AN: Hi all, so sorry for huge delay in updating. Had a brutal work schedule the past couple of months. Trust me, you wouldn't have wanted to read anything I would've tried to write. Thanks for being patient!
Also, when I first started writing Part 2, I'd said you didn't have to read Part 1 for Part 2 to make sense (or so I hope). Then I realized, writing this chapter and some previous chapters, I'd mentioned that Jax had been in the hospital. So for readers who've never read Part 1, most of that story revolves around Jax in a coma after he finds Tara dead in their kitchen and gets in a fight with Sanwa deputies. While he's in the coma, he flashes back through his life with Tara from childhood all the way through their last hours in the motel (6x13).
Chapter 14: WHAT HATE DOES TO A MAN
"Two o'clock is fine. Look forward to talking to you then." Jarry smiles as she reads the text from Lincoln Potter. After several rounds of phone tag, they finally have a time to talk. She's convinced that the US Attorney holds the key to Eli's murder. And Juice's involvement.
Her smile quickly disappears as she spots a banged-up Nick Reese talking to one of her deputies. "What the hell happened to you?" In all the years she's known him, the state's golden boy's never had a hair out of place - much less the look of a prize fighter after all twelve rounds.
Reese dismisses the other man with a nod before turning to and giving Jarry the full view of the cuts and bruises marring the face that was usually more movie star than public servant. Usually.
"Got in a fender bender in The City…little problem with the airbag. I'm fine." He dismisses his injuries with a flick of his hand. "But you should know…one of the CO's at Women's County just found Colette Jane. Apparently she'd been attacked in the shower. She's dead."
When Jax was little, he used to love the sporadic and often erratic visits from his dad's older brother, Crazy Uncle Joe - so named because the man was a veritable freak given all the shit he could remember, going back to when he was practically a baby. Crazy Uncle Joe would always regale them with these fantastic stories about his and JT's crazy-ass childhood that were so intricately detailed that someone (usually one of the Club members) would wind up calling bullshit - but his dad would always confirm the tales as truth so Jax always believed.
But not long after Tommy was born, the visits stopped and Jax's parents started clamming up every time he'd ask when Crazy Uncle Joe would visit again - always answering his questions with shrugs followed by terse orders for him to eat his dinner, do his homework, go outside and play. As he got older and busier with friends and school, Jax stopped asking - but he never forgot his dad's crazy but supercool older brother. He started taking pride in his own steel-trap memory; although not as razor sharp and to-the-letter-specific as his uncle's, Jax liked being able to recall details about people he'd met, things they'd said, shit that happened.
It wasn't until after Jax patched in that he found out what happened to Crazy Uncle Joe - that the man's retentive memory, which had entertained so many, also carried a dark side. Joe Teller had fought in the same war as Jax's dad, Piney Winston and Jury White, but in a different regiment - one that saw even more unspeakable horrors, one that returned just a single surviving member. No longer able to cope with the hellish memories that had plagued him since his discharge, Crazy Uncle Joe had bolted out of a VA reunion dinner, opting to eat his gun in the parking lot instead of the food on his plate.
Then Tara left for college and Jax, for the first time, learned all about the soul-wrenching pain that comes with the inability to forget - a pain that intensified through the years, even when Tara came back to him, because he couldn't shut out some of the truly horrible shit he'd seen and done.
However nothing, fucking nothing in his goddamn bloody past had prepared him for the endless nightmare that's been his life since Tara's death; nothing had readied him for the long, desperate nights - trying to find oblivion at the bottom of whiskey bottles, staring hard at the gun clutched in his shaking hand and wondering if Crazy Uncle Joe hadn't been so crazy after all.
But, unlike his fucked-up uncle, he couldn't take the easy way out - not when he's got to take care of his boys, not when he's hellbent to find the murdering piece of shit who'd destroyed his life. And make sure the fucker feels the pain that Tara's suffered and more - a goddamn shitload more.
"Dr. Knowles' killer tried to drown her in the sink, and when she tried to fight it…the killer stabbed her in the back of the head - six times. And with enough force to crack her skull."
"Cause of death…traumatic brain injury…multiple basilar skull fractures…cerebral hemorrhage…catastrophic blood loss…"
"She didn't die easily you know. Or quickly. She fought hard to stay alive..."
