I own nothing you recognize.
JT had always said something happens at around 92 miles an hour.
In Jax's experience, it had always been that something- maybe the vibrations of his bike matching the blood rushing through his veins, the choppy blur of the scenery becoming a smooth wash of color, or the road rising up until it no longer stretched out before him but became a part of him- that made his relentlessly churning mind come to a halt. That something, whatever it was, had quickly become the only thing that had helped him stave off the walls of loneliness, guilt, misery and heartbreak that had closed in when Tara left.
Eventually, he'd realized that riding on the long road to nowhere was getting him exactly nowhere. Soon after, the long, meandering rides on the blacktops outside of Charming with no purpose but to quiet his inner demons had been replaced by much shorter jaunts down the 705 to Tara. And it's not completely unexpected that hearing her voice, touching her- hell just seeing her almost any time he wants- has all but eliminated his need to ride until his ass was as numb as his heart.
What he hadn't anticipated, though, is that this particular ride- the first one taking him back into California since he'd taken the temporary transfer up to SAMTAC- would be like… this.
He'd always known he'd be making the trip with Tara by his side. He'd just thought they'd be making the most of the long ride on his bike- cruising the Oregon countryside with the wind at their backs, stopping to eat at that roadside stand outside of Medford, taking a detour when the urge hit them. And instead, they're rolling down the 5 in the Cutlass, making great time and okay gas mileage.
He'd sure as hell thought they'd be more… together, by now. Maybe not where he'd always thought they'd be at 20 and almost-20; the fact that he'd lost his shit months ago and let things fester until Tara couldn't take his bullshit any longer had definitely forced him to set his plans to make her his girl for life on the back burner.. But he'd foolishly envisioned her flinging her arms around his neck, kissing him senseless and suggesting they hash out their shit later.
While that hadn't exactly played out the way he'd planned, he'd still held out hope that it was only a (short) matter of time before the undeniable connection that's still evident between them would win out over all the ways he'd fucked things up.
And instead, despite the fact that it's been almost six weeks since he'd finally mustered up the courage to knock on her door, and despite the fact that she'd been more than willing in recent days to let him kiss her and hold her just like he'd dreamed about since she'd left… There's still a maze of uncertainty between them; he knows they need to figure out how to navigate before she truly lets him back in.
Starting, of course, with dismantling that high-ass wall she'd built, brick by emotional brick, to protect her heart.
Sure, he'd made a shitload of progress since the day she slammed the door in his goddamn face. Most if it is thanks to the night he'd surprised her by showing up at the dance performance, ready and willing to be there for her like he knew he hadn't been those last weeks in Charming. Even her unexpected injury, though it had thrown a proverbial wrench into what had been shaping up to be a memorable evening, had been an opportunity to demonstrate just how willing he is to be with her, protect her, always.
That night, he'd felt something almost elemental shift into place, both at the unfettered honesty in her eyes as she'd asked him to stay and the visible relief he'd watched play across her delicate features when he'd agreed. He'd slipped into bed to wrap himself around her, but had done so cautiously, as if she'd been teetering on the edge of taking it all back. Only to be blown away moments later when she'd whispered his given name- a revelation in itself since she'd long since taken to calling him Jax like the rest of the world. And it had been an utter mindfuck combined with the three precious words she hadn't been able to give him before… or since.
I love you, Jackson.
He'd wondered, off and on, if it truly had been the medication talking. Whether she was just grateful not to be alone, to be in the presence of someone familiar. On the heels of those fears, though, is always the sweet reminder of what had come next. The way she'd willingly accepted his presence, his help, even his affections, and returned them with her own- wide awake and without the haze of Percocet. It had been enough to convince him, most days, that there's hope for them- and more importantly, that she still loves him.
The problem, Jax muses, squinting against the setting sun, is that she still hasn't acknowledged that she'd ever said so out loud. Not even to make her excuses or blame her pain meds- not that entire weekend they spent together, during any of their scheduled meetups, or the handful of times he'd found himself missing her and unable to resist taking the short ride down to see her. And as the days had added up without a repeat occurrence, while he'd stopped wondering whether she meant it, his mind continues to snag on the possibility that she just doesn't remember telling him what he'd been longing to hear from her for months.
That's bullshit, too, and you know it.
Despite the many touches, quiet conversations, long looks, and countless kisses they've shared since then, they're still not Jax and Tara. Which is why he's got a feeling she knows good and well what she'd said to him. He knows her better than he's ever known anyone in his life, even Ope. Hell, sometimes, he feels like he knows her better than he knows himself- which is why he can't help but notice the way she vacillates between contentedly resting her head on his shoulder and shutting him out, hesitant and untrusting.
And while Tara's always been an overthinker who can rival even his own tendency to get lost in his head, there's definitely something eating at her that's been resurfacing amidst the steady ground they've been gaining. There's something causing those occasional flickers of uncertainty that sure as hell hadn't been present when they'd been running and laughing, carefree, in the rain. And he's willing to bet it's got something to do with the sleepy way she'd whispered I love you, Jackson mere hours later- only to avoid the subject since then.
Jax sighs, arching his back and shrugging his shoulders to release the tension that's only just appeared, hours into their trip. It's a familiar ache that rears its ugly head only when he's got plenty of time to brood over their situation- those rare occasions when he's not playing errand boy for SAMTAC, in Church, or spending as much time as he can soaking up Tara's presence. And, as always, it seems to mesh with the sharp twinge of hurt that comes at the thought of his girl finally telling him she loves him, then wishing those words back the moment she's good and sober. Hell, tempering his disappointment with the simple joy of being with her is the only way he'd made it through that first 48 hours without demanding answers about her true feelings.
In the almost two weeks since that night, he's more than grateful for the way she's seemed to eagerly accept his increased presence in her life. It's just that they seem stuck in some sort of holding pattern- with her unwilling or unable to tell him how she feels, and him terrified to rock the boat and stupidly set them back a step or two more. And while he can content himself with shared smiles, slow kisses, and the two nights he'd been lucky enough to sleep with her in his arms, he's got about zero fucking clue how to move them forward.
Unfortunately for him, the way this trip's played out- with the two of them making the first, six-hour leg of this almost-thirteen-hour journey after Tara's Friday afternoon class and in her Cutlass instead of on his bike- has given him plenty of time to agonize over the details of the last couple weeks and everything they aren't. Especially, he notes, since she'd dozed off well before they'd hit the Washington state line.
Still, though he'd been looking forward to the carefree weekend on his bike he'd constructed in his imagination- and though there's more than enough shit they need to sort out, eventually- the appeal of having her to himself for most of the next several dozen hours is undeniable.
Jax glances away from the road and toward the other side of the Cutlass's enormous bench seat, where Tara's all but draped against the passenger door. He can't help but let his eyes rove over her for a moment, starting with the delicate features of her face and the cascade of thick, dark hair spilling over the enticing softness of her breasts, which he'd been all but desperate to touch these past weeks. He continues on down her familiar curves to the long, lean legs she'd almost immediately stretched in his direction after kicking off her shoes a couple hundred miles back, and ends with the prettily painted toes she's unknowingly tucking under his thigh even as he watches her sleep.
The sheer familiarity of the move she'd made probably a hundred times before throughout their relationship- while shivering at the beach, huddled in front of the fireplace at his parents' house, even in bed and buried beneath the covers- has a satisfied grin spreading across his face despite his spiraling thoughts of a moment ago. This, he reasons, resting his hand on her ankle- now almost completely returned to its normal size with only the faintest hint of green to indicate she'd ever injured it- is exactly why he needs to stay out of his head… So he can enjoy every little sign she gives him that they're on their way to becoming them again- even if she's not able to tell him so.
