'Hey Babygirl, it's Gemma. I'm in a bit of a jam right now, actually a big jam. Think you can make it up to Pop's house for awhile? I'll be in touch sweetheart.'

I listened to that voicemail at least five times before I jumped out of bed and packed as much stuff as I could fit in my duffel. "Damnit Gem," I muttered under my breath, pushing my disheveled curls out of my face while I stuffed clothes in my bag. Gemma never called for help, hell she's the one that told me to stay out of it and keep myself out of club business. That's fine with me though, despite the fact that I pretty much grew up around them, I've never been crazy about that whole scene.

Being Gemma Teller's Goddaughter, I was bound to grow up around monster bikes, loud engines, cylinders, and transmission parts. There are even pictures of Uncle John showing me and Jax how to put together a carburetor right before he died. Granted I was only like, five when he died so I don't really remember him that well. My mom was Gemma Teller's best friend, and I mean like known each other in diapers best friend. She pretty much raised me and my older brother with the help of the MC, cause dear old dad had better things to do than hang around us all the time. We didn't have much, but mom worked two jobs and I spent a whole lot of time with the Tellers. That means in addition to learning a whole lot about cars and motorcycles, I also had a mouth that could make a marine blush by the time I hit my teenage years.

"OW! Son of a Whore!" My knee banged right into that damn dresser drawer that never fully closed AGAIN! I hated that thing, I'm surprised I hadn't just set it on fire yet. "Stupid piece of shit," I seethed, kicking the drawer as if it would feel the same pain my poor throbbing knee felt from that hit. Before I hit the road and made my way all the way back home up North, I needed to shower. I still reeked from beer, gasoline and cigarettes from last nights races. Coming home at dawn while running on beer, coffee and four hours of sleep didn't exactly make showering a priority when finally getting home from the races.

Not that it mattered really, it's not like I had anyone to impress right now or anyone waiting for me. I used to have a parakeet, but it made so much damn noise at all hours of the day and night that I left the cage door open and let it free. Gemma's Rule Number Six for being single and living on my own- never invite a guy to your place unless you're ready to give up a place of solitude. Once I told Gemma my plans to go out on my own, she literally gave me a whole long list of rules to follow for safety's sake. When mom died, she became a bit protective of me you see, wouldn't even let me go to the club parties once I turned sixteen. "A young thing with tits like that around those guys is like a wall made from crack rocks at a rehab center," she would say to me while pointing her hand, usually holding a cigarette, at my chest. It might not have been a realistic demand, but being who my guardian was, it's not like she had anything to worry about anyways.

Personally, I called 'the girls' here a blessing. It's amazing the stuff that I got away with when it comes to guys cause of these things. At that point I didn't even remember when the last time was that I paid for my own drink, but as Spiderman said, 'with great power comes great responsibility', so I tried to not abuse the power. I had to say, being a self-proclaimed comic book nerd had it's benefits with those those handy little sayings.

Leave it to me though, to have picked up the love of comic books from my ex instead of his love for organizing. My room looked like Jackie Chan and Jet Li had a fight to the death in there, and my bathroom, despite that I cleaned it periodically, still had clothes and grooming products strewn around.

I wasn't going to waste all that time cleaning it though, if Gemma was calling me, that meant there was seriously something wrong. I knew it couldn't be about Aaron, she'd be calling every two minutes if that were the case. My brother's been in the service for almost eight years at that point, and Gemma had been a main contact since I moved around too much. When he became a Lieutenant in the Marine Corps, I get scheduled calls from him, but any emergency calls go straight to Gem. That meant it had gotta be something personal.

Oh crap, now I'm going to be worrying the entire drive. Hell I'm already obviously troubled as I vigorously slather conditioner all through my long blonde curls instead of taking my time and doing it gently like I normally do. Oh man what if it was Jax? No, he'd call me personally, just like he did when that whole thing with Abel and his ex junkie cumdumpster, or when Donna died. He's like another brother, hell he's more protective of me than Aaron was sometimes, so if it's serious he might want to keep me out of it. Hmm...

Damn, I hated not knowing!

That was probably why I'm in such a crazy rush to get clean and get on the road. I was pretty chill with most things, but when it came to Gemma or anyone else I considered family, it drove me out of my mind with worry. When I glanced at the shower clock to see that it took me only twenty minutes instead of my usual hour to get clean, I knew that I was close to a panicking state. My slight OCD about my hygiene and grooming routine was only surpassed either when I had something major on my mind or when I would be borderline overemotional.

Let's see, bag...check. Sunglasses... check. Money and wallet and all that... check. Netbook... check. I thought that was pretty much everything. It would take me probably a full day to get all the way up to Gemma's dad's house from Venice Beach, so I had a hell of a trip ahead of me. Not that I was bothered or anything, any excuse to drive my baby made it all worth it.

Ah now that's my most prized possession ever, and I do mean ever. My black 1970 Pontiac Firebird was my pride and joy. I worked her from a crappy original model muscle car that was ready for the dump into a fully restored beauty with all original parts. The 400 HO V8 engine, running to 400 horsepower at 5400rpm worked like a dream, the rumble coming from it shook my car whenever I drove, fueling the adrenaline that coursed through my veins while my body shuddered from the rush. Now if only I could get a guy to make me feel the same way, ha that would be a trip.

