A/N: I scrapped and rewrote this chapter four or five times and I FINALLY got it looking the way I somewhat want it to. I hope you enjoy! Please read and review and if anyone's interested in the blog for this story, it's still up.

I'm hoping to write the next one as a flashback chapter!

To line up to the ring
For a battle that you can't win
Swing as hard as you can swing
It will still mean nothing
Should've seen it coming
It had to happen sometime
But you went and brought a knife
To an all out gunfight

Nickelback — This Means War

Every time Rhiannon spoke about the goddamned ATF agent, Jax wanted to rip him apart. Despite her best efforts, he knew deep down that Abernathy would make his presence known. All Jax needed to do was provoke him and get up close and personal, to take one look at him to know what he could do.

Whatever he was capable of, he had put the fear of God into her. He had seen it in the way her fingers curled into his arm as he walked her to the truck, the way she tilted her head to pop her neck, the way she bounced her knee, the way she kept quietly counting her breaths. They were all things she never realized she did. All of the things she did that night in Oakland when she had clung to him like a lifeline, like she had in the hospital, like she did now. It made him sick. It made him see red. It made him remember abuse didn't have to be physical to leave a mark. It made him think of all the disgusting things she had described.

Psychologically abusive. Emotionally abusive. Sexually abusive. Verbally abusive. Physically abusive. Controlling. Manipulative. Shane Abernathy had taken someone who was vulnerable and tried to twist her to fit a mold he had no right to have.

One thing Jax knew was that Shane wouldn't back off when she left for San Francisco, but it wasn't for him to say. War was falling on his doorstep through no fault of hers.

As Jax approached, there was something off about Shane. He was a man whose appearance left no room for human error: no flyaway hairs, no lint on his shirt, no food in his teeth. His eyes resembled a shark's, in the way that they were dark and flat. It was reflected in the way he held objects a little too tightly, as if he wanted to show off his strength to whomever happened to look.

Jax needed to see for himself and he had a good enough look to know that this was a man obsessed. Not out of love, but for sport. He had seen the look a few too many times from men when he was inside.

Psychopath.

"You're Jax Teller." It wasn't a question, but a statement. It was a question meant to disarm, but instead, Jax let out a snort as he adjusted the strap of his bike helmet.

"And you're the little bitch that got his ass kicked by the Westmoreland brothers at Emmett's memorial." He leaned his bike off the kickstand to kick it up. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shane's hand tighten around his phone. The muscles in his forearm rippled and his jaw tightened.

No fucking wonder Emmett didn't trust this guy, Jax thought to himself. This is a man who'll take down a town to torment one person.

"Do yourself a favor and don't take Rhiannon Westmoreland too seriously with her words. She's not the girl you used to know."

Even the way he said her name made him shut off his bike and take off his helmet. "Did they teach psychological torture in ATF school? Breaking and entering? Vandalism? Harassment?" Jax taunted as he pulled himself off his motorcycle. "'Cause you're goddamn right she's not the girl I used to know. The girl I used to know would have fed you your balls for lunch."

"You know, I heard her poor uncle's house got vandalized." The words were nearly a sneer and Jax's rage nearly boiled over. "It's a tragedy, right? Poor family can't seem to catch a break. First, Emmett dies. Then, his house gets torn apart."

"Then the family gets a surprise visit from an unwanted guest. Bad news comes in threes," he responded. "Look, man. I'm not here to fight you. Not yet. But if you don't leave Rhiannon and her family alone, you will go down."

"Are you threatening a federal agent?" There it was. A glint in the eye. Jax could give him the illusion of control and yank it out. Easily. "That's a spot in County if you follow through, asshole."

"Harassment. Vandalism. You get popped, you're sitting right there next to me. They teach you how to suck dick in ATF school? It'll be a handy skill for you to have. Boys find out you're a fed, you'll get passed around like a joint and that's if you even live that goddamn long," he responded. "Leave that family alone."

"I'd love to know how you got the impression that I was the one who did the vandalism, Teller. I have better things to do with my time than deal with my crazy ex-fiancee. I hope she gets some help and stops obsessing over the idea that I'm out to get her. She's starting to sound hysterical and what's worse is that she's getting innocent people involved in our mess. I have more important things to do than get involved with her drama."

Fuck, Jax itched to punch him. He could see the absolute terror in Rhiannon's eyes when she spoke about him. He had heard about the hysterics from the funeral, that wasn't someone making up abuse. It was a physical reaction, the way she cringed and clung to him. He heard about the threats from around town.

"Then I guess you've got no fucking problem leaving her alone, huh? Leaving her family alone?" he goaded. Just as quickly as Jax had seen the glint, it vanished. Only this time, there was a snarl to his voice as he spoke.

"Of course I don't. The question you need to ask yourself is this, Teller. Can you keep her from me?"

Jax couldn't lay claim to knowing about psychopaths or mental health problems, but there were two times in his life that he could remember feeling that icy chill run down his spine. Once was from one of a former SAMBEL member, a confirmed red-tape psychopath aptly nicknamed "Psycho" and Shane Abernathy.

Not even studying for finals or the bar exam or even leaving Shane had been this stressful. Knowing Jax, he poked the bear outright, despite her begging him not to. He wouldn't leave it alone. Not without the somewhat naive concept that he could handle it for her. Even if it wasn't his intention, he made it worse.

Now there was no telling how Shane would retaliate.

All Rhiannon could do was compartmentalize, to push it down, pretend like it didn't exist like she had with so many other things in her life. Shane couldn't exist while she handled this. Soon, she would be home in San Francisco and he would be a nightmare drowned away. He would be a cautionary tale.

Yet no matter how much she told herself it would all be over soon, she knew it wouldn't. Shane Abernathy was a sleep paralysis demon, a figure haunting her in the corner of her eye. He was a danger to her, even if she couldn't prove it. Things were going to get worse. No matter how much she attempted to let herself live, there was one thing that would give her the peace of mind she craved.

It was what sent her back to TM and hopefully for the last time. It was what kept her looking for Gemma for the first time, possibly ever, and hopefully for the last time.

"Jax isn't here, Clay sent him to Indian Hills," someone called and she craned her neck to get a better look. Lowell.

Rhiannon swiped her hands along the thighs of her dark-wash jeans before settling them into her back pockets. "Actually, I'm looking for Gemma. Is she around?"

"Yeah, she should be inside."

No matter how many times she saw Gemma Teller-Morrow since, Rhiannon couldn't help but feel like she was fifteen years old and meeting her as Jax's girlfriend. "Hey, Gemma, do you have a second?" she asked, rapping her knuckles on the office door. "I, uh, had a favor to ask."

"You've got a lot of nerve, showing up here. Now you want a favor?" Gemma retorted, lifting her black-framed reading glasses from her face.

Rhiannon slipped into the office and shut the door behind her. "Listen, it's just one thing and you'll never see me ag-"

"You can go to hell."

Jax had told her. Fuck. Before, it was disdain and passive disapproval, not outright ice.

"Gemma, I need a gun."