"…there was a truck in your driveway….It said Unser Trucking."
Driving full speed to his mother's house, Jax tightens his grip on the steering wheel, trying to cope with the fucking demons howling inside his head - a losing battle as the enormity of Colette's revelation sinks its claws deeper into his brain. For some reason, his usually tight memory seems shot full of holes regarding that horrible day. The vague recollections of talking to Patterson, to his Brothers, to Nero and Alvarez - all diluted and muted by from those last haunting hours with Tara. But then back at County, Colette's words had slammed him back to that horrible day - to the short, damning exchange with Unser at Scoops.
"Someone better fill your mom in."
"Yeah, we've been trying to find her."
"She was at the house. I'm not sure where she went. She was, uh…in pretty bad shape. She took my truck."
It'd taken every fucking ounce of self-control not to succumb to his rage and pulverize every goddamn thing in sight. Starting with that insufferable prick Reese standing in his way.
"What are you going to do, Teller?" The hot fury in his eyes mirrors the inferno Jax feels burning a hole inside him.
"I'm going to see my mother."
Blocking the exit, Reese glares at him. "Your mother? What does she have to do with what your whore told you? I know there was bad blood between her and Tara, but Jarry said she had an alibi. You don't think…"
"You need to get the fuck out of my way," Jax hisses, sliding his hand down to rest lightly on his knife - Christ, how he'd love to gut this son-of-a-bitch and let him bleed out on the dingy floor.
Reese purses is swollen lip stubbornly. "I'm coming with you." He turns to open the door, stopping when Jax slams him against the wall. "Hey, goddamn it…"
"I'm going to handle this…" Jax growls. "You need to stay the fuck out of my way, got that asshole? I'll get in touch later…Bit if I see you before then, I won't wait to kill you."
Despite the damning shit stewing in his head, the rest of him balks at the idea that his mother could've done that to Tara. Sure they had a fucked-up history, but then so did everyone else in his crazy-ass life. In their world, they could say and do unspeakably horrible things to one another, but despite everything, they were family - they loved each other. And he knew for sure that his mother had loved Tara. He'll never forget how she'd sobbed at his hospital bed when he'd woken up screaming for his wife - how tightly she'd held his hand as they cried together over their shattering loss. Gemma Teller-Morrow may be many, many fucking warped things - but she's not a murderer (he's not counting his granddad's caretaker because that'd been an accident).
Which leaves the mystery of why Unser's truck had been in their driveway right before Tara died; Colette had no reason to lie about that - even though she's desperate to save her worthless ass, Jax can't believe she'd make up such a random detail.
Was it possible that Unser, fucking Wayne Unser, killed Tara and Roosevelt? Was it possible that the mostly harmless, onetime SAMCRO lackey had brutally murdered the innocent wife and mother he'd known since she was a little girl? If so, there'd only be one reason Jax could think of why Unser would do such a horrible thing…
Gemma's waiting for him as he storms into her house; somehow, despite his blinding rage, he'd had the presence of mind to call and tell her he was coming over - otherwise she might've mistaken him for a burglar and blown a goddamn hole through him with one of the half-dozen guns she kept bedside.
"Oh god, Jackson…what's wrong? Where are the boys?" She demands, her face frantic with worry as she grips his arms.
Jax pulls away, unable to abide the contact - not with the shit storm raging through him. "They're fine. Chucky and Rat are at the house watching them." He watches her stiff shoulders relax as she exhales loudly in relief. "What about your friends, Mom? What would they do for you?"
Although her brows wrinkle in confusion, something flickers in her eyes; he's known her too goddamn long to have missed it. Battling his temper, he steps closer and stares hard at the woman who'd raised him - the mother he's loved his entire life. "The day that Tara died…someone saw Unser's truck in our driveway. What the hell was he doing at my house, Mom? What would've sent him there?"
Backing up, she shakes her head franticly as horror spreads across her face. "No, Jackson. You can't possibly believe….There has to be some mistake…"
"No mistake." Jax snaps, clenching his fists. "Now tell me…Tell me!"
