"Hey, hey, Tara. You've got your sons, and you've got Jax, okay?" I remind her, because sure, the world back home didn't stop, but after nearly eight years of this shit, I've pretty much learned that what happens back home means fuck all to us, here. It's not like we can do anything about it.

Then it really hits me. Jax's mother. What in the fuck?

And she fought. She fought with everything she fuckin' had. Beaten, drowned, stabbed.

Reaching out to cover her trembling hands with my own, I say, "You're here. You're whole family's here, and you're okay."