Full Disclosure
Title: Full Disclosure
Author: traciaknows
Word Count: 1832
Rating: T
Spoilers: None, set in early season 2
Summary: As Jax begins to drift off into sleep, Gemma’s words start to echo again in Tara’s mind. You love the man. You learn to love the club.
Disclaimer: Sons of Anarchy and its characters belong to Sutterink. This work is for entertainment purposes only, no infringement is intended.
Author’s note: This has not been reviewed by a beta. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated, but not required. I am absolutely humbled that you are taking the time to read this piece. Thank you.
. . .
Jax pulls his bike into the drive, turns it off, and just sits for a moment looking at his house. Killing the Mayan earlier has made him feel sick. The poor bastard may have been bad news, but he hadn’t been guilty of the crime he had been executed for, and that won’t ever sit right with him.
He watches the light coming from the windows. The house isn’t a big place. There’s nothing truly remarkable about it, except for what it contains.
Tara’s inside and it’s surreal to him that she’s back in his life in any way. That’s she’s in his house, caring for his kid.
He meant what he told her weeks before that he had only ever loved her, and that he thought of her return as his second chance to do things different, better. She steadies him in ways he doesn’t question. Then and now, it’s the same. He needs her, and craves the peace she gives him, but he just can’t shake the feeling he’s living on borrowed time with her.
Tara had chosen a different life. He didn’t blame her for it any more. He was proud of her and knew now, what he couldn’t comprehend at nineteen and stupid, that she wasn’t meant for the violence that was so second natured to him. She wasn’t meant for retaliation and half-truths, skewed codes of honor, or the grey area that the club had to live in. She sure as hell wasn’t meant for dead ATF Agents or dead Mayans.
Jax scrubs a hand over his face and turns his eyes to glance at the Cutlass sitting under the carport. He had seen some wondrous things in that car. He’s glad she still has it. The first time he met her was when she brought it in to Teller-Morrow.
She had been so innocent when he met her, and at the time, corrupting her had been one of his favorite things to do. He had laughed away her first fistfight with an overeager Croweater, held her hair back the first time she got puke-your-guts-up drunk, and had hated how she was so disappointed in herself for those three fairly tame arrests. Then he hadn’t understood how much she was changing because of him and his world, or how much that scared her. He knows better now, and knows that his life had begun to leave smudges on her again.
Conflict that he hasn’t let himself think about, creeps into his mind. They don’t talk that much about his MC business. They never have. She knows some of it, as she’s not blind or an idiot, but they don’t talk about it. Christ, they barely talk about what happened with Kohn. Tara loves him and he feels that every time she’s with him, but he knows she is terrified of his world and of the compromises that she has to make to stay with him. Once already she’s made noises about leaving only to have him pull her back in. He knows that she’ll continue to make those compromises for him and that he’ll let her because of his need for her is so great. He doesn’t like it but he isn’t sure what to do about it. He just knows that he still loves her, just as fiercely and passionately as ever, and that if she ever truly leaves again, she’ll take the very breath from him and he’ll do his best to let her go.
The weight of that, the dead Mayan, and life in general has left him so damn exhausted. He climbs off his bike, flicks the butt of the cigarette he doesn’t remember lighting towards the street, and finally heads into the house.
Once he’s inside, he finds Tara waiting up for him in the living room. It’s so damn sweet of her, but he doesn’t linger in the living room with her, as he would have any other night. He can barely look at her. He doesn’t want to have to look her in the face and lie. It’s bad enough that when she asks him if anything’s wrong, he can only tell her part of the truth.
“I’m just tired,” he says, and because he can’t stand the idea of the death he’s been carrying with him all day touching her, gives her the briefest of kisses before telling her he’s going to take a shower.
. . .
She knows something’s not right the minute that he walks in the door. In her lifetime of knowing Jax Teller and his ways, she has seen all forms of the energy scale but rarely has she seen him this weighted or this slow in his movements. This is not the Jax that had laughed with her and left her smiling this morning, or even the distracted one who spoke with her on the phone just hours before. He looks physically worn and beaten down by whatever happened during his day.
