Tara doesn't know how it happened, really- won't grasp what exactly has occurred until some time later. All she knows is that one moment, she was running with Jax's hand clutched in her own- mere steps away from reaching the sidewalk once again- and now the next, she's in a twisted heap on the ground. Worse, the pain that's now shooting its way up her leg feels like it's everywhere all at once- pounding in her ears, sending sharp bolts of agony through her body, fogging her brain. Until her vision clears and she can focus on the one other thing that matters in this moment.
Jax.
He's crouched in front of her, looking alternately pained and mildly panicked. And it's a struggle to decipher what he's saying, to match the words that seem to be reaching her ears full seconds after his mouth forms around them.
"Tara- Ho- holy shit, Babe, what happened? Are you okay?"
No, Tara mouths wordlessly as another wave of pain washes over her. When it eases, though, her fragmented mind can't help but recall something her mom had said in passing once, at the beginning of her cancer treatment. Sometimes I hate being in the medical field… Knowing the reality of what's going on inside your body isn't always a good thing.
And now, years later- though she's far from a medical professional, Tara's seen enough patients come through the clinic, has taken enough anatomy and first aid classes to know exactly what it means to feel several pops in her ankle. Worse still is that she'd actually fucking heard them, even over the din of the pouring rain.
Shit.
She'd said that last part out loud, Tara realizes, because instantly, Jax drops to his knees right there next to her. If he cares that he's currently in the middle of a quickly growing puddle, he doesn't show it. Instead, he's focused on her, smoothing the wet strands of hair away from her face, cupping her cheek as the next bout of pain shoots through her, his brow furrowing in concern.
"Shit, Babe, how can I help?"
"It's my ankle, but I- I just need help up, I think…" She says, breathlessly, waiting for the wave of pain to pass. When it subsides, she struggles to sit upright, drawing her good leg beneath her. But before she can attempt to push herself up, Jax is already positioning himself with his shoulder beneath her armpit, a strong arm circling her waist.
"Ready?" He asks, and even though she isn't- not by a long shot, Tara grits her teeth. And with a small nod exchanged between them they work, together, to bring her to a standing position.
She waits a brief moment, then chances putting some weight on the injured ankle- which is a fucking mistake based on the way her knees nearly buckle in response. Jax catches her before she falls, bearing most of her weight on his own body. God dammit…
"Okay. Okay…" He repeats, as if she's fucking hysterical, though she's in too much pain to glare at him the way she normally would. Then, he glances over his shoulder at the glow created by the clinic lot lights that had been so near just moments ago- but now seem like light years away. "Uh, hold onto me, okay? And don't try puttin' any weight on it, Babe. Just lean on me." Nodding, silently, Tara clutches at his waistband with one hand, and his rock-solid form never falters- and neither does the strong arm holding her fast to his side.
Together, they hobble a few feet in the general direction of the clinic, trying that thing Tara's sure Jax had seen on TV- where the injured person puts their arm around their rescuer's shoulders for support. Though it turns out, she realizes, grimly, that shit doesn't work nearly as well in real life- especially since her rescuer's shoulder is nearly a foot higher in the air than her own. And as they stumble onto the sidewalk, she bites back a hiss of pain as her injured heel presses into the much firmer pavement beneath.
Immediately, Jax stops, shooting her a pained look. Then-
"Fuck it." He growls, swiping his free hand down his face to clear away the moisture. "I got you, Babe." And then he's bending at the waist to catch her behind the knees, swooping her up and into his arms and clutching her securely to his chest. Tara wants to protest, she really does- tries to get the words out to tell him she can make it without being carried, thankyouverymuch- but the almost immediate release of pressure on her injured ankle and the quick relief that follows all but silences her into compliance. Still, though she can't explain it, it's the brief kiss he drops onto her forehead before he begins trudging towards the clinic that truly seems to lessen the pain.
Thankfully, it takes less time than she'd imagined to cover the remaining blocks, and they both release a sigh of relief when the dark form of the Cutlass comes into view. Her mind is frantically scrabbling to recall the location of her car keys, while her mouth is fixing itself to ask Jax to put her down so she can find them herself, when he strides right past her car and towards the clinic door.
What the hell?
He glances down at her only briefly, something in his eyes leading her to bite back her renewed protests, before turning and backing through the door, cautious not to bump her injured ankle on the frame in the process.
It isn't until he's backed through the interior door in a similar fashion- and Tara finds herself smack dab in the middle of her workplace, soaking wet clothes and hair dripping onto the tiled floor, shoeless feet dangling from the arms of her not-so-ex-boyfriend- that the embarrassment begins to creep in.
It ratchets up another several notches when she hears twin gasps emanating from behind the counter.
"Tara?" Sarah and Chris screech, almost in unison, and just as quickly, they're both rounding the counter's edge to come closer.
"Holy shit, what happened?"
"Are you okay?"
"Whoa, did you like, carry her all the way from the car?"
"What's going on?"
As the rapid-fire questions continue- she's not even sure who's asking what, at this point- Tara bites back a wince of pain and Jax shifts her more firmly into his chest.
"We got caught in the storm, and she took off her shoes to make walkin' easier. But then, I dunno what happened- she just went down, probably hurt her ankle. We were pretty close, so I just sorta carried her in here." Tara smiles, faintly, ignoring both her urge to roll her eyes and speak for her damn self and the looks her friends are shooting her- which can only be described as Awww…
Mostly, though, she's just thankful all over again Jax had been there when she needed him most. "She needs- well, she needs somethin'. I think she's hurtin' pretty bad." At this latest remark, she can't help angling her head to look up at Jax's face, which is etched with concern. And though she wants nothing more than to tell him to stop fussing, that she can take care of herself, her friends are peppering him with questions once again.
"Is it a break or a fracture?" Chris asks, narrowing his eyes in thought. Jax shrugs helplessly, and she feels like she can contribute at least this much.
"I stepped in a hole, I think, but I heard a pop, not a crack. It seems like a sprain, but-"
"But you know the doc'll want an x-ray to rule out a fracture," Sarah finishes- then accurately reads Tara's reticent look. "Don't even try to bullshit me about not needing an x-ray, Tare, your, uh…" She flounders for a moment, glancing at Jax "Jax, here had to carry you in here like a sack of potatoes. I say it's broken for sure."
