The Anarchist's Heart

“Jax? Jax,” I said urgently. I tried to keep him still but he moved onto his back anyway with a groan. “Can you hear me? Are you in pain?”

He opened his eyes to my face and I sighed. He had a small scrape on his cheek, and he smiled sheepishly at me before his eyes closed again for a little while. All I could think was that I needed to get him inside before other people started looking to see what had happened.

“Ella…?” he asked in a raspy voice. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“You’re outside my house,” I sighed. “You fell off your bike. Are you alright? Where do you hurt, Jackson?”

He paused for a moment before shaking his head.

“I’m okay,” he said thickly, “just my shoulder kind of aches.”

“Okay. Can you stand? I’ll take you inside and look at it.”

“Yeah, think so. Help me up?”

I hauled him up into a sort of hunched-yet-standing position. He was leaning on me pretty heavily but I managed to direct him up onto the sidewalk. I was reminded of several too-drunk-to-walk-straight nights from our teenage years.

“What about your bike?” I asked, nodding towards it.

“It’ll be fine,” he muttered. “Leave it.”

I just shrugged and directed him into my house and got him settled on the couch where I’d been sitting just a moment ago. I sat beside him and sighed.

“Let me look at your shoulder,” I said.

He didn’t say anything; he just urged his arms out of his cut and unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt, yanking it down so I could look at his shoulder. Sure enough, it was scraped up. It wasn’t too bad, but I figured I’d clean it for him while I could.

“I’ll go get some hydrogen peroxide and gauze,” I said. “Stay here.”

He nodded, a little sadly, and slouched down on the couch.

I didn’t want to outwardly show it, but I was fuming. I’d given him one simple task: stay away from me. And what does he do? He goes and crashes his motorcycle right outside my house. Knowing the Sons of Anarchy and their connections to the influential people in this town, I couldn’t help but get a feeling Jax had known it was my house. That only led me to believe he’d crashed his bike on purpose, which of course only made me angrier. But, of course, how could I be angry with someone who just got into an “innocent accident”? Anybody with half a heart couldn’t do that, and Jax knew I really couldn’t do that. With an angry sigh, I grabbed the medical supplies out of the cupboard and slammed the door shut with a little more force than necessary.

When I walked back out into the front room, Jax was still sitting on the couch and staring pitifully into his lap. For a split second I thought maybe, just maybe, it really had been an accident and he was feeling bad about it. But I didn’t let that thought overtake me. I was mad at him and damn it, I was going to stay mad at him. If it scared him away from me, even better.

“Alright, sit still,” I ordered, taking a seat next to him on the couch and opening the hydrogen peroxide bottle.

“I hate that stuff,” he mumbled, “it stings.”

“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t been so careless you wouldn’t have to put up with it.” I grumbled moodily.

Jax scoffed. “Are you pissed at me for getting into an accident?”

“Maybe. I’m pissed that I decided to help you instead of just leaving you there and pretending I didn’t see anything.”

“So why didn’t you leave me there then?”

“…You know why.”

We were both silent for a moment as I dabbed the fizzing medicine over his wound. To my surprise he barely flinched, and then I realized it was probably only because he was thinking about it, about us. I shuddered internally. That was the last thing I wanted to be thinking about, and yet there I was, thinking about it too. Jesus Christ, Alex was gone for one weekend and I was already on the couch in our new home with my ex-boyfriend thinking about our past. What kind of fiancé was I? I just kept guilt-tripping myself until I stopped thinking about it, or at least put it on mute. I wasn’t sure I could ever really stop thinking about it. Everywhere I looked there were memories. Charming was an incredibly painful little town for me.

While I was finishing putting the gauze over his shoulder, I was conflicted. I knew I should tell him to get out without another word, but I couldn’t do it. I just kept remembering everything, all the time we’d spent together in this town over the years, and I couldn’t look that same man I’d once loved so fiercely in the eye and tell him to leave. I suppose it made me a bit of a hypocrite. I’d managed to look him in the face and tell him I was leaving him ten years ago; why couldn’t I do it now? What was the big difference, really? I’d grown up, that was the difference. I was engaged, I had a degree in education…I was in a new place in my life. While there wasn’t a spot for Jax in it anymore, I’d matured enough to not treat him like trash for his life decisions. I was doing what made me happy, and if the Sons of Anarchy made him happy, I shouldn’t shun him for it. As long as he left me alone from then on, we’d have no problems.

