a/n: Just wanted to start off with a thank you for the reviews. We're about 4 more chapters away from the end. Your guys' positivity has been overwhelming, and I really thank you for making this a fun experience. What started out as a writing exercise grew into a much beloved pleasure and I'll definitely keep posting stuff for you to enjoy. Finally had some time to start reading some fanfics, and some of them are great, while others…eh, not so much. Need to do some RL work and that's why this has been put on the backburner. I'm going to crank these out pretty quick here and then get to a reading list several pages long. This one is dedicated to my friend Kathy. You're a hot mess and you have a ton of issues, but I love you nonetheless and thanks for always being the voice of support. You're the kind of person that comes once in a lifetime.

*Look for the baby biker cameo!

…

Tara had been waiting outside the precinct. The cold Chicago wind blew outside and her ears were red. She nervously pulled at her heavy coat as she stood outside, the foreboding in her stomach prohibiting her from going further.

She had complained to his boss at first, citing that Agent Joshua Kohn was threatening her and borderline stalking. She had tried to cut ties with him cold turkey, resulting in an outburst of open violence that she had not been prepared for. She changed her phone number after he left no less than a hundred desperate messages on her machine. A few times she caught him lurking outside of her building and she asked her co-worker and sometimes ex-lover to escort her inside. She had a casual, purely sexual relationship with Dr. Joseph Berry a few months ago. The awkwardness had passed after she broke it off, and they soon resumed their friendship.

He had taken to escorting her home after work, as he only lived a few blocks away. They took the metro because of the heavy traffic in the city, and Tara felt a pang of nostalgia as she thought about her dad's old cutlass. It was a relic that would go unappreciated in the windy city.

She was glad for Joe's company, and even though she didn't want to involve anyone in her ex-boyfriend's madness, she felt a small amount of comfort with him being there. He walked her to the door, and she turned around to face him, only to find that he was well into her personal space. A few more inches, and their noses would've touched.

The moment is filled with tension and she would like to make a move, but the ordeal with Kohn is still a fresh and open wound. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she looks around panicked. She can feel him watching her. Joe senses the stress and backs off with a carefree smile. He really was too nice. They mumble their goodbyes as Tara quickly rushes into her apartment, locking the deadbolt behind her.

She is woken in the night by the sound of the lock being jigged. She didn't give Josh a key, and she is frightened by the fact that he's trying to get in. She knows it's him on the other side even before she's heard his voice. There's no way she's checking the peephole.

"Go away, Josh!" she yelled. The knob quit moving, and there was a sudden silence. Maybe he had listened…

BOOM BOOM BOOM. The door shook on its hinges as he kicked and punched wood. Each moment of impact seemed to shake her very bones, and was frozen with fear. She heard a muffled voice, something about calling the police. It was one of her neighbors, and she was grateful.

"…..FUCKING kill you-" she heard Josh reply. The next sound she heard was her neighbor slamming their door and hiding away.

"Tar Tar, why won't you let me in?" he said. "I don't know what I've done wrong, why are you punishing me? I love you, don't you know that? And you love me too….SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING RIGHT NOW!"

"I've already called the cops. And there are witnesses," she yelled, "so you just stay the fuck away from me." She said this with a false courage, and when he didn't respond, she was relieved. The whole situation had left her in a cold sweat and his skin was clammy. All of the emotions suddenly rose up in her stomach and she ran to the bathroom to vomit the contents of her stomach.

It had been two weeks since "the incident," as she liked to call it. He had fucked her and came inside her. It was too intimate for her, and she had already been looking for reasons to break it off. Why had she gotten involved with this guy? The warning signs were there, and she could sense this darkness lurking underneath. Maybe she was so desperate for something sane and normal-anything to distract her from the pain of the past. And look where that got her. For the hundredth time since she broke it off, she thought of going back home.

So the crazy phone calls, the letters, and her neighbors had brought her to the precinct. This was her third attempt to file a restraining order, and even with all of the proof and evidence, they'd still shrugged her off. Kohn was a model agent and his name was attached to some of the biggest busts in the metro area.

