"We believe this is the best option, Mr. and Mrs. Teller," Dr. Maya Parker said softly. Her eyes were bespectacled today, making her look closer to her actual age. Her hair was tossed back in a messy ponytail. Her scrubs were a couple sizes too big, and Jax wondered if he could trust her with his oldest son's life. His eyes landed on Abel's sleeping face. She's done alright so far, his brain reminded him. He looked at Tara next. Her face was taut with worry, but it was her reaction that would make or break Dr. Parker's plan.
"It is the best option, Maya," Tara replied. Jax's eyebrows raised with her being on a first-name-basis with Dr. Parker. God, I've missed so much searching for the girls. His heart was torn in a thousand directions. It had been since his family exploded. Hannah and Opie were still MIA, Victor was gravely injured, and Abel was still lingering in his medically-induced coma. He desperately wanted to be present for each one of his kids, but he'd come to the realization that it was truly an impossible task. He reached over and grabbed Tara's hand, grateful for her presence.
But she wasn't alone. Althea and Venus, who were now barely taking a break and grabbing lunch, had been with Tara constantly. Tig, Thomas, and Will were out asking questions, searching the house and the garage, but they'd be back. Tara was never alone. Jax didn't know if his longstanding love craved moments of loneliness, but if she did, she never spoke of it.
He knew it hadn't been easy for his SAMCRO family either. Althea was constantly calling Charming to speak with Bobby, with Lyla, and with John. Jax knew that Althea's wounds were still fresh from Chibs' murder. He knew that this task—the task of finding who killed Chibs—and finding Hannah and Opie's kidnappers—was merely a distraction from the blinding, heart-wrenching pain of being without her lover. Jax wondered what would happen once everything fell into place.
If they fall into place. There was no way of knowing if any of them would be alive once everything was said and done. The thought both terrified and thrilled Jax. It'd been a long time since he'd felt so—alive. The irony didn't escape him—the life that soared through his veins only occurred when his life—and the lives of the ones he loved—were in complete and acutely present danger. He hated this paradox that had plagued him throughout his life.
"Good," Dr. Parker said. "We've already taken a few steps to ensure that taking Abel off the vent will work. His blood gasses are exactly where they need to be—blood pH is 7.9—"
"It needs to be at least 7.25," Tara interjected, more her own benefit than Jax's. She cracked a small smile as Dr. Parker nodded in agreement. He didn't understand any of the criteria needed, but he loved seeing Tara back in her element. He knew that she had voraciously soaked up all things medical during their WitSec years. She never told him why she did it, but he knew there was always the hope that Tara would be able to return to medicine one day.
"His P/F ratio is perfect as well," Dr. Parker stated.
"P/F?" Jax questioned. He rarely asked those kinds of questions, but he couldn't help himself. He felt like he should have been involved in the conversation.
"The ratio of arterial oxygen partial pressure to fractional inspired oxygen," Tara replied with ease, not thinking of her laymen husband asking the question. Jax felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. I shouldn't have even asked, he thought.
Step away from the ledge / I'm coming down—Jax's phone exploded with his favorite Five Finger Death Punch song. Thank God. He fumbled in his pocket, and he pulled the phone out, metal blasting. Tara shot a half annoyed glance in his direction.
"It's Delylah," he said. "I'll take it outside." Tara immediately softened and nodded as Jax left the room.
"Hey, sweetheart," Jax answered as he walked into the hallway. Nurses passed by, casting longing gazes at him, but he remained oblivious. Gone was twenty-something Jax Teller, stealing girls off of bikes and banging them just because he could—in his place was fifty-something Jax Teller—business owner, ex-biker, family man—and perhaps it was that quiet dynamic that still made him a stunning specimen of manhood.
"Hey Daddy," Delylah's voice rang in Jax's ears. He smiled, unable to help himself. There was no greater word than Daddy, and he was grateful every time he heard it. "How are you?"
"I'm alright," he said calmly. "I'm at the hospital with your mama. They're taking him off the vent soon. Dr. Parker is saying he could be awake within hours after that-or it could take days-but he'll be awake."
"That's awesome," Delylah breathed. He could hear the happiness in his daughter's voice. The sound automatically made his heart sink—what he wouldn't give to hear Ophelia's voice now. His gut constricted with the thought of her. He had never been a religious man—he had a spirituality—but no organized, church-going religion. Still, every night since Hannah disappeared, he prayed. The minute Ophelia was taken, he prayed even harder. He asked for God to help him. Every. Single. Day.
