It feels so good to be able to make her laugh, hear her laugh, especially after the day they've had, and this messed up encounter with Colette. There is definitely a truth to the old saying, laughter is indeed the best medicine.

But Tara's small laugh, which delighted him so much just now, suddenly begins to die down, and with her head still bowed, he isn't able to see the expression on her face change until she suddenly speaks up.

She isn't crying again, but her voice is undoubtedly strained with emotions, "Just tell me something, Jax. If I ... if I hadn't been here ... if I hadn't insisted on doing this with you, what would've happened?" She suddenly sits up straight, and lifts her head to look right at him, wanting to read his facial expression as he answers her question.

"You mean with ...?" But her name dies down on his lips, and he simply nods and waves his hands in the direction of the bedroom, where Colette limped out of the room less than fifteen minutes ago.

He raises his eyebrows, and shakes his head, "Nothing, Babe! Nothing would've happened. I promise you." Jax solemnly answers, and quickly steps closer to her again, but instead of getting back on his knees in front of her, he simply reaches for her hands, and pulls her up to stand face-to-face with him this time, and Tara lets him. "You are who I love ... who I want, Tara. And there is nothing and no one that can ever make me lose sight of that again."

"You say that now, but you've lost sight of it before," Tara replies without missing a beat. "More than once." As much as she loves to hear his declarations of love, and wants to believe him, her head refuses to give in so easily to her heart. There is always this nagging voice in the back of her mind that tells her to keep her guard up. Reminding her how much he's hurt her in the past. Replaying that moment she walked in on him and her.

Jax lets out a heavy sigh, and stares into her eyes for a long moment before he finally answers her. His eyes look sad and troubled, as he gives her hands that still rest in his a little squeeze. "You know that old saying, how you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone?"

Tara nods. Of course, she knew it.

"It's true! When I found you in our kitchen, I thought I'd lost you. There was so much blood, I thought you were dead."

He stops speaking, trying his best to not get overwhelmed by the emotions the memory evokes in him. He doesn't want to think back too hard on it all, because it still makes his heart constrict painfully in his chest every time that bloody image of her flits through his mind.

"Look, Babe. I could've lied when you asked me about Colette before. I could've said that the day you walked in on us was the only time. But I didn't. I know I've hurt you. I know this run-in with her tonight has hurt you. You don't know how much I wish I could undo it all, go back, and not make the mistakes I've made, but I can't. I told you the truth 'cause I realized that the only way this can work, is if we stop pretending and are truthful with each other. No more lies, no more secrets. Full disclosure. A clean slate, that will hopefully sooner rather than later lead to a fresh start."

Tara holds his gaze for a long moment, and what she sees in his blue eyes staring back at her is proof that he really means what he just said.

A fresh start? The whole truth? Full disclosure? She isn't so sure he can handle all the things that still burden her, and probably will burden her for years to come. All the doubt that still plagues her, especially now, that they find themselves back here, back in Charming. The whores! SAMCRO! Gemma!

Tara looks down, and pulls her hands out of his as she slowly takes a couple of steps away from him. She contemplates how to go about telling him this. He's tried to pick her brain for what seems like a million times in the past, about what she remembers about the day when she was attacked. The sad truth is that she still has no real recollection, but she never dared to share her thoughts and opinions on what she believes might've happened.

What is it, Babe? is on the tip of Jax's tongue, but he doesn't say it. Instead, he watches her silently, and leans back against the sink, folding his arms in front of himself again. He waits patiently and watches her as she clearly struggles to find the words to share something with him.

"You want full disclosure?" She awkwardly turns back toward him, and crosses her arms in front of herself, mimicking his stance just a few feet away from him.

Jax nods, "It would be a start."

"There's some stuff I haven't told you." She starts, but pauses to let out the breath she's apparently been holding. "When I first woke up, the new sheriff talked to me about what had happened, and asked me what I remembered and all that. When she told me that Juice was their main suspect, I wondered if maybe you were behind it."

