AN: Warning, this is a bit angsty. I didn't watch S7, but I heard that KS didn't write much about Jax mourning Tara. If so, that SUCKS. Not in my world…
Special thanks to VDStar's "Final Embrace" for one of the ideas.
Chapter 7: THINGS THAT'LL KEEP YOU WHOLE
"So what do you want to talk about…ma'am?"
Jarry studies the young biker sitting across from her in the booth; she can sense the anxiety he's desperately trying to hide under that casual fuck-you attitude so common with all these career criminal types. Interesting.
"Current events." Flashing him a genial smile, she glances around the ice cream parlor which - until she and Cane arrived - had been empty save for Juice and some short, balding guy with weird-ass fake fingers. Casually, she asks him about his whereabouts on the date and approximate time Eli and Dr. Knowles were killed; if he's got nothing to do with it, then the date might not even register with him.
However, the ever-so-slight widening of his eyes speaks volumes; he knows exactly what she's talking about. Of course, it's likely that everyone in the MC has that date tattooed in their heads; Dr. Tara Knowles may not have worn a patch or a cut, but she'd been involved with SAMCRO since high school when she hooked up with the future Biker King.
"Do you really think I had anything to do with killing Tara and that cop?" Juice laughs incredulously. "You're fucking out of your mind, lady." He shakes his head, smiling coldly. "I was with a friend."
"Everyone always is…" Jarry pushes a small notepad and pen at him. "Do me a favor, write down the name of your 'friend' and where you were together. It's not that we don't trust you…Well, you know the drill. After all, this isn't your first dance with us law enforcement types."
Juice glares at them before scribbling on the paper and shoving the pad back at her. "Are we done?" If looks could kill…
"Yes. And thank you." Jarry's smile broadens; she'd noticed the slight tremble to his hand as he wrote down what was probably a big fucking lie. "We'll see you soon, Juan Carlos."
Cane's eyes follow their agitated suspect as he slams out the door. "Well that was interesting." He looks down at the paper, trying to read the nearly illegible scrawl upside down.
"To say the least…" Jarry flips the note pad around so her deputy can see what Juice had written. Sliding out of the booth, she pockets the notepad. "Let's go. I have a feeling that the next meet's going to be a mother…."
After Opie died, there was no doubt how they would honor the Brother they loved, the Brother who sacrificed himself for SAMCRO: a wake at the Clubhouse that'd been his second home since childhood, a funeral procession befitting a long-time Member and son of one of the First Nine and a simple service at the cemetery where they laid him to rest next to his beloved Donna. And all throughout, there'd been dozens of mourners - Brothers, family, friends - to say goodbye. Despite the gut-wrenching pain of that day, Jax felt it'd been the perfect send-off for his best friend; one that he knew Opie would've appreciated.
Saying goodbye to Tara, however, would be something else entirely. His quiet, private Tara wouldn't have wanted the pomp and ceremony of the SAMCRO funerals they'd attended for Donna, Sack, Luanne, Kozik and Opie - much less the attention garnered by a procession of all the different charters wearing their Sons of Anarchy cuts. No, his beautiful girl would've hated all that. Which is just as well; he's never liked sharing her, and today's no exception.
Skeeter ushers him into a small receiving room that's practically empty except for a few chairs and a long, dark wood cask atop a wheeled gurney. "Just let me know…uh…when you're ready." Pausing in the doorway, Skeeter opens his mouth to say something else only to clam up when Jax shakes his head and turns to the cask. The gravedigger must've correctly understood his dismissal as Jax hears the door softly click shut, leaving him alone with her.
Over the years, he's watched Tara sleep hundreds of times – always marveling at the smoothness of her skin, the perfection of her features. Most times she slept peacefully, looking so blissfully young and carefree; then there were times she'd be fitful and restless, her beautiful face crumpling with worry or fear. He'd always hated seeing her like that, knowing firsthand how torturous nightmares could be; so he'd wake her from those bad dreams and fuck her thoroughly until she'd fall asleep smiling, nestled against him. Now as Jax watches her sleep in permanent serenity, he wishes more than any goddamn thing for that perfect brow to wrinkle or those pink lips to frown.