And when a new day dawned, and he was met with Hannah and Ophelia's gigantic absences, he felt his resolve crumble, little by little. Still, in the midst of all his brokenness, he still held onto a glimmer of hope that something, even an unseen power, could help somehow. So far, he'd been disappointed every time he woke.
"Do you think I could come see him?" Delylah asked. "Hang out with Mama?"
"Is Victor up to driving all that way?" Jax returned.
"He's staying here," Delylah explained.
"He can't," Jax stated. "He needs someone with him at all times. And so do you."
"He won't be alone," Delylah elaborated. "He's asked Dr. Sinclair to the cabin."
Jax's jaw clenched. As much as he liked Victor, he was pissed that Victor didn't ask him first, knowing how Jax felt about James Sinclair. His nostrils flared as he struggled to regain his composure, but his heart was murderous. No matter how sweet Sarah was capable of being, Jax couldn't ignore what a colossal bastard James was.
"I'll come get you," Jax said. He couldn't control what would transpire between the two Sinclair men. Whatever it was, Jax knew it needed to happen. They just needed to talk or fight or kill one another—but something had to change. The only way to bring about change was to embrace it.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Delylah breathed. "It saves me the trouble of asking. I just don't feel like I can stand to be around that man."
"He's a fucking bastard," Jax admitted. "I mean—"
"I know what you meant, Daddy," Delylah said. There was a brief pause before she asked, "Anything new? Have you heard-?"
"No, honey," Jax mumbled. "There's nothing new. No leads."
"Are you giving up hope?" The words flew out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. On the other end, Jax could hear her curse herself.
"Never," Jax quickly responded. "Are you?" There was another, longer pause before she responded.
"I haven't given up," she said softly. "I know Hannah will fight until she can't anymore—and I feel like I would know if Ophelia was gone. I mean, we're twins. I've known her since before we were even born. If she left me—"
Delylah's voice trailed off, and Jax knew what she was going to say. Instead of addressing their mutual fear, Jax cleared his throat and changed the subject.
"When is James coming?" he asked.
"Victor said no later than four," Delylah responded. "But, really, I don't think the hospital is the best idea. I don't want to go far. Can we swing by the police station instead? You know-while we wait? Maybe check in with Jack Petty?"
Jax knew that Jack wouldn't have any new results. He knew that it would be more of the same, but he also knew that, with Delylah staying by Victor's side, by Abel and Tara's sides, it was a distraction from the reality of her sister and sister-in-law, two of the three closest women in her life, being gone. Delylah was her mother's daughter—a consummate caregiver. She ignored her own pain and stuffed it down, so the truth wouldn't ache so goddamned bad.
Jax didn't argue with Delylah, nor did he try to discourage her from hearing the truth. He admired her logic too—leaving James with Victor could result in a volatile reaction, at best. Best to have her learn the hardcore reality of her sisters' disappearances, while staying close to the potentially volatile situation between Victor and his father. Just like your mother, Jax thought.
"That sounds fine," Jax stated. "Tell Victor our plans. If he needs backup, I'll be there."
Delylah stayed quiet for a moment. Jax thought the call dropped until he heard her softly crying on the other end. As awful as this whole thing had been—having Hannah and Ophelia gone—Abel sick, Victor injured—it had to be so much harder on Delylah. Jax and Tara were tempered in chaos. The crazy ride they were on was just like riding a bike—Jax knew how to deal, as did his wife. His sons and daughters didn't. It just made every single cut that much harder to heal.
"Thank you, Daddy," Delylah choked. "I know Victor and I moved fast—"
"Your mama and I did too," Jax said with a sad smile.
"Still," Delylah interrupted. "You had every reason to hate him—he's older—he's a soldier—he's—he's—"
"He protected you," Jax stated, "And he protected our family like we were his own family. It doesn't matter how long you knew him—his life has been on the line over and over again for us—and he rose to challenge, every time. He'd die for you, Lala. You see that, right? Because that's what matters."
There was more silence. A huge cape of guilt covered Jax's heart as he waited for her to speak. With all the thoughts of the safety and well-being of their kids, Jax and Tara forgot what was important: family. Fear made Jax and Tara run and hide, and in that, they ensured their survival. Together, they forged their own little unit, but their kids grew up without what had kept them so grounded back in Charming.