"What?" Jax can't help the look of shock that crosses his face. He has secretly suspected it, because of how long it took for them to allow him to finally see her. But to hear her actually say it, and to know that's what she thought, feels like a stab to his heart. The same feeling that had gutted him when he sat down across from her on that fateful day in the park, and he suddenly realized she thought he was really going to kill her. It is a feeling unlike any other, second only to the few moments when he thought her to be lying dead in his arms.

"I thought maybe you changed your mind after talking to the guys," Tara confesses, embarrassed now that she ever thought he would do such a thing to her.

"Jesus Christ, Babe." He says, and dares a step toward her, his hands reaching out to touch her once more. "What in the world would make you think something like that? I would never ..." He can't even say the words out loud, the thought that he could ever physically harm her, or have her harmed, in any way is too outrageous, too absurd.

Soothing hands encircle her upper arms, before one reaches up to wipe the tear from her cheek that escaped her eye. Tara wipes at her face herself now, trying to get her breathing under control again, along with her emotions. "Gemma. Just something she'd said."

"Gemma?" Jax repeats in disbelief, and shakes his head in denial and irritation. "What did she say?"

"She said you love deeply, but hate deeper. Said that you would not let me raise my boys." A tear falls again from her eyes at the memory, and how defeated she felt when Gemma said those ugly things to her. "She said it was up to me how that would be explained to Thomas and Abel. That it would be either Mommy moved away, or Mommy passed away." She dares to look up, and meets his concerned eyes focused wholeheartedly on her.

"Jesus Christ." Jax curses out loud, and turns away from her angrily. He can't even look at her right now. He isn't angry with Tara though, but with his mother, with the things she said, and the doubt she inadvertently placed into Tara's head. But he is also angry with himself. Angry that he allowed the rift between them to grow and fester to the point that his mother's heinous words would ever ring true in Tara's mind.

Tara wipes at her face, trying her best not to cry, "I knew you weren't behind it once I saw you. When I saw how relieved you were that I woke up ... I knew then it wasn't you!" She pauses and shakes her head to herself, brushing her hair back out of her face as if that would also brush away the uneasiness she is feeling. "It just doesn't make sense why Juice would go after me, attack me like that. What did I ever do to him, for him to want me dead?"

Jax shakes his head, and closes his eyes in frustration as he takes another couple of steps away from her. He leans back against the sink, his hands holding onto the porcelain as if he needs something to keep him from losing his balance. "That's on me, Babe. I made Juice do something for the Club ... something I shouldn't have asked of him." Jax shakes his head again, his eyes focused on the floor, ashamed to meet her eyes this time when Darvany crosses his mind, "I think it broke him, broke something inside of him. I'm not sure if that's what made him snap. And if your memory doesn't come back we might never know what happened between you two in that kitchen. But regardless of what happened, what he ultimately did to you, is not your fault. It is mine." For dragging you into this life of blood and pain.

Tara can see how much that thought still burdens him. How he can't even look at her out of shame and guilt, and for a moment she wonders if she should even tell him what else is on her mind. She contemplates her options for a long moment as they both stand there silently, because she knows that the other possibility would crush him even more than the idea that Juice acted alone.

In the end, she decides to go through with it and finally tells him. She's held onto those thoughts for so long, never told anyone, not Margaret, not Lowen, not Christy ... no one! But she realizes that if anyone needs to know how she truly feels, and what her own suspicions are, it would be Jax.

"Has it ever crossed your mind that Juice didn't act alone?" Tara dares to ask the question that has boggled her mind more times than she likes to admit.

Jax's eyes snap to meet hers, confusion on his face now, "What do you mean?"

Tara presses her lips together for a few seconds, trying her best to find the right words, "Did you ever think that maybe SAMCRO was behind it? Told Juice to do it? I mean, with me out of the picture, you wouldn't have to give yourself up to Patterson. They wouldn't have lost their President. And no more chance of me ratting either." She blurts the words out so quickly, so fast, that it takes Jax a second to comprehend what she's saying and is accusing his brothers of.

"No, of course not." Jax suddenly replies, and a newfound realization sparks in the back of his mind.

