance, Jax shakes his head and shrugs his stiffening shoulders. "Nah. State politics isn't exactly high on my list of hobbies."
"Well then you might want to broaden your interests." Rosen runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "I've known Nick for a few years. He's a complete and total prick - and unfortunately, one of the smartest guys I've ever met. The AG must really see something big in this case to send him here."
"I'll be in touch. We have some work to do." Whatever that "something big" is, it's clear Reese needs Jax's help to get it done. Otherwise, why else would he disclose the carefully guarded truth about the brutality of Tara's murder to incite Jax's fury? "So much rage…That's good. Very good."
"It's got to be about the death penalty." Rosen muses aloud. "California politics might not be your thing…but the current regime - from the Governor on down want capital punishment back in play. And for the AG and Reese, well it's been quite the crusade…"
Anger swamps Jax once again; if that fucking son-of-a-bitch plans to use Tara's murder - exploit the pain of her loss - to further his political ambitions, Jax will make sure the man understands first-hand what that agony feels like.
"If memory serves, the AG's brother was a cop in Oakland when he died on the job a few years ago; she's been on a mission to crush cop killers ever since. If there's a connection with her brother and Roosevelt, then this prosecution could be a personal vendetta as well. I'll keep digging." Rosen shoots him a wary look, no doubt sensing Jax's swelling anger. "In the meantime, stay out of trouble. You don't want to fuck with Reese, Jax. He's not like one of the bumbling law enforcement types you've dealt with around here. Patterson's looking for a way to lock you up temporarily on parole violation; if Nick thinks you're a threat to his case, he'll go after SAMCRO - and believe me, if that happens…all of you guys will be spending your golden years in Stockton or worse."
Pulling into the bank parking lot, Jax cuts the Dyna's engine then reaches into his pocket. Before he left Rosen's office, the lawyer handed him a small envelope, telling him "Tara wanted you to have this." Inside, Jax'd found a safety deposit box key that he'd recognized right away. Puzzled, he'd tried to question Rosen, but the man refused to answer - telling Jax to call him after he'd retrieved all the contents in the box. Now staring at the familiar key in his hand, Jax can't help but flash back to the first time he'd seen it.
Shit it was late; the house's dark and silent when he walks inside, no doubt both Tara and the boys went to sleep a while ago. He'd wanted to come home earlier, especially since he just got back from their two-day run to Tucson, but there'd been too much shit to do - including nailing Georgie Caruso for Luanne's murder. Fuck, he'd wanted to end that piece of shit; they owed it to Otto - who'd loved Luanne more than anything - and because any sick fuck who killed a Member's Old Lady deserved to die bloody. But Clay chose to keep Caruso alive in an attempt to screw Hale's plans for the Charming Heights development. Jax didn't love the idea, but he'd gone along - somewhat pacified by the promise of offing Caruso later - but really more eager to finish this shit so he could go home to his family.
Tara must've fallen asleep waiting for him because her bedside lamp's still on - enabling him to spot the small key lying on her night table; the sight of it triggers a wave of relief to surge through him. This morning when he'd given her two huge bricks of cash - a "souvenir" from the motorcycle show - he'd felt a tinge of unease at how she'd stared at the money in wary confusion. He knows living on the shady side of the law bothers her, that she'd sucked it up so far because she wants to be with him - the luckiest SOB on the planet. But he also knows that she has limits (which is why he won't tell her about the drugs and the cartel, she'd leave him for sure), and now he's got her involved in money-laundering…
A smile tugs at his lips as his gaze drifts from the key to his sleeping Old Lady. Stripping down to his boxers, he climbs into bed; a tiny voice in his head tells him he should let her sleep, but it's quickly snuffed out by the overwhelming need to spend the rest of the night fucking the love of his life. He'd been away from her for far too long.
"Hey," she greets him sleepily, squeezing his hand as he wraps himself around her, kissing and nibbling the sensitive, baby soft skin on her neck. She shivers and moans his name as he cups a lush breast, swirling his thumb against her hardening nipple over and over. Tilting her face, she brushes her lips against his before blowing his mind with a scorching hot kiss.
Completely engrossed in sensation - from her hot mouth, her luscious body, her soft hands stroking and squeezing him all over - he finds himself naked and flat on his back, looking up at her gorgeous face. Running her hands across his bare chest, she smiles down at him. "Did you miss me, Baby?" Before he can gather enough brain cells to answer, she beams him that saucy smile - sending excitement coursing through every inch of his body. It's an old game that they've been playing since high school; he fucking, fucking loves what's coming next…
"Did you miss me touching you like this?" She grips his cock, sliding her hands up and down his rock-hard dick, stroking the wet tip with her thumb while her other hand fondles his balls. He grits his teeth and responds with a series of loud moans and curses.
"Did you miss being inside of me?" Oh fucking shit…he clenches the bed sheet while she slowly, slowly impales herself on his all-too-eager cock. He growls with pleasure when she starts to ride, her soaking hot inner-muscles squeezing him tightly.
"Did you miss these puppies?" Watching intently through desire-glazed eyes, he inhales sharply as she cups her bare breasts - pressing them together and brushing her fingers across her stiff nipples. Her lips curve into a naughty smile right before she short-circuits his brain. Dipping her fingers between her legs, she moans softly then paints each nipple with her wetness. "Suck me," she whispers right as he loses all control, launching up so that he can suckle her hungrily - reveling in the taste of her while licking and kissing and nibbling those thick, rosy buds.
Clasping her ass, he lifts her slightly then slams her down on his cock - again and again and again until orgasmic pleasure blasts through them both. Breathing heavily, he buries his face against her heaving breasts then smiles as he feels her lips brush against his ear. "I missed you too, Baby."
Christ, he buries his sweaty face in his hands; all these memories of her keep flooding his mind...he's not sure whether to cling to them like a lifeline or fight them off before he goes completely insane. Swallowing hard, Jax clenches the key in his sweaty palm as he walks slowly towards the bank. He can't imagine what she'd left in the box for him; they'd stopped storing cash there after cutting ties with Galindo - hell, he didn't even know that she'd kept the account. But evidently today's the day for shit to knock him on his ass.
His cel phone rings as he's about to walk in the door. Frowning at the unknown number showing on the screen, he decides to answer anyway. Whether that's a fucking mistake remains to be seen.
"Teller, it's Nick Reese. We need to talk."