brains before bullets

“Well I’m glad I could be here for him,” Tara smiled, genuine in her response, despite the double meaning behind it. Of course, she was glad to be here for Jax too, the experience was even more terrifying for a new parent, but it came with complications. Tara had sworn to herself to never go back there, to rekindle a relationship of any nature, wanting to focus solely on her career, and bettering herself. But somehow, those paths had crossed. It seemed fate had intervened, and now here she was, talking with Jax as though nothing bad had happened between them.

Jax nodded in agreement, grateful generally she was here at all. There was a time he really thought he might never see her again. Taking another sip, he sat back, glancing through the window to outside. "Took the world ending to see you again." He wondered, and not for the first time, if it hadn't been for the war, would she ever have come back? "Who'd have thought we'd wind up here, huh?"

“Abel. Z’hat’s a wonderful name,” Wanda smiled back at him, despite her own jealousy. The possibility of having children of her own seemed further and further away, considering who she was, but she still managed to feel happiness for those who did. Surely there was no greater feeling. That was, until, those children got sick. Her elation for his family was quickly overcome with a far more harrowing feeling, and she could only imagine the stress it invoked. Still, she did little to let that show, outside of her concerned eyes, not wanting to alarm him. At a time like this, Jax needed reassurance, and support. Even if they were strangers. “I’m sure he’ll be alright. The doctors here… z’hey are incredible. Z’hey will stop at nothing.” Not even death, in some cases.

"Thanks," he nodded, appreciative. Wendy had chosen the name back when she was pregnant. Jax had hated her for it at the time, hadn't been ready, but the second he'd been born, the name had suddenly held great meaning. He couldn't imagine it being anything else. It was perfect.

“It’s not thanks to me.” Of course she’d done everything she could to help, even without her personal connection to Jax and his family, she’d still have made Abel her top priority. He was a baby, he needed it most. But taking credit didn’t feel right to her, she may have provided the care and medical equipment, but Abel’s strength came from within himself. “Anyone here would’ve done the same thing.” She mirrored Jax’s smile, trying to reassure him. “We should be seeing real signs of improvement soon. He’s a fighter. I’d go as far as to say he’s a very stubborn young man. I wonder where he gets that.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged a shoulder, making his way over to sit in the chair across from her desk. “But no-one else here is you.” Jax met her gaze then, wanting to look at her properly, wondering how she’d actually been going. He felt like they’d barely spoken since the group had moved, and whilst Jax was thrilled Tara had moved too, they hadn’t spent any real time together, Abel’s health the top priority. Even though he didn’t believe it’d go both ways, he missed her.

Although the hospital was slowly beginning to dismiss it's patients, the workload didn’t seem to be thinning. Tara was quickly learning that the rebels required a lot of medical care, and although she’d never complain about helping people, she couldn’t deny her exhaustion. “Oh. You read my mind,” she smiled as she got out of her chair, walking over to retrieve the coffee from him. She wasted no time in sipping it, needing the caffeine. “How’s Abel today? I was just finishing my paperwork before doing the rounds. He was my first stop.”

The family had practically been living at the hospital for two months, and in that entire time, Tara’s first stop had always been Abel. It meant more to Jax than he could ever properly verbalise, knowing that someone he trusted as much as Tara was taking care of his boy. At the mention of it now, he wore a hint of a smile, nodding. “He’s, uh… I don’t really know. The same, I guess. Asleep. Tiny.” He paused for a moment before clearing his throat, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not worse. And that’s thanks to you.”