A/N: I don't own and didn't create anything to do with Sons of Anarchy. Though, Jayden, Nate, and Joseph are my creations, spewing from my brain. No copyright infringement intended, I'm just a fan.

Flashback or Past

Thoughts

SHOUTING

~Please review, constructive criticism welcome. If any character gets too OCC, I BEG you to let me know, I hate it when that happens. And if this story is crap, tell me it's crap. Thanks.

Blood On My Hands

"I don't give a shit if you're my CO! That plan's gunna get us all killed, SIR!"

"And how the hell would you know?!"

"What, 'cause I don't have a dick, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about? Is that the bullshit you're tryin ta feed us?!" My face grew hot. One way or another, I would win this fight.

"That's EXACTLY what I'm saying! You and your li'l girlie friends walk around here like you own the goddamn place. Well, lemme tell ya, YOU DON'T!"

"Sexist bastard! And actually, I'm a higher rank than any of the boys here but you AND we ain't even CLOSE to girlie. I could kick your ass anytime anywhere!"

"Oh so now you wanna talk shit, huh?! Well let's see you make good on that, right here, right fucking now!"

"Sir, yes, fucking SIR!" With that my fist landed in the side of his face. He stumbled backwards temporarily then came back at me with a punch of his own.

By now, all the men in the platoon we commanded were surrounding us, cheering on one or the other. A kid named Kip, who was always on my side, was up close and personal to the action, watching me kick the shit of my own commanding officer. The man lie on the ground before me, and my hands, now bloodied, dropped to my sides. I shook my head, somewhat violently.

"Now, don't go gettin' any ideas about that. Don't wanna have ta clean up after your messes too" I yelled to the men.

"Yes'm" They replied, knowing how much I hated being called ma'am. I was only 27; ma'am was too much of an old granny type thing.

The sign said: Welcome To Charming. I drove past it, hoping this little town was as peaceful as the name sounded. There were a couple of reasons I was here though they all intertwined. After I got back from Iraq, it was hard to find a place to stay, dishonorable discharge and all. But Joseph Lawrence didn't know what he was talking about when he briefed us on our course of action for getting our men out of that place. Insurgents are tricky characters and he thought we could just walk right through the front door, guns blazing? There was no way that would work...I slammed my hand hard against the steering wheel. Would you stop thinking about that?! Anyway, Kip sent me a letter after my trial, said that he was staying in this tiny town called Charming in the northern California. He said that if I ever needed anything, to just come on over. And now I was desperate, had to get away from Jersey, I had to. It wasn't an option, not anymore. I strained in the driver's seat, trying to find the auto shop he said he worked at. I looked at where I wrote it on my hand and squinted trying to read the smeared ink. Te-Tell...Okay, first word: Teller. Teller-Mo. Mo? Okaaay, then kid.

After driving around that god forsaken town three goddamn times I gave up. Fuck it! I'll stay with Carry instead. I glanced up and to the right. Lo and behold, an obnoxiously obvious sign that had Teller-Morrow printed in letters big enough for an airplane passenger to see it and have no doubt what it said. Wow. Way to go, marine, way to fucking go. I parked the car and walked towards the bay doors, no doubt looking as tired and frustrated as I was. But self control is vital when you're a marine, so I simply walked on.

"Can I help ya?" A long haired blonde asked me as I approached.

"Lookin' for a kid named Kip. About so tall, fucked up hair, military" The young man nodded and motioned for me to follow. I waited for him to pass behind me before turning my heel, the way I was trained, and falling into step behind him.

"Name's Jax"

"Good for you?" I was in no mood for meeting new people.

"You are...?" I heard him suppress a slight chuckle.

"Major Jayden Powell"

"Major?" The man spun to face me, though still walking backwards, his eyes looking me up and down. "That how you know Half-Sack? The Corps?"

"Yeah. I was his CO"

He turned back around and we continued our little tour of the garage until we finally found Kip shut up in the office, trying to get an older woman to give him the keys she held in her hand. "Ma, kid's got a visitor, give 'im the keys"

The woman and Kip both looked up. Her eyes sized me up, the same way the blonde's had. She made a face that quickly fell away after noticing the USMC tattoo on my inner right forearm. Then she looked plain and simply stunned.

