Author's Note: So this is my first ever Sons of Anarchy fanfiction. I got into the show a few months back and I have been itching to write a story ever since. This is what happens while I'm watching an SOA marathon on the computer at 4 AM. I've got a lot of ideas for this story, so this is just the beginning. I hope you guys enjoy it.

"When were you going to tell me that you got fired? I set you up at that job and this is how you repay me? What happened to that little girl I raised? Where did she go!"

Maddison shut her tired hazel eyes, as if it would somehow turn off the argument which was replaying itself in her mind. It was funny, that argument had taken place 5 years ago. The last time she'd ever spoken to her mother. Her last words to the woman had been a bitter 'fuck you' as her beloved sketchbooks were thrown from the fourth story balcony and onto the cement below. Pages torn, scattered, ruined almost instantly by the pouring rain. Her heart and her soul lay at her feet. That was the night she left home. She had been eighteen then; she wasn't a bad kid, but she fit the rebellious teen mold just enough to cause a serious rift between herself and her mother.

Karen Madock had raised Maddison with an iron fist. A single mother in a small Bible belt town, she had the world against her. That was the excuse that people had given her when Madds and Karen fought. They would say that she needed to give her more respect—that she needed to be more loving. The thing was that she did respect her mother – at least she tried. But the older she got, the harder that got. Every minute of Maddison's life was on a schedule. Dance, music, soccer, band, she'd been thrown into every extracurricular activity known to man. Karen worked as the mayor's personal assistant and it paid well. They lived comfortably enough, but money couldn't buy everything. Like happiness.

Karen was not an easy person to get along with. She was much like Maddison's grandmother, Rose. Stubborn, controlling, they were tough women to love. Maddison and Karen began clashing early on. It started with clothing, and then boys. Eventually it was her grades, then job applications, and then her dreams for the future. It didn't go past that. Her mother wanted a doctor or a lawyer, someone to be proud of. Maddison was smart and she'd gotten good grades.

If she'd been passionate about a professional life like her mother had dreamt up for her, she could have gotten there easily enough. However, she didn't want a 9-5 job. She didn't want to have to wear a suit or save lives. She wanted to be an artist.

Since the time she first picked up a crayon to the day she graduated, she had always been passionate about the arts. She loved theatre and dance. Music was amazing, but her skills laid elsewhere. She couldn't play the guitar or hold a note (not very well at least) but she could draw. She could paint. Give her a piece of charcoal and you got something amazing in return. Karen didn't like that. What type of life could an artist have? Drawing for a living?

It all came to a head one rainy night when news of Maddison's unemployment made it home. Her mother had gotten her a part-time job at the council office as a secretary. She had shown up a few times, but sitting behind a desk and answering the phones all day didn't exactly keep her entertained. It didn't even pay well. She'd spend her time drawing or reading. Off in another world entirely. That job had lasted three weeks.

xxx

Five years ago and it still felt like yesterday. Maddison had been kicked out that night, and now she was on her own. What little money she had eventually took her to another small town. She couldn't afford to go any further and she didn't have any other family. She was sure that her grandmother wouldn't help, and if she wouldn't then there was no way her grandfather would. Her father was probably dead in a ditch—she had never met him. She had an aunt out there somewhere, but her mother had seen to it that she didn't play a part in Maddison's life. The other Madock daughter had walked a radically different path.

She ended up doing odd jobs in town. She worked as a bartender, though she wasn't technically legal. The owner said as long as she didn't drink the merchandise or make a scene, then the cops wouldn't look into it. During the day she spent a lot of time at the park with her easel. Her pay went towards a crappy little apartment and new art supplies.

One day, she was drawing when a man approached her. He was older—perhaps well into his late forties—with black jeans and cowboy boots. He was heavily tattooed, and had a buzz cut and goatee. He was a big guy with a curt voice, and the first time she heard it, she nearly jumped clean out of her skin. He was intimidating as hell. She had seen him around town, but she didn't know his name.

As it turned out, it was Richard. He owned the tattoo parlor in town; the best in the county, apparently. He said that he'd seen her work around the little diner that fed the town, and when he asked about it, the server gushed about her. Maddison ate there frequently, and the cooks and waitresses probably knew her better than anyone else in the state did. He found out that she spent her days on a park bench with a book or easel, and it turned out he had a proposition for her.

Richard had been impressed with her work, said she had real potential. To this day, Maddison wasn't sure why, but he offered her a place at his shop on the spot. He mentioned that he was looking for an apprentice. Having a helping hand at the parlor would be a plus, and he had a lot to teach – if she was interested.

Without a second thought she accepted. It had been something she'd considered at one point, being a tattoo artist. Truly creating lasting pieces of art? But of course, not something Karen had allowed her to give much thought to.

