Head pounding, Becca made her way down to the kitchen for breakfast. She

hadn't been able to sleep much last night-not with thoughts of Will in her head. She had woken up a time or two gasping for breath. And she said a quick prayer each time for Jax Teller-grateful that he had been there when Will had grabbed her. Stalling at the foot of the steps she massaged her wrists before stepping out into the morning sunlight streaming through her mother's drapes. Looking at the table she noticed pancakes, bacon, eggs, hash browns. Reminded that without her mom around she didn't have breakfasts like this often. Most days it was a pop-tart and a cup of coffee. If she was really lucky she stumbled out of bed in time for some cereal. On Sundays was when she truly indulged. But her pancakes just weren't quite as good as her mother's.

"Smells good mom," she smiled, taking a seat at the table. Her dad at the head and her mom sitting across from her.

"Now that you're awake, finally," the man at the table joked, "would you like to say grace?"

"Um…that's alright. You take this one Reverend," she said with an inward flinch and an outward smile. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, afraid that instead of hearing her father's kind voice as he thanked God for the food they were about to eat she would hear the spine shivering inducing whisper. She hadn't been a woman who felt helpless and afraid most of her life. Years of being bullied made her hard on the outside. Most of the time she ignored the hurt and kept walking with her head high like it hadn't bothered her. But this one thing she couldn't ignore. It was all over her. Inside her. Constantly festering, waiting to explode and destroy everything from the inside out.

"So how was your date with Will last night," her mother asked, handing her the plate of bacon. She looked up at her dad, who was sparing a look at her out of the corner of his eye. The expression on his face was one of sympathy.

"Awful," she replied on reflex, biting her lip once it slipped. Damn. She had such a good lie set up. Hoping just for a moment to get her mom off her back for a little while at least by distracting her with a relationship that was never going to happen.

"What happened?"

Too late now. Becca was tempted to just give up on breakfast and give the lame excuse that she needed to get her oil changed, it was slowing up the acceleration, and that she needed to take it into Teller-Morrow. It was legit. And she would convince herself that it had nothing to do with Jax Teller coming to her rescue. But instead she took a sip of her orange juice and said, "He's not a nice guy mom. He's a jerk. He's full of himself."

"Seriously Rebecca? You're still holding high school against him? It could be all that pent up resentment you've got made him nervous," Ellen said with a grim expression on her face.

Becca looked between her mother and her father, who was currently sipping his coffee-black and uneventful, the same way he had been taking it for the twenty-four years she'd been in the world- and had picked up the morning paper studying it a bit too intently for her tastes. He didn't want to get in the middle of it. Never had. Mainly because he agreed with his wife. Unlike her mother though, Pastor Matthew Williamson only said things once. She knew where he stood and that was enough for her father. Her mother on the hand liked to push.

"Do you hear yourself," she asked incredulously.

"Rebecca, I'm your mother and I love you. I just want you to be happy. Will's a nice man. And sooner or later you're going to realize that traipsing around Asia isn't going to get you anything."

"How about it makes me happy? Why should I have to give up my life to live somebody else's because you did?"

"That's enough Rebecca," her father snapped in that authoritative tone she remembered from her childhood.

She bit her lip, heart racing, legs and hands shaking. She wasn't angry. She wasn't scared. She was in that odd place where she was a little bit of both. Scared because she was afraid. Scared in her anger she might say the things that she was feeling. That her mother didn't understand. That Will was probably an abusive asshole. That it didn't matter because once it got out that she was damaged goods, no man would want her anyway. And in her fear she was frightened. Frightened of what she had become. An angry woman who couldn't sleep at night for fear that someone she had trusted for the past six years of her life now had so much negative power and control. She was constantly fearful that he would arrive here, at her home. That he was waiting for her back in San Diego. That this wasn't the end of it. He had taken her virginity, her ability to trust, and now he was after her peace of mind.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologize. As long as it doesn't happen again."

"Yes sir," she bit out. Feeling as if she was twelve years old all over again.

"Your mother's right. Settling down is something you need to think about. Now," he bit into his pancakes, "what's your plan for the summer?"

She sighed. That's what she hated about their relationship. They could dismiss problems as if they never had any. Taking another bite of bacon she swallowed before playing along, "Thought I might get a job. You know to hold me over for the summer?" In case I don't go back.

"Sounds like a good idea," Matthew said before turning his gaze on Ellen who was still staring at her daughter, he noticed her hand gripping the syrup, "Doesn't it Ellen?"

