"I don't know," she says hollowly, and she's had too much to drink. "I don't know. I don't know, John. All I know is that this wasn't supposed to happen, that we left that place and it's the same fucking injury and what happened there can't happen here."
"That club- it's who he is. I don't- I don't know what I'm doing, I don't- We always talked about getting out, but- but not what would after, and-" She's twisting herself in circles, and getting more upset as she tries to explain. "I'm not pinning my problems on the club, I- There are-"
"That's not who he is," she says as she finally looks at him. "Jax is not the kind of guy who stays away from those guys, John. He never has been, and he won't be, and if he tries, it'll work for a little while until one of them pushes too far and then I'm going to get a phone call because either he's in jail or dead or needs to find a place to put a body. That is the kind of backup he needs, and- Just- I don't know why I called. I'm sorry." She's shaking, and she's trying not to cry because everything's in pieces and she's slept three hours out of the last thirty and the man who's functionally her husband is lying across the street in the ICU - and the last two and a half days, even without this, have been a trial.
She called him because she buckled under the pressure, but she'd forgotten that she'd been hiding so much of herself from the world that nobody knew what the hell was going on. It was how she'd sort of made it be - even Jax didn't know, she'd been carrying all of these burdens herself and just trying to bear up under the weight of them for him and their family. Jax isn't in the hole she's in and so can see a way out; Tara's going to need to be lead, because she's so deep that she can't even see what John's saying is even possible.
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"That club- it's who he is. I don't- I don't know what I'm doing, I don't- We always talked about getting out, but- but not what would after, and-" She's twisting herself in circles, and getting more upset as she tries to explain. "I'm not pinning my problems on the club, I- There are-"
"That's not who he is," she says as she finally looks at him. "Jax is not the kind of guy who stays away from those guys, John. He never has been, and he won't be, and if he tries, it'll work for a little while until one of them pushes too far and then I'm going to get a phone call because either he's in jail or dead or needs to find a place to put a body. That is the kind of backup he needs, and- Just- I don't know why I called. I'm sorry." She's shaking, and she's trying not to cry because everything's in pieces and she's slept three hours out of the last thirty and the man who's functionally her husband is lying across the street in the ICU - and the last two and a half days, even without this, have been a trial.
She called him because she buckled under the pressure, but she'd forgotten that she'd been hiding so much of herself from the world that nobody knew what the hell was going on. It was how she'd sort of made it be - even Jax didn't know, she'd been carrying all of these burdens herself and just trying to bear up under the weight of them for him and their family. Jax isn't in the hole she's in and so can see a way out; Tara's going to need to be lead, because she's so deep that she can't even see what John's saying is even possible.