"You're Jax, huh?" Chris muses, his eyes alight with interest- even though he'd spent the entirety of their last shift together rolling his eyes as Sarah questioned her about where this thing between them was headed. He looks Jax up and down- and before he can say something that will make her blush, Tara's agreeing, cutting off whatever the hell was about to come out of his mouth.
"Fine, I'll get the damn x-ray, even though I can guarantee you it isn't broken."
At this, Jax breathes what she can only interpret as a sigh of relief. Almost immediately, Sarah's suddenly appearing at his side with one of the clinic's wheelchairs.
"You gotta set her down and let us take her from here, Romeo," she says, drily. "You can wait here, and if she wants, we can let you know when she's outta X-ray and in the exam room." At this, Jax shoots Tara a look she can't interpret.
"That okay?" He asks, ducking his head to meet her eyes- though she's unsure whether he's referring to the x-ray, placing her in the chair, or something else. But the bolt of pain that shoots up her leg the next moment, and the slight wince on his face in response to what she's sure is a worse one on her own features- has her reassuring him. Might as well get this show on the road before it gets worse.
"I'll be fine, Jax, it's okay."
Nodding, uncertainly, Jax gently sits her in the chair, helps her place her feet on the metal footrests, and sets the pocketbook she'd completely forgotten about on her lap. He's tucking his still-wet but quickly warming dress shirt more securely around her shoulders when his hands finally falter and drift uncertainly away from her.. Then, he's taking her in, his eyes darkening with concern as he opens his mouth to ask her yet another question- and she can't help but reach up to place a reassuring hand on his cheek, instead.
"Thank you, Jax." He closes his mouth, fingering the gold compass around her neck briefly before straightening and meeting her eyes once again.
"Always."
The wait for news seems interminable, and Jax finds himself alternating between shifting in his chair, standing to examine the photo of Tara he'd first seen on the bulletin board weeks ago, and nervously pacing the waiting room. He checks the clock- Christ, how has it only been an hour?
Sighing, he slumps back into an uncomfortable chair just as the guy he'd met the first time he'd come in here- to scope the place out and steal Tara's contact info, Jax remembers with a brief smirk- reappears. He pokes his head out from behind the divider between the patient area and the waiting room and gets right down to business.
"Jax, right?"
"Yup," is all Jax can manage, though the guy- Chris, according to his nametag- has a reassuring smile for him.
"She's waiting in exam 3 for the radiologist if you wanna go back." No shit I want to be with her, Jax doesn't say, just dries his palms on his damp jeans and stands, uncertainly. "You're lucky you got here when you did- much later and we'd have been off for the night. Then, you'd have had to go around to the hospital ER entrance and wait with the rest of the trauma cases," Chris is saying as he leads him down a short hallway, pausing before a sleek wooden door to knock, briefly.
"Hey Knowles, you decent?" Oblivious to the dark look Jax only half- manages not to shoot him, Chris smirks at the response emanating from within and opens the door, gesturing grandly to usher Jax inside.
Tara's reclined on the exam table, a blanket now draped around her shoulders instead of his shirt, which is folded haphazardly in her lap. Her hair is spread out on the paper liner behind her, dark tendrils sticking to her forehead, her cheek, her lip; she's a little pale, too, he can see traces of the eye makeup she'd worn tonight creating darkened shadows beneath her eyes, and her wet dress is still clinging to her like a second skin. Hell, even from here he can tell she's in pain, more than a little embarrassed, and as a result of one or both, blushing furiously.
She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Before he can do something stupid like blurt that out in front of her friends, he crosses the room to take her hand, dropping a kiss on the palm before turning his attention to its owner.
"You feelin' okay, Ba-uh Tara?" He amends, not all that sure what all she's told her friends about them- and not needing to deal with the third degree regarding their relationship. Not tonight.
"I'm okay," she returns, smiling weakly. "X-ray was backed up so I had to wait- I'm sorry-"
"Stop apologizing, Tara. It ain't your fault." He turns his attention to her ankle, now propped up on a foam wedge of some sort and cloaked in a large ice pack. Still, though, he can see the purpling edges of the wicked bruise already forming, and the way it's almost grotesquely swollen compared to its slender twin. "Holy shit, it's worse." Shit, Teller, you've really got to stop saying every damn thing that comes into your head when it comes to her…
"Ugh, don't say that," Tara groans, confirming his suspicions about her state of mind at the moment. "Everybody keeps telling me it's broken, and I just want to get this over with and get outta here so I can go home." Home… Jax muses, glumly, already imagining returning to the SAMTAC clubhouse. Alone.
Don't be a selfish idiot Teller… This ain't about you.
As if he's heard Jax's inner thoughts, from somewhere behind him, Chris snorts.
"How exactly do you plan to do that? You had an injury bad enough to require an x-ray, remember? So, even if it's the world's most basic sprain and there's no sign of a break, they're gonna want to do more imaging on Monday to rule out any ligament damage. And that probably means crutches or a walking boot until they're sure." Not following, Jax raises his eyes to Tara's just as she drops her head back on the exam table.
"Oh, God… And this is my right foot."
"Exactly." Sarah adds, glancing up at Jax from Tara's other side. "So no driving until you're healed- and definitely not tonight." She smirks, bumping Tara's shoulder. "Especially with the Percocet they gave you over there for the pain 'cause you had to wait so long for x-ray." He doesn't miss the way Tara closes her eyes in defeat- and for a moment, he hates seeing her like this. But just as quickly, an idea begins forming, and he can't help the slow smile that spreads, knowing at once that he's got the perfect solution.
"That's easy, Babe," Jax blurts out, forgetting himself in his eagerness to be there for her- do something to help. "I'll drop you at home, call Kozik to come take me back to my bike," he reasons, squeezing her hand.
She opens her eyes, then studies him a moment before biting her lip- and he knows she's hesitating, even after the night they've just had. Before the frustration can begin to seep in, he has to remind himself how new they are at this, even after tonight. She's unsure whether she's ready to let him back in and he'll be damned if he does anything to fuck up all the progress they've made- but there's no way in hell he's not helping his girl when and where he can.
