Title: In My Best Dress, Fearless

Summary: When an old friend calls begging for help Becca Crane jumps on a plane that takes her from her glamorous life in Manhattan to the backwater town of Charming, California. Taking her friend's case despite the overwhelming evidence against her Becca will have to battle her friend's family, husband, evil batshit crazy mother-in-law, a corrupt mayor, multiple prejudiced law enforcement officers, and a crumbling motorcycle club to prove Tara's innocence. But when an old lover comes strutting through the door it will send Becca's carefully constructed plans out the window as she struggle to hold back a tidal wave with an umbrella. Now the high maintenance and guarded lawyer will have to divulge a dark and long buried secret to Jackson Teller and the rest of SAMCRO if they are ever to truly trust her. After all, this is not the first time Becca Crane has committed a crime to save Tara Knowles. Murder must count for something.

Walking into the visitation room Becca Crane picked at the loose thread on her work suit, frowned, and then flicked it onto the ground as she straightened her clothes. Grabbing her briefcase from the ground Becca put on her best game face and walked with a straight gait to the room that housed her friend and current client. Her sensible but fashionable heels clacked on the ground and echoed throughout the prison around her.

Becca could feel the redneck guards watching her ass she entered the room. Rolling her eyes Becca did her best to bite back a comment. These men looked at her like she was a model while in Manhattan Becca was not looked at something to be admired.

Becca Crane was a good lawyer who had worked her way up from nothing to graduating from a small time law school in Chicago to one of the best firms in the Big Apple. But Becca was always looked down upon because of where she was from. Small town girl from a farming community in Wyoming. Could shoot a gun better than most cops, was not afraid to speak her opinion, and was not intimidated by the big wigs and their money and WASP blue blood ways. Becca could fight with the best of them in the courtroom and then out drink most of the men in the bars at night.

At age thirty-one Becca was in her prime and she knew it too. Her sunflower golden hair hung in loose waves mid way down her back, her pale skin was free of freckles, and her dirt brown eyes stood out amongst the blue and green eyes frequently found on the East coast. Becca wore brand name clothes and liked to have manicures, and getting her hair done, and expensive shoes. But that did not mean she forgot where she came from. She just preferred it did not define her like it did for so many other people.

Becca shook her head. Game face on. Breathe in and breathe out. Remain calm. Show no fear. Take in your surroundings. Survey the battlefield. Make a plan of attack. Show no fear. Cut off the enemies supply train. Destroy them slowly but surely. Rip out their tongues and blind them and cut their Achilles heel. Kill some but leave some survivors to tell the tale. The tale will be twisted and warped and will serve in the future when trying to win. They were brutal tactics taught to Becca by her superiors at Gold, Dawes, and Hawthorne. But they had won most of her cases and built her a solid reputation as a lawyer who got her clients out and left a war zone in her wake.

Entering the room Becca Crane saw her old friend wearing a cast and a weary expression on her face. Well if Becca was being honest Tara Knowles-Teller was her only friend. Being a kickass lawyer did not leave much time for a social life aside from a healthy appetite for one night stands.

As soon as Tara saw her Becca knew that something was wrong. Alright, something was of course wrong with the charges and what not, but something else was bugging Tara. Sitting down in the cold hard chair Becca but her briefcase on the table and sighed.

Reaching cross the table she put her hand on Tara's and squeezed her good hand. Looking into her friend's battle weary eyes she smirked and said, "Just like last time right?" Getting a sad smile and head shake from Tara. Well at least she had some humor left in her. Becca supposed that was better than nothing. Clearing her throat she said, "Well we should get down to business."

Becca sat at the end of the long table with a Reaper carved into it and grimaced as her hand touched a table obviously not cleaned properly for years. Wiping her singers on her chair she swallowed and begged for the Heavens to open up and swallow her as she felt every single pair of eyes in the room narrow in on her. After hearing everything, and that meant five years worth of crap from Tara, Becca had come straight to Teller-Marrow to talk to Tara's husband. Which she had just discovered talking with the entire branch of SAMCRO.

Reaching up to straighten her bun on the back of her head Becca heard a throat clear as the man at the head of the table sat with his bright blue eyes boring into her own trying to read something there.

"As I was saying Mr. Teller the charges are quite clear. My plan is to cast doubt on Otto as well as the DA's office. Now if you will excuse me I have to get back to my hotel room and start to prepare for the hearing tomorrow."

Becca pushed the chair back and moved to rise but was stopped by Jax. "That's it? I need to know more."

At his tone Becca narrowed her eyes and unleashes her claws. No one spoke like that to her and got away with it. "As Tara's lawyer and not your own I legally have to tell you nothing. And if you wanted to know more you should have maybe considered visiting your wife in the two weeks she has been in police custody. Now if you will excuse me."

Dismissing him with a look Becca turned to leave just as the door opened and she gasped and truly wished the ground would swallow her whole and the skies would strike her own. There her past soon in all of his tattooed and tall , muscular glory.

Sons of Anarchy member Quinn James stood looking down at her in shock from his six foot five height. Covered in thick muscle Quinn was lean enough to be fact but Becca had seen the former Marine fight and she knew he was deadly with his fists, knives, and whatever other weapon he could get his hands on.

His cap of red hair was still shorn short and his brilliant green eyes framed by thick eyelashes were staring into her own. Those eyes that could always disarm her and made her weak in the knees.

Mentally steeling herself from falling as she always did Becca's hand drifted to her stomach where the scar dwelt. The scar that had been made by Tara herself as she had brought the last product of her and Quinn's twisted and tumultuous, and irrevocable relationship into the world.

Two little innocent lives and souls who Quinn did not know about and would never know about. Two little lives Becca had raised on her own and were still safe in Manhattan away from their mother's lies and their father's deeds.

Two little children whom she loved more than anything, including the man in front of her. She loved her children with every fiber in her body; but god. The moment she laid eyes upon him all those old feelings came rushing back. The love and the hate and the betrayal and the mourning.

Becca could feel the walls closing in on her. If things were back before now they were FUBAR. Hell they were SANFU AND FUBAR and SUSFU and TARFU and BOHICA just to boot. Trouble had just come walking into her life and just like always Becca was caught in the shitstorm as usual.

Hell, now she was charging Tara double.