consciencedcowardice | (no subject)

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Finally more or less fully recovered and with his relationship with Tara repaired and better than ever, Jax was finally in a position to fix the damaged done to his bike from the accident. The Harley had taken a beating when it had spun out on the sidewalk, but Jax was relieved to find that most of the damage had been cosmetic. There were a few real damages though, and those needed sorting out before he could really ride anywhere.

With the boys at daycare and Jax home from the garage, he'd taken advantage of the warmer weather and wheeled the damaged Harley out to the parking lot. Occupying a corner of pavement, he spread out his tools and got to work on fixing his bike.

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Scott had spotted Jax from the window and changed into an already grease-stained outfit before heading downstairs. "Need a hand?" he offered, standing nearby with his hands tucked into his pockets. His own bike could use a little work, but it was nowhere near the condition his friend's bike was. Priorities.

"Yeah," Jax said, nodding at his neighbor. "You got one too, right? Bring that around."

Jax leaned back, staring at the parts laid out on a shop towel with his chin in his hand as he pondered the next steps.

"Yeah." Scott nodded and jogged over to his bike, wheeling it across the lot into the empty space next to Jax's. "So what are you working on? It got pretty banged up, huh?" he observed with a wince of sympathy as he looked it over.

"All the bangs and dents and shit," Jax said, picking up a replacement part. "Getting stabbed and falling off your Harley is bad for bikes, turns out."

"I can see that," Scott said with a small, sympathetic smile. "Good to see you're doing okay, at least. Now let's get your bike to the same place." He eyed his own bike for a moment and then crouched to help Jax with his. He'd get to his later.

"Don't recommend it, all the same," Jax said. Jesus his body had hurt. The fact that he'd barely been able to lift his kids some mornings...That had been the hardest part. There were other things that had come, things that were harder and even more painful between him and Tara, but those were mending too.

"Now the bike just needs to catch up."

"Yeah, I think I'll avoid it if I can." Of course, if Scott had suffered the same injuries he would have healed within hours, but Jax didn't know that, and he wasn't about to share.

"Let's get started, then." He popped the compartment on the back of his bike and pulled out a roll-up tool kit. It wasn't extensive, but it was good to have in a pinch if something went wrong with the bike on the road.

Jax laughed and gave him a thumbs up, head still bent over the undercarriage of the bike.

"You had a bike before, right?"

"Despite my mom being less than thrilled, yeah. I had one at home." Scott grinned and shrugged one shoulder. "It was a cheap and easy way to get around town." And he didn't have to worry about things like road rash.

"I'd say to tell your mom that I got a bike when I was younger than you and I managed all right but..." Jax gestured at himself. "I'm probably not all that reassuring."

Scott laughed at that a little. "You're probably right," he agreed. "Anyway, she let me get it, thrilled or not, so I guess she trusts me." He smiled.

"My mom...Jesus, she knew I was gonna be on a bike before I could walk." Jax started to smile but it faded quickly as he remembered the things that Gemma would go on to do. To him. To his family...

When Jax said that, Scott realized how little he knew about his friend and neighbor's previous life. "Biker family?" he asked cautiously. He'd never really thought about it, but now that he had it kind of made sense. Jax definitely had that 'look', the rough around the edges kind of appearance and personality that was associated with bike gangs and Harleys and all of that.

"Something like that. My dad founded our MC, the Sons of Anarchy." It was a name he wore proudly on his back, stitched into faded, softened leather.

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