Affectionately, Jax runs his hand from ankle to calf and then back down again, enjoying the simple pleasure of being able to reach out and touch her whenever the urge strikes him- even though he's not been granted access to all the parts of her that had once been his, just yet. Between that and her quiet energy- the way he just feels calmer, more himself in her presence and especially when he's touching her- it's who they were, together, that had kept him on an even keel back in Charming. It's more obvious to him now than ever that the times he'd deprived himself of her- after his first real job for the club that had ended in the hostage situation at Rogue River, after Ope got locked up, and most definitely after she'd left him- those were the only times he'd truly felt himself spiraling, adrift and alone.
He'd listened to his father and Kozik as much as he could, had done his best to sack up and get his shit together even without her by his side. And for the most part, he had. But the way he feels when he's with her even when they're not quite yet on solid ground- like he can do anything, as long as he's got her- it's like they give each other the hope and the strength to handle all the shit the world has to throw at them.
Including showing their faces in Stockton for the first time in months.
When she's with him, the world seems to fade away. Which is why, for the first hour of the trip, it had been so easy to enjoy the road, the ride, the quiet conversation, and the truly questionable music pouring out of the old radio. But even fast asleep against the car door opposite him, the sound of her deep breaths and the feel of her toes tucked under his leg has the prospect of seeing Ope in lockup almost seeming easy.
Jax sighs, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel and, for the first time in almost five hours, craving a cigarette. Despite how busy SAMTAC's kept him and his intense focus on not only finding Tara but fixing things with her, Ope's never too far from his thoughts. As much as he'd needed the clean break from Charming- for both his own and Tara's sake- that had also meant putting a 12 hour ride between himself and Stockton. And Donna, his mind supplies- which is exactly the fucking reason leaving the way he did had felt so shitty.
Still does, really- he'd promised to look out for Donna, and though fixing shit with Tara is priority number one, that broken promise seems like it's been eating away at him almost as much as the ones he'd made Tara.
Shaking his head to clear away the fresh tendrils of guilt that snake their way in every time he thinks about his best friend and his best friend's girl, Jax almost misses it- the exit that's his cue to wake the fuck up and start paying attention after hours on an endless stretch of Oregon highway. Medford… then only about fifteen more miles to Rogue River.
Swiping a hand down his face- and sitting up a little straighter for good measure- Jax reaches to turn down the radio, which had been blaring away for miles with nobody listening.
"Tara…"
She stirs, briefly, at the sound of his voice, even though it's not half as loud as the radio had been just a moment ago. She smiles as he says it again, scooting her toes just that bit further under his leg- and he can't help the grin that's spreading on his own face as his hand leaves the radio dial to touch her once again. This time, it's a teasing graze of his fingertips that travels up her ankle and back down, a touch so light it elicits a shiver from her as her toes flex somewhere beneath him. A brief glance at the road later, he redoubles his efforts, waggling his fingers upon the seriously soft skin behind her knee.
That earns him a sleepy giggle- one that makes the kick she delivers to his hip a half-second later more than worth it.
"Jaaaxxx…" Tara groans, though she's still got that faint smile- the one you put there when you said her name, some part of his brain nudges him. Then she stretches, lazily, her eyes fluttering open in exactly the way he remembers. And it's those memories that have him biting his lip, returning his eyes the road before his thoughts abandon him to travel down a path his dick is sure to follow.
"I just fell asleep…"
At this, he can't help but laugh, narrowing his eyes to give her his best you gotta be fuckin' kidding me Babe look.
"You've been asleep since right after we crossed into Oregon, sweetheart. And look- we're almost there." Tara's eyes widen a bit as she slowly becomes more aware of her surroundings- including the sun that's now almost completely gone from the horizon. He tosses her a smirk. "Left me to do all the navigating and shit by myself…"
Tara's dimples make an appearance as she purses her lips at him, then pulls her feet back underneath her so she can sit up straight. He's distracted momentarily by the fact that he actually fucking misses the comforting presence of her feet, of all things, against him. But then she's rolling her eyes and pointing at the I-5 sign currently whizzing past them.
"If you actually needed someone to navigate you down the one road you needed to take all the way here- then you aren't the outlaw you think you are, Teller." His laugh silences her momentarily- or maybe it's just the satisfied smirk now spreading across her pink lips this time. Christ, he's enjoying their playful banter- it's just as much a part of them as the intense attraction had been- and so he can't resist teasing her further.
"What I needed was someone to keep me company on this long-ass drive. Hell, I don't know why I brought you at all, then," he laments, shaking his head. "If I wanted someone to pass out cold and leave me to do all the driving- especially after the Seattle stations were outta range and there was nothin' but country music on the radio… Well, I woulda asked Kozik to go instead."
"Somehow, I doubt that," she fires back, archly, raising a brow in challenge. And he's got to give it to her, there. No way in hell he'd trade away a minute of this trip so far- not even the good thirty miles or more he'd spent trying to remember if she'd ever snored like this in their bed over at the vet clinic apartment. Or the past hour-plus he'd spent working through all they had- and hadn't- said to each other since he'd come to Tacoma.
At any rate, instead of admitting just how right she is, Jax shows her, reaching for her hand and kissing her fingers before resting their joined hands on the seat between them. She rewards him with that full-on, gorgeous smile- the one he'd been seeing more and more lately- and settles, cross-legged onto the seat.
"So how close are we?"
"Rogue River's the next exit. Figured we'd get somethin' to eat first, then head over to the clubhouse. They ain't expecting us for an hour or so."
If he hadn't been such a serious student of Tara Knowles, he likely wouldn't have noticed the brief flash of uncertainty cross her face. But by now, he's got several years of experience noticing everything he can about the girl he still can't believe had flown under other guys' radar. Plus, he's got these past several weeks of obsessing over what she's thinking and feeling, and so he's not surprised at all when she looks away and says, evenly-
"It's been a long time since I was in a clubhouse… Is it silly that I'm a little nervous?"
"Naw, Babe. You've been through a lot of shit- we both have. But we'll be in and out- we got to get on the road by four tomorrow morning." He squeezes her hand, and can't help but feel an odd sense of accomplishment when she squeezes back even tighter. Feels himself unable to resist the opportunity to remind her just who she can count on. "Anyway, you got nothin' to worry about. I got you… and they fuckin' love me down here."
He expects the smirk and eye roll. It's the mumbled "That's what I'm afraid of," he doesn't know what to do with.
It's well past dark by the time they roll up to the Rogue River clubhouse- a modified industrial building in a small clearing well outside the small town the charter was named for. The place hadn't changed much since the first time he'd been here- that fateful weekend he and Ope had made the emergency cash drop to free the Rogue River Pres' family from Cameron Hayes. Except for the roller gate- that shit's new.
But he notices, with a sigh of relief, that the dark feeling of foreboding he'd experienced the next few times SAMCRO had been up here to visit is all but gone. It seems like his hangup is truly behind him.
In the passenger seat, Tara's sighing, too- but he knows by now it isn't with relief. He hadn't pressed her during their stop at the town's only diner- but he knows she's bracing herself for whatever she thinks she's going to face once they get inside. He's just resting his hand on her knee and squeezing it- he hopes reassuringly- when a tap on the window jolts him out of his thoughts.
"This is private property, man," the guy's already saying as Jax cranks down the window. "You and your girl need to-"
"Relax, Hatcher, it's just me." Jax bites back the urge to be a dick- even as the guy practically leans inside the Cutlass to get a better look. Jesus Christ, he's lucky Jax hadn't been someone from a rival club- the guy's a fucking liability.
