No More 1/1
No More
Fandom: Sons of Anarchy
Rating: R
Words: 660
Warnings: Depression, destructive behavior
Disclaimer: I only borrow them to fill a bingo square.
written for hc_bingo prompt “amnesia”
Summary: After Abel is kidnapped, Jax sometimes just wants to forget.
Abel was gone. He had been for weeks and it was eating Jax up like a snake that was too full to swallow him all at once, rather choking him down inch by aching inch until it was hard to breathe, hard to walk, but he was still left too conscious to not feel the pain that pushed down around him.
Jax knew that he never was a good father despite trying. He hadn't been there enough, hadn't protected his child when the kid's mother mad poisoned him with her fucking heroine. They still didn't know for sure if he wasn't going to be disabled one way or another after all the drugs and the surgery. The only thing Jax had given his boy was a defective heart and wasn't that fucking ironic?
Being handed around from hospital to nurse, to him, to his mother - and who was he kidding, the woman was a crazy bitch - and then to him, to Tara... he had always placed Abel in other people's hands because the Club came first and then he was scared shitless because what the fuck did he know about raising a kid anyway?
But as much as he had tried to be a good dad if only by handing his son into more capable hands, he had failed. His child was gone, taken, missing. And he despite his rank and his club and a dozen armed men behind him, was powerless.
Most of the time he tried to keep it together for Abel because he had to find him, bring him home. But sometimes, at night, alone on his bike, alone in his own head, he just wanted to forget. The memory of his son was killing him. The memory of how he had lost his own child, how he had been unable to protect him, was haunting him and he just wanted it to go away.
He sat on the bathroom floor, still wet from his shower and the tears he wouldn't admit to crying in many nights these days, and all he wanted was to erase the memories. Amnesia sounded so good today, so perfect. No more memories, no more pain, no more guilt. A bump to the head should do it... He threw his head backwards smashing the back of his skull against the tiled wall. And if that didn't help, maybe two would. He repeated the violent move twice, three times. His head was thumping with the rhythm of his heart and he closed his eyes as stars started exploding along his vision as if fireflies were suddenly illuminating his bathroom.
The pain felt good, freeing, but the memories were still there and he groaned as he smashed his head once more against the tiles that he wouldn't be surprised to see cracked later.
“Jax? Jax, what the hell are you doing?”
Tara was there, her hand suddenly between his head and the wall buffering his next smash.
“Go away. I need to...”
“You need to stop!” She almost yelled in a voice that was about an octave higher than her normal one and he could hear the clinking of glass which was probably the bottle of Jack he emptied earlier now carelessly kicked away as she dropped to her knees next to him.
“But I need to forget.”
There was silence for a long moment in which her hand never left the bump on his head as if to prevent any further attempts to repeat his earlier pattern of self destruction.
“No, Jax. You owe it to him to remember.”
She was right. Damn her, she was always right. But it hurt so much. He couldn't help crying and she just sat with him for the remainder of the night. It was a long, long night.
*