Saving Graces

It was cold in the room, freezing at the temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, but the two under the blankets never noticed. One shuffled, pulling the other closer to him as he moved slightly to pull the thick fleece blanket over their bodies. The girl in his arms shifted, turning to face his front as he held her. Lazily, Jackson Teller left a kiss on her forehead, relishing the soft touch she gave him as she sleepily pressed a kiss of her own to the junction of his neck and shoulder. As the vibration of his pre-paid phone woke him up entirely, Jax reached out to turn off the alarm, separating him from his lover.

“Babe?” she murmured softly. Tired brown eyes blinked up at him causing him to let out a chuckle. “Is it time already?”

A nod and another kiss to the mop of brown hair on her head, he pulled on his jeans and shrugged on a SAMCRO t-shirt. “Yeah, darlin’,” he whispered as he toed on his boots. “I’ve got to get going. I love you.”

The girl before him smiled sleepily, reaching out to rub a hand soothingly on his lower back before cuddling deeper into her pillows. “Okay, be careful baby; I need you. I love you.”

“I’ll see you soon, Em.”

--

He didn’t shoot out of bed; it wasn’t a nightmare. When his eyes opened sluggishly, Jax Teller pulled at the short wisps of his blonde hair.

Nice dreams don’t become any sort of reality for guys like him. Nice dreams just stayed as nice dreams. But fuck if he didn’t want it to come true anyway. It was just a dream though, so he wasn’t going to give it any thought.

Blue-gray eyes scanned the darkness before falling onto the red lights of the alarm clock plugged in on the drawer next to the bathroom. 3:15AM.

“Three?” he grunted. “Well, shit.”

Jax pushed the cotton sheets off his body, looking around stiffly at the disorganized dorm room. His blue-gray eyes landed steely on the picture frame that gleamed brightly against the moonlight. A frown marring his pretty boy features, Jax slowly shrugged his way off the bed and made his way across the room to pick up the frame.

He chuckled grimly, staring at the picture of him and the woman who used to be his old lady, laughing happily. He remembered that there was a time when he actually was able to smile, and laugh, and not force it. She left though; afraid of the club, and what it could do to him, what it could do to her.

It wasn’t for the lack of trying, either. Tara had all but begged Jax to go with her to San Diego where she was accepted for college. She wanted change, she wanted a safer life; and he couldn’t blame her. As much as he wanted to keep her from leaving, Jax knew that she had the right to have all of that. Tara deserved the world, and more.

More than what he could give her.

--

Tara glared at him, tears burning the edges of her eyes. In her hands, she gripped the acceptance letter from UC-San Diego tightly, crinkling the sheet with no remorse. “Why?” she asked beseechingly.

He ran a hand tiredly through his shoulder length mop of blonde hair. He couldn’t look at her, so he decided to take a seat at the edge of her bed. A part of Jax wanted to go with her—to run away from everything and anything that could stand between him and the love of his life. Then, another part of him wanted to make her stay with him, where they could tough it out, and fight whatever it was that could ruin them.

Nimble fingers traced the white stitching on her black cotton comforter, blue eyes shifting across the room. He took it all in; the green paint that he vaguely remembered helping her paint on the year before. He looked at the L-shaped desk that she asked him to put together two summers ago, when they were unsure of how their relationship could be defined. He looked at the plethora of photographs she had taped to her wall; a few of him and Opie when they were asked to be prospects only two years ago, him and Tara on their first date right after he was sponsored into the club.

Jax sighed and slowly turned his gaze to face her broken one. “Why?” she whispered sadly. Tara moved to kneel in front of him the crinkled letter placed next to her on the floor forgotten. Her soft pale hands smoothed over his calloused ones. “Jax,” she started, the soft grip becoming tighter, “We could start over! No more of this gun smuggling, bad reputations, no more wondering about whether or not we’ll be alive tomorrow. We could leave this toxic place and move on! Why won’t you?!”

He pulled his hands out of her grip and ran his knuckles against the side of her cheek before turning his hand to cradle the right side of her face. “Since I was five, Tara,” he said, “Since I was five, all I wanted was a damn SOA cut and a Harley, just like my old man. Since I was five, Tara, all I wanted was to be a Son! I was just patched in, darlin’. I can’t just bail now! I can’t just leave all my brothers behind…my mother! They’re all I have, baby. This cut, this brotherhood…this family and this fucked up reputation is all I have!”

Having heard enough, Tara pushed herself off of the carpet with a screech of anger and pain. “You have me, Jax! Me—your girlfriend, your damn old lady! What about me? Did I just suddenly become some expendable croweater? Some—some skanky ass sweetbutt you decided to waste your year with before you got patched in?!”

He looked at her hurt, ”Seriously? I never slept around on you. I never touched another woman, but you, for the entire four years we’ve been together.” He shook his head at Tara, hurt that she would think he was capable of that kind of betrayal. “I love you! I could never do that to you!!”

“Then come with me, Jackson!”