They grew up without Bobby. Without Lyla. Without Chibs and Althea. Without Tig and Venus. Without Happy. There was no network of support, no one to lean on. There was no crazy family memories, no real diversity. There had been many times where Jax was proud of what he and Tara had given the children, but now, beneath the crushing weight of the Irish and the eminent danger ahead, he knew that going to Witness Protection was a double-edged sword if there ever was one.
"I'll leave in thirty minutes," Jax promised. "I'm gonna check on your mama and on Abel. You get Victor settled. You'll see me soon."
"Okay, Daddy," Delylah whispered. For a moment, Jax's breath caught. She sounded so young and vulnerable. Memories of a much younger Lala and Opie surfaced, followed by snippets of Thomas and Abel. God, it's gone so damned fast, he thought.
At that moment, he watched Dr. Parker leave the room. She acknowledged Jax's presence was a tight, professional smile. He barely met her gaze as she walked away. He saw Tara's head peek around the corner. Her beautiful hazel eyes were tired, but they were full of hope. It was the closest thing to magic Jax had seen—the last time that look was in her eyes was during Abel and Hannah's wedding.
"I love you, Lala," he said.
"I love you too, Daddy," she returned. "See you soon."
Jax clicked the phone off as he walked towards Tara. She stepped out of the room and met him halfway. Jax didn't care about the bustle of the nurses and doctors, the back and forth between patients and their family members. All he saw was his wife. The minute she was close enough, he gently pulled her near, embracing her.
"They're gonna take Abel off the vent," she whispered into his shoulder. "Tomorrow morning. Dr. Parker thinks he'll be awake in no time." Tara didn't know whether to smile or to cry. She was that damned numb. "We're gonna have to tell him everything."
"We will," Jax said. "But I won't tell him alone. He can't handle it. Not now."
"You know I'll be there," she whispered.
"That's not what I meant," Jax said. They stood still in the center of the hallway. No one else mattered. They had a way of shutting everyone out, and it was pure beauty when they did.
"Well, explain it to me, baby," Tara requested. She always felt complete and safe in his arms. Even with all the insanity, there was no place she'd rather be.
"Hannah can explain it. Ophelia can explain it," he stated. Tara pulled back slightly and looked into Jax's baby blue eyes. They were steadfast and fearless, as always. You are such a comfort, Jax Teller.
"I don't understand," Tara said with a confused stare.
"Our son will be off the vent tomorrow," Jax explained. "When he'll wake is anyone's guess. I'm on the clock, baby. I've been hunting for my girls like crazy, but it's not been enough. I've always been torn between here and there—and that's why they're not found yet. I can't let Abel wake up to this disaster. I have to find them before he opens his eyes."
Understanding dawned on Tara. Old Jax would've stayed away until the job was done. She remembered weeks where she'd barely see him. They used to frustrate her and confound her, and now, standing in a North Carolina hospital, thousands of miles away from Charming, she finally truly understood the restless warrior that resided in her husband's bones.
"Go baby," she whispered. "Don't worry about me anymore. I'll take care of Abel, just like I did when it was just us. We'll figure it out. Take Tig, Tommy, and Will and find our girls. Stop stretching yourself so thin. Just focus."
"I gotta help Lala for a bit," he explained. "I'll call Tig and the boys and meet up in Silver Spring with them after. I'm tired of waiting for Jack Petty to figure shit out. He's a small-town cop—what the fuck does he know?"
"You couldn't do a worse job," Tara admitted. "Go back to who you were then—where the cops were useless and justice was so much sweeter when you executed it yourself. I never thought I'd say this Jax, but—go. Be John and Gemma's son again. Be one of the Sons. Be motherfucking SAMCRO."
The smile that etched on Jax's lips was so stunning, it took Tara's breath away. For a moment, they were sixteen again. It was hard to believe that thirty-five years had passed since they'd first met, but the love they'd built together was the powerful emotion either had ever known.
"I love you, Tara," Jax said.
"I love you, Jax," Tara replied.
Slowly, carefully, Jax bent and touched his lips to hers. All around them, life moved on. The upheaval of the last few months was almost over—both Jax and Tara could feel it as they kissed. I just hope we're all standing when it's all said and done, she thought. As Jax pulled her closer, and their heartbeats syncopated with one another, Tara felt her husband's fearless spirit enter her soul. It was that moment she finally allowed herself to believe they could win. She knew they could beat the maelstrom that surrounded them all.