Most people would've crumpled in fear at the sound of him losing his shit - or run like hell. But Gemma Teller-Morrow isn't most people, and definitely not one who scares easily - not even when confronted with the monster that used to be her son. Stiffening, she stares him straight in the eye. "Wayne would never hurt Tara, Jax. Since she was a little girl, he'd always tried to protect her - from Frank, from Clay, from that black bitch DA…"
"Well his truck was in the driveway…so either he was there when Tara was murdered - or you were." He watches as her mouth drops open only to slam shut. It's not until he feels a sharp ache in his ribs that he realizes that he's been holding his breath.
Jax exhales loudly, but it's no relief to the tightness in his chest or the pounding in his head. "There's only one person that Unser lives to protect, Mom. Yeah, maybe he cared about Tara, but maybe he also thought she'd gone too far trying to frame you for the miscarriage? Maybe he didn't know about the deal I'd made with Patterson to save Tara…maybe he was trying to stop her from taking your grandsons away?"
He steps closer, his eyes boring into hers. "That day - Unser came to the shop…told us that you took his truck. Now why would he do that, Gemma? Was he covering up for something he did for you? Knowing that I'd never believe my own mother could…"
"Stop it!" She snaps, shoving at him. "Just fucking stop it. I don't know where the hell you're getting your goddamn information, but Wayne wouldn't hurt Tara. And surely not because of me…She and I had our differences - but I loved her too, Jackson. You weren't the only one who lost something that day…"
Sinking into a nearby chair, Gemma buries her face in her trembling hands. "It's a mistake…" She murmurs, then looks up at him with haunted eyes. "Someone's been feeding you shit…Unser spent the day taking Wendy back to rehab. And I don't know why he would tell you I took his truck…I didn't see him…"
Everything inside him goes quiet as the blood freezes in his veins. "Unser took Wendy to rehab that day?" It's a wonder he could spit the question out through his tightly clenched teeth, Lowen's voice echoing in his head.
"Wendy told me that she talked to Tara right before she died…that Tara changed her mind and wanted the papers re-filed…"
"…she's still Abel's biological mother so she might have some standing now that Tara's gone. Especially if she can prove that Tara had intended to turn custodial rights over to her. If she gets the right judge, she might be able to use the old document and argue that Tara changed her mind about voiding it before she died."
That bitch - that goddamn fucking bitch. When Lowen had told him about her talk with Wendy, he'd wondered when his junkie ex would've spoken to Tara since the guardianship papers had been voided just the day before.
"There's something I need to take care of before I meet Eli and go back to the house and wait for you. I can pick them up later."
Holy goddamn shit…could it be that Wendy arranged to meet with Tara one last time before heading to rehab, and then not getting the answer she wanted…Jax closes his eyes, trying hard to control the fresh rage exploding inside him. And Unser? How far would he go to protect Wendy? Enough to kill Roosevelt, the sole witness - the lawman compelled to report what Wendy had done? Jax shoves those thoughts aside; he'll deal with the old family "friend" later - after he deals with the cunt who may have killed his wife.
He glares coldly at his mother, who's watching him with wary and worried eyes. "I want you to call Wendy. Tell her to meet you at the cabin in an hour."
Alarm spreads across Gemma's face. "Jax…No…I know you hate Wendy…But she's not capable…" Standing up, she clutches his arms. "Look, it's 4am - let's talk about this later, after you've had some time to clear your head, think this through."
Jax shakes his head; anymore clarity and his brain might explode. "One hour, Gemma. Tell her to be at the cabin in one hour. Tell her it's about family. She'll come."
It's funny that, although he remembers so many things, most of his life with Wendy remain a blur - probably because he was drunk or high or both most of the time they were together. Christ, he doesn't even remember proposing. Just one weekend they were visiting Uncle Jury in Nevada, which somehow led to a drunken side trip to Vegas with his mom and Clay. He'd left Sin City a married man with no memory whatsoever of the wedding. But his mother had been grinning from ear to ear.
There'd been nothing subtle about Gemma pushing him to marry Wendy; his mom wanted grandkids almost as much as she wanted him to stop pining over someone who was long gone. Well she got the grandkid, but there was no erasing Tara - his girl lived inside him, imprinted in every cell in his body and nearly every thought in his head. His marriage to Wendy hadn't stood a chance.
He hadn't always hated her like this. Even when she'd nearly killed Abel with her weakness for drugs, he'd felt partially responsible because he'd deliberately stayed away from her - needing to be done with their marriage and to distance himself from the fatherhood he hadn't wanted. And after she left town when he'd refused a second reconciliation, he hadn't resented her for failing Abel once again. Not when Tara was ready to step in and be the perfect mom that his baby boy deserved.
It wasn't until the bitch had ambushed Tara, helpless and weak in her hospital bed after those cartel/CIA bastards had crushed her hand. With no regard or respect for Tara's fragile state, Wendy had selfishly pushed to get back into Abel's life - propelling a distraught Tara to reinjure her hand in a fit of terrified rage. He'd hated the goddamn junkie cunt after that; hated her with an intensity saved for the other goddamn fuckers who'd hurt his girl and threatened his family.
Twice he'd wanted to kill her…only to stop short of jamming a speedball in her arm and smacking her head against Gemma's patio floor. Fuck, if he'd just killed her that first time like he'd really wanted to do…Tara might still be alive.
"She's here," Gemma looks away from the window, her gaze flicking from him to Happy - who'd delivered the items Jax had asked him to bring. "Jackson, it's not too late to stop this. What if you're wrong? Wendy didn't hate Tara…"
"I don't give a fuck what Wendy felt!" He snaps, satisfied to see the fear creeping in his mother's eyes. If he's scaring Gemma, Wendy would shit in her pants. Good. "She killed Tara…I know it. There's no other answer…Wendy told Lowen that Tara consented to reinstate the guardianship…right before she died. Now when do you think Wendy would've had that chance to talk to her? If you loved Tara as much as you claim, then you know this has to happen…"
Gemma doesn't get the chance to answer as a loud knock echoes through the room. "Bring her to the kitchen," he orders softly, nodding at Happy to follow him.
"What's going on Gemma?" Jax hears the worry in Wendy's voice and clenches his fists, covered by his black gloves - Yeah, you'd better be worried, bitch. On the phone, Gemma had told her that a street war had erupted with the Mayans so Jax had ordered her to take the boys to the cabin; that Abel was hysterical and needed his mom - his real mom. "Where's Abel?"
Jax grits his teeth as Lowen's disgusted voice rings in his head. "Wendy only wants Abel. Not Thomas." The selfish goddamn bitch; only looking out for herself and what she wanted - so unlike Tara, who'd never once saw a difference between Abel and Thomas, who'd loved and sacrificed everything for both her sons.
"The boys are in the kitchen eating breakfast." He hears his mother say, nothing in her friendly tone that could alert Wendy of the fate ahead of her. Despite Gemma's inexplicable fondness for her ex-daughter-in-law, she knows where her loyalty belongs. "Come join us."
Leaning against the edge of the table, Jax watches with bitter satisfaction as Wendy's smile fade into fear. "What are you doing here?" She demands, her rat-like eyes quickly scanning the room. "Where's Abel?"
"That's not your concern," he informs her coldly, stepping closer. "You're never going to see him again. My boy's going to forget you ever existed."
"You can't do that," she snaps; indignation overcoming her fear of him. "I'm his mother, his REAL mother. I have rights."
Yeah, rights. Rights that she hadn't given a fuck about during the long nights that baby Abel suffered from sleep apnea, with his heart arrhythmia, with the colics and fevers that he caught so easily because of his weak immune system. And when Jax'd been locked up in Stockton, the worthless bitch hadn't uttered a goddamn peep about her fucking rights while Tara raised the little boy while coping with pregnancy and struggling to make ends meet. No, Wendy couldn't sign away her parental right fast enough. Even Lowen had been surprised how little effort it took.
"Well, let's talk about those rights…" He thrusts the voided guardianship papers in her face. "You knew that Tara had rescinded your guardianship of our boys…But you told Lowen that Tara changed her mind." Stepping even closer to the person he now hates more than anything in this world, he lowers his voice to a whispered hiss. "So when did Tara do that? When did you see her?"
Wendy gapes at him, her mouth opening and closing like fucking fish. "I…I…Tara called me…She said that she made a mistake…That she needed me to help her…Keep the boys safe."
Shaking his head, Jax drops the papers and grabs her throat with his gloved hand. "She called you in rehab? Right. Try again, you lying bitch. You came to our house, and you ambushed her." Digging his fingers into her neck, he sneers grimly, sadistically as Wendy gasps for air. "Tara wouldn't change her mind, so you killed her. Were you fucking high when you stabbed her in the head over and over until you split her skull? Or did you really hate her that much? Because Abel loved her and not you? Or was it some fucking twisted way to ruin my life?"
"No! No!" Wendy tries to pry herself out of his grasp; her frantic eyes latching onto the only person in the room that gave a shit about her. "Help me, Gemma! You can't let him do this…"
Tightening his grip on her neck, Jax slams the Wendy hard against the wall. "There's no helping a worthless piece of shit like you." He glares down at her terrified, tear-streaked face - burning hate spewing from all his pores. "You goddamn fucking cunt…Does your junkie brain remember what I said to you at Gemma's the other day?" With his free hand, he motions to Happy who steps forward to stand next to him. "The next time I see you…you die."
"Okay, I lied!" Wendy screams hoarsely despite Jax's hand practically crushing her windpipe. "I didn't see Tara that day…I lied - she never told me she changed her mind. I swear!"
But instead of staying Jax's plans for murderous retaliation, her admission effectively tosses gasoline on his already blazing hot fury. First Colette, now Wendy - these goddamn bitches trying to benefit from Tara's death. Well they'll both learn the hard way, the excruciatingly painful hard way not to fuck with his wife's memory.
With one hand wrapped tightly around Wendy's neck, Jax glances down at the syringe that Happy'd placed in his hand. They'd both been careful to keep their leather gloves on, not wanting any contact with the contents that could spill from the needle. Wendy, on the other hand, won't be so lucky. "You know how some greedy dealers sometimes cut their H with all sorts of fucked-up shit to stretch the stash? They stuff their pockets, not giving a fuck what the tiniest drop of arsenic or strychnine could do to the dumbass junkies."
Wendy's eyes widen in horror as he waves the needle in her face. "Jax, please don't' do this…I didn't kill Tara. I didn't even see her that day. Jesus Christ, you have to believe me!"
But her pleas hit deaf ears; Jax could only hear the blood pounding against his brain, could only see Tara's lifeless body sprawled on their kitchen floor, could only feel her cold skin and unresponsive lips when he'd pulled her in his arms and kissed her. Tara hadn't deserved to go out like that - fuck no one did, but especially not his beautiful girl, who'd suffered so much abuse and violence only to remain the most loving and giving person he'd ever known. No, Tara deserved the fairytale, the beautiful life he'd wanted to give her since he was sixteen - the life, this goddamn junkie bitch stole from her, from their sons, from him.
"Come on, Jax. I've done some stupid shit, but I'd never...I could never kill anyone. I didn't kill Tara, I didn't…" Wendy's panic takes a cajoling turn as she grips his hand hers in an attempt to ease the pressure on her throat; her bugged-out eyes dart nervously between the syringe and his face. "You have to think about Abel…he needs his mother, he needs me. I can take care of him. Please Jax, you don't want to do this…You loved me once, I know you did…You wouldn't have married me if you didn't."
It didn't seem possible, but her words unleash a fresh surge of rage coursing through him. "All that shit you've been shooting up has really fucked with your brain. I never loved you, and what little I remember about being married to you isn't good." He ignores the hurt that flickers through her eyes, preferring to focus on the tiny pearl of liquid spurting from the tip of the needle. "But the really fucked up thing is…even though you almost killed Abel, that you walked away from him again and again because you can't stay clean - Tara still turned to you for help; she was going to trust you with both our sons...All you had to do was be worthy of that trust…I guess that was too much to expect for a worthless piece of shit like you…"
Jax turns to stare at the bitch who's destroyed his life, hate pumping hotly through his veins. "But you're right about one thing…my son misses his mother, both my boys do. Thomas cries himself to sleep every night and wakes up every morning calling for her, and Abel…Abel carries a stash of books from his Mommy, pictures of her in his backpack that he takes everywhere so he can keep her with him. You did that to them…You took their mother from them…You goddamn fucking bitch…You killed my wife!"