"Hi, Babe." His fingers brush her pale, cold cheek. "You look beautiful." His eyes drink in the sight of her wearing "their" dress, which he dropped off to Skeeter earlier this morning; the dark green silk contrasting and complementing her porcelain skin. "But then you always do. I brought you something…" He pulls the gold necklace from his pocket and carefully threads it around her neck before locking the clasp.
Jax lifts her left hand and presses kisses to her engagement and wedding rings; Skeeter had asked him if he'd wanted Tara's rings and, for a brief moment, he'd considered keeping them for Abel and Thomas. But then he quickly changed his mind; no one else should ever wear her rings - especially the engagement ring that seemed expressly made for her.
Clasping her hand, he almost expects her to lace her fingers through his like she's done since they were little kids; flinching slightly when she doesn't. "I'm sorry I didn't bring the boys, but I didn't think they'd understand all this. They're not doing too good, Tara. They really miss you…maybe almost as much as I do." He strokes her palm with his thumb reassuringly. "But don't worry, Babe. They'll be fine…I have it all planned. We're all getting out of here soon. All of us."
He must've stayed there talking to her, touching her much longer than expected because he's startled by the soft knock and Skeeter's voice at the door. "Jax…uh…it's ready. We got to do this."
"Okay," he croaks hoarsely, his eyes never leaving Tara's face. "Give us a minute."
For the last time, he savors the sight of his wife's breathtaking face while caressing her cheek, her shoulder, her arm. "It's time, Babe," he whispers bending down to kiss her rosy lips, feeling his hard-fought composure cracking apart. "I love you, Tara. I love you so much."
Jax swipes at the wetness coating his cheeks before clutching her hand once again; his gaze drifting to the gold circle pendant resting on her chest. Tracing the cool metal with his finger, he presses one more kiss to her lips. "Full circle, Babe. We'll be together soon."
"Ice cream's on me, Teller."
Like nearly every day this week, he'd come to the cemetery to sit by his dad's grave stone; it's the only place he's been able to find peace since JT died. And he sure as fuck could use some peace right now, having just caught his mom having sex with Clay - just a week after they'd put his dad into the ground. Goddamn, he hates them both so much right now, but there's nothing he can fucking do except wallow in his grief and rage.
But then he'd run into Tara, who'd gone there to put flowers on her mom's grave - only to give them to JT and Tommy.
Determined to cheer him up somewhat, she drags (ok, not really drags) him to the ice cream parlor to spend some of her allowance (i.e., money she steals from her dad to buy groceries) on "The Earthquake," a ridiculously awesome pile of ice cream scoops topped with chocolate, caramel, nuts, cherries and whipped cream.
"I'm amazed you can eat this, Tara." The waitress lowers the heavy platter to the table and shakes her head, no doubt wondering how someone so small could eat so much. Jax's wondering that himself; he's never seen her order more than an ice cream cone when they'd come here in the past.
Jax digs into the pile, shoveling a chocolate-caramel-pecan-whipped cream spoonful into his mouth. "Holy shit, that's good."
Tara smiles at the waitress, thanking her again before she walks away. "I was hoping you'd like it. They call it "The Earthquake" because it rocks your world." Closing her eyes, she moans in delight as she savors her ice cream then licks the caramel sauce off her spoon.
Apparently his hormones don't give a shit about the sadness enveloping the rest of him as his dick surges to life while he ogles her like drooling dumbfuck; the ice cream's fucking nothing compared to Tara Knowles when it comes to rocking his world. Ever since last summer when he realized she had the most spectacularly fuckable body he'd ever seen, he's been trying to keep his crazy attraction to her under control. It's one thing to have her star in his x-rated dreams every night or to jerk off to the memory of her in that audacious bikini, but quite another to let her or anyone else know that he feels more for her than just friendship. Tara's been through too much shit in her life, she deserves a nice guy for a boyfriend - and he's definitely not boyfriend material. Fuck no.