“There,” I finally said, setting the gauze back down on the coffee table. “You’re all patched up.”

He turned his head to examine my work and his lips curled up into a small smirk. He pulled his shirt back over it and fixed the buttons. He left his leather cut on the seat beside him.

“Thanks,” he said, returning those blue eyes to my face. “I know you could’ve left me to bleed out there. You were right; you didn’t have to help me.”

“No, I didn’t have to,” I agreed, “but I did.”

“Do you hate me?” he asked, twisting a heavy-looking ring on his right hand.

“For crashing outside of my house right before I was about to get into bed? I guess I can’t really hate you for that, now can I?” I scoffed, gathering the medical supplies in my arms and bringing it to the kitchen.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied.

I shouldn’t have done it; after all it was only inviting him to stay longer. But I was too caring sometimes and I suppose it was sort of a habit. It’d always made me feel better and I handed it out like candy to people who weren’t feeling their best. I grabbed the kettle and a mug and I poured him a cup of tea and brought it over, setting it on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a minute before deciding to cradle it in his calloused hands, but he didn’t lift it to his lips. I blushed. Jax didn’t like tea. I’d gotten so used to making it for Alexander…I forgot Jax didn’t like it.

“What did you mean then?” I asked.

“Do you hate me for joining the MC?” he asked, staring derisively at the steaming liquid in his cup.

“I did,” I answered honestly. “I hated you for it.”

“Do you hate me now that you’re back?”

“No,” I sighed. “I don’t hate you for it now, Jax. But I still want nothing to do with it, or you. I’m choosing to ignore it. I have my own life to worry about. I don’t have time to care about the Sons, or your involvement with them.”

He nodded and didn’t say another word about it.

“Can I ask you a question now?” I asked.

“You just did,” he quipped.

I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t count.”

“Alright, ask away then.”

“You never crash your motorcycle when you’re by yourself like that. I didn’t hear enough tires screeching to hint at another vehicle being involved. Clearly you’re not blind drunk, although I did have my doubts at first. Did you intentionally crash outside of my house?”

He didn’t look at me. He didn’t move his mouth. I noticed his fingers tightened slightly around the mug, and I knew he didn’t need to say anything. I had my answer.

I stood up from the couch and ran tired fingers through my hair.

“I think you should go home, Jax. You can’t be here.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Have you completely lost your mind?” I yelled. “What are you doing here, Jax? I want nothing to do with you! Do you want me to scream it in your face? Will that make my message clearer? I didn’t come back for you, god damn it!”

He put the tea down and stood up to face me.

“I know!” he yelled. “I know you didn’t come back for me, but I fucking wish you had, Ella. I just…I wasn’t going to come inside. I wasn’t even going to knock on your front door because I knew you wouldn’t answer anyway. I was just going to park and…and see. But I saw the light on and I had to see you. I’m sorry, alright? You don’t need to scream anything; I got the message ten years ago.”

“Then why are you here?” I begged.

“Because I still love you!” he roared, his eyes flaring at me. “All these years, all these fucking years, and you are still the only woman on this planet that I want to wake up next to. I have had so many chances to find someone else and I haven’t. None of the girls I’ve been with have been you. I wake up hungover, expecting to see your face on the pillow next to me, but it’s never you. It’s some slut I can’t even put a name to. I can’t apologize for that, Ella, and you know it. I just needed to know if you felt the same.”

“Well, I don’t,” I mumbled feebly. I had nothing else I could say to that. It hurt to hear it, strangely. I think it was just the way he said it; like loving me long after I had left him had been a curse on his life. No doubt it had been.

I grabbed the mug off the coffee table and walked away from him to the kitchen. I dumped out the untouched tea and set the cup in the sink. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I felt his presence behind me, fiery and dominating.

“I think that’s a lie,” he said sternly.

My eyes grew wide in astonishment and I slowly turned to face him. How dare he say that to me? How dare he challenge my love for my fiancé over what I once felt for him? By saying that, he was accusing me of so much more than just lying to him. He was accusing me of lying to myself and to Alexander.

“What did you say?” I said coldly, only daring him to try and continue.

