A Different Kind of Charming

Jax

Jax drives into the TWM lot, backing his bike into the VP spot. He takes off his helmet but doesn't move to get off right away. He runs his hands through his hair, more out of frustration than to tame it. Pulling out a cigarette, he lights it up and takes a slow, long inhale. He leans forward, head tilted down to the ground, before exhaling the smoke in controlled rings. It's something he does to try and slow his breathing when he's about ready to explode.

Tara's return to Charming could not have happened at a worse time. Issa immediately shut down after Jax was able to maneuver them away from the stilted conversation in the hospital hallway. He doesn't remember much of what was said between the three of them. He just wanted to get Issa as far away from Tara as possible.

On the way back to their house, Issa barely acknowledged him. He tried bringing up the information they learned from Dr. Namid, tried to pivot back to that feeling of joy they had about finally starting a family. But Issa was having none of it. And Jax learned long ago not to try and force Issa to talk when she wasn't ready.

He couldn't take the silence that followed them home, so he went for a ride before Church. He knows he should have stayed and tried something, anything to get Issa to open up to him. But for the second time that day, words failed him. So he got on his bike, drove up to what Opie dubbed Jax's Thinking Spot on the outskirts of the Wahewa reservation and wrote a letter to his future child.

The run in with Tara aside, the appointment had been a turning point for Jax. Hearing that even with CHD his child could live a long and healthy life removed his only concern about them having a baby. He poured his heart out to his little girl or boy on those pages, telling them how excited he was to meet them. He told them he was looking forward to watching them grow inside Issa's belly, talking to them before they even came into the world. Hell he was even looking forward to whatever crazy ass pregnancy cravings Issa was inevitably going to have. The woman put barbecue potato chips on vanilla ice cream now. No telling what the hell she'll put in her mouth when she's knocked up.

He also wrote his fears about being a good father. Without a doubt, he knew Issa would take to being a mother like a duck to water. Her sailor mouth and belief that stabbing was a viable solution at least 50% of the time aside, she was already pretty motherly. It wasn't a stretch to see her bringing their child to the bakery, having them standing on a little stool to "help" mommy make cookies. It was everything he's ever wanted in one image.

But he could admit it terrified him, being responsible for a tiny human. Would he be a good role model for them? If they had a girl, he wouldn't even know how to do her hair. Sure he's watched Issa do all manner of things to her hair over the years but he's never been involved in the process. She would have to teach him how to do it and he doesn't like that burden falling on her shoulders.

The rumble of bikes rolling into the lot shakes him out of his thoughts. He turns to see his dad, Chibs and Kip getting off their bikes. Jax tables his worries for later, shifting into SAMCRO mode for Church.

As he walks towards them, he stops in his tracks when Kip takes off his helmet. All he can do is blink a few times because the prospect is sporting bright pink hair.

Kip shakes his head, pointing a finger at Jax. "Your wife is a goddamn menace!"

And yeah, Jax isn't surprised that Issa is somehow involved.

"You look like a cross between a Cabbage Patch Kid and a Troll doll," John says, blowing smoke in the prospect's face.

"Or one of those Brony idiots," Chibs none too helpfully adds. "What the hell'd you do to the lass to deserve this?"

Kip whips his head over to his president and sponsor. "Juice used her to lower my guard."

"Kind of your own fault for trusting her. Don't let that sweet, innocent face fool you," Tig says, coming out of the TWM office. He ruffles Kip's hair, takes a puff of his cigarette and blows the smoke in the prospect's face.