A Note From The Author -
Hello! So this is one of my first stories to actually put into my computer and on FanFiction. I hope you enjoy it. It's a bit rough at the beginning because I just needed to plow through my OCs background. There's mention of rape and death in this chapter, I apologize.

This will be a Chibs/OC-Natalie fanfic.

I hope you guys like it, please let me know! Review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I wish I did, but alas, I do not.

Chapter One - 1975

1975 - February

"No Gem, please don't go." Rosalie begged her sister as Gemma Madock threw the last of her things in her dufflebag.
"Sorry sweetheart, I just can't take Rose controlling me any more. Plus, JT said I could move in when I want. And I want to. Now."
"But Gem, I can't handle them by myself." Rosalie said, looking down. Gemma came to stand in front of her. She motioned for her to stand up, and Rosalie flung herself to Gemma. "I love you."
"I love you too LeeLee." As they were standing there they heard the motorcycle coming up the driveway. "Well, that's my que." Gemma said, letting go of her sister. She grabbed her bag and headed to the open window. Gemma turned around and winked, "Come join me when you feel up to it." And with that she ducked out the window and ran off to the bright beam of light. As Rosalie sat there, tears started to stream down her face. Gemma finally left her, just like she had feared. She slid from her bed and began to grope underneath for her "Sewing Kit." It was actually a box with many things. It had candles, matches, rolling papers,and a small bag of weed. She also grabbed her portable cassette tape player with Led Zeppelin's House of the Holy inside. She then made her way out the same window Gemma had just used and set out to go to her favorite overlook spot.

Rosalie was trying to roll a second joint when the tape clicked, indicating it needed to be flipped over. In the silence, she could hear a motorcycle coming up the trail. She hoped they would just zoom by, but the motorcycle came to a halt about 15 feet from where she was nestled in the rocks. The engine died, followed by the light. Rosalie could tell whoever was on the bike was getting off.

"Who's there?" She asked putting her box off to the side, standing up.
"Holy shit, fuck, Rosalie?" A deep gruff voice asked, obviously startled. It was Clay Morrow. A member and friend of JT's motorcycle club. She had met him a few times prior. If only enough times to recognize his voice.
"Hey Clay, yeah. Gemma finally split, and I had to get away too." She could make out his form in the darkness since her eyes had readjusted to the darkness. "I was just about to roll another, want to join?" He was a biker, he obviously smoked weed.
"So you're all alone then?" Clay asked, walking over to the area she had set up.
"Yeah, I can't believe Gem actually left me." She flipped the tape and sat back down in her spot, Clay sitting opposite of her.
"That's a total drag man, but hey, I've already got some rolled. Good shit. Just feel better you know?" Clay said grabbing the joints from inside his Kutte. He gave them to Rosalie, a friendly gesture. They sat there and smoked his 2 joints, laced with angel dust, unbeknownst to Rosalie.
"I definitely feel fucked up Clay, but it's a different high than I've experienced. Makes my heart feel funny." Rosalie said, putting her hand over her heart.
"But you feel good right?" Clay said, shifting to where he was sitting beside her now, rather than in front of her.
"Mostly." Was all Rosalie could say, leaning into Clay. Clay started to rub her shoulder affectionately, and Rosalie realized what he might be after. She leaned up, leaning away from Clay, and tried to stand up.
"Hey, don't go anywhere, were having a good time." Clay said pulling on her wrist, unstable as she was already, she fell onto his lap. He then began to molest her and pinned her down. "You want to be like Gemma so much, you have to take the same cock she has to." Clay said. He muffled Rosalie's response and cries. She struggled, but realized then there was no struggle. Clay was more than twice her size, and they were in a well secluded spot. Off a completely abandoned road. She went limp. Clay carried on, being very aggressive with Rosalie's innocent body. She started to pass in and out of consciousness. The last thing she remembered was Clay shaking her telling her that if she ever told anyone he would slit her throat. Those once blue eye's she had remarkably liked, were a solid darkness. Even more dark than the night sky.

She came to hours later scurried home and never spoke of it to any one.

1975 October

8 ½ months later she was being wheeled into the emergency room dept.

"Daddy, I'm scared." Rosalie said gripping onto Nate's hand and her swollen stomach.
"God has you in the palm of his hands honey." Nate told her, trying to reassure her and himself.
"We need to get this baby out!" Someone shouted as Rosalie was pulled from Nate's grip and started to be wheeled elsewhere.
"Name her Natalie, daddy, after you." Rosalie yelled back toward her father, tears in her eyes. Rose and Nate sat in the waiting room for hours upon hours before they heard anything.
"Mr. and Mrs. Madock, I'm sorry, we did all we could to save your daughter. The shock of labor sent her heart into overdrive." The doctor finally said. "Your granddaughter is doing as well as a premature baby does in this situation."
"So, the baby made it?" Nate asked, with tears in his eyes and arms clutching his wife.

"Yes, would you like to see her?" The doctor asked them, they only nodded, following after him.

Time flew by in a daze for The Madocks and their new granddaughter. The ceremony and burial of their daughter, Rosalie Abigail Madock. The baptism of Natalie Grace Madock. Nate shutting down his church, after 14 years.

Nate, Rose and Natalie moving back up to Oregon. Nate and Rose raised Natalie as well as they could, being grandparents. But when Natalie started to become more rebellious, and lash out at them, it was hard for them to take. Natalie looked so much like her mother, Rosalie, that for Nate and Rose, they struggled with not holding it against their granddaughter, for their beautiful, sweet daughter death.

Around the age of 12 she ran away to her only other relative, her aunt Gemma.

Okay, so I hope you will forgive the collection of writing styles that seem to accumulated since I began writing. I promise that will level out.

Please review!

-MAD(: