The last few days were a haze. Tara Teller couldn't remember when she had a good night's sleep. It must've been before Abel and Hannah's wedding, she thought as she stared out at the hazy California sun. It was just rising. Somewhere out East, in the sleepy town of Silver Spring, Tara knew her children were awake and had already headed out to their days. If she closed her eyes, she could see Abel, tired and haggard from writing all night, driving towards the body shop. He probably wouldn't stay all day, but Tara knew he'd make sure the guys towed the line.

Tara knew Hannah was sleeping the morning away. From the conversations she'd had with her new daughter-in-law, there wouldn't be much time before the inevitable baby announcement. As much as she and Abel wanted to wait until her twelfth week to announce their news, Hannah's belly was already faintly rounded. Her utter exhaustion and constantly churning stomach made it almost impossible to keep it hidden. She'd done a good job at evading questions so far, blaming depression for her newly acquired hermit lifestyle. Tara wondered if Sarah and James would reconsider their complete and utter contempt for the Teller family once they knew of Hannah and Abel's baby.

Ophelia, however, didn't have to feign depression. Tara hadn't spoken to her ginger haired daughter since she'd arrived in Charming, but from all accounts, she knew that Opie was struggling. Hell, the word struggle was an understatement. Content to languish in her lack of drive or desire, Ophelia Teller was spiraling downward, and the effect was horrible to behold. There was no spirit in the once high-strung spitfire. There had been more days spent in bed than out of it. In the time since she'd learned the truth, she'd pulled away from everyone—Lucius, Abel, Hannah—even Delylah.

It amazed Tara at how Delylah was truly opposite of her twin in every way possible; when Opie turned south, Lala turned north, and it fucked with Tara to no end. Abel had tried to understand his sister's turn for the better, but he was consistently confused by it. Tara, however, knew the reason for Lala's sudden joie de vivre: Victor. Tara wanted to laugh aloud, but she knew it'd wake Jax. How simple men are, she thought as she rested her tired eyes on her disheveled, deeply sleeping husband. Abel doesn't even realize that Lala is in love. Fuck, I wonder if Lala even realizes it yet. Tara smiled sadly. Of course she realizes it, she thought. When it hits you, you just fucking know.

"Morning," Jax crackled. His deep warble was partially muffled by the pillow. He turned his head and opened a sleepy blue eye.

"Morning," Tara returned with a grin. Decades spent together couldn't change the beauty of her husband's face. Shirtless and covered in a sea of white hotel sheets, his silver and gold hair gleamed against the pillows. She saw him smile back at her, and unable to help herself, she lowered herself to his side and curled around him. Face-to-face, they lay in silence for a moment, drinking each other in.

"What's on your mind, babe?" Jax asked. It should have been a simple question, but with everything going on, Tara could have answered in a million different ways. Their trip to Charming had been both strange and wonderful, but there was still a huge, gaping hole of guilt and grief in Chibs' absence.

"Thinking of the kids," Tara replied. She wondered if it ever stopped. Both Thomas and Abel had been on their own for a while, and Tara still woke thinking of them and went to bed the same way. "I talked to Abel last night—then Thomas called to check in." Tara's heart swelled as she thought of her sons. They really are good boys. Jax laughed.

"The girls never bother calling," he said quietly. It was intended as a joke, but when he realized it was a true observation, his heart sank. Tara watched as his smile disappeared.

"They haven't been without us like the boys have." Tara's voice was full of motherly wisdom as she spoke. "You gotta remember, Abel moved out the minute he turned eighteen and graduated. Thomas graduated at seventeen and was off to college minutes after his eighteenth birthday. They've had time to miss us. Opie and Lala haven't."

"Either way, I'll be glad to get home," Jax stated as he rolled to his back. "I've been worried sick about them. I don't like being away."

"I'm surprised at how quiet it's been," Tara said, secretly wondering if she'd just jinxed herself. "Do you think that—maybe-the IRA was just after Chibs?"

Jax stared at the pristine white ceiling. His blue eyes were piercing as they probed the nothingness above. "That would be too easy, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe," Tara admitted. "Maybe not. What if Chibs just felt the weight of the Irish on him and made a mistake? What if he reached us before our cover was ever blown?"

"What if we blew our own cover?" Jax's voice was shards of glass as he sat up and faced the sun-filled window. "Are you saying we blew it, Tara?"

"I guess we'll never know," Tara whispered. "It's too late now. Everyone knows. I suppose it's just a matter of time—"

"Before they find us?" Jax finished. He rested his elbows on his knees and placed his chin on fingertips.

"Yeah," Tara answered. "Do you think they're coming now?"

"They may already be here," Jax honestly replied as he stood. "They may be watching us now—waiting."

"That's the chance we took to make it right." Tara's voice was solemn as she stood and walked to her husband. Standing in front of him, clad in one of his ancient gray t-shirts, her dark hair sleep worn and disheveled, her hazel eyes were full of fire. "In the time that has passed since we ran, I have learned a lot. I learned that our sacrifice was needed to give our kids a chance. But I also learned that we have no control over fate."

"What do you mean?" Jax's eyebrows raised with his question. Tara gently touched his face as she stared into his eyes.

"We pretended to die. We schlepped across the country, to a middle-of-nowhere town in the South, and SAMCRO still found us. It still came knocking on our door. It's our fate. Our destiny. We can't fight it anymore. Whatever happens—we have to face it. End it." Jax looked down, then up again. His blue eyes sent shivers through her.

"When did you get so brave, Tara Knowles?" he asked with an enchanting smile.

"When I became Tara Teller," she replied. Standing on tiptoe, she grazed his lips with hers.

"I need some of that bravery today," Jax mumbled against her mouth as their foreheads touched. Tara rested her hand on his heart. It beat steadily against his flesh, and she reveled in its rhythm. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck.

Today, in the unrelenting July heat, Jax and Tara would stand in the shadows of the Mountain View Cemetery. In a move carefully orchestrated by Althea, Tig, and Venus, they would show after Chibs' service and say their own quiet, private goodbyes, away from the club. After the impromptu reunion in the airport, Tig knew the other members, especially Bobby, would be heartbroken to know the truth.

"They won't understand, Jax." Tig's words hovered in his mind. He was right. There was no thought given to the remaining club members in their impulsive decision to travel west. Chibs' death, along with John and Althea's grieving superseded all common sense. Even Althea, the most logical woman Jax knew, fell prey to her emotions. Had any of them been thinking clearly, they would have realized coming to Charming was a rash and stupid choice.

There is no going back now, Jax thought as he ran his hands through Tara's tangled hair. Images of his past life threatened to engulf him as his mind drifted to parts unknown. Neither Jax nor Tara knew the eldest standing SAMCRO member's problems like Tig, Venus, and Althea did. Haunted by demons and ghosts while battling debilitating congestive heart failure and emphysema, Bobby was a dead man walking. At seventy-nine years old, the fact that the old man was still standing was amazing.

Happy wouldn't get it, nor would Rat or Quinn. Regardless of the careful plan to leave SAMCRO unscathed by their departure, both Jax and Tara could still be seen as rats by the remaining members of the club. Other newer prospects had joined since and completed the rigorous rituals needed to be truly ensconced within the ranks of SAMCRO—surely, the old apparitions of Jax and Tara Teller wouldn't do anyone any favors. Staying separate was the best option. It was the only option.

The buzz of a cell phone vibrated within the silence. Tara walked to the nightstand and grabbed it. Clicking it on, she held the receiver to her ear.

"Thomas," Tara breathed into the phone. "How's it going?"

Jax heard his son's voice warmly greet Tara. Unsure of how long the call would take, took that opportunity to shower. Turning the water on full hot, the room quickly filled with steam as he divested himself of his sweatpants. His body was covered in goosebumps as opened the foggy glass door. He tested the water. Turning the knob to allow a slight trickle of cool water to mix in, he stepped in. The water fell in rivulets down his still firmly muscled abdomen. Placing his hands on the wall, he let the water flow over him. It was almost like a baptism.

The door opened slowly, and a whoosh of cool air flowed in. Jax smiled as it shut quickly. There was barely a sound as Tara padded across the cool tile floor. The shower door opened and closed. He tingled as he felt Tara's smooth hands travel over his scars. What Jax didn't see were the tears that flowed down his wife's cheeks as they mixed with the shower water. If Tara looked closely enough, she could make out some of the faint letter that remained still. She remembered the anguish that wrecked Jax's body and heart when WitSec forced the removal of his massive Sons of Anarchy tattoo. On cold days, the tight, silvery tissue would ache terribly. Jax never once realized his beloved could hear the muffled cries of agony while she slept, but she did.

He shivered as her lips touched his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his taut waist as she turned her cheek to rest on a piece of untouched flesh. Slowly, he turned to face her. Her hair stuck to her face, her shoulders as the water poured from above. A gentle kiss was shared between them, but it grew hungry and almost savage as she clung to him.

His mouth devoured the creamy skin of her throat as her hands tangled in his hair. His hands groped and sought the soft flesh of her breasts as he expertly fondled them. A low, husky moan drifted over the sound of the shower as Jax turned Tara to face the wall. Knowing what he sought, she braced herself against the wall. Bending her to the perfect angle, Jax slid carefully into his wife and hesitated. Tara's sharp intake of breath told him he was, as always, doing everything right. As he began slowly moving, Tara picked up his rhythm and moved against him.

"Oh, God, Tara," he whispered as his head turned towards the ceiling. "How do you do this? How?"

Tara responded with another moan as she changed speed. Before long, she felt the familiar sensation of Jax's calloused fingertips digging into her skin. With a smile of triumph, she rocked with him, knowing satisfaction was at hand. With a cry of pure pleasure, she moved smoothly against him, reveling in the chills and fireworks that erupted within.

"Fuck, Tara," Jax groaned once more, and as Tara came down from her ecstatic high, she heard her husband's voice rumble in passionate release. For a moment, Tara didn't move, which allowed Jax to get his bearings. Once he'd returned to Earth, he pulled out of her. She turned and let him pull her against him. They stood, water falling. Tara looked up at him, and he kissed her forehead. Jax didn't speak as he pulled a small bottle of shampoo from the shelf. Pouring some of the contents in his wide palm, he gently washed his wife's hair. Carefully, she soaped his body, surprised at another wave desire that stabbed her. She held it at bay as he continued his attentions.

They didn't really talk as they finished their shower or as they stumbled from it. They dried off in silence. Tara pulled a filmy black chiffon dress from the closet, and after throwing on a black bra and matching panties, she slid the dress over her head. She pulled her damp hair to the side and allowed Jax to clasp the back closed for her. She then retreated to the bathroom to finish her hair and makeup.

In the time it took her to get ready, Jax had managed to pull on a black button down, which he left open at the collar, well-fitted black slacks, and shiny ebony loafers. His hair was a perfect mess. You get better with age, love, Tara thought.

"You look beautiful," Jax shakily whispered as Tara slipped on sensible, peep-toe heels. With a smile of appreciation, Tara grabbed her purse and stepped towards the door.

"You ready?" she asked. A look of panic crossed his face, but he gained control over the fear and nodded.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said. "Let's do this."

######################################################################################################

Mountain View Cemetery was lush and green as Jax and Tara parked their rental car. As Tara got out, a rush of thick, oppressive heat smacked her face. I forgot about summers. She glanced out at the black tent-like awning. There he is. She bit her lip as she shut the door. Jax's door echoed behind her. As she stared at the sun-soaked horizon, she spied Althea beneath the awning. Tig and Venus flanked her.

Jax and Tara slowly walked towards Althea, careful to step over graves as they moved ahead. Jax walked a few steps ahead of his wife as he stopped first at Opie's grave. His fingertips reverently traced the cool stone as tears flowed freely from Jax's eyes. To his left lay Piney; at his right was Donna. Donna. Jax turned to face her stone, and Tara's heart shattered as he bent to kiss the weathered marker. Jax moved forward once more, only stopping at JT's and Gemma's gravesites.

A vibration shook Tara's purse. Quickly, she opened it and glanced at the number. I'm sorry, Thomas, she thought. I'll call you back.

Jax didn't move. For a second, he simply stood and allowed the memories to drown him. Then, with a sigh of what might've been, he moved towards Chibs' final resting place.

Sprays of black roses and lush greenery surrounded the stunning mahogany creation. Althea stood at the foot of the casket, and like the others, her back was turned. Tig and Venus had moved forward to greet the Tellers. Tig wept freely as he hugged Jax. Tara and Venus stood silently and allowed the old friends their moment.

"You okay, Althea?" Tig asked. She nodded, but Tara could see the pain ooze from her. I just want you back! Please come back to me!

"I'll survive," Althea said. "I have no choice. Johnny needs me. I can't break down, not now." Jax's heart immediately softened towards her. It can't be easy to take care of others, but we never take care of ourselves.

As they stood around the grave, each person became lost in their own thoughts. I should have never opened that door, Jax thought. I could've let him keep knocking. The grief and sadness was palpable, and they were so emotionally lost, they didn't hear the slight rustle of grass as another approached. Sounds could only be heard if one cared to listen. At that moment, no one cared; in fact, they were so deep in their grief, they didn't know anyone else was even present. It was Althea that finally heard the sound. Her dark eyes looked up, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Holy fucking shit, do none of you fuckers listen to directions?" There was more heartbreak than anger in her voice. Before her stood an incredulous Bobby and Happy. Even though they were a good couple hundred feet away, it was more than obvious that the old bikers recognized the couple standing before them. Both wore masks of shock and confusion. The look was returned by Althea. Jax and Tara, their backs to the bikers, turned to see who stood behind them. Jax's mouth tightened. Tara's simply fell open.

"What the fuck is going on, Jarry?" Bobby croaked in disbelief. His bloodshot eyes carefully surveyed them both. Frozen in place, he locked eyes with Jax, who was astounded at how the once vibrant and always partying Vice President had aged. His once salt-and-pepper curls were much whiter and much thinner than it was for Jax's goodbye all those years ago.

The old man was a stout as Jax remembered, and his condition was obviously worsened by Bobby's total disregard for his health, but his eyes were still fucking brilliant. Now, they overflowed with tears.

"They're alive," Jarry said with no preamble. "They joined WitSec after the girls were born. They gave up August Marks and the IRA in exchange for your freedom and your club's absolution of all sins."

Bobby could feel anxiety build within his chest as he stood firmly planted in the graveyard's soil. Happy's typical death stare had been reduced a watery mess.

"This isn't real," Happy said, disbelieving. "This isn't real. It can't be. I just can't." The words were a litany, repeated over and over.

"It's very real," Jax whispered. "I'm so sorry." This is so much harder than it was with Tig. Regret flooded his veins as he watched his old friends hover between their love for him, the truth, and their newfound anger and confusion.

"What are you doing back here?" Althea questioned. She was desperately trying to diffuse the situation. "I told you I wanted to be alone."

"That was two and a half hours ago," Bobby returned. "We got worried. I asked Happy to drive me over."

"I didn't hear bikes," Tara said, more to herself than aloud.

"I can't ride anymore," Bobby explained. "The ole ticker won't take it anymore. He brought me in the truck." The old man gestured to an old Chevy pickup parked a few feet away, on the other side of the graveyard.

"How did this-" Happy began.

"Izzy," Jax said simply. "This all started with him coming after Tara and the twins. After almost losing them all, Tara and I knew we had to get out. Only WitSec could do that."

The silence that fell was an awkward one. Bobby and Happy were still wide-eyed and disbelieving, while Jax and Tara had no idea what to say. Tara felt her bag vibrate again. Not now, Thomas, she internally admonished.

"They ended up in North Carolina," Tig tried to explain. Venus said nothing. Her face was perfect and composed as she placed a worried hand on Tig's shoulder.

"What does that have to do with Chibs? How did you know he was gone?" Bobby asked.

"He knew the truth," Tara answered. "He just didn't know where we specifically were. When Trinity was—" She hesitated for a second. "When Trinity was murdered, Chibs found us. He thought the IRA was planning something, so our plan was for him to stay until the end of July. That was supposed to give him insight into what was happening, but-"

"He was shot at Abel's wedding," Jax said. Bobby's eyes grew wide. Happy, completely shell-shocked, shook his head.

"I'm out," Happy said through gritted teeth. "I don't need this fucking shit." Pivoting on his heel, he stalked toward the truck. Venus glanced at Tig, who nodded, then followed SAMCRO's Sergeant at Arms as he walked away.

"Abel's married?" Bobby asked. Part of him wanted to follow Happy, but he thought better of it. He didn't know what was more shocking, Abel's marriage or the fact that he was making small talk with two supposed dead people.

"Yeah, and he's gonna be a father come February," Jax replied with a smile. The idea was still strange to Jax, but he was getting used to it.

"I'll be damned," Bobby drawled. "I can't—I can't believe this. I just can't fucking believe it."

"Me either," Jax admitted.

"So what the fuck are you doing here now?" Bobby posed the question. This moment was utter madness, and Bobby Munson had no idea how to handle it.

"I wanted to say goodbye," Jax candidly admitted. "And I want to know who's killing the people I love—first Trinity, now Chibs—who's next? Is it me? Tara? Althea? SAMCRO?"

"And you think we're going to help you?" Bobby coldly laughed. "You lied to us—well—almost all of us."

"Someone had to know," Jax countered. "Someone outside of me, outside of Tara and Althea. I trusted him. Now I can see I wasn't wrong."