"So I take it that you've had this stuff this before." He grins at the whip cream on her nose as she eagerly digs back into the ice cream pile.
Nodding, she dips her spoon into more caramel sauce. "Sometimes Hale and I come here after school to do our homework or study for tests. We've ordered this a couple of times after a big exam or particularly hideous project."
Jax's grin disappears as he feels his blood boil despite the cold ice cream in his mouth. Since they were little kids, Hale's always had a thing for Tara; shit, back in grade school, he and Opie used to laugh their asses off at the sight of Hale following her around like a pathetic, lovesick puppy. But somehow it's not so goddamn funny anymore. "Don't tell me you're going out with that shithead."
Her eyes widen, the spoon stopping midway to her mouth. "You mean like dating?" She shakes her head vehemently. "No, we're just friends. I've known him since I was five; it'd be weird…And FYI, David's not a shithead. If you actually tried to get to know him, you might actually like him."
"I do know him. I've known him as long as you have. And he's a total fucking shithead." Jax's temper eases then shoots back up within a matter of seconds. Although it's a relief to know that she's not hooking up with Hale, he's fucking annoyed that she thinks it's weird to date someone she's known since kindergarten. She's known HIM longer than that. Although, he may not want to tie himself down to one girl, he goddamn hates the thought that this one girl wouldn't consider going out with him anyway.
Tara looks away - like she always does when gathering her thoughts - only to swivel back to him, green eyes snapping. She must've caught their image in a mirror because she starts wiping her nose with a napkin. "Some friend you are, Teller. How long were you going to let me sit here with whip cream on my face?"
He smirks at her, laughing when she wrinkles her nose and throws a walnut at him. And so for a few hours that afternoon he's happy again - forgetting the pain of his dad's death, forgetting that his mom's banging one of his dad's friends, forgetting everything except this beautiful girl with sparkling green eyes, a musical giggle and that dazzling smile.
In his lifetime full of horrible, heartrending moments - some of the worst have crushed him in this very room.
The last time, he'd charged in here looking for Opie - only to be painfully blindsided by the wrenching news of Piney's death; Jax'll never forget the broken anguish on his best friend's face as he clutched his father's cut and watched the flames consume Piney's cardboard cask.
However, as much as he loved Piney, the grief he'd felt that day fucking pales in comparison to the intense, piercing pain lashing at every inch of him as he stares helplessly at those flames engulfing the love of his life. He'd helped Skeeter slide the wooden box carrying Tara into the chamber, only to drop to his knees once the fire roared to life. This time he doesn't bother to wipe away the tears, letting them pour down his face as he squeezes the small platinum disk that had promised their beautiful future in his shaking hand.
He can't stand to be in the house for another fucking minute. His dad's locked in his study again, probably drinking himself unconscious like he did last night; it's just as well because the times they've seen JT in the past couple of days, he's had nothing to say to anyone. Although as much as that sucks, his mom's worse - constantly hovering over him like he's some fucking breakable piece of glass; it's getting to the point where he can't turn around without her smothering the shit out of him. But the absolute worst…Jax swallows hard and stares at his little brother's closed bedroom door, knowing he'll never again hear Tommy laugh or chatter away about some little kid thing. Shit, he's got to get the hell out of here.
Jumping on his bike, he pedals furiously to Opie's house only to remember when no one answers the Winston's front door that it's a weekday; Opie's at school and Piney and Mary are at TM helping out while JT and Gemma mourn at home. Undeterred, Jax heads to their backyard; he can hang out there until he's ready to go home. If ever.
"Jax, is that you?" He whirls around to spot Tara sitting on a blanket in the middle of her backyard, just like she and Tommy used to do. As he walks towards her, bile rises in his throat at the sight of his battered friend. Opie'd told him that he and Piney had to take Tara to the hospital the other night; apparently Old Man Knowles roughed her up pretty bad, to the point Piney had to knock him out to make him stop. All because Tara stole one of her dad's model cars to give to Tommy right before he died.