"Jay?! Jesus, didn't think you'd actually come out! Damn, its good ta see ya!" Kip exclaimed, hugging me tightly.

"Hey, kid. Ya mind lettin' go? Shoulder's not doin so hot" I squirmed trying to get my left shoulder as far away from his squishing grip as possible.

"Oh yeah, sorry" He looked down. I pointed my finger in his face.

"Did you just apologize? Did ANYTHING I taught you stick?" I twisted my face in mock annoyance.

"Oh, right. S--uh. I started boxing?" I had to laugh at his clumsy topic-switching.

"Oh my God, how rude of me, I'm Jayden." I stretched my arm out to the other woman in the room. She was hesitant, but took it.

"Gemma" I nodded at her, not knowing what else I should do. I hadn't been in the world here in the States or out of prison for seven years; it would be difficult to get the reigns back in my hands. I turned back to Kip.

"You know of anywhere I can get a shower? I smell like fucking jail cell"

"Uh...shit. Hang on. Jax, can I talk to ya for a sec?" Jax nodded and waved for the boy to walk out of the office, after which he followed.

There was an awkward silence filling the air when the door closed. "Jail cell, huh?"

"Yeah" I didn't flinch or have an issue with giving a one word answer, something Gemma obviously wasn't used to when she drilled someone like that.

"How ya know our li'l boxer?"

"I was his CO in the Corps…'til my own CO ordered my men and I to go out on a shit plan."

"What does a jail cell have to do with any of that"

I only shook my head. My blood boiled at the thought of Lawrence. "Well...My CO, yeah, he learned not to go all sexist fucktard on girls like me."

"Really?" Her voice's pitch and eyebrows raised, I had her interest piqued. "And how exactly was that lesson learned?"

"Let's just say, he won't be gettin 'round his house without help anymore. And that ain't cause of the bullet he took that night." I could feel the muscle in my leg twitch at the memory. The woman only stared at me, I was being cryptic, yet another thing she obviously wasn't used to. The two men walked back into the office, not exactly ruining the conversation.

"Hey, Jax an' I talked to the others, Clay said you kin shack up here if you don't have a place ta stay" Kip talked while Jax only nodded.

"Really? You don't have ta do that"

"Yeah we do," an older man shoved the door open, jamming into the already cramped space of the office. "Clay" He held out his hand, which I took and shook. His face changed to an alomst confused expression when he noticed just how firm and steady my grip was.

"Jayden" I nodded. "Thank you so much for letting me stay." I smiled.

"Half-Sack over here'll show ya to a room"

I titled my head at the nickname. "You realize you're guna have ta tell me the ENTIRE story behind that one" I looked at the kid, who started to blush at the thought. I shook my head, "Thought I had ya all bucked up, kid, guess I still had some work, huh?" His face turned even redder as I clapped him on the shoulder. "Shall we go get my shit, private?"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am" I pointed at him again, "I mean, yes'm."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a shower and an hour unpacking my stuff into an unused room, I was enjoying the sweet taste of a freshly pulled beer in the Clubhouse. I hadn't actually 'enjoyed' anything since beating Lawrence half into a coma.

"Guess I should try ta find an actual job, huh?" I sighed staring down into the amber liquid in my glass.

"Ya kiddin, love? Ya just got 'ere, an with what I hear, ya ain't gettin' a legit job anytime soon" Chibs, a Scotsman with the best accent I'd ever heard, was trying to play a game of one man pool while simultaneously convincing me to stop twitching and actually sit still for once.

"Ugh, here, here to that, brother" I raised my glass and chugged it down. "Ya need a partner?" I heard him grunt in response. I stood, set my beer down and grabbed a pool stick. "I should warn you, I haven't had anything close to a pool stick in my hands for a long ass time. I used ta be pretty damn good," I winked at the man, who chuckled softly.

We played not one, not two but four games. After each one the loser had to take a shot. But it turned out both would rather have the shot than the small about of money, so we made it so the winner did one; loser took two in a row without pause. I had won two games and so had he. The two of us had just set up the triangle to continue with the next round when Clay, Jax and some blue eyed guy with curly hair stormed into the room. The blue eyed one had a homicidal look in his eyes, causing me to tense, muscles flexing involuntarily.