I might not be a motorcycle chick but I'm definitely a car girl. A muscle car girl to be more specific. I've been driving for years, since I was thirteen I think, because I begged Aaron to teach me and it was one of the few things that we did to bond. From the second that I slid into the driver's seat, I knew this was where I was meant to be. Three years later when I finally got my license, much to the horror of Jax, I became a speed demon, and later moved on to an adrenaline junkie. Nothing can compare to driving at 130mph on an open road, when my mind would go into this zone that was pure ecstasy and a sense of peace simultaneously coming over my entire being.

That high that I got from speed is what got me into the underground racing ring. Making money off doing something that I'm damn good at anyways and getting a constant fix on my need for adrenaline was just perfect for me. Unfortunately, it's not exactly a The Fast and the Furious kind of lifestyle, being that racing and stealing are two separate things and I had yet to find a Vin Diesel type anywhere in the ring. It's a closed community, that's on a constant move. Usually people either race for someone or they go solo. When you race for someone, you didn't make as much cash, but you always get all car upgrades and repairs for free from your Head. Racing solo was my deal though, I don't answer to anyone. Granted, it meant my life was less than luxurious since most of my money went to keep my baby in great shape, but I didn't like owing anyone anything.

The racing ring wasn't all about money making and driving fast though, it had circles within circles, and I won't pretend that it wasn't stupid of me to be as caught up in it as I am. I made a lot of enemies back in the days when I started out, doing the old hustle routine on a couple of guys that would have gotten me killed if the Head didn't recognize me as Elizabeth McGee's little girl. Anyone who knew of my mom, knew about her connection to SAMCRO, and those were the last people anyone wanted any problems with. Even though associations with them in the past had saved my life, I hated it. I wanted to make my own name in the world without anyone's help. By the time I wet out on my own and went down to UC Berkeley for college, I had changed my last name to my mother's maiden name, Sidelsky.

Well it did the trick, that's for sure. I made a hell of a name for myself, one I'm damn proud of and worked my ass off to earn. Almost every racing ring on the West Coast knew me by name and reputation, which had it's perks. I refused to race for any Head, but I honed my driving skills to a level that many would say was beyond reckless. Gemma was furious with me when she found out, though I had to give myself credit for being able to keep it from her as long as I did. It wasn't too hard since she was caught up with club business and my grades were still really good and I was alive and healthy from our phone calls and meetups once every couple of months. It wasn't until Donna's funeral that she found that I've been using the money I made in racing to pay my way through school instead of working at a garage like I told everyone. Man did she EVER flip on me. Gemma Teller-Morrow was known for keeping her cool and for being one seriously tough lady, but I'm pretty sure the windows shook from her yelling.

Eventually it did blow over, and I had promised to keep her better informed, especially after my graduation when I was on my own and had nothing stopping me from completely immersing myself in the racing world. That was what I'd been doing since the last summer when I finally graduated college with a Bachelors in Sports Medicine and minor in psychology. I thought about it as I tossed my crap in the car and put my sunglasses on, and right then probably wasn't the best time for me to disappear off the grid from the racing world. I wanted to establish a place in some more of the inner circles, and use them for connections. With Gemma Teller-Morrow being partially responsible for my upbringing, I learned to manipulate like the best of them.

However, when Gemma asked you to do something, it's usually not smart to disregard her. Especially at that time, her face on a WANTED poster was everywhere and I knew some serious shit had gone down. I gave Jax a call as soon as I saw it, and he gave me the bare minimum, told me it was too dangerous to come up. Even if I was living my own life, family comes first, and I didn't know where I would have ended up if it wasn't for Gemma and her family taking me in and raising me the last of my teenage years.

Speeding down the road, I turned into a gas station to fill up my tank, taking the opportunity to give Gemma another call. "Hello Gem? Hey it's Anna... Yea I got your message, I'll be there by nightfall." I turned the phone off and finished pumping my car with gas before I began the long journey North at the call of a woman that I loved and respected more than anyone else.

Authors Note: Okay so I've had this dilemma when it came to writing a story on a Television series that I never thought I could have, which resulted in me having like 100x more respect for those writers that managed to write stories centered around a television series that still allowed the characters to change properly to fit into their own storyline and the one being presented in an ongoing series.

That being said, I decided to write a story that will, no matter what, be AU but stick to the original plotline. I immensely respect and admire the writers that have the courage to branch out and write their own version of events or make up their own plotline for a television show, but being that this is an ongoing series that I absolutely love, I can't bring myself to erase that, as it would also erase the character development that occurred to all the cannons. What I have decided to do is write it from a different take, to see the events through the eyes of another and also see what happened in between all that time that was missed or passed over on the show.

It came to me when I wondered how it was that Gemma didn't have any close female friends despite her having that kind of personality where she would crave a female kinship with an equal, rather than act as a mentor to Tara for example. Off that idea I took a spin on the story, and attempt at explaining exactly why she had to go through so much traumatizing trials throughout the series where anyone else would have craved that close friend that understands you differently than a lover or a romantic interest. While adding a female friend would alter the development and change Gemma went through, explaining it away with a twist worked in my mind.

In addition, since this is my first time ever writing a story on this website not only for a television, but also in first person, reviews are welcome and requested, only because I am unsure as to whether or not I could develop a knack for this. My writing has changed drastically since my first story, and I appreciate honest and intelligent feedback and opinions.

If the reception of this chapter is decent, I'll put up my next one soon.