"Are you okay? I thought you were still in the hospital." Jax plops down on the blanket next to her, staring in horror at the swollen purple bruises on her face and neck and arms not to mention the thick cast covering the lower portion of her left arm and pillow pressed to her stomach. "Opie told me what happened. I'm sorry this happened to you." Sorry your old man's a goddamn son-of-a-bitch.
She shakes her head then winces slightly. "I'm fine. Dad checked me out yesterday; he said I could rest at home for free. How are you?" Her good hand reaches out to clasp his. "I'm really sorry about Tommy, Jax." She squeezes his hand before dropping it to swipe at the tears seeping out of her swollen eyes. "I can't believe he's gone. I miss him so much."
"Me too." Jax wipes his own eyes; then to distract himself so he doesn't cry in front of her, he checks out all the stuff piled on the blanket next to her: a box of Goldfish crackers, prescription pills, bottled water and a kitchen timer. "What's the timer for?"
Blinking at the abrupt change of subject, Tara glances at the timer as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Oh, I have a concussion. If I get sleepy, I have to turn in on to make sure I wake up."
Jax can't help but shudder as fear seeps into his brain; she can't possibly mean that she could go to sleep and never wake up…That can't happen, that can't fucking happen; he can't lose anyone else he cares about.
Alarm must've been spread all over his face because she reaches out to touch his arm. "It's okay, Jax. I've been through this before, I know what to do." She manages to curve her swollen lips into a smile.
His tense shoulders relax somewhat, although he still thinks it's fucking sad that a twelve-year-old girl would've suffered enough concussions to know how to take care of them. Then a horrifying realization washes over him. "All those times you said you fell off your bike or tripped and fell…It was your dad, wasn't it? He hurt you." The boiling fury that swamped him when he first heard about what happened to her returns with a vengeance. "Fuck it, Tara, he can't get away with this…Unser needs to lock him up so he can't hurt you anymore." Or someone needs to shoot the prick dead.
"No!" She tightens her grip on his arm. "No, Jax. Dad told me that he's really sorry and promised he won't hit me anymore. You can't tell anyone…They'll put me in the system, and I…I can't leave. Everything I have is here. Please, Jax… Please don't say anything."
Torn, he stares at her bruised and swollen face. He doesn't want anyone taking her away either, but the thought of her living in that house where that bastard could hurt again makes him sick with rage and fear. "What about Piney and Mary? What'd they say?"
"Piney told the hospital that I was in a car accident. He doesn't want me in the system either. But he made me promise to tell him if Dad ever hurt me again. Dad's scared of Piney now…So please, Jax…swear you won't say anything."
He nods slowly, reluctantly. "Okay, but you have to tell Piney - and me - if that asshole ever lays a hand on you again. Promise right now, Tara." Once she does, he picks up her hand and squeezes it. "Tommy wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Me either."
At the mention of his little brother's name, they both grow quiet; remembering the sweet little kid he was. Gazing into the Winston's yard, grief overwhelms him again knowing he'll never again let his little brother chase him around that backyard or sit on this blanket and watch Tommy snuggle next to Tara while she read him all this favorite stories.
"Jax, can you do me a favor?" He feels something nudge his arm and looks down at a battered paperback copy of "Where the Red Fern Grows." Glancing at Tara, he can't help the tiny smile that tugs at his lips. She loves this book, must've read it a million times; he'll never forget how she told him all about it years ago, lying next to him in the dark on the cold cave floor as they waited to be rescued. "I started reading it to Tommy, but we didn't get very far before…I'd like to finish it, but I'm having a hard time seeing the words."
Now it dawns on him why Tommy had started begging their parents for a dog (Jax'd done the same thing after the cave - although he'd been in too much deep shit with his parents to get anything but grounded), only to get shot down because his mom doesn't like dogs. Picking up the book, he pulls out the bookmark and tosses it to the ground. "Sure…but let's start at the beginning. I'd like to read the actual thing after hearing so much about it."