"No need ta get all worked up, love. He always looks like 'at when he's pissed" Chibs whispered.

"Chibs, Church, NOW!" Clay roared then pointed at me, "YOU! Get your skinny ass in there!" His finger swept along the room and came to rest on the closed door the four men were heading towards.

"Sure…" I remained calm. Then two more men strode in, then three more.

"a'ight now I realize Li'l Miss Marine over here doesn't know everyone," His eyes flitted across everyone's face. "That's Tig," He pointed at Blue Eyes, "Opie," pointed at the guy with the hat, "Bobby, Piney, Happy, and Juice" He pointed at each of them as well. The men simply nodded.

"Jayden" I stated, something inside me feeling like I was back in court. I uttered no 'nice to meet you' or anything of the sort.

"Alright then, we need to talk" His eyes drilled holes into me. "Sit" It was more of a command, but I was done with the military, done with taking orders from men who thought they controlled me simply because they were men.

"I'm perfectly capable of standing." The MC boys stared at me, women apparently weren't even allowed into this room unless deemed absolutely necessary, let alone contradict their president in it. Tig looked as if he were about to strangle me. I let my eyes wander inconspicuously over him, sizing him up. If he tried, it might end in a draw, but I'd survive it. God knows, I'd done that before.

"Suit yourself," He tried to sound calm, but his eyes blazed, something had definitely gotten under his skin. "Tell us now, what's with the dishonorable discharge?" He leaned his chair back, his tone suggesting that I was hiding something.

"Beat the shit outta my CO" I shrugged, then noticed their expressions and added, "He wanted me ta take my men on a shit mission that woulda gotten us killed, I told him to piss off, he started talkin shit bout me an my team, told him to back off or I'd kick his ass," I looked Clay in the eye, "He didn't listen. Now he can't walk right, not at all without help, from what I hear."

"How about this Juvie record—"

"Shot my step dad in the gut" I cut him off, my voice betrayed no sympathy, for it was nonexistent.

"And why would you do that?"

"Hmmm, let's see. He was a perv, beat me half ta death every day," I paused but saw he was about to speak again. Anticipating his next question, I saved him the breath, "My mom was always so drunk or high she cheered 'im on like some kinda underground fight club. And he was a cop." My eyes never left Clay's face.

The man blinked. Once, twice, three times. He opened the folder in front of him, shuffled through the papers and pulled one out and held it up for us to see. I had to lean over the table in order to read the tiny lettering. That's when I saw the title, "MARINE KILLED IN BATTLE." My eyes went down cast as they traced the outside edges of the reaper craving in the table.

"Try to explain THAT one away" Tig's voice was filled with venom as he smirked at me. I could tell now why they were so angry. They thought I'd killed anyone who got in my way of something or to get what I wanted. They thought I'd turn on them. But they obviously didn't realize how far off they were.

"Fuck you" I breathed, then shook my head to pull myself together. "That was my first tour of duty in Iraq…His name was Nate...We were engaged…" I leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. This was the first time I had said anything about Nate since his funeral. After a deep breath I continued, "We were in the same squad. The two of us were snipers at the time, two of the best goddamn sharpshooters the Corps had. We were on a mission together, watching our men's backs, but we were bein scoped out too…I took the bullet first, when I got back behind the chimney, I noticed he wasn't with me…The goddamn slug flew clean through my shoulder and into his freaking chest. He wasn't completely gone, I tried CPR, I tried, goddamn it. I fucking tried…" My voice faded as I wiped the tear from my face. "And it didn't fucking matter, I got the bleeding to stop, got the pressure relieved and it didn't fucking matter. He was gone 'fore the others even realized we went down…"

"How'd you get the medal then?"

"I went after the son of a bitch that shot us, slit his goddamn throat. Lead the team that took care of those assholes in the house we were originally after. Held my neck out durin' a fire fight, savin' three of our own." I shook my head again, regaining my composure. "That's when we learned the Iraqi I killed wasn't the one who shot us."

"Who did?" Kip wasn't in the room, but I knew he'd have the same question as the kid with the Mohawk. Juice, they called him.

I looked up, eyes betraying the fact that I was ready to kill someone. "Joseph Lawrence. That CO I put in a wheelchair."