drownedindreams | The more things change... (Jax)

The more things change... (Jax)

Tara doesn't know what time it is - it's dark outside, and she's fumbling for her keys. She's exhausted.

She's also two hours late - maybe more - and covered in blood, in various stages of drying. It's smeared her cheek, soaked into her clothes, on her hands - mostly gone from her hands, but she didn't do a surgical scrub so it's under her nails, it's everywhere.

Her phone's dead - she'd thought she'd go home to charge it, but she'd been ten minutes - maybe less, from being in a bookstore with a guy with a gun. Russell'd gotten shot, instead, and Derek-- and other bystanders. She'd helped however she could, nevermind that she was 35 weeks pregnant and had all the dexterity of a land whale.

It brought back bad memories. Bad, bad memories, and she couldn't seem to get the key in the lock. She should be able to, but she just kept missing it, even though she tried.

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Jax had heard about the shooting. It had been impossible not to, no matter how much he tried not to think about it. When Tara hadn't answered her phone the first couple times, he'd told himself to calm the fuck down. It's not like this is the first time that Tara's dealt with gunshot wounds. No matter their shit luck, it's pretty unlikely that Tara'd been at the bookstore.

When Shannon and Macha jump off the couch and hurry over to the door, tails wagging, Jax doesn't even have it in him to pretend he's not relieved.

"Shit, Tara," he says, opening the door. "You okay?"

"I- uh." Her brows furrowed, but she nodded. "I'm okay. Russell - you know, Katie's Russell?" Katie'd been in their wedding, and they'd been to the house before. "He was shot, and I was there- I wanted to pick up a book for Abel, in case Kiera comes early, but-" She just stops, and she runs a hand over her face, still not coming into the house because she hasn't been able to get her feet to move yet. "Russell's okay."

She looks almost lost, when her eyes finally find Jax's.

"Holy fuck..." Jax drags her in, the dogs nudging at her knees and calves from behind. Though they've always been friendly to him, Jax thinks that they're far more empathetic with Tara, especially as they whine plaintively and look at her with wagging tails.

Not giving damn about the blood, Jax holds her in his arms and kisses her hair. This isn't supposed to be their life, not anymore. "Figures you were busy saving live."

"I mean, he wouldn't have died- I just... It's been a long time." She turns enough that she can lean against him, and her hand's resting over his heart. "I- What're we doing, Jax?" The dogs wind around their legs, and she just needs some reassurance that it's- God, she doesn't even know why.

She knew what to do and how, and she hates it, a little, but there's another part of her that's glad. There is. She's glad she knew what to do, she's glad it wasn't Jax, but there's a part that's just- Ah, there it is. The normal. The shoe, dropping for now.

Her friends - cops, but still - getting shot. She's used to it, and she doesn't even know what to do with that feeling.

Jax sighs and shifts around to her side so that he can hug Tara right against him without having to lean around her belly. It's too familiar and they're too used to it, the blood and the danger. He doesn't doubt for a second that Tara'd probably been on the scene, triaging like the goddamn professional she is.

And now she's here and he needs to be solid for her. An old lady is a biker's solid and he needs to be the same.

"Whose blood is that...?" He hates that he has to ask.

"Russell's, mostly. A little from Derek - Derek Hale, he was luckily a bystander, and not somebody else who doesn't heal as fast." Like herself, is what she's thinking, but she doesn't say it. She can't, not when it's not just her to worry about.

"Went through his calf - he's going to need some intensive therapy, probably, but at least it went through and isn't lodged in his leg, right?" She's trying to treat it like it's run of the mill, except it isn't. It so isn't.

"Hey..." He knows that grasping, searching look, the search for stability. When had he made her this? The hardness and pragmatism in Tara is still something for which Jax blames himself. She's always been practical, but it's been forged into steel by the club. "You don't have to be the mob doctor anymore. Or the perfect surgeon."

Not around him.

She stares up at him, her brows furrowed. "I'm not- I know that, Jax. I'm a surgeon, that's all. I know how to deal with bullet holes from Chicago, even before I moved back to Charming." She's excusing it - they've been spacing themselves as far as they can from the past; from their past lives. Don't talk about it, don't reference it, don't think about it.

This shit just bring some of it home to roost.

"Katie's working right now - I know what it's like, we should offer to watch Jaime if she needs it."

"Yeah, of course." That's the easy part. It's a given that they'd take care of their own, and that means their friends' kids.

Someday, they're gonna have to actually talk about the things that are wearing at Tara. It's come out in bits and pieces, clawed out along the way slowly, but there's still shit that haunts her that she won't say.

Those skeletons are trying to creep forward now.

"Tara. Let's get the blood off you."

"Yeah," she says with a nod. "The boys...?" She's asking if they're asleep, it's the only reason she's hesitating. She's so fucking tired of all of this, she has been for years, but anything she can do to protect her children from this-

This hell that they've gotten themselves into, no matter how they try and get out--

She's got blood everywhere because she did a good thing, and she knows that, but jesus, after the kitchen, she never wants Thomas or Abel to see blood on her ever again, it feels like.

"Baby-sitter," Jax promises. He leans in close and cups her face, smoothing thumbs over her cheekbones. "I was gonna go pick them up...I can call..."

Tara looks like she could crumple at any second and it hurts Jax to see that. He doesn't know what scares him more, the way Tara gets cold and steely or when she looks so fragile.

That's all she needed to hear, so she could take a breath, and she could nod and then get this taken care of. "Good, I just didn't want them to see this." She turns her face to his hand, pressing a kiss to his fingers. "It's okay, baby. I put him back together, I just want to get the blood off before you go get the kids. Alright?" She could act like this was normal, just like he had for so long, back home.

"Why the fuck do you think we got that giant tub?" It's a pretty damn bad joke, though he likes to think they've enjoyed the tub plenty since they chose it. Not that he'll immediately admit to the multitude of benefits that come from living on Tara's dime. Pride still has a place.

"Get cleaned up. I'll bring out boys home."

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The more things change... (Jax)

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