She spent four years working with Richard. She soon learned that the more time she spent in the shop the more she fell in love with it. Richard, as it turned out, was sort of a big deal. He'd studied art all over the world. He'd been tattooed by monks and tribesmen, which indicated that he was well-respected and adored. Not to mention that they got along well. He let her into his world, but in the strictly platonic sense. He was married, had been for a decade when she'd met him. His wife Koraline was the secretary. She was nice, and rather motherly. Maddison never would have admit it, but Richard and his wife had almost become like surrogate parents in her life.

Working at the shop and spending time around Richard meant that she was introduced to a whole new world. His best and most loyal clients were bikers. Not just any wannabes who road flashy little roadsters and neon leather jackets. They were real bikers—the 'local' MC.

Richard had come to town because of them. He did every official piece for the members as well as others on the side. The guys were gruff, but nice. Richard had given Maddison a crash course on 'biker 101'. He made it very clear that if they liked her, she would go far. Working with the MC, or even being on their good side, had its benefits. It wasn't just invites to the wildest damn parties she'd ever seen, but it was more. Protection if needed, another (and better paying ) bartending gig if she wanted, and a family.

As time went on she grew closer to Richard and the club. She was learning fast and after a few years, she got her first few clients. Everything had been fine. She had friends, enough money to get by, a job she liked—all the good stuff.

But for a second time, her world would come crashing down.

xxx

She and Richard had been at the patch over party. Their MC—which was small by some standards—was joining up with a bigger one after a tempting offer had been put forward. Madds and Richard had been invited to the party. They were 'family' after all and the president wanted to show them off. In case any of their friends were interested in some new ink.

While they were living it up, the clubhouse had been attacked. All she could remember was the sound of music followed by screaming, and it was louder than anything she'd ever heard. The place erupted as bullets peppered the room.

It was complete chaos.

Her first instinct was to find Richard, though one of the members who had been talking to her had ordered her to get behind the bar. She couldn't, not without Richard. But her search was soon cut short. Just as the member left her side, she darted away from the bar. Suddenly there was an intense burning sensation in her torso—almost as if someone had rammed a hot poker underneath her skin. The last thing she remembered was being jerked to the side by one of the women working behind the bar.

And as she fell to the floor her world went black.

Richard had been caught in the crossfire, along with 5 others who had been dead when the authorities arrived. Ten others were taken to the hospital with wounds ranging from mild to critical. She'd been in the ICU for two weeks because she had taken two bullets to her chest. One had been through and through, but the other had caused serious damage. According to the surgeon, if the police hadn't gotten there when they did, she would have bled out.

Richard's wife had stayed with her at the hospital, and even helped her with the recovery.

The shooting was blamed on a rival club, and the MC didn't seem to think that it would stop with that. They said that there was a turf war coming. That was all that Maddison had gotten. She didn't ask for more, it wasn't her place. They suggested that she and Richard's widow get the hell out of dodge. They didn't want either of them getting caught in whatever shitstorm was brewing.

As soon as she was healthy, the women left. They went their separate ways but promised to keep in touch. Maddison reluctantly headed home. She was out on her ass again, had enough money for the bus ticket back, and maybe an apartment. She didn't know where else to go.

As it would turn out, she'd walk out of one fire only to step into another.

Her first night back in town and she was in a little 24 hour diner. The second she walked in, she felt the few sets of eyes in the place lock on her. It had been five years since she'd left home, five years and they still recognized her. She shrugged off the whispers and the stares and checked herself into the motel. Tomorrow she'd see her mother. She'd crawl back home like a pathetic animal. She was unsure of where else to go. Maybe things had settled, maybe Karen wouldn't be mad.

Time healed, didn't it?

Maddison never got the chance to find out.

The next day she walked to her old house. There was a different car in the driveway, but aside from that everything looked the same. She didn't think twice about knocking. She expected to see her mother, shocked and possibly mad as hell when the door opened. Instead there was an elderly woman whom Maddison had never seen before in her life. When she asked if her mother was there, the woman gave her a sad look and invited her in for tea.

Her mother had moved out three years ago, into an apartment near city hall. There was no way for Maddison to contact her. Not because no one knew the number, but because her mother had died.

The woman informed her while still being careful and sympathetic about it.

It happened three weeks ago and it made the papers and everything. Karen had had a heart attack while driving, and her car ran the red light and crashed right into a semi. According to the coroner, the heart attack killed her. She was dead before the crash. Apparently, people had been looking for her. Her mother's things had been moved into storage while a lawyer tried to find her because she was the sole beneficiary of Karen Madock's will.

She spent a week there sorting through everything. There wasn't much; books, furniture, clothing, jewellery, and a letter. Maddison donated the books, the shelves, the bed, and the clothes to the local Goodwill. She then sold off the jewellery to a collector in town. It wasn't her style, and she was sure that her mother had only left the stuff to her out of necessity.

Purely a lack of options.