Dejected and frustrated, she ran from the main office trying to bite back tears. It was there that she ran into Detective Hollis from Internal Affairs. Apparently, there were muted reports and rumors about the "aggressive behavior" that Kohn exhibited in the field. He showed her pictures of a CI that he "allegedly" roughed up. Tara was shocked to find that girl looked remarkably similar to her, minus the bruised eye and swollen lip. He had granted her a temporary restraining order in trade for her tapes and letters that verified his disturbing actions.

He then advised her to get out of town, as the next step would be to file a permanent order. She would have to go to court, and he would have her new address if she just changed apartments or relocated in the city. After all, he would have to know where he wasn't allowed to be, and Tara wasn't confident that a piece of paper would keep him away.

So she stayed in a hotel for the next couple of weeks, her nausea and fatigue credited to the stress of the situation. She had used her vacation time to stay off the radar at work. Joe had called and said that a tall guy with salt and pepper hair had been poking around. That was the last she'd heard of him since he'd last walked her home those weeks ago.

Holed up in apartment with nothing better to do, she ate, and she munched, always paranoid, always dreading that he would come banging through the door. She made a few calls to her landlord and made arrangements for her furniture to be sold. She didn't have a ton of belongings that she was particularly attached to, so things went very smoothly. After a few days, she would relocate and go to another populated hotel chain. He was probably monitoring her credit cards. She changed her phone number once again after he'd found the new one, probably from an FBI hookup. He'd left a dozen messages. She didn't listen to any of them.

Finally, her medical senses cut through her unease, and she ventured out of the room to the local gas station. She picked up some toiletries and snacks, and begrudgingly a pregnancy test. Surely fate wouldn't be so cruel. Life couldn't be this fucking bad.

Five minutes later, pee stick in hand, she sat on the commode, numb. That pink little plus sign had scared her almost more than Kohn did. Calling the hospital, she went right away to her OBGYN, scheduling an appointment in the next week to fix this problem. It pained her to think about it. She was pro-choice, of course, as a medical professional. However, on a personal level, she couldn't fathom the idea of taking a baby's life. She struggled and stressed at work trying to SAVE lives. It wasn't a baby yet, she justified. Technically, the baby was little more than a bean inside of her. And it was Josh's…she didn't love him, and she couldn't love the baby. Maybe I could. Maybe I could take it and raise it away from him. No, then he would never leave me alone. I would be tied to him forever, she thought. The decision was made.

…

Tara was hung-over, and it was a state that had become familiar over the last few months. She rolled over, tongue dry and head heavy, until her cheek collided with the warm expanse of Jax's back. They were sleeping together too now, and she found it was hard to sleep without him lying next to her. Her grades were slipping, her dad was perpetually pissed and every word from his mouth evolved into a lecture. Things weren't perfect with Jax either. Their relationship consisted of dodging questions resolved with fleeting answers. Jax tried to keep her oblivious, and she couldn't find the energy to dig deeper. The truth was some things were better left alone.

Her life had fallen into a vague, but somehow satisfying pattern. Endless and mind-numbing fucks with Jax, droning days at school, going to his house afterwards; they were closer than ever before, but the distance between them was still so vast.

It was Junior year, and things were still the same in the stagnant, but mysterious place she called home. Charming, yeah right, she thought. She ran into David Hale, with whom she had maintained a tense, but somehow still amicable friendship.

"Hey Tara," he said, smiling that cheery gap-toothed smile. She appreciated the friendly crinkle around his eyes when he smiled, and he looked like he saw too much sun during summer break.

"Hey David, how's it going?" she replied.

"Great, great. I got accepted into the criminal justice program at UCLA. Not sure if I'm going to go though, I wanna get into law enforcement, but my dad wants me to be a lawyer, like he was."

"WOW. Congratulations," she said hesitantly. His accomplishments only made her faltering grades more obvious. They chatted for a few moments, and she drifted in and out of the conversation.

"So, you still planning on med school?" he asked, jolting her back to reality.

"Yeah…no…I don't know. Need to get my grades up, I've been busy lately, and it's been hurting. I'll probably just go to the junior college," she said, a little embarrassed.

"Tara!" he huffed, "Sorry, I don't mean to snap at you, but you have so much potential. You don't have to be stuck here because of that loser-"

"Stop, David," she said, "we've already tried this argument, and it didn't sit well with either of us. He makes me happy…and I'm not stuck, I'm just…JUST!"

The silence that followed was awkward and heavy, and both of them were lost in their own thoughts. They went their separate ways to class and he smiled at her before waving off. Things were okay between them, but her thoughts were still unsettled.

