Disclaimer: I don't own Sons of Anarchy or any of the characters in the show. It's the property of Kurt Sutter, Sutter Ink and FX.

Okay, first chapter of the new Quinn story.

To the ladies of the freak circle, you're all awesome women, don't doubt that. As always, Simone Santos who's always there for some help. I'm amazed at how available you are at all times, the amount of mails we send is just ridiculous. And finally, MuckyShroom, who has volunteered to beta read this story as well, you are one amazing lady, I hope you know that!

As for this story, since I suck at naming things I try to find a theme for the chatpers. This is Jazz songs, you'll understand why soon. Without further ado, the first chapter, let me know what you think:

1. I Gotta Right to Sing the Blues

Billie checked her watch one more time. Three hours and forty five minutes left. She sighed and looked back at her book. The night shifts at the gas station sucked balls. Seriously.

She and her sister, Ella, had bought the place three years earlier, since neither of them had any idea, what so ever, of what they wanted to do with their lives. Owning a gas station seemed as good idea as any other. Since Billie was an insomniac, she'd volunteered to work the night shifts.

Ella had gotten married two years ago and now she and her husband, Sean, were proud parents to a little girl named Nina. Another Jazz singer name, Billie loved it. They hired some school kids on an hourly basis as well, so between the three of them, and those pimpled kids, it worked out and they were making a decent amount of money.

Billie kept reading for a while and then, with a deep sigh, she looked at her watch again. Three hours and forty minutes. Even if the nights were slow, it was good service to be open around the clock. It was also the perfect time for accounting, stocking and cleaning. Unfortunately she'd already done all that this night so now she was just waiting.

After a few seconds of arguing with herself, she went over to the coffee machine and took a cup of coffee. It wouldn't help her to sleep later on, but at least she had something to do for a few minutes.

Back behind the register she sat down on the chair, and cracked open the book. With the book rested on her knees and the cup in her free hand, she kept on reading. When the door opened she looked up and nodded towards the customer.

It was a quite pretty guy in his mid thirties, black hair, and he nodded back with a smile. He walked over to the cookies and Billie returned to her book while waiting for him to make up his mind on what he wanted.

"Coffee?" he asked and Billie pointed towards the coffee machine in the corner.

"Over there."

Billie put the book on the counter and stood up just in time to smile and nod to the next customer who walked inside. He didn't smile or nod back. He was tall, had a biker vest and black eyes. In fact; he didn't even look at her. Instead he walked right up to the guy by the coffee machine and before she could even register what was going on, he put one arm around the cute guy's shoulders from behind, his other hand on the jaw and with a snap; he broke his neck.

Still holding the hot coffee in her hand, she stood up with what she later assumed was a highly unintelligent expression and stared at the man on the floor. The door opened again and a third, huge guy walked inside.

"Jesus fucking Christ! At a fucking gas station," the big guy by the door said and put away the gun he held in his hand. A gun! And a dead guy on the floor! Billie's head was spinning and she looked over at Black Eyes who shrugged.

"Got tired of chasing this fuck," he said with a raspy voice before turning to her. "You alone?" Billie nodded and finally managed to close her mouth. "Don't move," he said and she nodded again.

The two who were still alive started to move around the body on the floor and Billie couldn't take her eyes from it. She noticed the cookie bag on the floor next to the cute guy. Dead, just like that. The conversation between the other two guys disappeared into the background behind the buzzing sound filling her head.

"Hey! Freckles!" The Big Guy yelled and she blinked before looking at him. "Where's the plastic bags?"

She swallowed a couple of times and finally slowly lowered the arms she'd been holding up. She looked at him for a few seconds and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to figure out what to say.

"I'm gonna have to throw up," was what she finally landed on before reaching for the trash can.

Squatting down she emptied her stomach. The big guy came behind the counter and crouched down next to her and when she looked up he was holding a bottle of water in front of him. She took it and swallowed a few sips before sitting her ass down on the floor.

"Do I need to tell you what happens if you call the cops?" he asked, but in a nice voice. She shook her head. "Where's the tapes from the security cameras?"

She pointed at a door behind him.

"How are we doing?" He said but it wasn't to her.

"Almost done. I'll call the prospects."

He looked back at her. "There's no real risk that they'll come asking for him here, but if they do."

"I understand," she finally managed to speak again, but her voice was weak and very, very low.

He stood up and walked away, but she was still sitting down, she couldn't move. When he came back a couple of minutes later he handed her a coke.

"Drink this. You need the sugar."

She took it and started drinking from it with closed eyes, she didn't want to see any one of them.

"What's your name, Freckles?"

"Billie," she said without opening her eyes, but she could still hear and smell. She'd known that people who died emptied their bowels but she hadn't fully... understood, until now. She smelled bleach, the other guy was probably cleaning. The one with black, mean eyes. "Billie Madison."

"Okay, Billie. When's your shift up?"

"Seven."