“I can’t!” he screamed, ready to pull at his hair. He wasn’t prepared for the sudden silence that followed. He wasn’t prepared for the question that came after either.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

The question was softly spoken, barely heard in the heat of their argument. It was only then did he realize that he didn’t know the answer to that question. “I—I…I don’t know.” The broken look on her face told him everything he needed to know. She wasn’t going to ask again, and he wasn’t going to say yes to leave. The vibration of his pre-paid phone pulled him from the conversation. With a sigh, Jax ran a hand over the scruff of his beard. “Look,” he grunted, “we’ll talk about this later. I’ve got to get to Church.”

Jax slowly made his way over to her, kissing her forehead gently as his hands came to rest at her hips. “I love you,” he said softly. Tara nodded and placed a hand on the worn leather of his cut. She fingered the Redwood Original patch blankly before giving a kiss to his lips. He hated it; seeing her look so subdued.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” she conceded. With a small shove out the door of their apartment, Tara sent him out of their little cozy home, and to the club she was desperately trying to get him to leave. “I love you, too.”

He left with one longing glance over his shoulder as she closed the door. He left for the clubhouse, not realizing that when he would return the discussion he intended on finishing would never be finished.

--

“She left,” he grunted angrily to no one. “She left and she didn’t even say good-bye.”

He didn’t hear the footsteps rounding up to his room, and he didn’t hear he creak of his door opening. Jax was simply lost in the darkness of his room, staring blankly at the photo he held in his hands.

Gemma watched her son with regret and ire as she leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed under her bosom. “Oh baby,” she spoke softly. Slowly, Jax turned to face his mom, standing still with the picture frame in hand. His eyes were red, swollen and angry looking. She knew he wanted to cry; he would if he could, but he had no more tears to let out.

They stood like that for a few minutes. Him, staring forlornly at his mother, regrets and hurt seeping into every pore of his body and her, looking on sadly at her son, not knowing what to do, or say.

“Hey, Ma,” Jax called out tiredly. Gemma, thankful for some response, smiled at her son. “What are you doing her so late?”

Gemma shrugged and moved to sit at the edge of his bed while Jax finally set the picture down, opting to shrug on a plain white t-shirt over his pajama pants instead. He went to sit on the floor next to her four-inch stiletto heeled black leather boots. Gemma ran a comforting hand over his head, fingers grazing his short hair.

“Church after-party, baby,” she reminded him. “Party is almost over, and I didn’t really feel like leaving tonight. I came up to check up on you; Clay’s having another round with the boys downstairs.”

He nodded, but didn’t care. Jax bent his knee; the flat of his right foot resting against the floor while his left lay stretched out. He rested his elbow over the knee and let his arm hang lazily at his side. “Cool.”

When Gemma looked at the edges of the picture frame, she noted he flipped it over, the light of the moon shining over the back of the frame, clasps holding the photograph in it gleaming brightly. “It’s been six years,” she remarked dryly. Her hand never stopped the light petting of his head, and Jax never bothered to stop her. “Jackson, you’re twenty-five years young. You’ve been running toe and hide out of this damn place coming in and out with croweater after croweater. Son, when you said you were getting over her, this was not how I’d hope you were doing it.”

He shook his head, “I tried Ma, so damn hard. Booze, weed and pussy, booze, weed and pussy—there’s not much left for me to do to get over her. I can’t just forget her. Spent four goddamned years with her, Mom. It ain’t that simple.”

Gemma let out a snort and flicked his ear, smirking slightly when she heard him hiss at the contact of her sharp nail. “You can; but you don’t want to. I’m tired of this damn downward spiral you’ve locked yourself into. Yeah, kid, Tara was a great girl, but she wasn’t cut out for this life. You know what that means?”

Gemma didn’t bother to wait for a reply, and carried on when she saw that he was going to. “It means, she wasn’t cut out for you. ”

“This life,” he muttered darkly. “This life sucks without her.”

“It ain’t her that’s sitting in a dark room, moping about losing her first love, Jax. It’s you. The way I see it,” Gemma said pointedly, “Tara’s moving on from you. She left you, didn’t bother to wait to tell you before she made her decision. Up and left, baby, like a woman who didn’t have anything to tie her down. It’s time to move on, Jackson.”

There was truth to her words, she knew it, and Gemma made sure her son was listening to hear it. She watched his face contort into obvious displeasure at the harsh reality she was serving him. As a mother, she hated any pain her son had to go through, and she hated anything, and anyone that made him go through it too.

“It’s not that simple,” he repeated begrudgingly.

Gemma heaved a sigh and leaned down to press a kiss atop his head. She patted him on the shoulder twice before using him as leverage to get herself standing. “It is that simple, baby,” she called out over her shoulder. Her fingers grasped the brass knob and twisted it, pulling the door open and letting the loud music sweep its way into the room. “And if it’s not that simple, make it.”

--

It was ten in the morning when Jax made his way out of his dorm room, freshly bathed. He made his way down the hallway from the dorms as he slipped on his SAMCRO tee.