Suddenly she was lost again. She'd come back into town looking for her mother and a pipe dream of a possible reunion, only to find out her mother had passed a few weeks before. After her mothers things were dealt with, Maddion had a different task. The only thing that she had left of her mother was an unsent letter.

She'd opened it one night, she hadn't meant to but she did. The letter was addressed to a 'Gemma'. The name sounded familiar, but it took her a few minutes to place it. It was long—four pages to be exact. She stopped reading after the first paragraph. This letter was meant for her aunt. A woman whom her mother had severed all ties to, a woman whom she hadn't seen since she was in diapers.

It pestered her. The first part of the letter sounded like an apology, and it was dated a few days before her mother had died. The timing wasn't lost on Maddison, but it wasn't just the letter, it was the reminder.

It was a reminder that somewhere out there, she had family. Did Gemma know about her sister? Did Gemma care? It took her a week to figure it out. The letter had been in with the legal documents, and she felt that it had been singled out for a reason, though it could have been easily tossed out by one of her mother's friends. Since they had been given access after they were unable to locate Maddison.

She got an idea. It was crazy—no—stupid. Actually, it was a fair share of both.

She'd find Gemma and tell her about Karen. She'd give her the letter because the more she thought about it, the more it strengthened her belief that her mother had meant to send it. It had been signed and sealed with the address scrawled on it. She'd just never made it.

For the third time in her life, Maddison packed up her belongings and caught the first bus out.

xxx

Her eyes flickered open again as the bus settled into the new speed limit.

In the dirty window, she caught a quick glimpse of her reflection. Wavy hair tangled and matted. Her tanned skin was pale with not-so-faint lines under her eyes. She looked like shit. She glanced at the watch then back to the window. She'd been on the damn bus for nearly six hours now, and she was getting less and less comfortable. Like some sort of sign, just as she silently cursed her feet for falling asleep, she saw a sign up ahead. It was big, bold, and illuminated by a lamppost. Suddenly any complaints she had about the ride or her tired body left her mind. They were replaced by the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Her nerves acted up.

Her hand went to her backpack as she pulled it back onto her lap. She had two other bags, but they were tucked overhead in the luggage. Around her the other passengers began to stir, as if sensing they had almost reached their destination. The PA system crackled, and she knew that the driver was about to announce their final stop. But she already knew.

'Welcome to Charming'

The sign had said.

Once the bus rolled up to the depot, she slowly pulled her bags from the overhead storage compartment. Maddison joined the others as she hauled their asses off of the bus. The small crowd quickly dispersed, some disappearing into cars or just taking off into the darkness. In roughly five minutes, she was standing alone on the terminal walkway.

Well, she was here. Sort of. It was way too late to be delivering any letters now, not to mention she was tired and in desperate need of a shower. Luckily, there was a motel located directly across the street from the bus terminal.

Her muscles groaned in protest, but Maddison hefted the two large duffle bags over one shoulder while slinging the bad backpack over the other.

In no time at all she was set up in a little room with cable and a bed. The first order of business was that shower. Maddison must have spent a good hour in there. The feel of the warm water against her skin was just what the doctor ordered. Once she turned the water off and wrapped herself up in one of the towels, she stayed in the bathroom. Brushing her hair and searching for her tooth brush in her bag. As soon as the water turned off, her mind went to the reason why she was in a little hotel in an even smaller town.

She didn't know what she would say to Gemma, she didn't even know if Gemma was in Charming. Would the woman remember her? Or recognize her? Half the time she didn't even recognize herself.

Maddison stood at roughly 5'7; she kept in shape so her body was slim and toned. She'd inherited her mothers noticeable 'hourglass' shape, but that's where the similarities ended. Her hair was a wavy chocolate brown, which had been recently cropped at her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep hazel. She was pretty, but she wasn't a model. She hadn't seen any pictures of herself as a kid, yet she was pretty damn sure there was no resemblance.

On top of her features alone, Maddison had a small collection of tattoos. Around her write ankle there was a rose and thorns. The flower sat on the right side, and the stem ran around connecting the pattern. It had been her first tattoo. Not great, the colors had faded a bit and the line work wasn't stunning but she'd always liked it. She had two Celtic knot wrist cuffs, one adorning each wrist. The knot work was maybe three inches wide and intricate as fuck. They'd been a birthday present from Richard a few years back.

Her final tattoo was the words Fortitudo et virtus, which was Latin for strength and courage. That one was done in an old word calligraphic style in black and white which sat between her shoulders. Large enough to be read if one was looking at it from a few steps away, but any further and it looked more like a sort of tribal design. She planned on getting more in the future, at some point.

After some time she managed to pull herself from her thoughts and finished drying off. It was late and she needed sleep more than anything. After all, she had a big day tomorrow.

A/N: If you can take a minute to leave a review I'd really appreciate it. I would love to know what you think! Good or bad, reviews and messages are the best type of motivation for me :)