"Stop worrying, Tara- let me help you." When her expression softens, he goes in for the kill, tries on a smirk to lighten the mood. "I already carried your ass all the way here from that park- what's a little drive across town?" When her answering eye roll is accompanied by a rueful smile, he knows he's won. Can't help but celebrate his small victory by moving the remaining strands of hair out of her face and leaning up to drop a brief kiss on her forehead.
"Jax-"
The knock at the door thankfully silences whatever else Tara had been about to say, and she gestures at Chris to open it. An older-looking doctor, clearly from the hospital attached to the clinic given his nametag, ducks into the room and dons a brief, professional smile. He looks tired, harried, yet sure of himself at the same time- and for a moment, Jax can't help but imagine Tara in his place. Smiles despite the circumstances at the thought of Doctor Tara Knowles-Teller (because that's how he's always imagined an older Tara, whether he admits it to anyone else or not) consulting with her patient, finally doing what she'd left him to do. What she will be doing years into the future with him standing right beside her if he has anything to say about it.
He's almost immediately brought back to reality as both Sarah and Chris make themselves scarce and the doctor settles into the small rolling chair opposite the exam table.
"Sorry about the wait, Miss Knowles," he says, bending to shake her hand, then Jax's as well, adding, "Doctor Krieger, I met Tara, here, in X-ray." Releasing Jax's hand, he lifts the top page of the chart in his hands, scanning it briefly. "It's been a busy night, especially after the rain came in heavy…" Krieger drifts off, distracted, rifling through the stack of papers until he evidently finds what he's looking for. "Ah, there it is. So, let's get this taken care of so you can get home and get that ankle up, shall we?" He doesn't wait for her to answer, just hangs the x-ray film, flicks on the light, and gets down to business.
"So, this here's your tibia and this is your fibula, the two primary bones we were concerned about, as I told you earlier. In particular, the malleoli are extremely susceptible to fractures, especially with the type of rotational and lateral movement you were describing. As you can see, though, there doesn't appear to be a fracture on either side. Nor-" he continues, shifting the pointer lower, "does there appear to be a fracture of the talus."
"That's what I've been saying," Tara says, drily. "I felt a pop, not a crack."
"Well, that's still cause for concern," the doctor cautions, switching off the light. "As we discussed, sprains can cause severe damage to both tendons and ligaments. Tears, stretches, even ruptures. And these soft-tissue injuries we can't evaluate with an x-ray- but it's crucial we follow up if the ankle doesn't appear to be healing with normal measures."
"What should we- uh, she be doing in the meantime, Doc?" Jax asks, leaning forward and tenting his fingers. The doc gives him a brief nod, then turns his attention to Tara.
"Well, there's the standard RICE method- rest, ice, compression, elevation. Keeping weight off the ankle as much as possible is also key. Once the pain medication starts to work, you'll start feeling quite a bit better- but also sleepy- so I recommend having a roommate or family member help over the next six to eight hours or so." Krieger raises a brow, waiting. As Jax waits, too- it's almost as if he can hear her whirling thoughts.
Oh… But I have no roommate or family members. God, I hate feeling helpless like this, relying on other people. And Jax hasn't been back to the apartment since the day he showed up on my doorstep. And I'm still not sure I trust him…
"Okay."
Her quiet compliance with the doctor's orders interrupts Jax's version of her internal monologue and surprises even Tara, it seems, because she's mostly silent as Krieger rises from the stool and begins rattling off instructions to Jax about the care she needs over the next several hours. He listens carefully, especially when the doc cautions him that without proper care, a walking boot or even surgery may be necessary- and he knows good and goddamn well there's no way his beautiful, independent Tara is going to tolerate not being able to drive for the next six to eight weeks.
"Well, it looks like you're in good hands here, Miss Knowles," the doc says, redirecting his attention to Tara, who has a pained smile for him. "I'll schedule a follow-up for Monday and we'll see if you need other measures. Until then, you're free to go, provided you follow the instructions I gave you."
"Thanks, Doctor Krieger," she responds, softly. And as he leaves, Chris reappears with the wheelchair. That has Tara rolling her eyes, and Jax chuckling under his breath at the return of that inimitable spark his girl's always had. "I don't need a damn wheelchair, you know that. I'm not-"
"Sorry, Tara- you know the policy as well as I do. You didn't walk in here, you don't walk out." Her eyes narrow, and Jax bites back a grin as her sass is directed at someone other than himself, for once.
"Right- like I'm gonna use all that money I don't have and sue you if I trip and bust my other ankle in the parking lot." Chris just shrugs and points to the chair.
"Don't care. In." Rolling her eyes once again, Tara slides forward on the exam table, but, to his surprise, puts up no further fight when both Jax and Chris take her under the arm and guide her into the chair. Since she'd left the hospital blanket behind, Jax reaches for his shirt- now at least partially dry- and carefully drapes it over her shoulders again.
"Sorry, man," Chris says as he straightens. "I gotta take her from here out to the car." But Jax is too captivated by the way she smiles gratefully at him to even respond.
"I'm sorry, Jax," Tara says for about the third time tonight as their awkward procession reaches the clinic doors. He just shakes his head as he'd done the last time and tucks the shirt around her more securely. Well, at least the rain seems to have stopped.
"It's no big deal, Tara," he replies, absently, now that she's secure, and begins hunting for the Cutlass keys he'd shoved into his pocket earlier.
"I mean," She continues, as if he hadn't responded, "I know this wasn't really what you thought you'd be doing tonight, and we were having so much fun, and then it all got messed up…" Her voice trails off mid-ramble, and as Jax turns back to her, keys in hand, he's already got a patient smile in place. But then her eyes, wide and troubled, meet his, and it's all he can do not to fucking melt right there.