"Of course it does sweetheart," was the reply that snapped her out of her fight for self-control, the façade of the sweet housewife quickly slipping back into place, "Heard Lumpy's is looking for a waitress. Might be good for you."

"I'll swing by their today. By the way dad, I need to get my oil changed-you think you can spare me some cash to swing by Teller-Morrow? Promise I will pay you back."

"Sure sweetheart. But you be careful-over there at TM."

"Yes sir," was the reply, a reply that came without hesitation.

In a pair of her best jeans, flip-flops, and a navy v-neck t-shirt Becca made her way into Lumpy's. She noticed five bikes parked out in front and took a deep breath before opening the door. She wasn't one of those women who went all googly eyed over a bad boy on a motorcycle. And she wasn't an idiot-she knew the Sons weren't on the legal side of the fence but growing up in Charming she also knew that the Sons kept big business out of small town USA and kept Charming, well, small town. And folks were grateful for it-until something went wrong. It wasn't necessarily a deal with the devil just more like the lesser of two evils. She walked past tables and booths to the counter and smiled at Mary, the plump cook/part-owner of Lumpy's because like most everything in Charming Lumpy's was a family owned and operated diner. In her mid-sixties with graying blonde hair, an old fashioned apron and well worn jeans Mary looked like the member of her father's congregation that she was. She was also a member of her mother's book club but the redhead choose to overlook that.

"Becca girl, how you been? I was wondering when you were going to stumble in here," she said in that loud booming endearing voice as she walked around the counter to envelop the preacher's daughter in a warm fierce hug, ending the embrace with a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Hey Mary. How you doing?"

"Good. The arthritis isn't helping much these days but other than everything's great. You hungry? I'm just about to take some apple pie out."

"No. Mom made breakfast this morning. I was actually here," she began, shifting her weight on the balls of her feet and throwing around nervous looks across the diner. That's when she spotted him. He was sitting next to Opie Winston and that Alex Trager guy. But there was also two guys she didn't recognize. One Son was tanned, sported a Mohawk and tattoos on his head, she couldn't get a good look at the other, he was turned away from her. He was laughing at something Mohawk guy had said, replying with a slight jab to the guy's upper arm. He offered a smile, more like a smirk. And it was flirtatious in nature.

"Becca," came Mary's voice loudly, complimented by a small smack on her arm.

"What," she answered, quickly, snapping her head back around to face the woman she hoped was about to hire her. Mary's eyes darted between her and the table full of Sons and her mouth opened to say something. Probably a warning. Probably asking her if she was okay. Two things she preferred not to deal with right now. So she interrupted. "Yeah, mom said you were looking for waitresses. Got something that can hold me over for the summer?"

"When can you start," the woman smiled. Becca let out a sigh of relief she hadn't even realized was coming. She had worked here years ago, after school, weekends, and during summers. Back when Mary was just about the only other friend she had.

"Tomorrow," but then seeing her new boss cross her arms over her chest, "Today?"

"9.50 an hour plus tips. Be here tomorrow morning at 6," she informed her, tossing her an apron from a cubby behind the counter, a notepad, and a pencil "Go do your job Becca girl," she instructed her with a smile, jerking her head toward the table full of SOA. Mary watched with baited breath as Becca approached the table. She'd known the girl all her life. So she knew that when Rebecca Williamson's gaze lingered on a table full of Sons, shit was bound to hit the fan.

She tried not to be nervous. Really. She was sure he had girls on the back of his bike all the time. And it had been just a much needed lift not a commitment. Why her heart decided to speed up at the sight of him, why her breath decided to hitch in anticipation, and why there was a numbing jittery sensation in her fingertips was a question she just couldn't answer right now. Maybe later. She had a habit of putting hard hitting issues on the back burner.

"Hi boys. What can I get you?"

"Are you on the menu," said that Trager guy.

"Cut it out Tig," said the guy she hadn't seen at first. He had a clear accent-Scottish maybe. How he ended up across the bond in SAMCRO territory was a question that had the anthropologist in her piqued. And now that she saw him, she tried not to zoom in on his scars. Her mother had always told her not to stare, to be polite. So she tried to overlook them. She wouldn't call them a flaw. He was handsome. Granted not in any sort of typical fashion but when she thought of SOA, guys like him came to mind. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of it. She liked him. At least she did until he said, "But are you lassie?"