The last time Wendy threatened his family, he'd jabbed a non-lethal speedball into her arm to fuck up her drug test; the miserable cunt won't get the same mercy from him this time. Savagely jamming the needle into her arm, Jax flings her to the ground, smirking with satisfaction as she screams and convulses on the floor. It's not quite the level of brutality that Tara endured, but overdosing on heroin liberally laced with strychnine should be a slow and painful death.
"You bastard!" Wendy shrieks, literally frothing at the mouth. "I'm glad Tara's dead! Bitch…stole my…family…I hope…she...suffered…" Jax grits his teeth, trying to control the impulse to pull out his gun and blow a hole into Wendy's hideously bloated red face. But he's not about to cheat himself or Tara or their boys out of one second of this retaliation.
Crossing his arms, Jax watches impassively, intently as Tara's murderer thrashes violently, choking and screeching over and over how much she hates him, how much she hated Tara, how Tara deserved to die for stealing Abel - and Jax - from her. He hears Gemma gasp with horror as Wendy starts slamming her head and arms and legs against the floor; blood and foam gushing from nose and mouth. Maybe some part of him, some human part of him buried deep should've felt the slightest bit of pity for the woman he'd once married, who'd given birth to his oldest son - but there was nothing there but hate. The intense, violent hate he felt for anyone who hurt Tara.
"And where do you think you're going with that gun?" JT calls after him, effectively freezing Jax on his way to the front door.
Pasting on his innocent face, Jax shrugs in confusion. "Don't know what you're talking about, Dad. I don't have a gun." He clutches his backpack tightly, knowing that if his dad saw what he'd wrapped in a sweatshirt and tucked between his video games and Tara's paperback books, there'd be hell to pay. Not to mention that he'd likely be grounded until hell froze over.
"It's not a toy, Jackson. I told you that I'd teach you how to shoot when you turn thirteen. But that's going to be thirty if you don't turn around and put it back. Right now."
Clenching his jaw stubbornly, Jax thinks about standing his ground and maintaining his innocence. If he's convincing enough, maybe his dad would let up and won't search his backpack or…he glances at the front door. Maybe he could make a run for it; he's gotten really fast since he grew those last couple of inches. But what if he gets caught? His dad's pretty quick, too. Jax scours his brain, searching for something - anything - that could get him out of the house without emptying his pack.
"Where are you going anyway? It's almost dark outside." JT steps closer, taking a sip of his beer. "And I know the Winstons are in Reno for the week for Mary's dad's funeral."
And that's why he has to get to Tara's house now. Ever since Tommy died a couple weeks ago, Jax often felt compelled to escape his grief-stricken parents to spend even more time with Opie and Tara - especially the latter. Since her old man roughed her up, Tara sometimes needed his help while her broken bones healed. He grits his teeth, anger swamping him again at the thought of goddamn Old Man Knowles hurting her. And now with Piney gone for a week, Jax's got to make sure the motherfucker leaves her alone.
His dad's eyes narrow as realization dawns; despite the glass of whiskey he nursed through dinner, JT's still as sharp as the knife strapped to his leg. "It's a fine thing to want to protect the people we care about, Son. What Frank did to Tara was unforgivable, but what you're planning won't help her."
The hell it won't, Jax snarls to himself; normally he wouldn't question anything his dad said - but not this. JT didn't know about the fear that would spread across Tara's face over any little thing that could set off her dad's temper or about how much it gutted him when she'd cry because her daddy hated her so much.
And JT didn't know that this afternoon, while he and Tara were in her room playing video games, Old Man Knowles had come home early and stinking drunk. Tara had made him swear to stay put while she took care of her dad, who'd returned his daughter's concern with vicious screaming taunts - how he should've let her mother have the abortion she'd wanted, how Grace would still be alive if it weren't for Tara - "the stupid, worthless little bitch who made their lives hell." The sound of shattering glass and Tara's cries of pain had Jax bolting out of her room and into the kitchen, where he found Frank Knowles passed out on the table after apparently hurling a casserole dish of cold leftover pasta at Tara. Fortunately, he'd missed, smashing the dish against the wall - although some shards of glass had hit and cut Tara.
"Don't cry, Tara," he'd whispered to her, wiping the blood and tears from her still-bruised cheek. "I won't let him hurt you anymore. I promise."
