Hey guys,

I had to edit the original story a bit, especially chapter 3. The administrators asked me to and they pull down the story until I did. Here it is! The good news is that I have ten chapters done already so I will be posting them up in the next week or so.

None of these characters belong to me…Thank the mastermind that is KS.

Until next time!

Chapter One: Someone Like You

I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it

I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded

That for me, it isn't over yet

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you, too

Don't forget me, I begged, I remember you said

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead, yeah

-Adele "Someone Like You"

She stares at the ceiling, his soft snores disrupting the silence, which she is usually accustomed to... How jaded she has become in the last nine years... There was a time when she yearned for adventure and excitement...her days now blur into each other, the rush of surgeries long gone.

Outside, the city continues to thrive, oblivious of her inner demons. She slowly rises from the bed, careful not to wake the occupant who sleeps noisily next to her.

She exits the room, which still smell of sex and whiskey. Just to think that a couple of years ago, she welcomed that smell...but it is all wrong now...not because she doesn't enjoy sex, because she does, but the occupants of her bed are not him, the one she left behind so many years ago... For the past nine years, the occupants of her bed didn't make her scream like he did... Her lovers did not hold her like he did or fill her up like he did. They did not light her inner fire like he once did. He made her feel alive and free...but that was a lifetime ago and now this is her life...endless surgeries and countless lovers hoping for something more...

Tara slowly walks to her living room window... Chicago...how many years she lived entrapped inside this wonderful city. There was a point in time when she truly believed that Chicago was the answer to all her doubts and confusions. After leaving San Diego, she hoped for something more...something exciting...a new discovery. How wrong that notion proved to be. Like San Diego, Chicago became a routine... Even her love for surgery could not supplement what she left behind in Charming so many years ago.

She stares out the window and notes the full moon. Sighing deeply, Tara thinks of the night she gave her body away to him. There was a full moon out that night as well, of that she is sure. She remembers that after he had fallen into a deep slumber, she glanced at the full moon, which stared at her from her bedroom window, content with the events that had transpired moments before. He held her close to him, her head in his chest his heart beating making beautiful music into her ears. She remembers thinking that their hearts were beating as one...that they had become two souls in one entity.

A solitary tear slips down her cheek. How she loved him...blindly, madly...she was crazy in love. That's why she got his mark tattooed in her lower back; because she loved him more than she had loved anyone or anything in the world. And that love nearly destroyed the essence of who she wanted to become. That's why she left Charming. She wanted something more for herself...for him.

But he stayed behind, choosing the club over her and she left for college, leaving a trail of tears behind.

How morbid is she? Thinking of a love left behind while another man's juices dried inside her thighs...

"Tar Tar!?" He called from her bedroom. She cannot even remember what drew her to him in the first place. Maybe it was the pressed suit or his short pepper hair... Perhaps it was the simple fact that the man who is currently occupying her bed is the complete opposite of the man who occupy her every thought and dreams...This current relationship had run its course...that much was obvious to Tara. She only pretended to reach her peak hours ago, just so the man would roll off her. He could not satisfy her neither physically nor emotionally so what was the point in staying in that relationship.

Lately, he has been clingy, demanding more of her time and body. Tonight he even muttered those three words that women all over the world wish to hear at one point in their lives. As he whispered them to her, she only felt disgust and a hint of dread. Her subconscious was telling her to run...to put some distance between herself and the ATF agent, but for now she would return to him. With one last look at the moon which illuminated her small living room, Tara wiped her solitary tear and muttered, "coming, Joshie. I am coming..."

He dragged his body to the nightstand as he grabs one of the cigarettes in the box. With his calloused hands he lights it and takes a long drag. Blowing the smoke out, he thinks of tonight's events. Another gun delivery to the Niners, weed, whiskey and blowjob at the clubhouse...and finally meaningless sex with his wife in "their" home. When was the last time he had meaningful sex?

He could vividly recall that night...the last time he had her in his arms. How he kissed her as if she were the last woman on Earth...how he made love to her as if that night were to be their last night together. Of course, at that time, he didn't know it would be the last time he would make love to her. When he woke up the next morning, his bed was empty and she was long gone. She left him for San Diego. Since then, he filled his days with club business, alcohol, and sex from women who were more than willing to spread their legs for the Biker Prince of Charming.