"Guys-," Jax started.

She bit her lip before interrupting, "I expect you gentlemen to be better at flirting. Now are we done, so I can take your orders? Or do you need a couple more minutes to come up with better pick-up lines," she said on baited breath, her fingers trembling as they clung to her pencil and the small notepad. It felt good some of that spark she had possessed. But even though it was a part of herself, it felt forced. Fake. A lie.

"I think we're ready to order darlin'," he said with a smile and smirks thrown across the table.

Becca didn't even bother to look back up at the men in front of her as she jotted down their lunch orders. Embarrassed and confused, she gave a brief sigh before telling them that she'd be right back with their drinks. She reached into her back pocket for a hair tie and headed back to the kitchen, pulling her heavy hair into a messy bun oblivious to the table full of men she left behind watching her.

"Jackie Boy, who's the feisty redhead?"

"That there is Rebecca Williamson."

"Williamson? As in preacher man Williamson's kid," Tig asked.

"That'd be the one."

"When she left town she was an ugly little bitch," he continued. Jax smirked, remembering far too well seeing her at the gas station on graduation night. He chuckled. Yeah she had been. "Damn bitch grew into a fucking hot piece of ass."

"Yeah she did. Last night she was off at the gas station a couple of miles outside of town. Had a crap date. I gave her a ride home."

"So what? You hoping she's a bit grateful," Juice joked. His only answer was his VP's shrug.

Becca dropped off her orders to Marty in the back before heading to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. She was feeling a bit warm and anxious. She took a deep breath before grabbing some paper towels and wiping down her face. She didn't bother to look in the mirror. Making a brisk move out the door she bumped into Mary who grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the bathroom with a yelp.

"Mary? What-."

"What's going on with you? You've been back a couple of days already and this is the fist time I'm seeing you. And then I see you and you're mouthing off to some Sons?"

"I wasn't mouthing off Mary. They were flirting with me-badly I might add," she answered back nonchalantly, crossing her arms over her chest and instinctively taking a step back.

"I saw you staring at them when you came in. And why are you so jumpy Becca girl," the older woman asked in a sweet tone, raising her hands to rub soothing caresses down Becca's arms. Coming to an abrupt halt in her efforts when Becca took another step back.

"Look Mary. I've known you all my life. And I love you. But you gave me a job. And policing what I say and who I say it to has nothing to do with me waiting tables," she argued, shoving past her outside to grab four beers.

She slapped four drinks down on the tabletop and began to storm off before Jax grabbed her wrists, quickly she jerked her hand out off his grasp and with one finger held up told him not to touch her.

"Sorry Becca. I mean these boys bad attempts at flirting surely didn't piss you off that much. I wanted to apologize on their behalf anyway."

"Um…sorry," she said on a long breath, "It's just been a bit of a long day."

"I'll bet."

"Look," she hesitated, noting Mohawk guy giving her a leering and appreciative glance. With another deep breath she continued, "my car needs an oil change. I was thinking of bringing it over to Teller-Morrow-."

"Yeah sure. We're headed there after lunch. Why don't you bring it by then?" Becca looked back over the counter, seeing Mary eye her with suspicion. She gave him a slight nod before heading over to another table to take orders. Damn.

XXXXXXXXXREAPERXXXXXXXXXXX

Somehow this was a bad idea. At least that's what she had convinced herself. There was no denying she needed an oil change. It was getting so bad that it was slowing up the acceleration. She cursed, hating the fact that Teller-Morrow Automotive was the only place in Charming where she could get her oil changed. She was actually considering turning around and heading over to Lodi. But before she could even think about it, she was met by a sandy haired kid in a cut at her window.

"What you need," he asked, not even bothering to look up from the clipboard in his hand.

"Uh Jax said I could come by for an oil change."

That seemed to get his attention, his head snapped up and he eyed her. She rolled her eyes. Her parents had always assured her she would grow into her looks. And she didn't believe them at the time. Now she wished they had been wrong. It had got her nothing but trouble.

"Yeah cool. I'll take care of it. Take these forms," he said, opening the car door for her, "up to the office. Gemma will get you set up."

"Thanks," she said stepping out of the car, eyeing the form and making her way in the direction that the kid in the cut pointed her. Walking in, she saw Gemma sitting at a desk in jeans and a tank top. She had to admit, the woman looked good.