"You didn't trust me?" Bobby asked. Jax licked his lips.

"That wasn't the point, Bobby. Chibs has connections you don't have. He was the logical choice." Bobby snorted.

"Fuck logic," Bobby retorted. "You should've told me. I ain't no rat. I guess you can't say the same."

"I didn't rat—" Jax stopped and shook his head. Arguing was futile. This isn't how it's supposed to go, Jax cried internally. You're supposed to be glad, to feel relief, to—to—" Jax's eyes moved to Happy and Tig, who appeared to be having a heated argument.

"I'm gonna get him before this gets worse," Venus said quietly as she began to walk away. Only Jax, Althea, Tara, and Bobby stood around the grave. No one spoke. Bobby was still as he stared at his old friend's final resting place.

"You should've told me, Jax," Bobby murmured darkly.

"I couldn't," Jax replied. It was true. The fewer that knew, the better.

Tara stood by Althea and watched as Jax and Bobby remained frozen. It was almost a game: whomever gave in first was weak. Another vibration penetrated her purse as she watched. Annoyed, she stepped out of the awning and into the harsh sunshine. Pulling the phone out of the bag, she had to shade the screen in order to see the caller's name. Lala. Wait. Jax's observation came back to haunt her. The girls never bother calling.

"Lala?" Tara answered. She prayed her daughter dialed her by mistake, but something in her gut told her that wasn't the case. Her heartrate accelerated, and her palms became clammy as she clutched the phone.

"Mama," Delylah sobbed into the receiver. "Mama, something's happened. Something terrible." Tara closed her eyes and began to rock back and forth.

"What baby?" She spoke to Delylah like she would a five year old.

"We just left for a moment," she cried.

"Who?" Tara asked. "Who left?"

"Abel, Lucius, and Victor were at the shop. Opie and I just went out to pick up stuff for tonight's supper—" Tara opened her eyes as she swayed.

"The door was wide open when we got back," Delylah continued. "And it was a wreck inside. Our—couches-the kitchen—oh, God, Mama—" The young girl dissolved into agonizing sobs as she fought valiantly to continue. "I rushed upstairs—I had to get up there."

Tara's mouth was full of cotton balls as she listened to Delylah's broken cries.

"It was so much worse when I got up there. So much worse, so much worse, so much worse," Delylah chanted.

"Jax!" Tara called to her husband. Pulling himself away from the stalemate tete-a-tete with Bobby, he rushed by her side. Fortified by the presence, she continued with Delylah.

"What'd you see, Lala?" Tara asked. "What did you see?"

"Oh, God, Mama, there was blood everywhere. I mean, everywhere." The words were a hybrid between a scream and a moan. "And she was gone."

"Who?" Tara ran through all the kids Delylah had mentioned earlier. Lala and Opie were at the store. Abel, Lucius, and Victor were at the shop. Tara sighed in frustration. Oh God. Tara turned to Jax, her eyes full of terror.

"Hannah," Delylah cried. "They took Hannah!"

"They took Hannah, Jax," Tara whispered to her husband. She was breathless, speechless.

"What?!" Jax's eyes grew fearful and wide as he snatched the phone from Tara's hand. "Delylah, you need to tell me. Who took Hannah?"

"I don't know," Delylah screamed. "I don't fucking know! They just left a note—and it's—oh Gooood." The last word was a long, plaintive wail.

"It's what, Lala?" Jax urged.

"It's written in blood—oh Jesus, what if it's Hannah's blood?!" Delylah sobbed. Jax's gut churned with nausea, and he felt as if he was going to vomit. The world spun around him as his worst nightmare was quickly coming true.

"What does it say?" Jax yelled. She didn't respond. She couldn't keep her composure. She just sobbed into the speaker. "Delylah? Honey, please—please talk to me. Just read it to me." Delylah sobbed harder. Hysteria was setting in. Jax could hear the rustle of paper in Delylah's hands. No mattered how hard he tried to steel himself, nothing could prepare him for the words coming out of his daughter's mouth.

"One Teller down, six more to go," Delylah croaked into the phone. Jax exhaled jaggedly as a lump formed in his throat.

"We're on the next flight out, Delylah," Jax stated as his eyes landed on a horrified Tara. "We're going to find Hannah. I promise." Delylah's sobs slowed.

"Just hurry, Daddy," Delylah mumbled fearfully. "I don't think they're gonna stop—at least not until we're all fucking dead."