"Shit, Teller, it is you!" Hatcher says, jovially, reaching in to slap Jax's hand. "Gibbs told me you were headed down, but I figured you'd be on your bike. The fuck you drivin' a cage for?"
"My girl hurt her ankle a while back, didn't want her to have to put in twelve hours on the bike."
"Least she's pretty though, right?" Jax has only a moment to grit his teeth before Hatcher's laughing and putting his hands up. "The Cutlass, I mean… Well shit, your girl's a knockout too."
And so, Jax and Tara are both laughing as he finally pulls onto the lot, angling the Cutlass into a spot next to a Caddy that looks a whole lot like Gemma's. But it's the familiar way she slips her hand into his as he shoulders his duffel and hers that has him grinning from ear to ear all the way across the lot.
"Ain't a lot goin' on tonight," the guy- Hatcher, Jax had called him- is saying as he leads them across the parking lot and towards the Rogue River clubhouse. "I'm sure Gibbs told your Pres, but we've been all over the place this last week- first a protection run and then a charity ride. They're finally havin' church right now, but then we're knockin' a few back after if y'all are interested. Then again, the real party's tomorrow night…" His voice trails off as he opens what looks like a rolling barn door, sending light spilling into the dark lot.
Beyond, Tara can see a bright, wide-open space dotted with groups of tables and mismatched chairs. The bar, which spans the entire back wall, is manned by two women, both of whom are looking curiously in their direction as they make their way into the room. And though what draws her eye immediately is what's different about this particular clubhouse- its larger space, its small stage littered with musical equipment, the expensive-looking stereo system that takes the place of the old jukebox in the SAMCRO clubhouse- what keeps her attention are all the things that are almost exactly the same.
It's the dozens of snapshots and polaroids of men in black leather, the Harley Davidson signs, mirrors, and banners, the wall of mugshots, and especially the rough-looking guys in prospect kuttes milling about the pool tables in the corner. She knows, in the rational part of her brain, that practically anyone else she's met during her time in Tacoma would take one look and turn right back around in favor of the relative safety of the parking lot.
So what does it say about her that even the Reaper, burned into the large piece of oak behind the bar and looking down on them with his signature menace, fills her with an odd sense of comfort instead of fear or foreboding?
More importantly, as they near the back bar and one of the girls has an eager wave for Jax- what the hell does it say about her that the flood of comfort and familiarity is accompanied by another all-too-familiar feeling? That swift rush of irritation and possessiveness she feels whenever cheerleaders, club girls, crow eaters, whatever they're called here, shoot Jax that look. That appraising, approving, gaze full of appreciation and brimming with just enough promise to grind her gears- as if she wasn't currently standing there beside him, her hand locked in his.
Sure, they're not together together- at least, not in the way they have been in the past. They're… how had she put it? Whatever this is.
Still, whatever they are, she's decidedly not a stranger to whatever the fuck this feeling is. But as they reach the bar- and as the girl's smile veers that last bit into sultry, Tara feels yet another familiar sensation. The urge to tug Jax closer by the belt loops and show her, and everyone else, just who he belongs to.
With. Whoever he belongs with. Right? Wait, that's not any better.
Christ… calm the fuck down, Knowles. No matter the verbiage, neither of you have earned-
Her train of thought is abruptly halted as Jax's arm drapes heavily over her shoulder, and it derails completely when he pulls her into his side and grazes her cheekbone with his lips, only to whisper in her ear.
"Up to you, Babe."
"Hmm?" Is the only answer she can muster as the conflicting emotions meet the unexpected rush of longing being this close to him inspires. This, too, is familiar. Hell, if the situation had played out as she'd just imagined, with her attacking him with her mouth to prove some sort of point to the girls behind the bar, he'd have responded just this way. It would have almost undoubtedly ended with him picking her up and hauling her back to the clubhouse apartment, or her dragging him by the hand to some dark corner. And then…
Damn it.
Whether her brain's in a haze due to lust, possessiveness, or something else, she's got zero clue what he's talking about. It's made worse when he answers her, his lips tickling her ear and his warm breath rolling down her neck.
"Do you wanna sit at the bar, have a beer while I talk to their Prez?" Tara tries, mostly unsuccessfully, to suppress the shivers he's inducing even now- what the fuck is wrong with you- and draws back just enough to meet Jax's eyes.
"Can I take one to-go? I mean…" She bites her lip, not quite sure all of a sudden, despite the familiar surroundings, how to handle him- handle herself- back in this world.
Actually, she just doesn't have the energy after a full day of classes, six hours in the car, and months of convincing herself she'd put this shit behind her to sit alone, at yet another bar staffed by yet another blonde who had just finished giving her… Jax, the signature once-over.
She sure as shit doesn't have the energy to make nice. It dawns on her that maybe this- not the club itself, not the expectations of its members, not being here with Jax, but the way the club's women almost invariably set her on edge- is what had the nervous energy threatening to creep in the closer they got to Rogue River.
But it's not like she can fucking say any of that. So, she blurts out the next best thing- and at least it's true.
"I know you said we need to leave early, and I should wash up before bed."
God, could you sound like any more of a prude? The familiar voice- the one she'd effectively banished ever since Jax had semi-officially returned to her life- snarks, unexpectedly. Not that any of her recent thoughts had even begun to border on prude-
"I'll take two for the road for now, Honey," Jax is saying, his lips brushing somewhere near her temple as he pulls her even closer, nearly banishing her inner monologue. Tara counts it as personal growth that she doesn't smack Jax one on the arm for the term of endearment. And for refraining from glaring at the girl as she pops the caps off two beers and sends Jax a seductive smile.
But when Jax releases her to take them- with a knowing grin, a nod, and a "Thanks, Honey-" that familiar feeling she's not keen to put a name on bubbles up in her throat once again.
It's only Hatcher motioning for them to follow him- and the way Jax's fingers slide beneath the hem of her shirt as he ushers her away from the bar and towards the back hall- that save her from forfeiting months worth of personal growth and being a total bitch to some unsuspecting club girl. Still, the words are there, pressing at the tip of her tongue, trying their best to fight their way out and effectively muffling the brief conversation Jax and Hatcher are having as he leads them down a short hallway. They pause a moment as he fumbles to unlock a door remarkably similar to the apartment door in the Charming clubhouse.
Then, Hatcher backs away, leaving Jax to close the door behind him. And suddenly, they're alone, in a clubhouse dorm room, for the first time in months and months. That realization crowds out nearly everything but her growing irritation, and she can't hold it in any longer as she spins to face him just as he's saying her name.
"Tara-" But whatever else he'd been about to say dies on his lips, his mouth remaining slightly open, frozen, as she beats him to the punch with a single word.
"Honey?" God, she hates herself for even saying it, for the dripping sarcasm she just can't keep out of her voice, for… For being like this, especially when they haven't even-
"What?" Jax recovers quickly, quirking a brow in confusion. Moments ago, the words had been practically begging to spill out of her mouth, to ask Jax why, after all they've been through, he can't seem to stop calling croweaters and club girls honey, darlin, and sweetheart… But now, his genuine bewilderment- and the way he steps towards her instead of shoving his hands in his pocket and shuffling his feet after being caught has her hesitating.
Shit. Even worse, he has her confused and on her heels. Which has her more irritated than she had been a moment before, come to think of it. It's not like I'm the one who-
"Wait…" Jax is saying, interrupting Tara's increasingly errant train of thought, a flicker of recognition in his eye as he dips his head to look into hers. "You mean the girl? Out there at the bar?" Tara can only glare in return- the hell is he getting at? If he thinks I'm going to stand by as he-
"That's her name, Tara- Honey. She's been here since the first time we had a run up here. Is it-" He stops short, an infuriating smirk twisting those damnably beautiful lips. "Are you… jealous?" The smirk broadens, becomes a full-fledged grin as she rolls her eyes and pushes away from him, searching, abashed, for something to do, a way to hide that she's blushing to the roots of her hair.
