(A/N: This is my first story in the SOA fandom, so keep that in mind, though I will say that Tara Knowles is one of my favorite characters of all time)
Charming might as well have been Timbuktu. Its flat, dry, backwoods landscape offered nothing to eyes that beheld some of the most astounding, elaborate structures in Chicago.
Ah Chicago, Tara Knowles dreaded leaving that place from the moment she heard of dreaded transfer that just so happened to include her name, the apparent luck of the draw. Of course when you're relatively low on the police totem pole you can't really argue. You just have to suck it up and go where you are assigned to go.
Unfortunately for her, while everyone else was moving one to bigger, or at least equivalent, departments, she was sent to middle of Nowhere's ville, Northern California, population of roughly 15,000. Chicago would've swallowed this town up in one gulp.
How much trouble could really go on there? Was it enough to warrant having her moved there with no termination date? She wanted to ask her C.O. all of these questions but when it came down to the wire, it wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference.
Shoved to the brim with boxes, Tara urged her Cutlass on towards the police station because she couldn't wait until morning to see her new place of employment. Excitement wasn't motivating her quest; it was more along the lines of 'let's get this over with.'
Slowing her car to a crawl, she whipped it into park as she sat silently, parked outside of the station. "Are you shitting me?"
That was the only appropriate response to the rundown, small, dingy two-toned brick police department staring all the way into her goddamn soul. It wasn't one of those delightful, quaint places that you saw on television and thought 'how cute,' it was more like 'shit this place has been horribly underfunded by the government.'
For Christ's sake there were only two goddamn windows on each side, not even big enough for Tara to squeeze her ass through, from what she could tell.
Sliding on her sunglasses, she laid her head against the back of the seat and let out an audibly sigh. This was going to be just fucking perfect, she bitterly laughed as she read the paint chipped sign on a parked patrol car that read 'Charming,' this place was anything but charming.
Lodged in the center of hick town, USA, what was the first call she was going to get, a farming dispute? Call it hypocritical all you wanted, but Tara seriously doubted much more could go on in that town.
Being the glutton for punishment that she was, Tara exited her car, letting the door slam shut behind her as she proceeded on into the station. She promised herself she was just going to do a drive by and check out the actual building and the surrounding area, but curiosity got the better of her and she couldn't resist seeing if this place was as dull on the inside as it was on the outside.
Silently praying to herself, she wasn't surprised when she entered the office, it was just as to be expected.
One story, cubicles all huddled around the middle of the room, drawing a distinct path to the few office doors she assumed were for the chief, deputy, sheriff, however the hell titles and ranks worked here. The police station in Chicago had three floors and a reception area with someone there to greet them upon arrival; she obviously wasn't in Kansas anymore that was becoming more and more apparent to her as she let it all sink in.
"Can I help you sweetheart?" The California drawl from a woman in her mid to late 30's, wearing a knee length, tight fitting, black pencil skirt, broke through Tara's internal whining and complaining.
Tara shook her head, "nope, I just got transferred here and was checking out the place."
With her hands on her lips, and a smirk breaking through the cherry red lipstick drawn on her lips, realization swept over her, "ah so you're the new rookie."
That word pissed Tara off, almost more than any other word. Sure she wasn't a veteran cop by any means, but she also did her time, she was far from being a rookie.
"No I spent three years in the Chicago P.D. before I got transferred here," she conceitedly retorted to the lady.
The lady chuckled remaining unimpressed by her credentials, "well if you're new here then you're a rookie, hate to break it to you."
Snapping her mouth shut, Tara thought it best not to say anything else to the woman who was obviously just yanking her chain since there wasn't anything else to do in this godforsaken town.
With a curt nod in her general direction, Tara slipped the glasses back over her eyes as she muttered a goodbye, fleeing for her car as quickly as possible. Less than 24 hours in her new job and she was already getting off on the wrong foot with the other employees.
Since the transfer was short notice, her C.O. set her up with housing. Seeing as though she knew nothing about the area she was going to and didn't have time to research and figure it out, she none too enthusiastically accepted the offer.