And so after going home and wolfing down his dinner, he'd marched into his dad's study and opened the gun safe with the spare key he'd stolen from the desk. Taking a gun from the back shelf so no one would notice it was missing, Jax had stuffed it in his backpack, ready to do what he had to do so that Tara's fucking asshole old man would never hurt her again. Tara made him promise that he'd never do anything to her dad, but that doesn't count scaring the asshole shitless with one of JT's big guns - although if the son-of-a-bitch touched her again, promise or no promise, Jax would make him pay.
"Give me the gun, Jax. Now." JT's hard tone left no room for argument so Jax reluctantly reached into his bag and pulled out the SAMCRO sweatshirt with the gun inside. "You're only twelve, Son - too young to be thinking about guns and retaliation. Besides, you think a nice little girl like Tara would be okay with you shooting her dad? Frank's a goddamn son-of-a-bitch, but he's still her father. You got to think about the consequences, Jax - it's not just about how you feel in the moment."
Pissed over his thwarted efforts to protect Tara, Jax scowls at his dad. "Can I go now? The asshole passed out in their kitchen. I just want to make sure she's okay. I'll do my homework over there."
For a few silent and scary seconds, Jax thought that his dad might refuse and send him to his room for trying to take the gun. But then JT surprised him by nodding then walking past him to the front door. "Come on, I'll give you a lift there - and back, when you're ready. It's been a while since I've seen ol' Frank, 'bout time for some catch up."
Jax feels a slow smile twist his lips. "Thanks, Dad."
"You're welcome, Monster…" His dad ruffles his hair, which Jax fucking hates but tolerates this once. "Look, don't get me wrong, Kid. Retaliation is necessary evil; it's what we do. But be careful you don't mix hate into that equation. Hate does terrible things to a man; turns him into something that he's not, something he swore he'd never be. You're a great kid, Jax. I love that you're trying to protect your friend. But just remember what we talked about tonight…It's hard not hate, don't let it swallow you."
His dad was right - hate could drive a man to extremes, turn him into someone unrecognizable, something unspeakable - but what JT didn't tell him was that when people try to break you or take pleasure in making you bleed, then hate's the only feeling that makes sense. Jax'd written those words in his journal for Abel and Thomas right after Opie died; until then, he'd tried to live by his dad's words - tried not to let hate consume him, not an easy thing after all the shit that went down with Clay - what the bastard did to Tara, to Piney, to his father. But after watching his best friend get bludgeoned to death because of some goddamn sociopath's fucked up power-play, Jax found himself embracing his hate - fueling it, exploiting it - to punish the fuckers who killed Opie.
But the retribution meted out to Damon Pope and his murdering flunkies pale in comparison to the price Jax chose for Wendy. The fucking cunt should've died years ago only to survive, scurry away and then resurface - like a goddamn cockroach. Well not this time. Once he found out that she'd killed Tara, there was only one way for him to take out the junkie bitch. Locked up in Stockton and then working with the cartel and the Mayans, Jax learned all about the dangers of street heroin - most importantly, where to get the shit cut with just the right amount of rat poison to kill off a big rodent. With the maximum amount of pain.
It takes a little under an hour for the drug to finally take out the junkie; although by that time, the most violent seizures had passed - leaving Wendy a twitching, distorted mess covered in blood, vomit and other assorted foul bodily fluids. Shit, at some point, she'd bitten off her tongue and spit it across the floor - a blessing for Jax who'd clenched his fists every time she'd cursed Tara and Gemma, screaming that they both should burn in hell along with him.
"Tara didn't deserve what you did to her, bitch," Jax hisses, glaring into her bruised and sightless eyes. "Our boys didn't deserve to lose their mother. But you…" He scans her broken body without an ounce of regret or remorse; hate really does breed monsters. "You earned every second of this…I only wish I did it sooner."
"Cleanup crew will be here in fifteen, Prez." Happy's voice cuts into his thoughts, prompting Jax to nod in appreciation. His Brother's certainly detail-oriented when it comes to killing. "I'll wrap up the body and put it in the trunk."
Jax nods again and murmurs his thanks before heading into the other room where Gemma's sitting on the couch smoking a joint and drinking Jack straight from the bottle. His mother's seen more than her share of bad shit, but somehow watching Wendy's violent convulsions had been too much for her - especially after hearing Wendy's skull cracking after she'd repeatedly bashed her own head against the floor. Jax had considered it poetic justice.