"No!" Is all she can think to say, reaching for the handle of her duffel bag, still looped over his arm.
"You are, aren't you?" he says, letting the bag drop. Frustrated, she snatches it up and takes a step back. And even though she refuses to meet his eyes, spins instead to survey the room and find a spot to stow her bag- anything to distract her mind from the fool she's just made of herself- she knows that damn grin is even wider than before from the teasing amusement that tints his voice. "You don't have to be-"
"I'm not jealous, Jackson. I'm-" Tara stops short, whatever point she'd been about to make regarding the differences between jealousy and setting boundaries completely lost.
Hell, she's only half-aware she'd just inadvertently referred to him as Jackson as she takes in the small apartment for the first time. But it's not the strangely similar chest of drawers, scattering of shelves, cushioned side chair, and en suite door that's caught her eye and muted her tongue. No, that would be the very tidy, very small bed located front and center, beneath the room's only window. Christ, it can't be more than a single-
"You're…?" Jax is saying, suddenly directly behind her. And she's not altogether certain it's a welcome change of subject when she laughs, more nervously than she'd like, and gestures at the bed.
"What I am, is thinking that I had a bigger bed back in high school," she says, grimacing inwardly at her failure to play this off casually. Evidently momentarily nonplussed by the sudden change in tack, Jax snorts.
"We made it work then, Babe, and we can now…" But then his voice, too, dies away, as his mind likely arrives at the same conclusion hers had. They'd once been close enough, together enough, to make a variety of sleeping situations "work." Hell, they'd explored their mutual physical affection for one another by making love any and everywhere they could lay down a blanket or a bedroll, and a fair few places they couldn't.
But now that they're fumbling through whatever they're supposed to be, together, not together, occupying this strange no-man's-land they seem to be stuck in… Now that they've been sharing a tantalizing series of kisses nearly every time they're together but things haven't progressed past the same, relatively tame kissing and touching they'd surpassed when they were fifteen and sixteen years old…
Somehow, the prospect of being pressed against Jax in a single bed now is both alarmingly tempting and terrifying all at the same time.
"Tara…" All notes of teasing are now gone, and suddenly, Tara finds herself wishing them back. Then, a sharp rap at the door puts a merciful end to the awkwardness that had rushed in to fill the void.
"Boys're leavin' the table- just thought you'd want to know," comes the voice, muffled as it is by the door. Just inches behind her, Jax sighs, and she can feel him take a step back, then two, before answering.
"'Kay, thanks, man!"
Then… silence fills the room, the uncertainty between them even more stifling than the momentary awkwardness had been just moments before. And it's almost a relief when Jax's voice comes a moment later.
"You okay while I go meet with their Pres for a few minutes? I, uh, I gotta pass on some information Lee asked me to share."
Swallowing, Tara turns to face him, the smile carefully in place before her body stops its motion. He's hovering there, by the door, a look of trepidation settling on his handsome features- and she wants nothing more than to go to him, to kiss him and go back to the way they once were, in a clubhouse, a room much like this one. It would be so easy…
But instead, she does what's safe. She just shrugs, waves a hand towards the en suite door, and hides behind a smile.
"Yeah… As soon as I clean up, get the- the road off of me, I'll be good." Except he probably knows better than anyone that the one thing that's been lingering within her all day isn't something she can just scrub away. God knows she'd tried, those lonely months without him.
Jax studies her a moment, his eyes searching hers as if he isn't sure she's being entirely truthful. Then, his eyes flickering again to the bed before alighting back on her, he bites his full lower lip and, nodding, reaches behind himself to open the door. It's clicking closed again before Tara manages to drag her eyes from where he'd stood.
It's with a deep sigh that does little to calm the whirling of her mind, the thundering of her heart, or the incessant longing of the rest of her body- parts of her that seem tethered to him, even now- that she heaves her duffel bag onto the bed. Damn him and his cocky ass anyway… But as she sets about extracting the few things she'd brought to make herself presentable- for Opie tomorrow, her fragmented mind insists- she can't help but wonder if maybe what she really needs is a cold shower.
The conversation takes longer than Jax had anticipated- though he really should have known since it involves information and assurances by three different clubs- SAMCRO, SAMTAC, and Rogue River. By the time Gibbs rises from his seat at the head of the table and extends his hand with a grin, it's been close to an hour by his estimation.
And so, he finds himself having to paste on an easy grin of his own as he follows Gibbs out of the chapel and into the clubhouse at large. Then, he's almost immediately accosted by the Sergeant at Arms, laughing and brandishing a handful of shot glasses. He obligingly accepts one, tossing the contents back with the rest of the Rogue River members, but declines a second when the SAA immediately tries to push it into his hand. Instead, he just puts his hands up and angles his head to the back hallway.
"Thanks, boys, but I got to see about my girl. We got an early morning and a long day ahead of us-"
From somewhere behind him, Gibbs claps him on the back, then calls out to the clubhouse at large.
"Leave the boy alone, would ya? They'll be back for the party tomorrow night." Then, lower, "Shoulda said this before, but sorry 'bout the accommodations, as they are- didn't know you'd have your girl with ya and Lee never mentioned 'er." Well, no, he wouldn't have, Jax realizes- Kozik's the only one in the SAMTAC clubhouse he's ever discussed Tara with. "We've been chock-full ever since Rollie's old lady kicked him to the curb the night before we patched in our two prospects- and the minute we get another prospect, even that single's gonna be spoken for." Jax turns to Gibbs, forcing a smirk.
"And we thank you for it anyway, you know that."
"I bet you do, son! I bet you do…"
And as Gibbs snickers and moves past him with one last clap on the back and a shout of "I'll take one o' them before I gotta head home!" Jax finds that his returning smile is real. It only grows as he resumes his trajectory toward the back of the clubhouse.
Although he had no more wanted to leave Tara in that room- alone with her thoughts and whatever uncertainties that damn bed had dredged up- than he'd wanted to any other time he'd had to go fulfill his duties with the club… he has to admit that some small part of him seems to have shifted back into place. It's the thought of her here, on what's arguably his territory, waiting for him to return to her that's got his mind filling in the blanks with all the other times he'd walked into their apartment in the clubhouse or Tara's place over the vet clinic to find her, waiting and welcoming.
He pauses before the door, and as much as he's tried to stave off that feeling of coming home to her every time he enters a room she's in, his mind and his heart just can't help it. And so, he welcomes the rush of familiarity for a few seconds, enjoys just knowing that Tara's on the other side of the door. Lingers a moment more, then another, and another, not wanting to break away from the pleasant place his head's in to face the unexplored, unfamiliar ground they're on.
Sighing, Jax pushes a hand through his hair, the feeling of coming home to Tara suddenly warring with apprehension even as he inserts the key into the lock and turns the knob.
It's dark. That in itself a stark contrast to their months spent living in the SAMCRO clubhouse, when Tara would be waiting up for him, reclined on their bed in the glow of lamplight with some thick book on her lap. He suppresses another sigh and wonders what comes next.
It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they do, the first thing he can make out is the faint outline of the en suite door. Carefully, he picks his way across the dark room, sparing a glance at the motionless form curled up on the small bed. When there's no indication she's awake or aware of him, he pushes through the door and closes it behind him, suddenly thankful for something to do.