"Babe," he says, crouching next to her chair- gently cupping her chin to encourage her to look at him once again after she turns away, biting her lip. He waits until her eyes are locked with his before resting his forehead on hers. "For months while we were apart, I couldn't have the one thing- the one person- I wanted most of all. And now that you're back in my life- whatever that means or doesn't mean for us… I want to spend every second I can makin' up for all the time we've lost." He smiles as she relaxes a bit, but keeps her close. "Besides… You had to let me back into your apartment sometime-"
His words are cut short when her hand, seemingly out of nowhere, collides with his chest.
"Jackass," she mutters, insolently, but gives him a smile all the same.
"Sarah was right- you are good," Chris muses from somewhere behind them, and so Jax is rolling his eyes, Tara-style, as they're ushered out the front door of the clinic.
"Sarah's closing up," Chris offers, apropos of nothing, as they cross the lot, mindful of the many puddles that have appeared over the past hour. "We had to keep the place open for Princess, here, so we got a little delayed. But I'll tell her to call you tomorrow, okay?" Tara only nods, her eyes narrowing as they approach the Cutlass and Jax hurries ahead to unlock the back door.
"Really?" Tara deadpans, but Jax is quick to remind her of the conditions the doc had set forth.
"Really, Babe. You gotta keep your ankle elevated and there just ain't room in the front seat for you to lie down."
"I don't know about you, Babe," she replies, sarcastically, "But I remember lots of times we made it work in the front se-"
"Ooookay," Jax interrupts, meeting Chris' eye for a brief second and pushing away the very memories she's referring to. "I think your meds are kicking in."
"Thank God… Tara groans in return, resistance to the back seat fading as she slides forward in the wheelchair. From there, Jax effortlessly lifts her into the back seat, squeezing her shoulder before gently closing the door behind her. With a relieved sigh, he turns back to Chris with an apologetic smile.
"Hey, thanks for everything," he offers, sincerely, "I'm just sorry we kept you here late." Chris just waves a hand, unlocking the wheelchair wheels.
"Isn't often Tara needs help with anything," he replies, shrugging. "And even if she did, she wouldn't have told us. Took us a couple months to break through that wall she puts up to keep people out, I guess. I'm just glad she has, you know, people now…" That seems to trigger a thought, and Chris looks at him speculatively, studying him a moment before evidently deciding to say what's on his mind. "You're good for her, you know. Just-" He shrugs again, backing the chair away slowly, smiling. "Just take care of her. She deserves it."
And Jax can only smile in return, choosing to ignore the compliment he's still not sure he's earned.
"Yes, she does."
Riding in the Cutlass with Tara again brings back a host of memories, a few of which he'd shoved in the back corner of his mind earlier, but most of them pleasantly fuzzy. Shit, the only times they'd taken her ride were when he'd had too much to drink to safely take the bike- or when they were both buzzed enough to simply climb into the backseat together, no matter the time or place. He grins to himself at the thought, but images of Tara shimmying out of her panties in the backseat fade as the rain picks up again and he's forced to turn the wipers on full-blast.
Worse, when he makes the final turn out of the University's footprint, he's met with a sight that had been not only unfamiliar but goddamn foreign in Charming- bumper-to-bumper traffic.
"Shit," he curses, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and Tara's head pops up in the rearview a moment later.
"What is it?" She says, blearily, looking adorably rumpled as she peers over the back of the bench seat. Then- "Aw, fucking traffic!" Her clear, sweet voice cussing has always been hilarious to him, for some unexplained reason, so Jax can't help but smirk at her in the rearview.
"Looks like you're stuck in the backseat for a while longer, Babe. Better get comfortable." She slumps back down on the seat, folds her arms, and rolls her eyes at him in true Tara fashion.
"You try sitting in the backseat of your own car- and in a dress that's been drenched with… with rain water- for a good two hours. Then you let me know how comfortable you are, Jacksonn" she sasses. His smirk grows into a full-fledged grin at the sound of his given name in her voice once again- even though it's a bit slurred. Clearly, the pain medication's doing its job, as she no longer seems to be hurting. Jax wisely decides not to point out that he'd been caught in the same storm as she had and simply downshifts and returns his bemused gaze to the road- which is, unfortunately, still brake lights as far as the eye can see.
"Is it always like this after events?" He asks- mostly just wanting to keep her talking. Fuck, he's missed the sound of her voice these past few months. And as she answers, he notices once again the sheer fucking content he feels at just being with her, in this everyday conversation- despite their not-so-everyday history and the random-ass events that had led them to this moment tonight. It drums up every bit of love and longing he's felt over these months without her, until it seems to fill the spacious interior of the car. The soft murmur of her voice, the rhythmic drumming of the rain on the windshield, the utter absence of angst and hurt… It's enough to have his residual irritation at the traffic slowly draining away.
One block, two blocks, three blocks go by as they're rolling through the pristine University- adjacent neighborhoods like one measly ant in a weaving, crawling line, But somehow, for Jax, it's like the entire world has narrowed until it only consists of this moment, in this car. Which makes sense, because the most important thing in his entire fucking world is in this car. And how he'd felt when he'd found her apartment empty, with no traces of her but a letter explaining how he'd finally pushed her far enough to leave him, seems both painfully close and yet so far away from where they're at now. So much so that he can't help but think that all this had been worth it, just for this moment right here.
Tara's voice had long since fallen silent by the time they're approaching the first major intersection on their journey. He's just beginning to wonder whether she'd dozed off when a series of soft curses and some mysterious rustling emanating from the backseat quickly quells that thought. Then, a similar flurry of motion catches his eye in the rearview- and his heart nearly fucking stops as he checks the rearview just in time to see her begin to peel the damp dress over her head.
Eyes widening, Jax takes in the shorts she'd evidently slid into while he'd been focused on the road, and just above them, the smooth plane of her belly. A brief, white flash of her bra comes into view before he manages to force his attention back onto the road and stomp on the brakes- which is a good thing, because he'd been inches away from rear-ending the car in front of them. Christ, the last thing he needs to do is get himself killed. Not that a fender-bender at the snail's pace they're currently traveling would cause so much as a minor case of whiplash, but he's pretty certain that denting Tara's beloved car because he was too caught up in ogling her, topless, would at least be dangerous for his health.