He had that terrifying angry smirk on his face and a deadly look in his eyes. I knew that was the last face many men had seen before dying. And even though I knew Jax would never hurt me physically, it scared me. I tried not to let that show through on my face, and hopefully I succeeded. I held my ground, at least.

“If you really didn’t care about me, if you really didn’t want to associate with me, you wouldn’t have helped me tonight. Once you saw it was me you would’ve left me alone in the street or at the very least you wouldn’t have invited me into your house if you truly wanted nothing to do with me. Don’t lie to me, Ella. I know you. I know you better than you know yourself, even after all these years.”

“Jax—” I warned.

“You wouldn’t have helped me,” he interrupted. “You wouldn’t have looked at me like you did at TM and you wouldn’t be looking at me like you are now.”

“You’re just saying all of this to make yourself feel better,” I argued. “You’re only trying to make yourself feel like less of an idiot for what you did tonight. But there’s no excuse, Jax. You know why I helped you? I helped you because I like to think I’m a decent person who’s wiling to help someone when they’re hurt. I know you chose the life of an outlaw filled with awful, evil people, but in the real world, we’re willing to help others even when it doesn’t benefit us.”

“Tell me you hate me,” he dared.

“What? Why?” I shook my head in disbelief. He really had lost his mind.

“Well if I mean nothing to you, it shouldn’t be a problem,” He shrugged. “I know you said you don’t hate me for what I did, but you have a million reasons to lie about that. All I need to hear is those words from your mouth, Ella, and I’ll leave you alone for good. I’ll let you live your happy life in your big house with your fiancé and I won’t come looking for you ever again. Just tell me you hate me.”

“Jax, you can’t just—”

“Tell me you hate me, because if you don’t, you still care about me,” he said, “about us.”

His facial features had softened substantially since the beginning of our standoff. His jaw was still clenched, but his eyes were sad, pleading with me in that tranquil blue colour. His hair fell in disarray about his face and his fingers twitched infinitesimally by his hips. As I looked at him I saw all of him—I saw that lonely little boy from kindergarten who’d been so proud of his father, I saw the awkward teenager who hated everyone but me and the Sons, and I saw the vengeful young adult who played with shadows and souls and loved me only when he could. And damn it, I had loved every one of those people. I had never hated Jax, not even when I’d tried to convince myself I did. I couldn’t hate Jackson Teller, and he knew it. But I wanted to hate him for holding that against me.

“Don’t do this to me,” I begged. “Jax, please…”

“Say it,” he whispered, “or tell me you can’t.”

I shook my head, defeated. “I don’t hate you, Jax. I’ve never hated you.”

I wanted to say “I just can’t be around you” but the words wouldn’t come out. As he closed the distance between us and I felt his fingers press delicately against the bare flesh of my upper arms, my throat, and my cheeks, I knew it was a lie anyway. I wanted to be around him. Jax was all I had ever wanted and I’d thrown him away for a falsehood I wasn’t sure I could live up to. It had taken coming back to Charming to make me see that. And all it took was Jax’s lips against mine for me to remember what I felt for him.

When he kissed me, a million memories came rushing back to me. I remembered the first time we’d kissed and the last time. Even though it had been so long the feeling of his lips against mine was still familiar. It was like we’d never stopped being with each other in that way. I realized that every pair of lips I had kissed since I’d left Jax behind had felt wrong. It put a sick feeling in my stomach.

He pulled away from me almost like I’d burned him, as he should have. He didn’t let go of my arms though, leading me to believe he only wanted to see if I was okay with what he had done. I stared at his shoulder, where little splotches of blood were drying on his shirt. I didn’t want to stare at his face; I didn’t want to see that imploring look in his eyes because I knew what I’d do. I’d grab his face and I’d pull him back to me and that was poison. One kiss was bad enough; any more would ruin my life. I had Alex. I had a house. I had a future ahead of me. Jax Teller would ruin all of that if I let him. So I told myself I couldn’t do that. No matter how good it had felt to kiss him again or be in his arms again, no matter how sentimental it made me feel, I couldn’t let it happen again. That belief did me an awful lot of good when he kissed me again and again and my dumb fingers clutched onto the front of his shirt.