Flicking on the light, Jax is surprised to see his duffel already on the small bathroom counter, alongside Tara's few toiletries. Unable to resist, he reaches out to touch a bottle, than another, and another- can't help but imagine her in here an hour ago, rubbing thick lotion into her delicate skin-
Jesus Christ…
And so, he's uncomfortably hard already, even before he strips and reaches for the shower knob. It's a circumstance made worse the moment the water heats up and sends the familiar scent of her soap and her shampoo- the familiar scent of her- drifting into the steam that soon fills the room. Gritting his teeth, he braces himself against the wall, ducks his head under the stream of water, and tries to think of something- anything- else.
Like what the hell he's supposed to do when he's done in here.
She'd clearly not been expecting a single bed any more than he had- but while the thought of bundling up next to her in the narrow space hadn't spurred any doubt or awkwardness in Jax, he's not too stupid to realize that it had in Tara. Her hesitance and uncertainty had had a similar effect on him- and now, it comes rushing back with a force he hadn't expected.
Even though she'd asked him to stay and had welcomed him into her bed twice before, both times had been different than the situation they're facing now. That first night, she'd been half-lucid because of the painkillers, had slurred his name just that slightest bit when she'd pleaded with him to stay and told him she didn't want to be alone.
The second night, he'd been the one to offer, without so many words- he'd arrived with an overnight bag and maybe an arrogant assumption that she'd let him stay because she needed him- and she'd asked no more of him than to latch the door. He'd been the one to strip down and climb into bed with her- but she'd welcomed him with enough kisses to chase away any lingering doubts regarding his actions.
And after that night, with her getting around a whole lot better and her insistence that she would be okay to be alone, the subject hadn't come up again. Not in the two weeks since her accident, and certainly not since they'd made plans to take this very trip. In fact, neither of them had broached the subject of where and how they'd sleep in the slightest- even after he'd suggested that they stay the night here in Rogue River on both legs of the trip.
For his part, he's only now realizing that he'd simply assumed they'd simply fall back into the same, albeit new, routine they'd developed over those two nights- sliding comfortably into bed next to one another, maybe sharing a few kisses before they dozed off, content. And although they hadn't gone any further than kissing as of yet, he's still a man- so he's holding out hope they'll move past that point sooner rather than later. But he hadn't expected the way she'd gone from the old Tara he knew so well- wickedly territorial and engaging in a snappy back-and-forth sure to set his blood rushing; to the one he'd encountered since their split- all false smiles and uncertain glances.
Sighing, Jax rinses the last of the shampoo from his hair and takes a generous helping of the body wash- hers- already in the shower.
She can't tell him she loves him- not when she's conscious, at least. Worse, the thought of being close to him has inspired, at the very least, conflicting feelings within her. Why the hell can't things just be simple?
And it's with that lingering question- which isn't a question at all, really, since he knows exactly who's at fault for this whole fucking mess- that Jax reaches to twist the knob once again.
After brushing his teeth and drying haphazardly, he catches himself staring, sightlessly, into the depths of his duffel. Once, he'd no more have bothered to put on so much as a pair of boxers or a t-shirt before sliding into bed next to Tara than he would his kutte or a goddamn snowsuit. Just a couple weeks ago, he'd casually stripped down to said boxers after she'd made space for him in her bed.
But now… Now, he's not even certain he should be in the actual bed, given her reaction to the possibility. And he's sure as shit not chilling in that side chair in just his underwear.
Pushing away the million and one questions that flood his mind- most of them surrounding whatever it was that Tara had chosen to wear to bed- Jax snags a fresh pair of boxers and his favorite pair of basketball shorts and steps into them before he can dwell on the situation any further. Then, he's hanging up his towel and turning off the light before opening the door and sinking back into the darkness once again.
He can barely make out Tara's still form in the bed- but from what he can tell, she's on her side and facing both him and the side chair that looks like it's going to be his bed for the night. Carefully, he makes his way to the chair, which has Tara's duffel resting atop it, and sets the bag aside. Resigned, he eases himself into as much of a comfortable position as he can manage, and is surprised when the chair back tilts a bit. Shifting, blindly, he reaches down along the side of the chair and finds a recliner lever. Thank fuck, at least-
"Jax?"
His name, murmured aloud in her soft voice, has him freezing in place, sends his heart racing and his breath quickening as it always has. His eyes have adjusted to the dark enough by now that he can see that her eyes are open, shining even in the dark as she looks, intently, at him. And he finds himself unable to look away as he responds.
"Y-" he clears his throat, tries again. "Yeah, Babe?" Her eyes flutter closed at the endearment, then drift, slowly, back open.
"You don't need to sleep in that chair, Jax. I- I'm sorry if I made you think that. I just…" this time, she sighs, and the ensuing pause is enough to have him sitting upright and moving to the edge of the bed. Wanting more than anything to know where her head's at so they can get past this- and at the same time, struggling with his constant, driving need to touch her, always- he finds a way to sate both of them.
Easing himself into a sitting position next to her, he reaches towards her cautiously- almost as if not to spook her- and smooths a lock of her hair away from her brow. Her eyes flutter closed at his touch, and she turns into his palm to drop a brief kiss onto it. It seems to linger there, heating his skin, and he almost wants to fold it into his palm, keep it with him forever.
"Being here… tonight- I didn't know how I'd feel about it. I was nervous, about being back in a clubhouse, back with the Sons… And from the moment I walked into the clubhouse, it was like I was right back in Charming." She pauses, her eyes finding his in the dark once again. "Both the good and the bad." Jax shakes his head, zeroing in at once on exactly what she's talking about.
"You don't gotta worry about those girls, Tara, they're just-"
"It isn't about them- about Honey- at least not just. It's… all of it. The memories, that- that feeling I used to get when the girls would buzz around you like flies. The… things I used to do to get them to back off…" Her voice trails away, and Jax opens his mouth- to say what, exactly, he doesn't know. But then, she's continuing. "And the fucked up part is, I loved it, Jax. I loved showing them that you were mine, loved what happened between us when I'd drag you back to the apartment and-" She clears her throat, and Jax can't help the edges of the smirk he can feel playing at the corners of his mouth. It evaporates quickly as Tara bites her lip, clearly uncomfortable.
"But we're still…" she gestures between them in the dark "We're still this. And no matter how I feel about being here, no matter how much I want to show girls like Honey what it means to be with someone like you, and no matter how much I want you, I-"
Silence.
No matter how much I want you.
Her words are still echoing in his head a second later, when her eyes close for a long moment. He can still hear them rolling, husky and sincere, from her lips long after she's caught her lower one in her mouth, embarrassed. He's losing the battle against the smirk threatening to curl his lips when her eyes open again, then immediately narrow when she sees him smiling. And the need to reassure her- distract her from just how much he's loving what she's just admitted to- overcomes him.
"Tara…" He dips his head to drop the lightest of kisses on her upper lip- then another on her lower one as it re-emerges from between her teeth. "Stop thinkin' so much."
She exhales, shakily, a trembling rush of warmth that serves only to send his blood rushing southward, despite all she'd said. So, it's with an extra measure of caution that he braces up on his forearms and rolls over her, until his hip is tucked neatly behind hers. Running a hand down her arm, he finds hers and draws it to his lips before pulling her close as he dares, for the first time in his life leaving a careful gap between their midsections. Still, he can't help but remind her.
"How we were back then- I… I could still go there. But I know this can't be that. I know you need to trust, before-"
Her soft laughter has his voice faltering, and any point he'd been intending to make dies on his tongue the moment she speaks.
"Tonight… it's myself I don't trust."
And again, that rush, that thrill that comes with the knowledge that she wants him almost as much as he wants her, has nearly all of his awareness focused on the part of him she hasn't touched in months. It's that want of her, pulsing with every thunderous beat of his heart despite his caution of just moments ago- that has him helpless to do anything but to press himself against the delectable ass that's been a regular feature in his fantasies about her recently (and since he was barely sixteen).