Swallowing, hard, Jax does his damndest to put the muffled sounds of soft movements in the back seat out of his mind. Hell, it's a damn good thing he's seated- and a good few feet in front of her, where she can't see the evidence of what even a brief flash of her soft skin does to him. He's especially thankful she's unaware of the battle he's currently fighting not to steal glimpses of her in the rearview, because Jesus Christ, he deserves fucking sainthood for keeping his eyes on the road- especially when the traffic slows to a stop once again.
And then, without warning, Tara's voice is in his ear, her breath tickling his skin and firing his blood until he loses his battle with himself on both fronts- with his burgeoning hard-on and the temptation to look at her in the rearview. She's now wearing the hell out of the original flannel she'd stolen from him back in Charming, the one she'd been forced to wash in the sink a few weeks ago. Jesus, even fully clothed, the sight of Tara in his shirt with her hair tousled in damp waves and her eyes fairly burning into his own in the rearview has all his blood rushing south.
"I think… I mean, I alwayys turn here," she murmurs, indicating the turn prior to the major intersection they'd slowly been approaching for a few minutes now- the slur in her words even more evident when she's this close. He raises a brow at her in the rearview, and nods at the line of traffic before them, unsure about both their abilities to find the quickest way back to her place at this point.
"Are you sure? We don't need to take Pacific? 'Cause that's not for another few-"
"Are you actually saying I don't know where I live?" Tara interrupts, narrowing her eyes, but she doesn't back away. "This way's faster, and we can go in the backside of the neighborhood." She pouts her lips, which brush against his ear, and now he's a hundred percent sure the meds have set in and a thousand percent sure she's trying to fucking kill him. There are far too many memories of her leaning over to whisper in his ear just like this not to react to her voice and her sheer proximity. And he's got way too many mental images of her pouting her lips at him right before she tugs him away from whatever the hell they'd been doing to somewhere private- plus an overflowing cache of visions of what they'd done when they got there- to have any hope of maintaining his composure. And then she adds one more when she drops all pretense of annoyance with him to whisper, near his ear, the words that are probably second on his list of phrases he most wants to hear from her. "I just wanna go home. Take me home, Jackson..."
Jax's only response is to grip the steering wheel, torn for a moment- between pulling the Cutlass into some parking space and fusing his mouth to hers, and following her instructions even though he's less than sure she's lucid enough to know where she's directing him. Then, sighing, he's slowly moving the wheel, hand over hand, until they're rolling down the empty side street towards home.
By the time they pull into what Jax now recognizes as the opposite side of Tara's apartment complex, her head is resting against his shoulder, chin pressed along the back of the Cutlass' bench seat. True to her word, she'd guided him here as they'd zigzagged their way through the darkened back streets of Tacoma, but with each command, her voice had sounded softer, looser, than the one before. As a result, he'd found himself ignoring his persistent state of arousal in favor of a contented smile as she snuggled in close to him, despite what he's sure is an awkward position for her injured ankle- not to mention his rapidly vanishing uncertainty.
It's something he hadn't even been aware of missing, but it has him a little reluctant to pull the car into its place in front of Tara's building- wishing, briefly, that he could pull out onto the open road and ride like this- just the two of them, hidden away from the rest of the world- forever. Instead, Jax angles the Cutlass into her parking spot and switches off the ignition.
"Babe, we're here," he murmurs, turning his head slightly to press his lips against her hair. Groaning, Tara shifts away from him, and he tamps down the brief sense of emptiness that causes- he's got shit to do. "Just stay put, okay? I got you." He's out of the car and around the back as quickly as he can manage, opening the back door to find Tara slumped against the back seat and regarding her ankle with disdain.
"I'm sorry, Jackssonn," she mumbles yet again, and this time, he doesn't waste time waving off her apology before bending to scoop her up into his arms. To his relief, she doesn't bother arguing this time, just looks up at him with those big green eyes that have owned him since they were kids. In response, he just gives her what he thinks she needs, starting with a brief kiss to the top of her head.
"I want to be here. With you." He says, slowly- because apparently, she needs to hear it as many times as he can tell her. And he maintains eye contact as long as he can, waits until her eyes close briefly in acceptance, before he bumps the door shut with his hip and starts up the walkway with his girl in his arms. About midway up the walk, it strikes him that of all the daydreams and fantasies he'd conjured up of scooping her up and hauling her back to her apartment, none of them had featured Percocet and a swollen, purpling, ankle. Still, as Tara loops her arms around his neck and rests her cheek against his shoulder once again, he can't help but smile.
It takes some clever maneuvering to open her front door, again to avoid bumping her injured leg against either door or doorframe, and once again so he can reach to flick on the light switch- a series of awkward moments that are punctuated by Tara's soft giggles. Jax joins her when he kicks the door shut behind them with a bang before striding across the room to her bed. Now that he's here, he's thankful they're laughing together instead of focusing on the parallels the depths of his brain can't help but draw as he gently lowers her onto the mattress. If Tara's thinking the same, she doesn't show it- just smiles up at him, gratefully.
"Thank you," she whispers, all traces of apprehension gone, her eyes wide and trusting.
"I'm not done yet, Babe," Jax quips, grinning- suddenly needing to keep things light.. Reaching across her, he snatches up the second pillow and makes a big show of plumping it up, then jerks his chin at her ankle. For her part, Tara rolls her eyes, mouth curling into a wry smirk, but she obligingly lifts her leg just enough. "Doc said to keep it elevated," he says, shrugging, then focuses on arranging the pillow until it's at what looks to him like enough of an angle. "Remember? R,I,C,E. And don't worry, Babe- I plan to take care of the ice and compression part too, all you got to worry about is resting. But first-'' He waggles his eyebrows at her, earning himself another giggle. "First, I got to call Kozik."
Tara's answering smile this time is forced- that false smile she puts on that doesn't really meet her eyes, the one she uses when she's anything but happy. Hell, it's the one he'd seen her last several days in Charming, and the one she'd used on him when she was gearing up to tell him shit she didn't think he'd want to hear just the other day. And at once, Jax wonders about the cause of this newest shift- can't help but hope it's because she doesn't like the thought of him leaving, of Kozik driving him back to his bike. The possibility- and what that really means- taking root in the back of his mind, he shifts closer to the head of the bed and reaches for her phone.