I heard things fall to the ground as Jax pushed them off the counter to make room for me as he hoisted me up onto it, pushing himself swiftly between my numb legs, which managed to wrap themselves around his hips. His fingers caressed the skin that had been longing for his touch for years. My own fingers wove themselves through his blonde hair, catching a few snags although he didn’t seem to mind. His lips fell to my throat and I felt his hot breath cascade over my skin, sending goosebumps down both my arms.

“I love you,” he whispered against my sensitive flesh. “I’ve always…”

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes and I pushed on his shoulders with what strength I had left. He gazed at me, confused, and I just shook my head and wiped my face on the back of my arm. I’d done a horrible thing, kissing him. I couldn’t stop crying. He didn’t say anything. I knew he understood to some degree. Despite who he belonged to, he could still recognize and maybe even experience guilt, which I suppose was more than I could ask for.

“It’s okay,” I whispered shakily. I didn’t know what I meant by it. I just said it. “It’s okay.”

It’s okay? Him loving me was certainly not okay. What we were doing was anything but okay. He’d kissed me—I had let him kiss me—in the kitchen of my new home while my fiancé was out of town. I let Jax Teller weave his way into my head and take control of my better intentions. I broke nearly every promise I had managed to keep for ten years in one night. I threw it all away for this man that had killed a hundred of his kind in cold blood, all for the sake of the leather he wore so proudly. The fact that I had loved him for years shouldn’t matter anymore; he was a murderer. For some reason that didn’t phase me that night. I didn’t even think about the things he had probably done or the things he was going to do. I was stupid, selfish, and wrong, and I knew it.

At least Jax knew enough not to hang around after that. I thought, for a minute, I could see the look of guilt somewhere behind the disappointment in his eyes. He knew what he’d just done to my life. He’d given me a burden. I could either tell my fiancé that I’d kissed someone else—someone who loved me—or I could keep it as a secret and feel the stab of guilt every time I looked at him for as long as I lived. Of course, Jax wasn’t the only one to blame. I carried my own blame, but surprisingly, I carried little regret. Sure, I was guilty and I felt it, but I didn’t sorely wish I hadn’t done it. Maybe that should’ve worried me, but in the moment, it didn’t.

I stood by the armchair as Jax pulled his leather cut onto his shoulders. The silence weighed heavily on my ears, and the sound of the clock ticking in the kitchen was starting to drive me mad. I opened my mouth, not really knowing what to say, but needing to say something.

“Jax?”

He looked up at me and straightened his back, tossing his hair out of his face.

“Yeah?”

“No one can know.”

He paused for a brief moment before nodding. “I know.” He slipped his feet into his white shoes.

His hand grasped the doorknob and my breath caught in my throat. Once he left, I would let it out in a deep, conflicted sigh. But, he didn’t leave right away. He paused and turned back to look at me, trouble brewing in his eyes.

“Ella, shit…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…to…”

“I think I know what you meant to do, Jax,” I said, a little bit colder than I intended. “Go home.”

He looked like he was going to dispute me. Of course. How dare I talk back to the Vice President of the Sons of Anarchy. That’s what he was, after all. He wasn’t Jax Teller anymore, that was for certain. Now, he came with more than a name, he came with a title. Thankfully, though, he just lowered his head and left, shutting my door behind him. I hurried over to lock it and I pressed my ear to it for a moment until I heard the loud, growling roar of a Harley engine starting up and taking off. I wondered if he’d be back. I knew he would be. Jax never left something alone once he felt like he had some sort of responsibility for it. He’d always felt that way about me, so he’d always been with me. Although ten years had passed, I knew nothing had changed in that aspect, especially after our kiss. It was disappointing to say the least, but I don’t know how I expected anything different.

I leaned against the door and chewed my lip for a little while, contemplating everything with an eerie calmness. I’d technically just cheated on my fiancé with my ex-boyfriend in the kitchen of our new home. Sure it was only a kiss, but it wasn’t harmless. The things I’d felt when it’d happened—surely that had to qualify as cheating. What was I going to say to Alex? We’d only just gotten to our new beginnings in Charming—this would torch everything we’d worked so hard to build for ourselves. Sure, staying in this town was going to turn out to be poison and I knew no secret could be kept forever, but I couldn’t throw away all we’d built so soon. So, quietly and with nary a tear, I decided I wasn’t going to say a damn word.