He took another puff. He let the smoke fill his exhausted lungs. Next to him, Wendy muttered in her sleep, lipstick smeared across her cheek. His blonde wife looked sloppy and worn out in their bed...their bed. The thought alone made him cringe. Why did he marry the junkie whore as his overbearing mother called her? Loneliness. A simple statement, which has caused him two years of misery and regret.

After she left him, something broke within Jax that no woman, no matter how sexy or beautiful or great in bed, has been able to repair. Croweaters threw themselves at him hoping to replace the fallen princess that had broken the heart of the beloved Prince of Samcro, but not one ever filled that void that Tara left behind.

Tara. His Tara. There were times when he would ride alone in the empty highways of Northern California, thinking of his former love. One moment he would be mindlessly riding throughout the mountains, which cover Charming like a blanket, and all of a sudden her face would blur his vision. Or he would hear her laugh ringing throughout his ear instead of the wind. How many times he would be fucking one of those croweaters and imagine it were her moans that filled the bedroom. Even with Wendy. There were times when he almost called out Tara's name as he reached his finale.

He looked over at his wife. Their marriage was a joke. Looking back, marrying Wendy was one of the worst decisions he made in his life. Then again, initially, Wendy was perfect Old Lady material. Docile, embraced the MC life wholeheartedly, followed Gemma's orders almost to an obsessive account, gave him as pussy as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted...most importantly, she never tried to steer him away from the life he was born into. To summarize it, Wendy was the opposite of Tara in every sense of the word.

At first, he fooled himself into believing that Wendy was what he wanted and needed. The first months of their disastrous marriage were marked with many arguments; with him storming off as she pleaded for him to stay. She wanted more from him. More time, more attention... But most importantly, she wanted his heart... A heart that he had given away a long time ago.

Jax sighs as he swings his legs out of his bed. Quietly he puts his discarded clothes back on and walks outside to his beloved Dyna. Strapping his helmet into place, Jax mounts his bike and leaves the house he was supposed to call home. When he bought the house, he thought he would be able to transform it into something livable; create a life with his blushing bride so to speak. How wrong he was. Less than a year after saying "I do" with Wendy, Jax packed his shit and moved to the clubhouse. He didn't speak to his wife for weeks. It wasn't until word got around that Wendy had picked up a nasty crack habit that he even bothered to check up on her.

She begged him to return to her. Promised to keep clean just as long as he stood besides her, as her lawful husband but too great were those feelings of disgust and regret. He ordered Wendy to rehab and returned to his cycle of alcohol, weed, and pussy, not really caring what happened to his wife. Her desperation turned him off. He didn't like the idea of someone wanting him so desperately...unless it was Tara. Again she plagues his thoughts.

Charming is silent at this hour, everyone asleep within the comforts of their home. Some would welcome this silence, however, to Jax the silence was less the comforting. Silence did not keep his demons at bay. Lately the club has turned into something unrecognizable. Violence constantly surrounds him and his brothers. Most people would run away from such a life…he has embraced it, although there are times were he wished more for the club his father created.

After countless minutes riding out into the unknown, Jax stops his bikes along side a lonely road. As he lights up another cigarette he ponders about his past, his present, and his future. Since he was a child, he knew that he would one day be the King of Samcro and the idea elated him…now, the idea terrifies him. What would become of his club, if there weren't some sort of internal change. He and his brothers did time for gun running at one point. Opie, his partner in crime since they were in diapers was still locked up due to the actions of Samcro, his family left in pieces, his children growing up without their father.

Finishing off the cig, Jax climbs back into his bike and heads out towards the clubhouse. When he arrives, the lot is empty. Most of his brothers are probably passed out inside…Jax lights another cigarette…At this rate, he will join Piney's oxygen tank club…As he walks inside, he notes that most of his brothers are indeed passed out around the clubhouse…Tig's head was in between some croweaters legs, whereas Bobby's ass was out there for all the world to see…Chibs and Juice weren't in any better condition. Before walking out back to his room, Jax steals a bottle of Jameson to accompany him and his dark thoughts…Just as he was about to turn, a croweater approaches him.

She leans into his ear and whispers, "Want me to make you feel good?"

With a smug smile, Jax leads the girl to the back of the clubhouse.

Another night of endless booze, weed, and pussy.