Hello my readers! I wanted to try something different this time around when it comes to writing a story. I wanted to write a fanfic taking place when Jax, Gemma, and the sons go to Belfast to get Abel back. I hope you enjoy, feedback is always welcome, just don't hurt me too much! :)

Sixteen year old Zooey looked around the now clean and organized attic, beaming with self pride. She never put that much effort into cleaning anything before.

As her light brown eyes scanned the attic, they found the three boxes that were left unmarked that she moved toward the back of the attic. It was very odd. Everything in this attic was marked except for those four boxes. Zooey bit the inside of her bottom lip. The curiousity coursing through her veins was too much to handle. She needed to find out what was in those boxes.

Her legs brought her in front of the stack of boxes. She peeled back the aged tape that sealed the first box that was eye level, pulling the box's flaps out of the way.

It was a box of pictures.

Both of Zooey's hands reached inside, grabbing a small stack of photos. The first photo her eyes made contact with was of a beautiful smiling woman with hazel eyes and unruly bronzed colored curly hair wearing distressed dark denim jeans that were torn at the knees and a oversized black sweatshirt that clearly wasn't hers. She was straddling a motorcycle with a blonde haired hottie with slicked back hair sitting on the seat behind her with his arms wound tightly around her curvaceous body, planting a kiss on her cheek. Zooey brought the picture closer to her face, trying to see what his leather kutte read.

All her eyes could make out were the words: Men of Mayhem.

She furrowed her brows, flipping the picture over to it's opposite side.

Shit. Nothing was written on the back.

She went through the deck of pictures she had in her hands, trying to see if any of them had some kind of description written on the back of them to solve this little mystery that Zooey stumbled upon.

Nothing. Nothing whatsoever.

"Zoe, what are you doing, sweetheart?"

Zooey jumped, dropping the pictures back in the box, frantically closing the box, resealing it with the tape.

"Nothing nana."

Regan approached her granddaughter, touching her underneath her chin.

"Lying isn't your strong suit, Zoe. That's what got you in trouble in the first place, causing you to land here for the whole summer. You can tell me. I won't get mad."

"I was curious to know what was in the unmarked boxes, and I found pictures in the first one I opened. It was with a girl on a motorcycle with a guy riding bitch. Looked like he was tryin' to teach her how to ride."

Regan smiled, closing her eyes.

"I remember that day."

"Wait what? That was you in the picture nana? You dated a biker?"

"I did. For a long time actually."

"What happened? Why did you guys break up?"

"Zoe, it's a long story."

"Nana, I'm stuck here for the whole summer. I have all the time in the world. Please... please tell me about the guy in the picture."

"Alright. Let's get some food in your stomach first, then I'll tell you all about Jax Teller."

"Jax Teller? Even his name sounds badass," Zooey followed her grandmother down the spiraled staircase, leading to the main part of her home.

Regan let out a chuckle as they both entered the kitchen. Zooey took a seat at the kitchen table, propping her feet up on the chair adjacent to her as she watched her grandmother open the refrigerator door, taking cold cuts from the bottom draw of the fridge.

" Can you tell me now?"

"My goodness, you are so impatient. Just like your father."

"You know what they say, Nana. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"This is true. I met Jackson when I lived in Ireland about.. phew, fourty five years ago and..."

"You lived in Ireland!"

"I did, Zoe. I just lived in America for so long, my accent just faded away. Now, I can't share the story with you if you continue to interrupt me."

"I'm sorry, it just feels like I'm getting to know a whole new side of you. I promise, no more interruptions," Zooey, planted her elbows on the table, cradling her face between her fists.

Forty Five Years ago:

Regan stood outside Ashby's with her arms crossed, her cigarette dangling from the tips of her right hand. Her eyes followed each and every passing car, curious as to where that person might be heading. All she knew was that she would love to live someone else's life for a day, hell even an hour. Shit seems to be getting worse by the second, and all she could do was stand there and watch it happen.

For example, her mother was diagnosed with Lukemia about a year ago, give or take. The first few months weren't so bad, but as time went on, Regan got to witness her strong mother become weak. She worked close to five jobs to pay for her medical bills and house related expenses since she wanted her mother to rest. She could have gone to her father for help, but she never could accept charity. She didn't go to college, date, or spend time with any of her friends. All her focus has been set on her mom because that's the way it was supposed to be. Her mother raised her on her own for the past twenty five years, always putting her first. Now it was time to return the favor.

Today, her mother decided to dump all her medication down the toilet. That caused a screaming match inside the Reynard household, nearly shaking the walls of their home. Those pills are the only thing that's keeping her alive. Her mother, Zooey, didn't see it that way. She said all they do is make her sleep, and she is just missing out on the time she has left in this world.

"Regan, are you okay?"

Regan turned her head, seeing her father stand on the side of her with a concerned expression on his face.

"I'm fine," Regan flicked the end of her cigarette with her index finger, causing the extented ash to fall onto the back stoned sidewalk.

"I don't believe that for a second," McGee stretched out his hand, wiping away a tear that fell from her eye with his thumb.

The man that was currently in Regan's presence was indeed her father. Keith McGee and her mother met twenty five years ago at one of the parties he and his club threw at the clubhouse each week. Her mother was informed of this party, and attended it with a few of her girlfriends. McGee was a horny cheating president who honed in on Zooey like a guided missile. One thing led to another, and that's how Regan became to be. McGee didn't know about her until her twenty fifth birthday four months ago. Zooey knew her life was coming to an end, and figured she would right all her wrongs. She thought keeping him away from her would be the best thing for Regan. She feared that if her daughter was exposed to McGee's lifestyle, she might follow her mother's messy footsteps.

"Ma stopped takin her meds," she brought the cigarette to her mouth, taking a long drag before dropping her arm back into its former position.

"Christ Regan, why the hell would she do something like that?"

"She said it's because they make her sleep too much, and she's missing out on life. But, her excuse sounds like she's giving up," frustration rode in the undertone of her voice.

"You have to put yourself in her shoes. Wouldn't you do the same thing?"

She didn't say anything. She dropped her cigarette on the stone, crushing it with her black combat boots.

Maureen peaked her head from inside the store.

"Regan baby, can you help me get the house set up for Samcro's arrival today? Trinny's still on holiday and won't be back till later tonight."

"Sure."

Maureen gave them both a smile, completely oblivious to the connection between McGee and Regan, giving a nod before heading back inside.

"Duty calls," Regan dragged her feet, not wanting to do anything except being in bed, crying her eyes out.

"Keep your head up, darlin'. You need to be strong for your ma."