"You okay?" He leans against the wall and lights up a cigarette. There was one more thing to do, and his mother would be key to that.
Gemma barks out a laugh. "Am I okay? I just watched my son execute my daughter-in-law in the most fucked-up way. And you want to do this to Unser?" She shudders then takes another hit off the joint.
Stalking over to her, Jax grabs the bottle of Jack from her hand and hurls it against the wall. "Wendy was NOT your daughter-in-law," he shouts, not giving a shit as fear leaps into his mother's eyes. "She was the junkie bitch who killed my wife and robbed my sons of their mother. You might want to remember that."
He leans over her until they're eye-to-eye. "Mom, I'm not going to kill Unser, but I do need to talk to him." Straightening, he takes a few more drags off his cigarette before stubbing it out on the ashtray. "Now I'm going to get rid of the body, then I'm taking my boys to daycare. I think it would be very nice for you to invite Unser to your house for lunch. It's been a while since I've talked to him…it'd be nice to catch up."
Heading towards the door, he tosses one last look her way. "And don't even think about warning him off. I mean it when I said I won't kill him…but if I have to hunt him down, then all bets are off."
Jax wakes with a start, slightly disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings until flashes from all the crazy-ass shit that happened last night fill his brain. He killed a man in cold blood last night, shot him point blank through the head. Not that the bastard hadn't asked for it - if anything that psycho Kohn deserved worse, much worse for attacking Tara last night and for all the shit he'd done to her in Chicago. Much worse.
Tara. Tightening his arms around her, he presses a kiss to her forehead. Despite every fucked-up thing that happened last night, he got two miracles that he's pretty sure he doesn't deserve but happy as hell to have: finally holding his baby son after months of watching him from a distance and finally getting Tara back in his arms after more than a decade of wanting and waiting.
Fuck, he'd completely lost his shit last night. He hadn't originally intended to kill the Fed; hell, he'd been assuring Tara that Kohn would be the one locked up after violating the restraining order and nearly raping her inside her home. But then the son-of-a-bitch had started shouting those horribly familiar insults at her..."stupid bitch"…"pathetic whore"…"biker slut"…and suddenly all Jax could hear was Frank Knowles' screaming taunts while watching Tara break down from all the terror and anxiety that bastard had caused her.
So he'd blown that psycho prick to hell.
"Hi." Waking slowly, Tara snuggles closer before tilting her head to face him. Although it's still early, there's enough dim light for him to see the soft smile and beautiful green eyes that've haunted him for years. Maybe their first morning together in eleven years should've been awkward - especially with a dead body lying a few feet away - but then there's never really been any awkward moments between them. They've known each other so long and so well that they could be apart for a hundred years and still fit together like a matched set.
"Morning." Stroking her cheek, he presses a slow kiss to her lips. "You okay?" For a few moments last night he'd worried that she might've been horrified and repulsed over what he'd done. After all, she'd never been able to understand the violent world that he'd embraced when he patched into SAMCRO. But there was no disgust or disappointment on her face when she'd stared at him, when she'd kissed him, when she'd opened her thighs and let him back inside his personal heaven.
"Yeah, I think so. What about you?" She fingercombs his hair, just like she used to do since they were kids. Although he's got a much deeper appreciation for it now.
Capturing her hand in his, he lifts it to his lips. "I got to get up in a minute…got to get rid of him before it gets too light outside."
Tara looks away and for a panicked second he worries again that she might not want anything to do with a convicted felon…and murderer. But there's open affection in her eyes when she faces him again. "Thank you for coming to help me. I…I just don't feel safe with anyone else."
Cupping her face in his hands, he stares at the girl he's loved for most of his life. "You don't have to thank me, Tara. I told you that I'll always be there for you, Babe. No matter what. Got that?"
"Got it…" She kisses him softly then twines her arms around his neck, pressing herself flush against him so he could feel their hearts pounding in rhythm.
Burying his face in her neck, he squeezes her tight. When he feels her dozing off again, he presses another kiss to her forehead. "No one's ever going to hurt you again, Tara. I'll kill anyone who tries."