The doctor in her scans him for injuries, but nothing shouts at her. She wonders if she should ask him what’s really going on, but instinct stops her so she waits, lets him ghost a kiss on her mouth, and only nods when he says he’s going to take a shower.
She looks back at her book, listening to his slow, heavy footsteps as he goes down the hall. She tries to pick up the paragraph where she left off, reads it twice before giving up as her mind wanders to her conversation with Gemma not long before. Full disclosure, Gemma had said. They had never really had that before. Up until Jax had become a prospect he had always let her in to see the real him, but then things had started to change as he became more involved with the club. He had never full explained the extent of the law breaking he was committing on behalf of the Sons. Often, he had let her fill in the blanks when he came to her bruised and bloodied. Of course she knew some of what he was up to, had known what happened at the clubhouse wasn’t always legit. It was a world that she hadn’t really understood, and still didn’t. But one she would have to find her place in if she was going to stay with Jax.
When she heard the water turn on, she placed her book on the coffee table and got up from the couch. Absently, she straightened up the living room, folding the blanket that Abel had been resting on earlier and picking up the few toys and placing them in a basket that Gemma had brought. Looking around the room, she gave a slight smile and an eye roll to the MC-meets-Martha-Stewart chic of the house. It’s not her house, but some day it might be, and if that day came, any framed art that included random women, skulls, or beer brands would find a handy thrift store to live in.
The water was still running as she stopped in to check on Abel. He was sleeping better now, but she knew he’d be up again close to two. She let her fingers touch his chest and felt comforted at the soft thump of his heartbeat. She was starting to love him as much as she loved Jax. A slight anxiety rose up in her at the thought of something happening and her not being able to see him grow up. She knows that at some point she and Jax will have to actually talk about the future.
So much of what they had together just was. Something in her felt whole whenever she was around him. It frightened her to think about how intense her feelings for him had been, how much she loved Jax, and how much she wanted to trust in whatever they were building together now.
Blowing a kiss to Abel, she leaves the nursery and heads down the hall to find Jax. The fact that he’s still in the shower is another testimony that something is not right. Jax had never been fond of enclosed spaces so his showers had always been fairly fast- unless they were sharing a shower and was otherwise distracted.
His back is to her, head down, and arms braced against the shower wall. She muses that he looks like Atlas, as if the ink on his back is as heavy as the world. Water sluices over his skin, and she hopes that it helps. Five more minutes, she thinks, five more and I’m going to do my best to distract him.
. . .
Her foot brushes the dirty clothes on the bathroom floor and she reaches down to pick them up to carry them to the laundry room. It’s the smell of dried blood that stops her, and she finds herself pulling the bandana out of his pocket. She stares at it and is compelled to turn around just as Jax turns off the shower and steps out for a towel.
Jax’s eyes cut to her face and then her hand holding the bandana, and back again. He waits for the look of disappointment to cross her features. He takes the bandana from her, letting it fall back to the floor. He hates that yet again, she’s been tainted by his actions.
A raw openness and something like shame crosses his features, but he doesn’t look away from her as she calmly pulls out the words, “You want to know why I run all the time? Its because I don’t trust people…”
She continues to speak of her need for the truth and her own need to know if she can handle his life. He wishes he could tell her anything but the words that he knows may turn her from him forever, but standing in front of her naked, he can only be honest, “I helped Opie kill a man today in retaliation for Donna. Shot him in the head.”
He watches as what he’s said starts to sink in, but can’t bring himself to bare witness to the moment that she decides to leave him for good. Self-preservation has him telling her that he’s going to bed.
Within moments, he’s in the bed he’s shared with Tara for the last few weeks. He curls into his side. The sheets smell like her, a soft vanilla fragrance that she’s always worn. His heart aches as he waits to hear the front door close, but the sound doesn’t come. Instead the only sound he hears is Tara’s quiet footsteps and the rustling to the bedclothes as she climbs in behind him. When her arm wraps around him, moving to take his hand, he lets go of the breath he was holding, and starts to relax.
As Jax begins to drift off into sleep, Gemma’s words start to echo again in Tara’s mind.
You love the man. You learn to love the club.