"Yo-" comes the answer a moment later, and Jax can't help but smile at the way his brother always answers the club's cell phone.
"Hey Koz, it's Jax. Look, I got a favor to ask-"
"Since when do you come to me when you ain't askin' me a favor, lately?" And Jax winces briefly at just how true that is.
"Yeah, I know. Sorry, Bro- you know I'll make it up to you when I can-"
"I'm just givin' you shit, Jax, you know that," Koz laughs, good-naturedly. Then, he puts on an air of resignation as only he can. "So, what is it this time?"
"Uh… Tara and I- we had a bit of a situation. It started rainin' and then Tara busted her ankle, so I took her to the student clinic and then on home. Had to leave my bike over by the Performing Arts Center, couple of miles away from here. She'd take me back over there, but it's her right leg all swollen and shit, so she won't be cleared to drive for a little while." At this, Tara bites her lip, and Jax reaches for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. This isn't your fault, he tries to communicate, silently, even as he continues filling Kozik in. "I was hopin'-"
"You were hopin' what, exactly? That I could come get you, so you could ride bitch on the back of my bike in the rain? This ain't a chick flick, last time I checked," Kozik says, chuckling. "I can send the guys with the flatbed, or I can even borrow Donut's truck he parked here to give you a ride over to your bike. But have you looked outside lately?" Jax looks, and sure enough, the rain is once again beating at the windows- if anything, the storm has worsened since they'd come in.
"Point is, I can do any of those things once we get back from this run, but it ain't gonna be in this storm." Christ, he'd forgotten most of the club was out of town until tomorrow afternoon- and Kozik confirms his suspicions with his next words. "It's gonna have to wait, man."
Nodding to himself, Jax can't help but steal another glance at Tara, who he's sure can't hear Kozik's end of the conversation. She's stoically studying her ankle, a defeated look tinting her delicate features.
"I understand. It's just, what about-"
"I'll cover you with the club this weekend- ain't nothin' goin' on with most everyone up here anyway." Kozik pauses, and when his voice returns, Jax can almost hear the broad smile. "I got your back, Brother."
The call ends with Jax promising to call the next afternoon if he's unable to catch a ride back over to his bike, and as he replaces the phone on its cradle, Tara's silence seems to fill the room. She doesn't ask what's up, doesn't ask after Kozik… Christ, she even avoids his eyes when he dips his head and tries to catch her gaze. So, Jax fills the silence himself.
"Koz is still out of town, but in this storm-" he gestures towards Tara's front window- "there's no way I can ride my bike back up there tonight anyway." He watches carefully for her reaction, and notes the expression- is that relief?- that flits across her face almost immediately. It lingers much longer than it would have with sober Tara, who would have quickly regained control over her emotions, especially regarding him. Whatever it is, it's gone a few seconds later, a faint smile returning as she settles deeper into the blankets. He studies her for a long moment- and she him- before he finds himself smiling in return. "Well, let's get some ice on that ankle."
Jax follows Tara's murmured instructions much as he had earlier while driving her car, first letting her guide him to her closet so he can unearth her first aid kit. He returns triumphantly to her bedside with an ice pack and a roll of stretchy, gauze wrap, but the grin slides right off his face as he fumbles with the clips, and then again when he clumsily wraps it around her swollen ankle.
"Nooo, Jackson, not that way…" Tara singsongs, directing him to pull the elastic tighter, shifting it higher on her ankle. He rolls his eyes, but focuses on the work before him, teeth worrying his lip.
"It ain't my fault you never showed me any of this shit," he grunts, struggling fruitlessly to get the end of the wrap to stay in place. "There, I think- Aw, fuck…" And Tara's giggling helplessly moment later as the wrap slips free again to dangle limply from her ankle.
"You'd make a terrrrible nurse, Teller, you know that?" Jax just smirks, glancing up at her briefly before snarking right back-
"Yeah, well, if you'll recall I was pretty damn good at playing doctor…" And Tara must be feeling a bit loopy, because she lets that comment slide. Then, she's shaking her head vigorously, tendrils of hair flying against the pillow.
"Good thing I'm the medical professional in the family, Baby." His hands still for a moment as he processes what she's just said out loud. Does she realize what she's saying? Had she just implied that the two of them could one day be a family? And regardless of whether she knew what she'd implied, the more important question is, had she meant it? Eyes traveling slowly up her body, savoring every last curve, Jax finds that Tara's are closed, the amused smile still gracing her lips. It's a bit more disappointing than he'd anticipated to realize it's likely the pain medication talking- and he hides it by returning to his work.
It takes Jax another five-plus minutes to create what he can only guess is a mostly passable wrap of her injured ankle- and another five to get the clips to hold it in place. Fortunately, he's able to make quick work of the ice pack- probably muscle memory from the series of black eyes he'd had recently- and places it on the area he remembers the doc indicating was the most likely source of the injury. Then, leaning back to admire his handiwork, he can't help but pat her knee gently, stirring her awake once again.
"All done," He says, simply, reveling in her attention, the chance to feel like she needs him- at least for this, and the opportunity to actually do something to help her.
"Mmmm, thanks, Dr. Teller," Tara replies, peering at him from beneath heavy eyelids, that familiar, saucy smile slowly curling her lips. "Can't say it was as nice as the last time we played doctor… But it'll do…"
Laughing for real this time, Jax shakes his head. She hadn't joked with him, at least not like this, since before he'd blown everything to shit. And it feels fucking amazing, even if he only has the hospital pharmacy to thank for her letting her guard down.
"Okay, maaaybe it's time to get to the 'rest' portion of your treatment, Babe," he says, laughing. "You just relax; I got this." Shifting away from her briefly, Jax gently repositions her ankle atop the pillow- then grabs two more of those little throw pillows like the ones she'd habitually kept on their bed in Charming and arranges those underneath it as well. When she doesn't stir in response, he reaches up to switch on the little lamp on her nightstand, bathing her face in a warm glow.