"Jackson-" And though the sound of his full name on her lips just about does him in, has him practically dying to roll over her so he can relieve the pressure he knows they're both feeling- he just pulls her closer and buries his nose into the delicately scented soft place between her shoulder and her neck.
See? It's true for me, too- I want you. Just let me be close to you. Please. He doesn't say.
"It's just-"
"I know…. I know." Is all he can say.
And then she's squeezing his hand before bringing it up to her lips, this time, laying a brief kiss on his knuckles as she settles back more firmly against him until there's no space between them. His face is nuzzling her neck, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his bare chest aligned with her warm back- the hardest part of him pressed against the softest part of her, their legs tangled from thigh to toes. And his need for her, the delicious tension it creates between them, soon becomes unbearable. Until he isn't sure he can go another moment without knowing just how much of her he can have to last him until she's ready to let him back into her life, in all ways.
He breathes deep, lets her scent fill his nostrils as he frees his hand from hers, trailing two fingertips up the soft, smooth, skin of her arm and over the plane of her shoulder. He skims them beneath the coverlet, on past the swell of her breast and down the curve of her hip before lingering there a brief moment. It seems like ages before he moves again, snaking a palm around to the silky skin of her lower belly and down, down…
He's wishing away the soft sleep shorts she's wearing and pressing her into his cock until he can't breathe for wanting her, when he hears his name once more- and this time, her voice is tinted with a note of something he doesn't have the wherewithal to identify,
"Jackson…"
Sanity flees.
His fingers slip beneath her waistband, teasing the soft skin below for a moment before encountering the lacy edge of her panties. She sucks in a breath, hollowing the space between her hip bones and allowing his hand to slip even further south, ever closer to his hot, wet, heaven. Her lips come seeking, then, as she arches up to meet him, and there's nothing left for him to do but suck her sweet lower lip into his mouth and-
"Ohhh, yeah, Baby…"
This time, the voice is muffled, deep, and decidedly not Tara, and it cuts through the silence of the room like a hot knife. As if propelled by some invisible force, Tara frees her lips from his with an audible smack. At the exact same moment, Jax snatches his hand away from her panties like Gemma and Rick Knowles had just walked into the room.
"You like that?"
"Mmmmm…"
And as the voices fade into unintelligible moans, a rhythmic thumping sets up on the far wall. The nearly-forbidden territory Jax hadn't quite brought himself to remove his hand from completely- the soft, soft skin of Tara's stomach- begins to tremble. Then, it's shaking outright as Tara dissolves into a fit of laughter. It's a moment before Jax- who is definitely not thinking with the right head at the moment- puts two and two together, and then he's laughing right along with her, his forehead pressed into her cheek.
"Oh my God…" Tara groans amidst her laughter a full few minutes later, and Jax can't resist murmuring into her shoulder.
"Sounds like someone else wanted a shot at some puppies-"
"Jax!" Her backhand is swift and playful, but it doesn't seem to matter when the blow lands directly on his balls. And now he's doubling over in a sudden rush of shock and pain in addition to the laughter. "Oh, shit- I'm sorry…" His head lands back on the pillow just moments before she's hovering near his face, biting her lip in concern.
"Goddamn…" he just barely manages to eke out, though he's not sure how intelligible it is. But he can't resist teasing her just a bit further. "And I thought I had blue balls before-"
He manages to dodge her next blow, somehow, and rolls over her to pin her wrists to the bed. To his mild surprise, she doesn't resist. Instead, she gazes up at him, fondly, as the laughter of a moment ago fades to the occasional chuckle and then into a comfortable silence when the noise from next door slows to a halt. And once again, nothing outside this bed seems to matter.
There are a hundred things he wants to say to her- starting with how fucking much he loves her and how desperately he wants her to let him back in. But they're laughing, touching, truly enjoying each other's company- and suddenly, none of his words seem appropriate.
So he drops to his elbows and frames her beloved face with his hands, smoothing strands of hair away with his thumbs. He swallows, hard, as she tilts her mouth up towards his.
"Thank you," is all he says, softly this time, dipping his head to brush his mouth over hers. Her eyes, wide and honest, ask the question before the words form on her lips.
"For what?" And he can only smile.
"For… everything. Comin' with me to see Ope, bein' here with me tonight-"
Her "Of course," comes before he can add just how fucking thankful he is that she's let him back in- even if only partially. But it's enough, he finds, just to lower his mouth to hers again, to enjoy the way the softest graze of his lips has her opening to him, their kiss flowering into something wet, hot, and oh so right. She's moving her hands from where he'd left them above her head to tangle in his hair and pull him closer when he draws back just enough to rest his forehead against hers.
"We should get some rest, Babe- we gotta leave in about five hours."
And as he drifts off to sleep with Tara wrapped firmly in his arms, his only consolation- though it does precious little to ease the fact that he's still painfully hard- is that she aches for him, too.
The waiting room at Stockton State Prison is relatively unchanged from the last time he'd been up here with Donna a couple months ago. Same bank of plastic chairs lining the walls and dividing the center of the room, same formidable metal door separating the waiting area from the prison beyond. Hell, he's pretty sure the same, bored-looking woman is manning the sign-in counter behind the same thick pane of glass.
It's just the whole rest of his world that's changed.
His last meeting with Ope had come in the midst of his estrangement from Tara. He'd been miserable, cranky, hopeless, angry, and a whole slew of other things- none of them good. Worse, he'd shut down any questions from Opie regarding Tara- had stubbornly refused to discuss her, or them. Instead, he'd fumbled, clumsily, for shit to talk about with his best friend that didn't somehow dredge up memories of their other best friend… a task he'd eventually realized was fucking impossible.
Jax shifts a bit in his chair, guiltily, remembering the relief that had washed over him when it was time to switch with Donna.
Now, though…
Now, even in this bleak setting, he's about as far from miserable as he's ever been. He's been away from Charming, the mother charter, and his mother's watch, for well over a month and the space- the fucking room to breathe- that had come with it is significant. But none of that even remotely compares to the other change that had occurred since the last time he'd visited here. Fondly, he squeezes Tara's fingers, which are twined through his, their joined hands resting on his knee. She squeezes back, sparking the self-satisfied grin that had been so absent months ago.
"Visitors for Winston, Harry?"
Once, his very stomach would have dropped at the prospect of facing the sight of his best friend in lockup where he'd likely be for the next half-decade. Now, another squeeze of his girl's hand has him, instead, feeling like he can take on the world.
After a short walk down a dank hallway and a few steps into a dimly-lit room that Jax notes not for the first time, looks oddly like the CHS cafeteria, he and Tara are seated side-by-side on two round plastic stools. Across from them, on the other side of the table, a similar pair of seats awaits Opie.
As the officer walks away to disappear through the door through which they'd just entered, he can't help but let his mind wander once again to his previous visits. He'd spent those awful, tension-filled afternoons at one of these very tables, most recently with Donna by his side but years ago with his mother and even Tommy… waiting, almost sick with anticipation. Then, he'd felt full-to-bursting with a whirlwind of emotions and impulses as Ope or JT were led through the far door, dressed in orange and shackled at the wrists. But none were as strong as the pull in his gut to leap up out of his seat, drive his body full-pelt into the unsuspecting guard, and drag the prisoner towards the door to freedom.
Of course, he'd done none of it- partially because he'd been forced to grow up some in the visitation room at Stockton State Prison, but mostly because even nine-year-old Jax had known it was an impossibility. Still, though, the urge to scream, to strike out, to do something had been nothing short of overwhelming. It was a rage that had threatened to boil over right up until the minute either Ope or JT had sat down across from him.