"Who's coming at seven?"

"My sister," she said and finally managed to open her eyes to look at Big Guy. "Please don't hurt her. She's just had a baby and..."

He held up his hand. "We're not going to hurt her, or you."

She kept looking at him and then her eyes blurred from tears. "Okay."

"You've got nothing to worry about, hon'."

If she'd been a dense girl, she might've believed that, but she wasn't. She knew she had plenty to worry about. She'd just watched the spooky, black eyed guy break another man's neck, like a twig, and she had a fucking giant sitting next to her, studying her every damn move. That was sure as shit something to worry about.

With her eyes closed again, now and then sipping the coke, she sat still, desperately trying not to hear or smell anything.

"Gonna need your help," she heard the raspy voice from Black Eyes.

"Don't move."

She assumed that comment was for her and she nodded, not quite ready to open her eyes yet. The doors opened and closed and there was silence. The only thing she could hear was the fans in the freezers and fridges. The radio was still on, but so low she could hardly hear the brainless pop song coming from of it.

They were gone for a long time and Billie was starting to hope they were gone for good. When she opened her eyes she noticed that the bag from the trashcan was gone. Carefully she put the coke on the floor next to her and with her hand grasping on to the counter above her, she slowly pulled herself up.

With both hands resting on the counter she tried to find her legs. Amazingly enough, the place looked exactly the same, like the past twenty minutes hadn't happened. Then she turned towards the coffee machine and the entire scene set off in her head again. She once again had to reach for the trashcan, now without a bag in it, and threw up again.

"Shit," big guy said again when he came in. "Sit down, Freckles."

She did as he asked. Once she calmed down again he took the trashcan again and with a "Clean this out," he handed it to Black Eyes who didn't look pleased at all with his new task.

"What the fuck are we going to do with her?" Black Eyes asked when he came back.

"You get going, I'll call you. I'll deal with this and you deal with the other stuff."

'Other stuff' was the body. Moments later she heard the door open again.

"Drink some more coke."

Billie was trying to figure out how to get rid of this guy too. "Is everything gone?"

"Yeah. He took care of it. He knows what he's doing, hon'."

That wasn't very reassuring at all. That he knew what he was doing, but she still nodded. He kept looking at her.

"Billie, call your sister, tell her you're sick and I'll take you home when she gets here."

There were several flaws with that plan. Like that she'd have to tell him where she lived and that she would have to explain why the fuck this giant was taking her home.

"I have a car. I can get home by myself."

"No, you can't. You're still in shock and you shouldn't drive. Call her."

She reached for the phone and dialed the number.

"Hallo."

When she heard her sisters voice she almost started to cry again. "Ella, it's me."

"Hey, baby. What's wrong?"

Everything, she thought to herself. "I'm sick. I've thrown up several times."

"Shit, honey. I'll be there in twenty."

"Thank you."

"Try to sip some coke. And call a cab to take you home."

"I will." She hung up and looked at the guy. "I'll call a cab. You don't have to wait."

He just smiled and she tried to decide if it was a good or a bad one. "I'm gonna wait. You can tell her I'm a friend."

"She knows my friends."

"Tell her I'm a concerned customer. It wouldn't be a lie." He didn't sound mean at all, but there was a definite edge to his voice, he wouldn't back off and she should do what he told her to.

That's when she noticed that his vest was gone. He must've taken it off, but she didn't ask about it. Billie didn't want to ask him anything, she wanted him gone.

"Please..." she finally said in a final attempt to get rid of him. "It's easier if you leave."

"I know, but I can't. Not yet." He nodded towards the phone in her hand. "Call a cab."

She did and flinched when he sat down next to her, moving away from him so they didn't touch.

"So... Billie and Ella. How did you get stuck with the guy name?"

Was he seriously trying to small talk? When he didn't answer he turned towards her and she sighed.

"We're named after jazz singers. Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald."

"Parents were Jazz fans?"

"Yes."

In fact, they were jazz musicians. Despite both of the sisters loving jazz, neither of them had been very talented when it came to playing instruments. She didn't feel the need to tell him that at all, it wasn't any of his business and the less he knew, the better.

"Hey," she heard and looked up at her sister, leaning over the counter. "Who're you?" she said to Big Guy.

"Mike, I was here when she started to hurl."

"It's so nice of you to say," Ella said and Billie had to stop herself from snorting out loud. Really decent fella, for sure. "There's a cab outside for you, honey."

Billie nodded and got up on unsteady legs. Big Guy, or Mike if that was his real name, helped her and she had to stop herself from pulling out of his hands. He led her outside and into the cab. Once he was gone she gave the driver her address.

It wasn't a long ride and when she handed the guy his money he turned around.

"Do you need help, miss?"

"No, thank you. I'll be fine."

"Oh, here's your friend." He pointed towards the window next to her and she almost threw up again when she turned around and saw Mike there, walking up to the cab.