"Um…they told me to bring these forms to you," Becca said, handing out the paperwork to the MC Matriarch. She was suddenly struck by the undertones of their last conversation. And somehow, when Gemma slowly pulled her reading glasses from the bridge of her nose, she knew where this conversation was headed.

"Becca. Your face healed up nicely."

"Yeah. Bruises do that," she snapped. When Gemma cocked an eyebrow at her, she bit her lip, "Sorry."

Gemma stood up. She had to give the girl credit. Gemma could tell she wanted to shift under her gaze but she didn't. She hold her stance and her gaze. Walking towards her slowly, almost like a predator, she plucked the paperwork from Becca's grasp and looked it over.

"Oil change?"

"Yeah."

"That'll be fifty even."

Becca reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet, releasing a sigh of frustration. She knew when she was being sized up. And after the past twenty-four hours she really didn't appreciate it. She was here for an oil change. She didn't come in with a sinister attitude and some diabolical master plot. Why the hell had Gemma engaged her in a fucking Mexican standoff? The last three days had been working on her sliver of patience and even less miniscule peace of mind. She hadn't slept more than a couple hours. If you looked at her close enough you could tell. Handing a couple of bills over to her, Becca asked where the bathroom was.

Gemma watched the girl retreat to the bathroom. She gave a snort. There was something seriously going on with that bitch. And as if fate was confirming her suspicions her son walked in, eyes darting across the room.

"Hey baby."

"Hey ma. Sack said he sent the oil change chick in here? We'll be done in about twenty minutes."

"So," his mom asked, crossing her arms over her chest, "did you know the oil change chick is actually Pastor Williamson's kid."

"Yeah. I know."

"How?"

"Oh c'mon Ma. Don't start."

She pinned him with a look and he sighed, rolling his head on his neck before confessing that he had run into her at the gas station last night. He left out the part about her asshole date. And giving her ride back home. He did tell her about their meeting at Lumpy's this morning. And he witnessed the cool calculation that passed over her face. He knew that look. That suspicious what-the-fuck-is-going-on-do-I-need-to-be-worried look? He rolled his eyes.

"Where is she? I'll tell her myself."

"Bathroom," she told him slowly, leaning on the desk and watching her son leave the room. She was worried. He was his father's son.

Jax chuckled at the sight of his mother going all mama-bear. Damn, he hadn't been joking when he had told Becca that his mom would have a heart attack had she seen him dropping her off last night. He was sure it would've ignited the family flaw. She worried too much. At most, all he wanted was to tap her. That's it. Hit it and quit it. He was looking for a fuck not a commitment. Granted considering who she was he might have to work a little bit harder than normal. She wasn't a croweater. Or a sweet butt. Or some other chick who was enthralled by his cut and his good looks. He wasn't arrogant. Just honest. He was a good looking son of a bitch and he knew it. Knocking on the door he called her name. No answer. He was worried momentarily that his mom had pulled that intimidating thing she did and scared the shit out of the preacher's little girl. But he knocked again just to make sure, this time a bit harder. He was going to give up before the door opened slightly and he heard a small sniffle.

Opening the door he saw Becca sitting on the bathroom floor, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. Oh shit. He carefully walked in, quietly shutting the door behind him. He looked up at the mirror. There were a few spots of red across the glass. Immediately his eyes went down to her crying figure and noticed the blood on her knuckles. Oh shit. Things were seemingly becoming a bit more complicated than a fuck.

"Becca?"

She heard his voice. Heard him calling her name. But she couldn't answer. She just kept staring in front of her, unsure herself of what she was even looking at. Her hair had long fallen out of the cheap hair tie. And she was crying, a little bit too hard. There was blood on her hands. Her own. From where she had punched the mirror at the sight of her reflection. This was it. She knew it had been coming. Had known it would destroy her from the inside and out. She had finally lost it.

"Thank You Professor Marin. As usual, it's been a good semester," Becca said, sounding all bubbly and looking on with happy innocent wide eyes. How anyone could look innocent at twenty-four was a question that had been asked many a-night over beers between her, Amber, Sara, and their friend Eric. She started to walk out of class but stopped when Professor Marin asked her to stay behind for a minute. The sound of the heavy door to the lecture hall slamming shut should've been creepy. But how many times in the past six years had she been alone in a room with Professor Marin? Too many times to count, "Something wrong?"

"I wanted to talk to you about your trip to Thailand. Make sure everything's in order."