Peering down at her phone where the address was located, she double-checked it one more time to make sure she was parked outside of the right place before she just started trespassing. Now that would be a rookie mistake.
The house wasn't nearly as bad as the police department although Tara rarely spent time at home back in Chicago, so she didn't care much about what her house looked liked.
This place would be different. She had a feeling that Charming wasn't going to be crawling with cases and crimes going on, which would mean spending a lot more time at home. It was old-fashioned, but in a more charming, pun intended, way.
Half-brown, half-green leaves, due to water shortages and droughts, trailed up one corner of the house, completely enclosing that side of the house. Already she could spot more, and larger, windows here than at the station. The driveway, paved, was rather small, but one bonus the house offered was a garage to the left of where she was parked.
She really didn't know how to judge houses because most of what had to go off of was from Chicago and there she lived in an apartment. Houses weren't something she was accustomed to, nor the feelings one was supposed to get upon moving into their first 'home.'
The longer she sat outside, the more suspicious she would look to the wandering eyes of nosy, countryside neighbors, used to knowing everyone within a 30 mile radius.
Gathering the duffle bag perched on top of boxes in the passenger seat, she quietly closed the car door behind her, fumbling through her keys in order to figure out which was the right one. Finally, on the third attempt, she hit the jackpot and was granted access into the house.
As promised, it had been freshly painted, obvious by the lingering smell of paint that flooded Tara's nostrils as soon as she entered, and the carpet had either been cleaned or taken out. Unaware of the prior occupant of the house, she was only told that the house was badly damaged on the inside, due to unspecified circumstances, but would be remodeled before she moved in. Sure enough, it was exactly as though no one had lived there before. Every trace of human life form living in the house, completely wiped away in the process of a few weeks.
The first thing she did was close the off-white, vertical blinds, in hopes of keeping snoopy people out of her business. She was already new to the place, she didn't want to feel like an outsider right from the start.
She dropped the duffle bag on the tan, leather sofa that sat in the middle of the living room, across from a flower printed loveseat, reflecting the age of the house. Her C.O. told her it would be furnished, which at the time she was grateful for, but had no idea he meant it would look like this.
Getting a feel for her surroundings, her eyes landed on a bulky, but decent sized TV caddy cornered so that it could be seen from either the couch, or the dingy brown colored recliner. Who the hell used recliners anymore? The last person she knew to have a recliner was her 97-year-old grandfather, bedridden due to the fact that he was fucking old.
Without any more thought about the horrid choices in patterns or colors, she went back out to her car, pilling as much as she could onto her petite 5'6 frame, though she was much stronger than she looked.
After a few trips to the car, she had unloaded all of her worldly possessions into the house. Seeing everything she owned, sprawled out in the vacant home where it only took up maybe a fraction of the front room, she realized she was the definition of bare necessities.
Locking the door after she took inventory that everything from her car was here, she scanned the rest of the house, making a beeline for what she assumed to be the bedroom.
Whereas the flowers on the loveseat had been tiny, the ones on the bedspread in her room were colossal, gaudy, and just plain obnoxious. She had to get a new comforter immediately and burn that one, put it out of its misery.
The four poster, queen sized bed was made out of study, dark stained wood, matching both of the end tables on either side of the bed.
Due to the age of the house, there were no ceiling fans in any of the rooms, minus the kitchen, so the only sources of light came from the two ornately decorated lamps, and outside lighting from the long rectangular window above her bed…if she ever felt comfortable enough to open the blinds.
Tossing her keys on the nightstand, she kicked off her shoes, intending to fall into a deep sleep until tomorrow. Nostalgically glancing at the home screen of her phone, one of the first pictures she'd taken from Chicago, she sighed, pushing aside those thoughts in order to go about setting her alarm.
Thrilled was not a word she would use to describe going to work tomorrow, but that wouldn't affect how she performed at her job. She was no fucking rookie, and she would show them all, even if it took time, what else did she have to do in this goddamn town?