“You’re a fucking douchebag,” Juice laughed at Tigger as the man shrugged with a cheesy grin. They were sitting at the bar, mugs of warm shitty coffee in hand. Jax raised a brow as he shrugged on his cut when he turned the corner. He nodded to the two as he walked up to the bar to pour himself a cup of coffee. He did it mechanically; two creams, two sugars.

As he turned to lean against the wooden bar, Jax forced himself to clear his head of Tara’s memory. “Tig a douchebag?” he snorted with good humor. “Tell the world something we don’t know about this fucker.”

“Hey man, it ain’t my fault panties drop when I walk by. Bro, I’m not a douchebag. I’m fucking God,” Tig drawled gleefully. He took a sip of his coffee, and pulled at his beard. “Besides, I am in my prime, brothers. I ain’t getting any younger, and those tight pussies ain’t either.”

Juice chortled mid-drink; coughing up some of the sweet coffee he made himself. Jax shook his head with a laugh and took a long swallow. “Yeah, man; you are a total fucking douchebag.”

The sound of the clubhouse doors opening made the three look up from their pointless conversation, eyes trained on the Queen of the Sons Mother Charter. Gemma smirked slightly, petting Juice’s and Tig’s head before pressing a chaste kiss to the cheek of her son. “Boys,” she chuckled, “having another competition to see whose dick is bigger, I see.”

Jax gave a cringe; his mom was so shameless when it came to sex sometimes. It put him in a mildly awkward position as he took finished his beverage. “Ma,” he whined half-heartedly. “Just…No.”

She snorted and raised a perfectly shaped brow at him. “Honestly Jackson, it’s not like I haven’t seen you before. I wiped your ass and changed your diapers for years before you decided to use the potty like a big boy.”

Tig giggled and also finished his drink before pulling out a cigarette from his breast pocket. Juice simply shrugged eyes widening slightly at the lame teasing of mother to son. They could both tell though, that Gemma had a lot to say, and a lot on her mind when she eyed them cryptically.

Tig let out a puff of smoke, deciding to kick the stool back slightly as he swung a muscular arm around his brother. “Juicy boy and I are gonna finish our big dick competition outside,” he grinned playfully. “But shit, you know I’m gonna win.” The Latino balked slightly as he let his SAA steer him towards the Teller-Morrow lot.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered as they exited the bar. “Tig you’re disgusting.”

The glass door creaked shut, and Gemma turned to face the son that was pointedly staring into the empty cup. Jax looked up at his mom, and then back at the cup, only to groan when he noticed that she hadn’t turned away. “Shit, Ma! What now?”

Gemma Teller-Morrow didn’t crack under any type of angst her son expressed. Out of habit, she leaned against the bar, eyeing and picking at the imaginary dirt that crawled its way under her fingernails. Jax watched his mom warily, unsurprised when she looked up at him.

“Did you give my little lecture any thought, baby?”

He let his head fall back lazily, a thick hand running through the blonde mane of his. “Ma, that was six hours ago. Miracles don’t happen overnight.”

She shrugged her shoulders and let an elbow rest on the countertop. With her head placed daintily in the palm of her hand, Gemma gave him a pointed stare. “I didn’t ask you if you were over her, son. I asked you if you gave my suggestion any thought. Big difference, smartass.”

She was patronizing him, but he hadn’t really cared. “You made your point, Mom. I gotta get over her. I get it.”

“And are you?” she questioned smugly. “Are you going to at least try to get over her?”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?!” he grumbled sourly, dropping his empty cup into the sink behind the counter.

“I think you’ve been trying to drown yourself in so much beer and pussy you haven’t seen the light of day in five fucking years, brother!”

Mother and son turned to the door; Gemma cackling in amusement while Jax brooded next to her.

Having arrived only minutes prior to entering the clubhouse for his shift at the repair shop, Opie grinned at his brother while moving from the entrance towards his surrogate family. “Hey Mom,” he nodded, pressing a kiss to Gemma’s cheek. Gemma cradled Opie’s face as he did, patting his cheek affectionately when he pulled away. Opie moved behind the bar to pour himself a cup of shitty coffee that his brothers had before him before grinning widely at Jax.

“Hey baby,” she crooned.

“Sup fucker,” Jax groused, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest. Opie shook his head, scratching his beard slightly.

“You just mad that I hit the nail dead on,” came the playful, but very much serious retort.

“Fuck you,” Jax grunted, not knowing what else to say. Gemma watched her two boys bicker slightly before interrupting.

“Jackson,” she fussed. “Opie’s right, baby. I just want you happy again, son.”

Opie nodded in agreement. “Brother, we all do. We’ve seen you, happy before Tara, and shitfaced miserable without her. We’re tired of the latter; we miss who you used to be—how you used to be.”

Blue eyes gazed tiredly at the pair that never left his side. Begrudgingly, Jax knew they were right; he never denied that. But, he had no clue how he was going to do what they asked. With a sigh, he unfolded his arms. He rest a hand against Gemma’s back as he pressed a kiss to her temple, then giving his brother a fist bump.

“I know guys,” he huffed, making his way to the TM lot. “I want to be happy too.”