"Everything's great. Thanks for the letter of recommendation by the way. I don't think I would've got the funding had it not been for you."

"You are very welcome," he told her, steeping close. Becca quirked her gaze before nodding and she was beginning to get a feeling in the bottom of her stomach. But she ignored it and the urge to step back.

"Well. If that's all then I-."

"Actually there is something else I wanted to talk to you about," he told her on a husky whisper before leaning down and pressing his mouth to hers. She froze. Stood there. Confused. Shaken. Before she gathered her senses together and pushed him away from her.

"Professor Marin, what the hell are you doing?"

"Rebecca-," he said reaching for her.

"No," she yelled, turning away from him before he grabbed her wrist and yanked her around to face him. Now afraid, she raised her hand and sent it across his face. Too stunned herself by the situation, she hesitated to leave. Hesitated a second to long because before she could even turn on the heel of her foot, he threw his arms around her waist and slammed her down on the ground, pinning her down by throwing his weight on top of her, his knee seamlessly sliding between her dress and up the light pleated navy skirt she wore.

"Get off of me," she shouted, hangs going up to shove, pry, scratch, pull, panic beginning to rise from her stomach into her chest, quickening her heart beat. To stop her yelling he clamped his hand down over her mouth, pressing his upper body into her waist, sending a sharp pain through her waist and sides. And then she saw it. The absolute determination shining through his eyes. No fear. No guilt. No hesitation. She knew what was coming.

"He raped me," she whispered against her skin, mumbling low.

Jax stiffened at her side. He had come to sit down beside her, throwing an arm around her trembling body. Picking up a hand to examine the damage. She was going to have to get that cleaned and bandaged up. And she had been making incoherent noises but this, what she had just said, had been clear as day. But he hoped he was wrong. Hoped she hadn't said what he thought she did.

"What happened Becca," he whispered. Watching her lift her head. A hand latch onto his cut as she pulled herself closer to his body, almost seeking some sort of solace. Her make-up was running and her eyes, big green luminescent pools were overrun with tears.

"He raped me."

Never in his life had such a strong sense of vengeance, hatred, and possessiveness rushed through his entire being. What kind of sick bastard would ruin something so beautiful? He had often been accused of caring too much. Of being too sympathetic. But that wasn't the truth. He was a passionate guy. He loved hard. But he could hate just as hard. And hate could drive a man to do some things despicable and unworthy of redemption in the eyes of the world. And right now, he hated what had been done to Becca Williamson. So he held her. Held her as she cried. It didn't last long. Five minutes at most before she ceased sniffling and tearing, bringing her busted hands up to her face.

"I'm-."

"Don't apologize," he sighed, looking her in the eyes and tucking a strand of hair behind her head, "Look wash your face. And then meet me outside. I want to take you somewhere so we can talk."

"No, you don't have to-."

"I want to," he told her, trying to be as soft and gentle as he possibly could. Girl was a mess. Didn't need her afraid of him when all he wanted was to help. And for the life of him, he couldn't quite figure out why that was.

Coming out of the bathroom, he was met by his step-father who looked over his shoulder over at the bathroom door and back at Jax.

"Mom said Pastor Williamson's daughter in there?"

"Yeah."

Silence passed between them before Clay reached into his cut and pulled out a cigar and a light, "Something you want to tell me son?"

"Nothing to tell," Jax answered on reflex. It didn't bother him. Lying. Besides it wasn't his story to tell. And he had a feeling he was the only one who knew. Before Clay could come back with a wise ass crack or a warning to watch himself, Becca came out. Face wiped clean, looking fresh, young, and not like the typical girl Jax had riding bitch on the back of his bike, "You ready?"

She just nodded, not even bothering to acknowledging Clay's presence. President looked at his VP and the girl standing next to him, close to him, who had obviously been crying and saw a potential issue. Step-father looked at step-son and saw a shit storm brewing, a storm threatening to knock over a few tress and crush a few homes in the process. He stepped aside and watched Jax lead her towards his bike, handing her his helmet. Watched the girl wrap her arms tightly around him. Hopefully, this was just a fuck. He did not need his VP dealing with another Tara.

The only explanation for riding through Charming with Becca on his bike in broad daylight was that they had both been too shocked. Him by Becca's revelation and her by the fact that she actually revealed it. Still so much in shock, Becca didn't even see Mary coming outside of Lumpy's for a smoke as the bike came to a stop at Main Street.