(no subject)

Tara knocked on Helen's door, not even knowing what to expect. She looks like a mess. There's a duffle bag hanging on one of her shoulders, and even though she's schooled herself to the point that she's not crying, and her voice is remarkably even... things obviously still aren't okay.

It's only 10:30 - Tara's hoping she's not asleep, and that's why she does knock, and why she forces herself to stand still, to just wait to see if she's home.

(no subject)

Waiting until the boys were down was the easy part. Jax has recovered enough that he can carry Abel, although Thomas (wiggling, happy Thomas, who now weighs nearly thirty pounds) was a little harder especially if he was awake.

The apartment's full of boxes, somehow - she's only been there four months, but they've been packing and buying things they'll need an Macha's got her own set of things (she's currently roughly the size of a housecat, and she's blissfully asleep in her dog bed.)

Tara'd been rolling this over in her mind for weeks - since the church, since the stabbing, since the overwhelming wave of relief when she'd realised that she wasn't pregnant. It's the advice from Allison, from one of the nicest priests that Tara's ever met, and John Watson that replay in her head over and over, and it's why she comes close and bends to kiss him before moving to sit beside him on the couch and she sort of folds herself in so that she's sitting in the corner, her legs tucked up under her.

"So," she says without really a lot of preamble, "There's no way for me to really... say this in a way that makes it sound like things that okay," she says with a sort of huffed laugh, "But there's some things we should talk about, that've been sitting for... a long time, between us, and.... I just... need to talk to you about them." Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth, and she glances up at him like she's waiting for him to give her the goahead.