He's struck almost immediately with the urge to bend down and rest his forehead on hers, curl up beside her, and drown himself in her presence- to hell with the consequences. Still, his desire to do right by her is stronger; and in the end, he settles for smoothing her hair away from her face and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, both touches she'd been willing to accept even when she wasn't half out of it.
Sighing, Jax hoists himself off the bed and crosses the room a final time to flip the lock on her front door closed, then flicks the light switch down, sending most of the small apartment into shadows. And a small apartment it truly is, he realizes, assessing it again in the near-darkness. Almost certainly smaller than her garage apartment back in Charming, even with its dedicated kitchen space. Definitely too small to house a sofa, or anything much larger than the small side chair currently adjacent to her desk.
Reluctantly, he weighs his options, here, kicking himself for not at least getting her under the covers, first. There's no real way he's getting any amount of sleep in that chair, but the linoleum floor isn't looking much better, especially since she's got both pillows. There's an extra throw pillow and one blanket at the foot of the bed that isn't currently cradling his girl, but there's no fucking way he's covering himself with that and leaving her to shiver all night.
Decision half-made, he's returning to the bed and pulling the blanket up over her when her voice, soft and tentative though it is, seems to fill the room.
"Jackson?" He lets the blanket rest on her shoulders, allowing his hand to drift down her arm before pulling it back and straightening to study her.
"Hmm?"
"Could you jusst… hold me?"
Her request, simple as it is, rocks him. The last time he'd been anywhere near this bed with her, he'd done just that- though she'd been crying… sobbing, really. And while he'd only meant to comfort her, they'd both eventually fallen asleep. Now, she's asking him, in no uncertain terms, for the same, and nearly every cell in his body is screaming at him to lie down next to her and pull her close.
But, the better part of him reasons, she's not quite lucid, having had a heavy dose of a painkiller that's clearly working its magic- and potentially causing her to say things she doesn't really mean. Maybe even things she'll regret asking him tomorrow. Logically, just because she says she wants him to hold her now doesn't mean she's ready to let him back into her bed, regardless of whether he's fully clothed. Hell, she'd been insisting on meeting in public since the last time he'd been in here. Does he really want to risk pushing her further away his first actual time back in her apartment by overstepping the boundaries she'd quietly set for them?
"Are… Tara, are you sure?" Jax croaks, sounding for all the world like he hadn't spoken in hours. Whether it's his voice or the meds or both, something about that has her giggling.
"Of course, stupid.." Tara snickers- and he knows she's out of it for sure, now. But then her giggles die away, and though her eyes remain closed, what she says next cuts right through him as effectively as her trusting gaze had, earlier. "Please, Jackson… I- I don't want to be alone." And in the end, Jax finds that it's much easier than it should have been to give in to his urge to be near her in whatever capacity she'll have him, come what may. Because he just can't pass up this opportunity to help her, even if he's also helping heal himself.
Jax kicks off his shoes and slowly stretches out on his side next to her, careful not to disturb the pile of pillows supporting her ankle. Gingerly, he rests his head next to hers on the pillow, pressing his forehead to her temple like he'd imagined just minutes ago. Then, he reaches for her hand, bringing it to his lips for the umpteenth time today, then lets their joined hands rest on the bed between their hips. But he's surprised a moment later when Tara tugs at his wrist, scooting just that tiniest bit nearer to him- until his arm is draped across her midsection and his hand, intertwined with hers, is resting over her heart. Only then does she reach over and switch off the light, before sighing contentedly and settling into the pillow, as close to him as can be.
He's not sure how many minutes go by as they lay in the dark, their breathing deepening until they're almost in sync once again. But he's teetering on that edge between the peaceful shadows of Tara's apartment and the blissful darkness of sleep when he thinks he hears her whisper. Jax wants with all that is in him to move closer so he can hear what she's saying- but then he realizes, drowsily, that his head is already nuzzled right up against hers. He reaches up, slowly, to press a lingering kiss to her cheekbone, and his lips are still touching her soft, smooth skin when her whisper comes again.
"I love you, Jackson…"
This time, caught up in the wonder of finally hearing her say those words to him once again, he can't help but return them, over and over again, sure it's nothing more than a dream… Still, it's a damn good one all the same.
Jax wakes with a start, eyes immediately squinting shut again against the beam of sunlight currently falling across his pillow. He swipes a hand down his face, confused- why the hell is it so goddamn bright in here? And why in the hell can't he move his arm? Blinking, slowly, he rolls his head on the pillow, ducking his chin slightly until he's out of the sun. And suddenly, he's reminded why he's not in his bed, why he's sleeping in his clothes, and why Tara's curled against him, her hand resting on his chest.
He takes a moment to revel in the sensation as memories of last night come rushing back all at once- the highlights sending warm prickles down his spine. Dancing with Tara, running and laughing in the rain, kissing her in the park, the honest, uninhibited way she'd asked him to hold her and told her she didn't want to be alone… And now, waking up next to her, so unlike the last time they'd both fallen asleep here.
And, as if she could sense the train his thoughts were taking even in her sleep, Tara shifts even closer, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Jax smiles, lightly running his hand up and down her arm, savoring the feel of her soft, soft skin and the scent of her he can only describe as home.
Slowly, so as not to wake her, he curls his hand around her shoulder and draws her closer so he can brush his lips against her forehead- but he finds it altogether too hard to let her go, and winds up scattering kisses across its smooth surface, fanning out to her eyelids, her cheeks, even the tip of her nose. And though he wants nothing more than to take her mouth, claim her soft, slightly parted pink lips for his own once again- his rational side pipes up, uninvited, to remind him exactly why he shouldn't. After all, there's a pretty goddamn good chance she's going to wake up not remembering why he's here.
Don't make her regret this, Teller.
But speaking of things he's not sure she'll remember…
Had he been dreaming last night when she'd said she loved him? Was it all just a product of his overactive imagination, manifesting the very words he'd been longing to hear from her? If not, and she'd really whispered the three most important words in the world… Had she meant it? Or, had it been force of habit, fueled only by gratitude and the powerful dose of medication she'd been given?
Most importantly, though, what the hell is he supposed to do about any of it? It's not like she's going to remember that she said she loved him, even if she had meant it at the time. And regardless of any of those things, he's not sure they're at a place yet where she'd cop to those feelings for him even if she did admit to herself she had them.