The way she acted toward his brothers after she woke up. How she avoided T-M, the Ice Cream Shop, and Diosa at all costs. It all makes sense now.

"Jesus Christ, is that what you think?" He quickly steps toward her and grabs her face, forcing her to look up at him. "There's no way, Babe. No fucking way. They know how much you mean to me. How it would destroy me if anything happened to you."

Tara swallows the lump in her throat, and nods in understanding, but just because Jax has no doubts about the loyalty of his former brothers, doesn't make her doubt disappear so easily.

Jax can't stop himself, he just has to pull her into his arms. "You've been holding onto that shit all this time? Why the hell didn't you tell me?" He mumbles against her temple as he pulls her even closer to him.

"I can't remember anything, and that scares me, Jax. I don't know who to trust." Tara answers, too emotional to elaborate more than that. And even though he doesn't think it's possible that SAMCRO is behind what happened to her, she's still glad and relieved that she dared to tell him how she felt, what she thought, and her fears. It is definitely a much-needed step in the right direction for him and her.

"Get dressed." Jax suddenly says, and pulls away from her, holding her at arm's length to look into her eyes. If the encounter with Colette isn't reason enough already, this undoubtedly is enough to rethink his idea of bringing her here tonight.

"What?" Tara replies, looking up at him confused.

"Let's get the hell out of here, Babe."

X

Tara stares at the row of whiskey bottles much too long, contemplating her options. She dares a look over her shoulder at Jax, a couple aisles over, wondering what he will think if she picks one up. She's got no doubt he'll probably remind her of the last time she drank, but she quit taking her anxiety meds cold turkey after that night a couple weeks ago. And right now, she could really -really- use a drink.

With one last look in Jax's direction, she reaches for the cheapest bottle and places it in the plastic shopping basket in her hand, among the rest of her comfort foods, some chips, candy, chocolates, and even a small tub of ice cream.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Jax appears by her side, dropping his own stash of snacks in the basket. When he spots the whiskey, he reaches for it and holds it up to her, the look on his face a mixture of doubt and worry, "You think this is a good idea?"

Tara grabs it back from him and unceremoniously puts it right back in the basket. "I'm not taking those meds anymore." She huffs, the tone in her voice leaving no doubt that it annoys her, he dares to question her drinking. She's walking down the aisle, touching this and that, pretending her best she can't feel his eyes on her with every step she takes.

"Since when?" He asks, when he catches up to her, taking the heavy basket out of her hand to carry it for her.

"Since we started getting along." She answers honestly, and stops long enough to look up at him, giving him just the smallest hint of a smile.

He isn't sure what to say to that, but the genuine smile that forms on his lips, followed by an almost silent chuckle, speaks volumes enough.

He dares a glance in the basket, "Well, Babe, we need anything else?"

Tara looks over the content for a second, before she replies, "Well, it's not the pizza I'm craving, but it'll do."

X

Jax unlocks the motel room, and holds the door open for Tara to step in ahead of him.

Tara flips the lights on, and both give the room a once-over, after they step all the way inside. It is small, and the furniture and decor are at least a decade past their prime, but nonetheless, it is clean and most importantly to Tara, it is neither a whorehouse, nor some place SAMCRO frequents.

Jax places their bags on the floor, "Well, it's not the Ritz, but -"

"It's not bad." Tara interrupts, finishing his sentence, and drops her purse and their shopping bags on the dresser beside her.

It is pretty late, and they are tired and hungry, so they waste no time settling in.

Tara quickly changes back into her pajamas, and Jax pulls his gray sweats back on to sleep in as well.

Before too long, Tara finds herself half-sitting, half-lying down, with her back against the small wooden footboard of the bed. She adjusts the pillows behind her, trying to sit up more, so she can take a drink from the whiskey bottle Jax just handed to her, without spilling it all over herself.

The sting in her throat is both expected and familiar, as is the warmth that begins to spread through her almost instantly. But the caramel-colored liquid isn't the only thing that makes her body heat rise at the moment. She tries not to squirm as Jax's eyes linger on all the wrong places just a little too long for comfort. She really doesn't want to encourage him by letting on how much it affects her.