So for that day and many days after while they skipped school to heal, he'd go to her house and they'd read that book or another book or watch movies or play video games. And in those hours spent with her, he's a happy kid again - forgetting how much he misses his little brother, forgetting that his parents are barely talking, forgetting everything but how great it feels when she smiles at him.
Like they planned, Nero's waiting for him - leaning against his truck as Jax rides into the cemetery parking lot and parks his bike. He'd barely climbed off before the older man pulls him into a bear hug, which Jax returns - grateful for the silent greeting; after the last few hours, he's fucking wrecked.
"I brought what you wanted," Nero tells him then points his flashlight at a small burlap bag laying on the ground next to their feet. Jax nods his thanks and pats is friend's shoulder as they watch Skeeter arrive and emerge from his van.
"Sure you want to do this?" Skeeter asks him for what must be the hundredth time since Jax approached him with his plan. "Okay, okay…" Throwing up his hands when Jax shoots him a murderous glare, Skeeter opens the van door and pulls out the wooden urn that Jax'd chosen specifically.
"That one." He points at the large redwood urn on display at the funeral home.
"But Jax, that's a companion urn," Skeeter informs him. "It's for commingling the ashes of two people."
He runs his hand across the smooth wood, wanting to make sure it's worthy of her. "Does that have to happen at the same time?" As Skeeter shakes his head, Jax reaches into his pocket and curls his fingers around the small platinum disk. "Then it's perfect."
Taking the urn, Jax watches as Nero picks up the burlap bag, then sets out to follow Skeeter through the dark graveyard until they arrive at the selected spot. The gravedigger flashes Jax one more skeptical look before he plunges his shovel into the ground. Because they're burying an urn - temporarily - he doesn't have to dig very deep.
"Okay, we can put it in now." Skeeter throws the shovel to the ground and reaches out for the box.
"I'll do it." Jax brushes past him, now carrying both the urn and the burlap bag he'd taken from Nero. "Give me a minute," he tells both men, who immediately walk a few feet away but continue to shine their flashlights so that Jax can see what he's doing.
Sitting down on the ground next to the freshly dug hole, he cradles the urn in his arms - beyond reluctant to leave it here. "I have to go now, Babe. But I promise, I'll be back for you soon; then you, me and the boys can get the hell out of here. In the meantime, I'm going to leave you in good hands…I love you, Tara." He presses a kiss to the smooth wood then gently lowers the urn into the hole.
Once again, he swipes the wetness from his cheeks before picking up the shovel and filling the hole most of the way. Opening the burlap bag, he pulls out the miniature rosebush and plants it above where he'd buried the urn. "You may not know this, Babe. But there's no such thing as a red fern. I guess it's just a legend we learned from our book. I hope red roses will do for now." He pats the ground, his fingers smoothing the cold soil. "Good night, Babe."
Rising, he turns and faces the grave marker.
Thomas Wayne Teller
"Take care of our girl, buddy. But don't forget…she's mine."
"Thanks again for doing this, both of you." Jax breaks the silence as they walk back to the parking lot. "If anything happens to me, you know where she is. Where I'll need to be. And where we need to go. I already talked to Charlie…Maybe you think I'm crazy, but…"
He can't see it, but he can feel Nero shaking his head. "No, Mano…I get it." He pats Jax's shoulder. "I get it."
"Me, too," Skeeter pipes in. "That's why I thought…It's really weird, but when I picked Tara up at the ME's lab, I thought I saw you with her."
Jax stops in his tracks and aims his flashlight at the burly man. "What did you say?" Coldness creeps down his spine; something tells him he might know what Skeeter saw.
"I walked into the lab – the ME said she was ready to go – and I saw a blond guy kissing her hands, then her face. Seriously man, I thought it was you…except, now I think about it, your hair's a lot longer than when I saw you last and…do you even own a tweed jacket?"
That son-of-a-bitch, that son-of-a-fucking-bitch; Jax grits his teeth and clenches his fists; he's going to murder that goddamn prick. Nick Reese's a fucking dead man. Pulling out his cel phone, he dials Bobby. "Get Juice to find Reese's home address. Fucking now."