Sighing, and realizing that he isn't going to get any more sleep with his newfound restless mind- Jax studies Tara for a moment. She's peaceful, snoring just the slightest bit, and evidently still dead to the world. Not wanting to wake her (his girl deserves every bit of sleep she gets after last night), he eases back once more- though it kills him just a little with every inch. He slowly slides his arm from beneath her neck and waits. She shifts in his direction, reaching for him, then settles with a contented sigh.
On his hunt for the cigarettes he doesn't even remember removing from his pocket last night, Jax notices that Tara's injured ankle has slipped off the tower of pillows he created. Gingerly, he bolsters it as much as he can without waking her, then pulls the blanket- which has slipped haphazardly off the edge of the bed- back into place. As is becoming his habit, he can't resist bending to drop another kiss on her forehead before snagging his shirt and cigarettes from the chair and heading outside.
Christ, the sun is even more blinding out here.
Jax hurriedly shrugs back into his brand-new button-down to ward off the morning chill and, squinting against the bright early morning light, takes refuge in the one shady spot beneath the stairs leading up to the building's second floor. Extracting a cigarette and grinning, he rubs his thumb over the engraving on his new lighter, then wastes no time lighting up and taking a deep drag.
Exhaling, Jax muses for a moment how funny it is that when he's with Tara, he never feels that familiar urge for a cigarette. Sure, he lights up constantly in the rest of his life- especially around Gemma, JT, and the rest of SAMCRO and SAMTAC- but he never really feels the need for that nicotine rush when he has her by his side. Hell, even this morning, it isn't so much the desire for a smoke that has him out here as it is his restless mind and his utter determination to avoid waking her up while he burns off some of this anxious energy. Because the moment she's awake, he risks ending this blissful-yet-crazy ride they'd been on since she'd first entered his vision last night.
Lost in thought, Jax misses the sound of the approaching bike, only recognizes it for what it is when it's idling in a parking space out front. For a moment, he panics just a bit- certain that it's Kozik here to take his ass back to his own bike, or Lee and one of the SAMTAC brothers here to give him orders for some job that would take him away from Tara before they have the chance to talk. Instead, he's relieved to see it's some sports bike. The guy- he's met him before…Juan, his mind supplies- removes his helmet a moment later and comes jogging up the front walk.
Juan pauses a moment when he notices Jax, clearly not expecting to see someone lurking beneath his stairs. For his part, Jax just takes a drag, watching as Juan's gaze shifts between him and Tara's Cutlass.
"Uh, hey man…" Juan says, awkwardly shifting his feet and glancing furtively at Tara's door. "Are you… I mean- is Tara…" Jax raises his brows, not sure what the guy is trying to get at. Juan sighs, a hot puff of air that conveys his indecision about how to handle whatever's up his ass at the moment. "Look, man- I don't know you… I mean- I've met you, but I don't know you. But what I do know is that Tara doesn't normally have uh, people over." He pauses, waiting for a reaction from Jax; when he doesn't get one, he explains, "I mean, overnight- or, you know, this early. And last time you were here things got…"
Juan scratches at the back of his neck, something Jax is quickly realizing is a tell. The guy's apparently uncomfortable as hell, but he feels it's his duty to say something anyway. Oddly curious to see where this is going, Jax helpfully supplies the word he'd been using to describe his first encounter with Tara after months apart-
"Emotional?"
"Right. Uh…I just-" Juan sighs, giving up that particular line of questioning only to start another. "She know you're here?" Jax can't help snorting in response.
"Seeing as how I carried her through the front door a few hours ago?" He deadpans. "Yeah, I'd say she knows I'm here." Juan's frown only deepens in response.
"What, was she drunk? Or-"
"Naw," Jax interrupts, not needing Juan and his suspicions to go down that road. "We went to some performance over at the U, and then we got caught in the rain on the way back to her car. She stepped in some hole and jacked up her ankle pretty bad, so I had to carry her into the clinic to get it looked at. Then, I drove her back here- it's her right ankle so she couldn't drive." Juan seems to be waiting for more, but nods in understanding just the same. "She ain't drunk, but they did give her something for the pain that's got her a little loopy." And since he can tell Juan is getting ready to ask, Jax adds, "She asked me to stay until tomorrow when I can get a ride back to my bike."
He eyes Juan a moment, who appears to be accepting what he's said so far. Well, he should- it's the truth. There's a brief silence, during which they each assess the other, and then Juan nods and looks away.
"Alright. Sorry, man. I just-" He blushes a bit, and Jax watches curiously as he shrugs. "She's like the first one that's been nice to me, up here. And we got some shit in common- I don't really have anyone here, and she's here alone, so…" Not anymore, Jax doesn't say, in favor of nodding along and letting Juan say what he's got to say. "I just try to watch out for her, you know?'
Yeah, Jax does know- and at once, that reactive, possessive side of him rears its ugly head, ready to tell Juan he can go ahead and fuck off now. But it's at war with his protective side, that part of him that's just grateful Tara's found a few people up here- Sarah, Chris, now this Juan guy- who seem to really care for her. And in the end, he tamps down his gut reaction in favor of smiling and nodding in thanks. After all, he'd left his spot open, and if he hadn't been such a fucking dipshit, he'd have been here all along, getting to be with Tara and watching over her himself. This isn't Juan's fault any more than it is Tara's.
And that's how Jax finds himself reaching out to shake Juan's hand.
"I appreciate it, man, I really do. Tara's lucky to have good friends up here." Juan nods, and as Jax releases his hand, he's just as quick to reach up to rub the back of his neck yet again. So, Jax waits- the guy's obviously got something else to say.
"Just, uh- be good to her, okay? I mean… like- she deserves to be happy. And I don't think she's been very happy."
Jax swallows, thickly. Christ, that's hard to hear.
But then, he feels that confidence, the hope he hadn't felt before last night, begin to build in his chest. And he knows it comes with the certainty that he will one day make her his, make her happy, again. Hell, maybe today is that day- they've got nothing but time. And all he can say is,
"Always."