She tries to ignore the way Jax is watching her, the way he looks her up and down more than once since they got comfortable in this bed. Sure, it would be so easy to give into those looks, and the smirk that usually follows once she catches him looking. It would be so easy to crawl over to him and share the taste of whiskey on her lips with him. But should she?

Can she be that girl again, even if just for one night? The one that is careless, carefree, and throws caution to the wind. She is ashamed that the thought is even crossing her mind, because she knows that she can't, or rather shouldn't, no matter how tempting he is!

This isn't right. This isn't how they should finally take that next step in their relationship. Not like this, not after the day they had, after what they had to do. Maybe it is wishful thinking, but she wants to believe that when the time is right, she'll somehow know it. That her heart will tell her head that it's alright ... and it simply isn't alright just yet.

Surely, things are better between them, there's no denying that, even despite the encounter with Colette earlier, or maybe it's because of it.

It's almost as if once they set foot into this room, all the shit from earlier today just fell away, disappeared and she felt something shift, in the air, or between them, or maybe both. Like a dark stormy cloud that's been following them around has suddenly evaporated into thin air. Like the ordeal with Josh is just now really over. Or like the beating, she gave Colette, as ashamed as she feels now in hindsight, and without that rage clouding her mind, it has also broken something free in her. She can't really explain it, but it almost resembles something like ... closure.

Who would've thought that some crappy motel on the outskirts of Stockton would be the saving grace for her sanity?

And then, of course, there are her confessions to Jax about her fears and doubts about SAMCRO's involvement in the attempt on her life. Confessing all that has somehow lifted a weight off of her shoulders she hadn't even realized was there. If she had known that sharing those things with him would be so liberating, so freeing, she would've never kept them from him, and would've shared them right away.

Jax sits against the headboard, two pillows behind him to cushion his back from the carved wooden surface, waiting rather patiently for his turn. He stretches out his arm to take the bottle from her, watching her as she wipes her mouth with the back of her un-bandaged hand in a child-like manner.

Tara's watching him too, as he puts the bottle to his lips, and slowly raises it. Jax takes swig after swig, and she can't help her eyes from drifting from his lips to his neck, where his Adam's apple moves with every gulp.

It isn't long before her eyes drift even further down, to his Tara tattoo. The one she's been ignoring since the day she first saw it. Well, technically the first time she saw it, Jax was asleep. The second time she had a killer hang-over and was in no state of mind to question him about it. And from then on out, it just became the elephant in the room, that she tries her best to ignore, while he tries everything he can think of to make her acknowledge it.

Her cheeks redden when she realizes Jax stopped drinking and caught her examining the tattoo on his chest with the same intense scrutiny he'd spent the last twenty minutes examining every inch of her exposed skin. But he doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to. She can see the amusement of having caught her in the act written all over his unshaven face. He doesn't even try not to smirk at her, as he hands the heavy glass bottle back to her once more.

Tara avoids his eyes as she takes another sip, and another, and finally, another, before she lowers the bottle and clutches it tight with both hands, seemingly lost in her thoughts for a short moment. Maybe this childish game's gone on long enough. Maybe it's time she drops the silly facade, and asks him about her name on his chest. But just as that thought crosses her mind, she catches the amused look in his eyes, and the smirk on his face, and ... she'll be damned if she brings it up first.

Instead, she smirks back at him, holding the bottle back out to him, waiting for him to take it, which he does.

Jax shakes his head, but his eyes still sparkle with mischief as he gives her a look of utter disbelief.

He takes one quick sip, then lowers the bottle, wedging it between his thighs to keep it from falling over while he absentmindedly traces the rim of the bottle with his thumb.

But suddenly something snaps in him. Not angrily, but he simply can't hold his tongue anymore. His eyes meet hers across the bed, "You're really not gonna say anything?"

"About what?" Tara folds her arms, trying her hardest to not let that smile on her lips turn into a full-on smirk. Here we go.

"About the tattoo." Jax blurts out, and runs his left hand over the four letters in one quick fluid motion, just to make it clear which tattoo he's referring to, in case that would be her next ridiculous question.

