A/N ((Hopefully everyone likes the new idea, I think it has great potential. Kurt Sutter owns all SOA. Contains mature themes, swearing, mentions of abuse/torture.))

Control.

It was life's great lie, it's most elaborate illusion.

He'd spent the better half of seven years convincing himself of its hollow nonexistent truth, and he'd gladly accepted the lie with open arms.

Anything to avoid being held accountable for his successes, his mistakes, two sides to the same coin.

You are in control.

Of your life.

Of your consequences.

Of the people around you.

Fuck, none of it was true, not one Goddamn thing.

It had been so simple, in the beginning as things usually are to turn a blind eye to what had always been doomed from the start. What had begun as noble, pure intentions had mutated in to something he could no longer recognize. It had been easier than he would ever dare to admit, to assume invincibility, and deny the mistakes had stacked up like firewood, chopped kindling just waiting for someone to light the match.

Imagine his surprise, when he realized it had been burning down around him all along.

For every problem he solved, it seemed as if three more rose in its place. The universe sneering down at him as he did everything and anything to save them, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

No matter the outcome, it hadn't been without its unexpected and disappointing betrayals. No one could fault him for that. Not anymore.

He could freely admit now that it terrified him a great deal of the time, of what he'd done, what he was doing, and what he might have to do. The fear wasn't crippling. No, it had been an undeniable thrill, how he'd craved it like a drug, using that rush of terror to justify the terrible, often violent actions both planned and spontaneous. None of it stopping him from being bombarded by the tremendous amount of remorse for the acts of violence, and nothing brought him more sorrow then his uncanny ability to justify his behavior. There was always a cause, a need that allowed him to feed this savage desire.

He could never stop.

It was in his DNA.

Long before the events of the past year, Jax become aware of the days, often weeks when he avoided his own reflection in the mirror.

Nothing and no one was immune to the contamination of power, because everyone, even he had fallen under the weight of greed. He'd become the thing, the one he hated most.

His personal road to Hell had been paved with the best of intentions, and Jackson Teller had laid every brick himself.

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Eight months, a single grain of sand in the hour-glass of time had passed by and life moved on regardless of its events, the world kept turning.

Sitting with his back against the tomb stone, Jax squinted briefly up at the fractured fragments of sunlight filtering through the tall pines. The cool breeze ruffling the loose strands of hair that has slipped from behind his ears, tickling his face, ignoring the sensation he shifted his gaze down. Twisting the thick silver rings, turning them round and round before he casually slipped off the farthest ring on his hand holding it in the palm of his hand.

His wedding ring.

The glaring symbol of his most recent and tragic failure felt oddly heavy, the mere sight left a bitter acidic taste in the back of his throat, a harsh pang in his heart. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Tara he would never intentionally hurt her, that he understood why she'd felt the need to betray him, though understanding was a far cry from acceptance. A part of him foolishly mourned not just the loss of her life, but that of the broken promises they'd made one another.

Now in the quiet, peaceful air it was possible for him to admit that their love had never been organic, but a generic action that came from years of repeated behavior.

He supposed the idea of what it could have been had just been to tempting, to appealing to let go, the dream so much more tantalizing than its reality. You tell yourself something long enough and eventually you will come to accept it as truth, as your defining purpose for living.

His late wife had based much of their relationship on the false principles that those around her had to obey by the rules set forth by society, no matter how often it proved otherwise. Even when she'd crafted her betrayal to him, to the Club she'd assumed everyone had to play by her rules, to color within the lines. The inner strength she'd possessed had been real, a formidable force targeted to the love she shared for her children making it all the more difficult for him to embrace the reality of her murder.

She'd been a wonderful mother, no one would deny her that, especially him. He'd made his own mistakes, selfish and thoughtless ones along the way. He could pretend he hadn't done them, tell himself that she'd driven him to it but it just wasn't an option. If anything was going to change, if he was ever going to become the man, the father his son and Club needed, it was time he held himself accountable.

They were both equally guilty of trying to mold the other in to something they were never meant to become.

Laying the ring down carefully atop the neatly trimmed grass, Jax exhaled a deep breath.

Everything he had longed for his entire life, Love, camaraderie, freedom, they all remained lost somewhere in the din and he struggled to feel even a sliver of hope that he could reclaim them, let alone being able to hold on to them.

It wouldn't matter how sorry he was, how deeply he regretted the last few months between them.

Tara was dead, and apologies weren't going to bring her back.

Pocket vibrating, ringing for the millionth time he ignored it. Instead choosing to lean his head back against the tall polished marble tombstone behind him.

"How the fuck did I get so lost...How the fuck do I get back?" He asked.

Running a hand through his hair he stared briefly at the tombstone in front of him.

"Just tell me what to do...Please...just tell me how to get back."

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Elsewhere...

Squinting against the blinding sun, her arms flailing, struggling to ease the painful sensation of Saul's iron clad grip on her long hair. She's nearly certain this time he will rip it from the scalp. Using the long tresses as incentive he drags her through the open field, growing ever closer to the tall dilapidated barn, its wooden exterior faded and chipping.

She imagines if there were silence she could hear the sound of the song birds, the robins chirping.