…

Jax was sitting with "J.C." the chubby little teenager who was getting Cheetos smudges all over the boxy computer screen.
"So, you Mexes good with computers?" said Tig, driving his finger into J.C's chubby, tan cheek.

"I'm not Mexican," he giggled, " I'm Puerrrto Rrrrican."

"Where the fuck did you find this beanbag?" Tig asked Jax.

Jax came to his defense and explained the Juan was a whiz kid. Sure he was just a middle-schooler, and he was a little naïve, but he knew his way around computers. He had a relation in the Tacoma charter, a second cousin or something. Clay had pulled him out of class to help dig up some information on Principal Skinner. Finally J.C. smiled up at them, his big brown eyes sparkling, "FOUND IT!" he yelled.

They got a detailed 10 page printout using different records and news articles they found online. "Good job, Brownie," said Tig, "way to get the juice."

"Yeah, you did good kid; here's a little something for your troubles," said Jax, handing the kid a hundred. Juan's face lit up at the compliments, and he was bouncing as he walked out of the clubhouse, shiny Benjamin in hand. "The kid did good work," he said, thumbing through the notes. "Let's take it to the table."

…

There was a thick, encumbered silence in the room. The contents of the dossier had been read, Clay's tone somber and heavy:

Eliza Skinner, aged thirty-two had received her Bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice at NYU. She moved on to teaching criminology back on the west coast where she grew up. Around three years ago, she was asked to assist in a politically motivated and corrupt drug trafficking case. There were a number of casualties where a member of the 9ers had assassinated 4 people in retaliation, two of which were political big shots. For her excellent work, both behind the scenes and on the field, she was offered a full time position with ATF and the DEA. She went with ATF and received her status as a special agent. However, due to increasingly violent and "emotionally charged" altercations, her status was revoked. She left the force after a very successful year, putting away no less than ten of the 9ers key members. She had a vendetta against them, and they were after her. Her home in Oakland was compromised, and after several civil lawsuits and liability issues, she left the force. It was assumed that she moved to Charming to escape the dangers of her former profession and get back in touch with her roots in education.

"It looks like she's picked a new target," said Clay, "US."

They picked through the files, all of them pondering the best solution to the problem. Finally, the VP spoke up. "She's not an agent anymore…how much of a threat could she be?" said Piney.

"She's been keeping eyes on Jax," said Clay. "This bitch is poking her nose where it don't belong, and she's not a fed…which means it's open season on Miss Skinner."

…

Tara is not hungover. She is recovering from the groggy, sluggish warmth of the local anesthetic. The procedure had taken all of an hour to complete, and it was done. She felt empty inside, her womb was aching and there was a distinct ache of dulled down agony. It soon filled up with the crushing pressure of guilt. She was allowed to leave and it was an outpatient procedure. Unfortunately, she was not able to exit as fast as she had entered, and she ran into Cordelia, a nurse for her unit.

"OhmyGOD, TARA!," she said, in her obscenely chipper voice. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Ugh, I…I've been on sick leave," she moaned, trying to keep her pain in check.

"Girl, you've missed so much, NICU has been nuts without you," she droned on and on about the nurses and other hospital gossip, and Tara slowly tuned her out, "and did you hear about Dr. Berry?"

That got her attention. "What happened to Joe?" asked Tara, and she gripped the girls shoulders, trying to squeeze the information out.

"He's in ICU. Someone beat the crap out of him and he's in a coma."

Tara froze with fear, vaguely recalling the frantic phone call Joe made days before, warning her, worrying for her. And now he was a mangled mass of flesh and pulp kept alive by tubes and a steady flow of fluids. She was going to leave. She had to go back to Charming.

…

A/N: Tara is 17, Jax is 18 in this chap. Wanted to show some pre S1 action on Tara and give you a glimpse of her life in Chicago and what pushed her back into Charming. For those of you who caught the meadow reference, YES! It is the "porterhouse" meadow, lol. That scene was too perfect for me not to make it special for them. I deliberately chose not to show Tara losing her virginity in this scene, but you will get the low down later. Her and Jax have an active sex life in this, and have fallen into a sort of routine together. REMEMBER, reviews are love, and they encourage me to write faster. Look for an update soon. MUAH!