(A/N): Hey guys, this is my first full blown fanfiction in a really long time (I deleted the other one years ago) and I'm a little nervous. I've only just begun to watch Sons of Anarchy, and I'm hooked. As in I've created a whole other idea for it in my head - I can barely sleep or write in my English class because this damn storyline that I've concocted has stuck to me like glue. I'm still on season 1, so the updates could be slow. Please go easy on me! I am in my 2nd to last year of High School, so I'll gladly take your editing tips or even story line tips!

Anyway, a lot of this will follow the events that happen on the show. However, some may be changed or altered or I'll put my own spin on it - please keep this in mind, guys. I hope how I write some of the characters aren't too OOC (Tara is, but please keep in mind that this is MY fanfiction, and while I do love her character she served a different purpose in this story), but I need to watch more episodes to gather a better understanding of them all.

Also, please forgive me if the updates are slow - I'm coming towards the end of my year 11 and most of my time will be spent on assignments and studying, I hope you all understand. This is just a short chapter! Sorry about that!

Thank you!

I do not own any of the characters, only Andie Winston, and any other original characters that may be included.

She died.

The girl with emerald eyes that sparkled in daylight.

In a pool of her own blood, whispering two little words that would never be forgotten, and clutching onto his blood soaked tee as if she was about to fall - and in a sense, he guessed, she did. She fell from his stubborn grasp, and he was suddenly alone; again. In silence, and a room that reeked of blood that he was sure would always remain stained on his skin. She had told him right from the start that no one, absolutely no one, was going to save Tara Knowles. Not even him.

They had married quickly, the two loners. Why, he was never sure. It was a half-drunken proposal, one that hadn't been very thought out, he hadn't even bought a damn ring, just slurred the words "marry me" in a pub full of greasy perverts who could barely keep their eyes off of her. Perhaps he asked her as a last attempt to rid himself of the past, or maybe he fell in love with her at first sight. He can't remember. All he knows is that it hurt like hell when she was ripped away from him, and that's what stays; the pain. Because if he's honest with himself, he can barely remember the sound of her voice.

She got pregnant once, but they both knew they'd be shit at it - the whole 'parenting thing'. Maybe with someone else he would have wanted to keep it. Maybe with someone else she would have been better, stronger, happier. But together they were toxic. He was a man who had been running too long, and she was a suicidal narcissist - and he was an idiot for thinking that together they would be any different.

He needed her far too badly, she had once said.

"But isn't that love?" He had spat out, not quite believing the words rolling of his tongue.

"No," She had laughed bitterly. "That's stupidity."

In hindsight, he should have told her to shove it as soon as she uttered some of the thoughts of her warped mind. He'd heard one too many 'traumatic' childhoods in his bed, any more, and he'd have to start charging by the hour. But he remembered the first time he met her, and the way those green eyes of hers sparkled so brightly - reminding him of a part of his past that he'd tried to forget. He couldn't bare to let her slip through his fingers, because she linked him to a part of his world that he had long forgotten.

But she left just as she came into his world - bloody, with the ghost of a smile spread across her lips.

He could still remember the day he met Tara. Her eyes were all glossed up with tears, and they shone with a brilliance of emerald. When he assessed the wound to her side, he expected tears but they didn't budge. In fact, he could see it then - that almost smile of hers. When he thinks about it, if he had to choose a word to describe Tara Knowles then almost would be it. He almost saved her, they were almost it, he was almost in love with her, she was almost her. Almost. His heart twitched at the word.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the tattered motel blind, hitting the skin of Jackson Teller's cheek. Hesitating, the blonde slowly opened an eyelid, before wincing as his eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness brought by the rising sun. His throat was dry and coarse, as though he had swallowed sandpaper. He blindingly reached for the bottle atop the beside table, taking a long swig of the thick liquid. As he swallowed, the substance left a lingering trail that burned at the back of his throat. It was a bitterness that he had grown to crave.

He sometimes wondered if in her last minutes, after she had taken that knife and ran it straight across her throat, if she had screamed out his name. Begging, hoping, praying, that he would come barreling through as her knight in shining armor as he had done the first day they met. Funny that, life never did tend to go for the typical cliches that won actors Oscars and made directors millions. Those bastards were setting us all up for a bitter disappointment, and he had learned the hard way.

Jax pulled on the plaid shirt lying on the chair next to the motel bed, before changing into the rest of his clothes. After rinsing his face in the rotting sink, he glanced at himself in the mirror. Everything looked the same, but his eyes seemed darker than usual. It could have been the lighting - but he wouldn't be surprised if they had grown darker, colder. He just wondered if they would.

He had loved Tara.

Sure, he hadn't been in love with her. But in some kind of way, he did love her - what ever it had been, it wasn't enough. It never would have been. Nothing was ever going to be enough, he knew that the moment he left Andie Winston behind all those years ago. He wanted to kick himself for wondering if she thought of him, if they all did. Was he in the back of their mind during the long days? Or had they just pushed his memory out, until he became a ghost. He couldn't blame them if they had, he had tried to for years and years.

But maybe, just maybe, they were still holding out a little hope for him.

He prayed they were when he rode past the welcome sign to his home, Charming.