But there is only the sound of Samson's voice, the angry guttural tone mixing with the sound of a young woman's petrified screams. Thrashing wildly, helplessly. The act of desperation wasted on the 200lb 6ft plus giant of man. With his arm wrapped around her waist he carries her with the same determination you might for an animal fit for the slaughter, he isn't even breaking a sweat. If anything, her fear, her panic is an irritation, and she knows better than anyone that Samson is not a man to tolerate even the slightest irritation.

Grimacing she bites her lower lip until its discomfort rivals that of her aggressors grip, voice filled with a similar fear as the woman in front of her.

"Saul!...Ah, no, please...Please!"

Abruptly stopping in place, he made a point to jerk her to the side. Bicep muscle clenching as he tightened his hold, bringing her around to meet his gaze. Glancing briefly at the pair in front of them as they continued their journey before turning his full attention to her. Smiling he watched her eyes screw shut as he lifted her up, the heels of her feet struggling to touch the ground, to ease the pain.

"Please." He says, voice eerily calm, almost intrigued.

"Please..." He repeats, smiling disappearing.

Tisking loudly, he shook his head, as if scolding a child.

"Open your eyes, look at me when I speak to you."

Doing as she was told, she tried in vain to control her breathing, heart hammering against her chest.

Pale green eyes meeting brown, her nostrils flaring as she fought to keep even the smallest semblance of calm.

"I'm not going to tolerate your insolence, not this time. Honestly how fucking far did you two think you were going to get? Clearly we have to keep revisiting this discussion Lily...especially if your going to allow these simple-minded whores poison to your mind with idea's of hope and freedom. Now because I am a man of principle I'll make you a promise...and you know I keep my promises."

Shoulders trembling Lily shakes her head, knowing full well what his promises entitle.

"I'm sorry...Saul, forgive me." She said, pleading.

Smoothing a palm over his shaved head with his free hand, Saul paused momentarily fingers running along the lines of the swastika tattooed on the back of his head.

"While I appreciate your willingness to admit your remorse, I'm afraid we are beyond the point of apologies. You'll take your punishment and we won't have this discussion again...Just the back this time...Your new best friend I can't extend my kindness to, she's Samson's problem now."

Feebly clawing at his fingers, Lily cried out as they began walking once again and this time when she stumbled he did not pause.

Abandoning her already crumbling, damaged composure she chose to scream, legs kicking and thrashing.

Sparing the young woman a glance, Saul sighed with the shake of his head.

"You disappoint me Lily, you really do."

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Kneeling in the shower, hands flat against the bottom fingers fanning out she tried and failed to keep from retching.

The burning, unforgiving pain of the long linear cuts flaring white-hot as her back unintentionally arched. Vision blurring, as the cold water sprinkled down doing it's best to clean the newest addition to the collection of well kept promises. Reaching up blindly, Lily turned off the water, though she took her time getting out. Wishing instead to linger, to try to remember a moment that did not feel this way.

It was becoming impossible.

Drying off as best she could, Lily managed to slip in to a thin gas station white t-shirt and black panties. Running a plastic comb hastily through her wet hair, purposely avoiding her own reflection. After detangling the long pale blonde hair, she left it loose around her shoulders, padding barefoot down the hall she hadn't made it ten feet when she heard the muffled, distressed sounds of panicked voices towards the end of the hall. It was only the whining barks of the dogs in the living room of the mobile home that drew her attention away.

Nervously, her chest filling with anxiety she forced herself to move, stepping through the nearest bedroom door. Eyes downcast she knelt obediently at the side of the narrow bed, the bristled woven rug beneath her knees rough and uncomfortable as it pressed in to her delicate skin but she pushed it out of her mind. Focusing all of her attention on controlling her facial expression, pushing down the revulsion she felt crawling up her throat as she felt Saul's cold hand snake down fingers tracing along the hollow curve of her collar-bone through the neck hole of the thin shirt.

Retracting his hand, Saul sniffed loudly, as he pulled out a metal lighter and glass pipe from his shirt pocket. Jiggling the small piece of crack inside it before holding the lit flame beneath it as he took a long drag. Leaning his back against the wall behind him he exhaled, dark eyes settling on her.

"Samson made a fucking mess of that girl, not much left now..." He said, taunting her with his grisly words.

It failed to rile her, and instead sickened her, filled her with guilt.

"As if I don't have enough fucking work to do with this bullshit at Carson's. Idiot's, let those race traitor bikers burn his place down. Fuckin' idiots, all that meth he had mother-fuckin' gone and now we're going to have to scout around, find a replacement before the other chapter comes in to town. Never ends I swear to God."

Eyes glued to the floor, Lily knew better then to utter a word. Saul was earlier then usual for his late night drug fueled rants, if she were lucky he would become distracted and forget she was even there. Either way no one was getting any sleep, least of all her.

"Nah...I'll tell you what Carson was a pussy letting them come to his property, asshole deserved what he got...Like to see them fuck with us, show them exactly whose in charge." He said, voice growing heated.

From her place on the floor she turned resting her head against the side of the mattress, eyes tracking Saul's erratic movements throughout the room.

Closing her eyes, Lily prayed silently for anything, anyone to set her free.

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