Today, though, with Tara's cool, collected presence near him once again- and the warmth of her upper arm pressed against his own- the anger, the desperation, the injustice of it all is little more than a familiar pang in his heart. It doubles when the far door clanks open and Opie steps into the room, guided by an officer and shackled as he was in Jax's memories- but it's mild, manageable, so long as he has her. It seems like this is just another case where Tara helps him be better than he was before just by existing here, with him.
And, judging by the wide, unabashed grin currently breaking out on Ope's bearded face, he feels the same damn way.
"Jeesuus Christ… Both of you?" is all Ope says as the guard busies himself with the cuffs at his wrists, but his smile's looking like it must be hurting his cheeks. Then, the cuffs are off, the guard's stepping away, and Jax is on his feet. He barely registers pulling Tara around the table with him before they're both wrapped firmly into an Opie Winston bear hug.
Both their faces are suddenly mashed haphazardly into the orange of Opie's orange prison garb- the side of Jax's chin abraded by the rough collar somewhere atop Ope's shoulder, Tara's cheek pressed firmly into the small chest pocket on the opposite side- but neither of them care. Their arms encircle one another and Ope, meeting around his back just as his much larger ones draw them both even more solidly into him. And for a moment, Jax can't help but feel like they're the Three Musketeers again, a rush of memories quickly followed by those they'd made as the SAMCRO VP, the President, and his Old Lady in the playhouse in Tara's back yard. They're the three best friends they'd been since they were kids and had learned what friendship really was; reunited for the first time in far too many months.
"Alright, Winston, that's enough."
Reluctantly, Ope lets go, clapping Jax on the shoulder and squeezing Tara's hand. Then, they sit, Tara surreptitiously wiping her eyes with Jax beside her and Ope across the table- but they're all grinning like fucking lunatics. And maybe that's what they are, because who the hell smiles in a goddamn prison visitation room? Somehow, though, that doesn't seem to matter, and for a precious few seconds, Jax enjoys having his best friend and his girl at the same table regardless of the setting.
Opie, being Opie, seems to sense the emotional bent Jax's mind is taking. And so, as he always had, he shakes his head and immediately starts giving Jax shit.
"'Bout time you two remembered I was locked up in here. Christ, I was startin' to think Donna was the only one left in Charming."
Once, the rush of guilt that he'd felt at Ope being locked up without him coupled with that he'd been feeling at the length of time that had passed since his last visit would have had him apologizing almost immediately. But the clarity his time away from Charming and having Tara here by his side have brought him means he's able to see Ope's comment for what it really is. It's just another jab only two friends who are practically brothers in more ways than one can share.
The revelation takes him by surprise, really- especially since he'd spent half the drive to Rogue River with that same guilt gnawing somewhere in the pit of his stomach. But Ope's just so fucking happy to see them that Jax finds himself joking right along with him.
"Yeah, well, even if I'd remembered, it's not like I'd've recognized your ugly ass anyway. They don't let you shave in here, or what?"
At this, Ope reaches up to stroke his beard- which has grown to almost epic proportions in the intervening months, sprouting wildly from his sideburns, filling in his cheeks, upper lip, and chin before trailing halfway to his chest. He looks more like his old man than ever, even though his beard resembles Bobby's more than anyone's.
"I got tired of scrapin' at my cheeks with a blunt-ass razor pretty quick- 'specially since I had some guard starin' at me the whole time," Ope deadpans. "Not that you'd know what that's like anyway- you ain't never had to deal with much more than peach fuzz, brother."
Jax snickers, reminded suddenly of just a couple short weeks ago when he'd broken down and shaved for the first time in a long time, the night he'd surprised Tara at the performing arts center. Idly, he reaches to rub at his own chin- once again littered with stubbly growth. But, any barb he'd been formulating to deliver back in Ope's direction is quickly forgotten when Tara pipes up next to him.
"Jesus, you guys can turn anything into a competition," she says drily. "Remember when Otto started growing out his hair and you both boycotted Floyd's because you wanted to look like him?"
"Yup," Ope returns, grinning. "I won that one- Pop was a way easier sell than Gemma."
"Or when we got those temporary tattoos at Fun Town right before the third grade and neither of you would wash your necks because you were determined to show them off in your school pictures?"
"Now that one, I won-" Jax is saying, only to be interrupted by Tara's snort.
"Yeah, except Gemma made you get a retake because you looked like you'd lost a fight with a magic marker. That thing was unrecognizable a month after you got it-"
"I'll have you know, I was very proud of that smudge," Jax retorts, defiantly. "Especially since it outlasted Ope's by at least a week."
"Yeah, because Mary scrubbed it off with rubbing alcohol the day before. She'd have done yours, too, except you took off running like a little girl."
For his part, Opie says nothing, at first, just tents his fingers and rests his chin on his hands, smiling.
"What?" Jax asks, noticing his friend's sudden silence. Ope just chuckles and waves his hand in their direction.
"Nothin'- just missed watchin' someone else put you in your place is all." And suddenly, Ope's smile is directed at both of them. "Seriously though- I'm glad the two of you finally got your heads outta your asses and worked things out. I'm happy for ya."
"Thanks, man," is all Jax can say- but an uneasy prickling sets up at the back of his neck as he wonders what, exactly, Ope knows about their situation.
"Yeah, it's… Uh, thanks, Opie." Tara tries a smile, but hell, anyone who knows her- and Ope definitely fits that description- can tell it isn't a real one, that she's less than comfortable. Jax watches as Opie glances back and forth between the two of them, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the way Tara's biting her lip, the way Jax can't help shifting a little on his seat despite his best efforts-
"Jeesus Christ," Ope utters for a second time- only his voice is tinted with exasperation and something bordering on anger. "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."
"Ope-"
"Grow the fuck up, would ya?" He pushes himself back away from the table in disgust, as if he's preparing to stand up and walk off- except everyone at the table is painfully aware Opie is the only one of the three of them who isn't free to do exactly that. So, he folds his arms and stays put, glowering. "You mean to tell me that I'm in prison and only get to see my girl for an hour every weekend- and me and Donna are the only ones who got our shit straight?"
"We-"
"You two don't have to have guards watchin' your every move or someone readin' every goddamn word you write to each other- and when was the last time you had to stand in line and make a collect call when you wanted to talk?" Opie grouses, clearly becoming more irritated with every word. "Ain't nobody have more freedom to get your shit together than you two, and you're gonna piss it all away by bein' stubborn?"
"Opie-"
"And another thing-"
"Harry Winston, if you interrupt me one more goddamn time, I swear to God I'll tell the club you cried that time I made you watch Bambi." Jax watches as whatever scathing remark Opie had been intending to deliver next dies on his lips, and Tara narrows her eyes, leaning across the table defiantly. "God forbid we take the time we need to figure our shit out, Mr. High and Mighty- and not two months ago, you sat right here at one of these tables and told me you understood. We're not all you and Donna, you know."
She's pissed, too- almost as pissed as Ope had been just moments ago- and goddamn if Jax isn't a little turned on at the flush in her cheeks, the dangerous glint in her green eyes. He's shifting in his seat for an entirely different reason than he had just a minute ago when all of a sudden, Ope's chuckling and raising his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright, Knowles. Fair point." He shifts his gaze to Jax, raising a thick brow in amusement, this time. "You got a long road ahead of you brother, but maybe you deserve it."
Jax can only shrug before easing himself out of his seat and reaching across the table to pat Ope on the shoulder.
"Maybe. And maybe you deserve to hear what she's got to say, too. Either way, that's my cue to hit the can."
And the way they both look up at him- Tara with a soft smile and what he thinks might be gratitude, and Ope with a hint of alarm- reassures him that he'd made the right call.
