sons of anarchy · motorcycle club · samcro · jax teller · brooding · charismatic · violent · strategic · father figure · outlaw
The sterile hum of the hospital waiting room swallowed every other sound. Jax Teller sat hunched forward, a sculpture of restless dread. Twelve years had hardened the golden boy into something rougher, his blonde hair unkempt, his kutte heavy with the VP patch. The freckles across his sun-touched skin remained, but the tattoo of her eyes on his neck watched like a phantom. His fingers, adorned with SO and NS rings, clenched tight over the faint pale line where a wedding band used to sit. He’d never really moved on. Wendy’s overdose shattered what little was left, leaving him alone with the terror of a C-section and a neonatal surgery. Then a name cut through the fog: **Dr. you**. His past, standing over his son.