Tara sighs, "What do you want me to say, Jax?" She sort of shrugs her shoulders at him. That I love it?

"I mean, it looks nice." She offers, trying to placate him somehow.

She can see the expression on his face change now, some of that amusement is leaving his eyes and is replaced by something else that she can't quite place.

"Right." He replies, and suddenly focuses his eyes solely on the bottle in front of him. "That's why I did it, 'cause it looks nice." She can hear the almost angry sarcasm in his tone of voice.

And she knows all too well how every speck of ink on his skin has meaning to him. He's never been the type that gets a tattoo just for looks. So naturally, Tara instantly regrets her flippant reply. She truly didn't mean to upset him.

She can feel her cheeks flush even more when she realizes that she's taken it too far. She nudges his thigh with her foot, trying to get him to look up at her again. "So why did you get it?"

He finally looks up at her again, as he pulls the bottle up to his lips once more. The expression on his face is still too serious for her liking. "Because I fucking love you, Babe." His eyes meet hers and they hold each other's gaze for a long moment, until Jax looks away, fiddling with the rim of the bottle once more.

She doesn't like that his mood has taken such an ugly turn all of a sudden, but she knows this time she is to blame.

She wants to drink, and forget all their troubles for just a little while.

Momentarily she feels paralyzed on how to lighten the air between them again. But then she scoots closer to him, and reaches for his hand, "I love you too, Jax." It's all she can think of to say, and after all, they are all about telling each other the truth now.

His eyes lift once more to meet hers, the seriousness has left his face altogether, and a small smile forms on his lips when he watches her eyes drift back to his tattoo, before she quickly adds, "And I love the tattoo."

His smile grows brighter at her words, and she can practically see his mood change again right in front of her very eyes.

She chuckles, and bites her lip, as she sits back in her old spot Indian-style, clutching one of her pillows to her chest.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You." She replies with amusement, "When you were practicing the letters of the alphabet with Abel, and made him spell out the tattoo." She recalls, and can't help but chuckle once more at the memory.

Jax laughs too, "Well, shit. You acted like it wasn't even there. I had to do something." He shrugs his shoulders at her nonchalantly, before he adds, "But on the upside, he knows how to spell your actual name now, instead of just Mom."

"True," Tara replies, and purses her lips at the thought.

A moment of silence falls between them as their chuckles die down and they pass the bottle of liquor back and forth between each other once again.

She smirks at him then, and can't bite her tongue any longer, "Honestly, the first time I saw it was when you and the boys were napping. And of course, I loved it, but I also thought that it was a bit presumptuous of you?"

"Presumptuous?" Jax repeats, a bit confused, yet still amused nonetheless. "How in hell is it presumptuous?" He can't stop himself from asking.

"Well ... it's like you're saying." She sits up straight, and tries to make her voice sound more masculine, yet fails miserably, "I'm Jackson Teller, I always get the girl, so why not put her name on my chest."

Jax busts out laughing at her failed attempt to sound like him, and Tara can't help but laugh along with him.

When his wholehearted laugh finally dies down, and he gets his breathing back under control, he shakes his head at her, still grinning ear to ear, "First off, I don't sound like that, Babe. And second, when have I ever referred to myself in the third person?"

Tara laughs, "Yeah, maybe I suck at impersonations, but you get my point, don't you?"

Jax reaches out and tugs on one of her hands, still unable to wipe the smile off of his face, "Doesn't matter if I get the girl or not, 'cause it doesn't change how I feel about her. Doesn't change how much I love her!" He winks at her as he leans back against his pillows, thoroughly content with himself, and what he said.

Their eyes connect across the small space between them, and Tara pulls the pillow closer to her chest as if it would serve as an adequate barrier between them. She groans inwardly, not wanting to give in to the butterflies in her stomach.

Jackson Teller's charm would always be her downfall.

X

Author's Note: Hope you all like the new chapter. If you do, leave me a few words. I'd really appreciate it. Reviews help tremendously with the motivation to write. xoxo, Skater