She sighed and opened the door. There was obviously no getting rid of this guy. He followed her to the door and once she'd unlocked it she turned towards him.

"Please, please, please. Can you leave me now? I won't say anything to anyone, but I need to be alone now."

He looked at her for a long time before nodding. "Okay, Freckles. Take care of yourself."

"Sure," she said and stepped inside. A bit fucking late to ask her to take care of herself. And like he gave a shit.

She stood, leaning against the door for a while before walking over to the turntable. After putting on the song 'He Ain't got Rhythm', loud, she shed her clothes and went into the shower in a desperate attempt to get rid of the past hour.

-o0o-

Quinn looked at the door the redhead closed behind her. A while later he heard some jazz music slipping through the door and he smiled. Her jazz-loving parents had obviously rubbed off on her.

He walked over to check the postbox, it was just her name, 'Billie E. Madison', on it so she probably lived alone. It wasn't just concern that made him stay with her and then follow her home. They needed to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't crack and tell anybody about what had happened.

Hap killing a guy at a gas station was stupid as fuck, but at the same time he'd had a point. They'd been chasing the asshole for weeks and this was the first time they'd been close enough to even see him. There was no telling when they'd have gotten their next chance.

He looked towards the house again. It wasn't a big one, a very typical Sun Valley white house.

She was pretty, very pretty and he felt bad for putting her through that shit. Witnesses were never good and putting innocents in the line of fire was something they usually avoided.

He picked up the phone and called Hap.

"Yeah?"

"Hey. I'm done here. How are you doing?"

"Called in Vrex and Dog, we're working on it."

"Good. I'm heading down to Indian Hills for some sleep."

"See you there."

It didn't take him a full hour before he walked inside the clubhouse. The club had been patched over to Sons just a few months before, but they'd been friends of the club for a long time, so it wasn't the first time he'd been here. Jury greeted him with a hug, he'd been waiting for him.

"Hey! Problem taken care of?"

"Some minor hiccups, but it's done."

"Hiccups?" Jury looked at him.

"A witness. We had to take the fucker down at a gas station. I'll keep an eye on her."

"Any need to worry?"

"Doubt it. She was terrified and smart so she knows what's good for her. I'll go up there and talk to her again tomorrow. Make sure it's all okay."

"Good. Can I get you anything?"

Quinn smiled. "Not tonight. Need some sleep, but save me some for tomorrow."

"You know it," Jury said with a smile and waved the girls away.

Once he was in his room he picked up the phone again and called Wrench, the IT-guy in the Vegas charter.

"Fuck! You know what time it is?"

"Yeah, I do. Need you to check up on someone. It's urgent."

"Name?"

"Billie Madison. Sun Valley. I'll text you the address."

"What do you want?"

"Everything."

"Give me a couple of hours."

"Getting to bed, so you've got about six of them. Then you call me." That way he'd wake up in time too.

"That's cool."

He tore off his clothes, took a quick shower and fell into the bed. It didn't take a full five minutes to fall asleep.

-o0o-

He woke up when the phone rang.

"Wrench?" he answered and sat up.

"Yeah. Got the info."

"Give me the basics and send me the rest."

"Okay. Billie Etta Madison, born August 12th 1976 in Las Vegas, Nevada. Parents are both some half famous Jazz musicians, father still lives in Vegas, mom died four years ago. Sister Ella Sarah Daniels, born 1975, married two years ago, gave birth to baby girl five months ago. They own a gas station together." He could hear him light a cigarette. "Lives alone, never been married, no priors but was arrested for possession a few years back."

Quinn interrupted. "What was it?"

"Just pot. Charges were dropped. Ehhh, let me see. Got a degree in literature from what I can see she's never worked with that. Really average Joe kinda girl. She's hot though. You looking for an Old Lady?" He said the last with a teasing voice.

"Not really. She's a witness."

"Oh. Well, can't see shit you could use other than her family."

"Debts?"

"Not much. Inherited money from her mom. Looks like she put that in the house. Still a small mortgage but not much. So unless she's got a gambling debt or something..."

"Doubt that." He threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "Okay, email me the rest."

"Sure. Use Jury's computer, it's secure, I set it up."

"Okay. Talk to you later."

He got out of the bed and on his way out he called the prospect he'd borrowed from Redwood. Clay had agreed since the work had been done for him; also since he wanted to fuck with the prospect.

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. Lights have been on most of the night but she hasn't gone outside and no one has been here."

"Okay. Call me if something happens."

"Sure."

He found Jury and asked to borrow his computer. He read through Wrench's mail and there was nothing else of interest, at all. The only thing that popped out was that she had written a book 'The Art of Being in Hell – Dante's Judgement and Last Will". He had no idea what that was about.

At the same time he knew it didn't matter if he had leverage or not. She'd be scared senseless anyway, but he would keep an eye on her for a while. When he saw the picture on her driver's license he smiled, it wouldn't be much of an effort to do that.