The rest of their visit is as relaxing and pleasant as Jax could have expected from one that's taking place in a fucking prison. To his surprise, both Tara and Ope had been laughing when he'd returned, and they'd folded him right back into the conversation as if he'd never left. They'd enjoyed reminiscing for a good chunk of their time, but talk had quickly turned to Opie's case- another subject that's no longer as forbidden as it once had been.
It turns out Rosen has a pretty good shot at proving procedural errors on the part of the law in the days and weeks after Ope's arrest, and though it'll take months, potentially, to get the right pieces into place and actually get approved for an appeal, he'd already filed the paperwork. And if it doesn't work out, Ope had said, I'll do the time. But I'm at peace with the whole thing, brother.
Shit, it's nothing compared to actually being out and with Donna, Jax, Tara and the club- and the thought of another four and a half years before he even has a shot at a parole board is as intimidating as ever. But even the prospect of the appeal has Ope- who's guarded and quiet on even the best days- significantly lighter than on Jax's previous visits.
Of course, there's another difference between this and the last time Jax and Opie had been in here together- and she's sitting right next to Jax, chatting animatedly about her classes with an interested-looking Opie, the pretty pink tint of excitement in her cheeks a stark contrast to the angry red flush of a half hour ago.
On his previous visit, Jax'd been desolate, desperate, and, frankly, a miserable piece of shit without her. Now, he's still got a shitload of work to do to get her back, but the jagged hole she'd left in his heart when she'd skipped town is steadily mending itself day by day. It's almost like… he knows how to participate in the world again now that she's nearby. The sight of her talking and laughing with his brother makes it even better.
"Fifteen minutes, Winston."
The guard's voice breaks into his thoughts- not to mention Tara's rundown of her heavy course load, which had Ope shaking his head in amusement. And without missing a beat, she reaches for Jax's hand- and Opie's with the other- and gives them both a quick squeeze.
"I'll give you guys a few minutes, okay?" Tara shoots Ope a sweet smile, bestows a more lingering one upon Jax- and then rises to head towards the adjoining room Jax had passed through earlier.
They're quiet a few moments, watching her wade through several pairs of fathers and kids before pausing in front of a vending machine they both know she has no real interest in. And, somehow, he loves her just a little more for it.
"Tara's a strong chick, man- she really stepped up for Donna when I went in." Ope shifts his gaze to Jax, seeming to assess his reaction a moment before continuing. "Gotta be strong to handle all of your bullshit." Jax snorts- shit, he can't disagree with him there. "This… thing, the shit that's still between you? She's workin' on it, buildin' up that trust, doin' her best to convince herself she doesn't have to protect herself as much when it comes to you." Jax swallows, nodding.
"I know, man."
"You been workin' too, from what she says." And Jax meets his eyes dead-on, honest. Once, he'd been almost nervous to tell Ope about his plans for the future- the delay in their plans to be a force at the SAMCRO table, together… But now, he's almost as at peace with it- just as Ope is with whatever his next few years hold.
"I have, bro- been workin' on myself and on us. Took the temporary transfer up there 'cause I just needed out of Charming, like I told you. Hell, I took your advice, did what I had to do to get clear of the shit that was piling up around me. But I also did it because of her. I knew it was time for me to do the givin' for once."
Opie huffs out a brief laugh.
"Yeah, she said you showed up at her apartment and she slammed the door in your goddamn face." Grinning, Jax shakes his head, fondly.
"Yeah, she did. But I've spent every spare minute I got tryin' to make sure she knows I'm in it for real this time. Got my head clear in more ways than one." Jax shrugs, stroking his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then bites the bullet. "I'm gonna ask for a more permanent transfer when this job's done. Spend some time in SAMTAC until Tara graduates in a couple years- then we'll handle med school and shit when we got more information. And by then, maybe your ass'll be outta this shithole." Ope nods, though Jax can't tell what he's thinking any more than he ever could.
"Maybe…" Opie shrugs. "She told me you said you're stayin' up there, and it's a big move, Jax- But what're you doin' to prove it to her? To give her what she needs so she can trust that you ain't gonna fold and run back to Charming the next time shit gets hard?" Jax sighs, tries to stem the protest that always seems to lurk, unwanted, in the back of his mind at moments like these- that she'd been the one to run the last time shit got hard.
"I've been doin' my club duties- everything Lee asks of me- but I'm takin' every spare minute I can to be with her… as much as she'll let me. I'm takin' my dad's advice and puttin' her first, for once, you know? But-"
"But she's still not quite there." Ope finishes, simply. At Jax's silence, he scratches his chin. "Maybe it's this half-in-half-out shit that's got her nervous." Jax shoots him a questioning glance, and Ope shakes his head. "Look, I know she's happy you're there for her when she needs you- and I know that because she just finished tellin' me. But if this is gonna work, you gotta show her you'll do what it takes to stay in Tacoma for the long haul."
"Christ, Ope, I left Charming, for her. I'm stayin' in Tacoma, for her. But she still can't even tell me she loves me." At least not while she's awake, his mind supplies. Opie rolls his eyes.
"Quit bein' such a damn baby. You know she loves you, Brother- she wouldn't even be thinkin' about puttin' up with you if she didn't." Jax sighs.
"I know. But it ain't even about that anymore, you know? I just-" He clears his throat, suddenly unsure how to put one of his deepest insecurities into words. "It just… hurts, knowin' she's feelin' how she's feelin', but she's purposely holdin' back on tellin' me." Opie studies him a moment, pulling at his beard.
"You know, when she came to visit me the last time, not long after she left Charming, she was miserable, too. Part of it was because she thought you might've moved on, but most of it was just her missin' you. And I told her that you'd get it together because despite all your bullshit, I ain't never seen someone love someone else the way you love her. Except it wasn't all the truth." Jax frowns, confused.
"Truth is, I have seen it before- because that girl loves you back just as much." Ope breaks into a grin. "Only God knows why." And suddenly, Jax is smiling right along with him- he'd needed the words, and if not from Tara, Ope's the next best thing. But it's only a moment before they're sobering once again.
"But the next thing I did was ask her where the hell she was- 'cause if you were gonna make things right, you needed to know where to go to do it. And you know what she said?" Jax shakes his head. "That if you wanted to find her, you would. She wouldn't tell me where she was, because she was protectin' herself, man. She knew even better than I did what would happen if you'd have flown up there after her and asked her to come back to Charming with you- and what she needed was for you to show her you understood shit needed to change. Even more, she needed to know you'd do what you had to do to be with her."
"And that's why I eventually did."
"You showin' up, stayin' in Tacoma- that's tellin' her you're willing to leave Charming to be with her. But how do you make sure she knows you'll stay? I think that's what she's waitin' on more than anything- she needs to know this new you is gonna last before she puts herself out there again." Ope eyes him, Jax's unspoken But how? almost a live current between them. "This is what I do know- she's more aware than you think that gettin' in good with SAMTAC is the only thing that guarantees you'll be there with her these next few years. So you gotta be all in, with the club, with her- find that balance we were both too dumb to figure out in Charming."
It makes sense- it does. But Jax can't help but repeat his friend's words from seconds ago.
"Find that balance… and how the hell do I do that?"
"Brother, if I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't be sittin' here right now."
Opie's words stay with him as Tara returns to the table and hugs Ope goodbye, through his own fierce hug and slap on the back, and through every last mile of the drive back to Rogue River.
*A/N: Thanks again for sticking with me through these long waits. This chapter grew legs I didn't expect, so the second half of this little arc to our story will be in the next chapter. As always, I owe the continued development of this story to Ang R- thanks so much to her for all her midnight readings, brainstorming sessions, and plot nuggets!