"Rena! Hey! How are things going?"

She swung around at the sound of the voice. Dr. Tara Knowles stood beside her at the admissions desk. She'd known the other woman for close to a year and they were on friendly terms.

"Dr. Knowles. Hi."

"How you settling in? This hospital is known for its trauma. Even if it is a small facility."

"It's going okay. Dr Navid is putting me through my paces. But I like it." Morena eyed Tara suspiciously. "Aren't you supposed to be on maternity leave?"

Tara laughed and Morena admired the attractive woman. She was confident and lovely. But she had seen her iron will in the ER. Tara Knowles had the brains to back up all the good looks. It made her very hard to dislike.

"Guilty as charged. I'm just here with my boys. They had check-ups in Paeds." Tara swept her fringe out of her eyes impatiently and something flashed on her left hand.

Morena reached out. The diamond, set in platinum, elegant and simple winked. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

Tara grinned and a feint trace of red washed over her cheeks. "That's a yes." She glowed.

"Congratulations!" Morena had never met Jax Teller, but she had seen him around. The man exuded a crazy magnetism. She could see why Tara was attracted to him. He was a blonde, tattooed, Norse God. She wondered how their relationship worked. At first glance, it seemed like there was nothing they could possibly have in common.

"Thank you. We haven't set a date yet. But Jax's mother is already in wedding planner mode. So I don't think it will be long." Before Morena could respond, Jax came strolling down the corridor, cradling a dark haired baby in one arm, an older boy, blonde and the spitting image of his father held on to his daddy's hand, until he spotted his mother and made a beeline for her.

The scene was almost the live action interpretation of an oxymoron. It just boggled the mind. This tough, rough, tattooed biker, cradling his babies so carefully, putty in the hands of his children. It shouldn't make sense. And yet it did.

Tara swung her son into her arms just as Jax made it to her side. With his free arm, he pulled Tara close in a move that was possessive and he knew it. Morena felt a pang of something akin to jealously. Here was clearly love. He kissed her neck.

"Morena, this is Abel, little Thomas and this is Jax."

"How's it going?" He let go of Tara's waist long enough to shake her hand and beam a lopsided smile at her.

The intercom buzzed and Morena's name was called. Dr Navid required some labs. She excused herself and wished Tara well.

In a hurry, she took the corner at breakneck speed and almost lost her neck with the force of the whiplash she experienced. Knocking into a solid brick wall, the air left her lungs in a rush and her charts went flying. When hands reached out to stop her inevitable decent to the tiled floor, she realised it wasn't a wall.

"What the fuck?"

She looked up and dark eyes clashed with blue ones. Spring with winter. The steel traps holding her upright were the arms of Tig Trager.

How long they stood like that, she wasn't sure. She knew she didn't breathe. She couldn't. She knew she felt his heart beating where their chests touched. Or maybe it's mine. But he was holding her so tightly. And so very close.

Eventually he pushed her away, a little toughly, but his hands were gentle on her arms as he made sure she was set on her feet before he let go.

"You." It was said in a tone that was almost accusatory. He was frowning; quite ferocious. She was determined not to have him undermine her courage. He was just a man. A grumpy one. But flesh and blood.

She righted herself and tried to salvage her dignity, looking for her charts and pens. It was better than looking at him. She couldn't look at him.

"Yes. Me." She bent to collect her dispersed paraphernalia but couldn't find the chart. Her hair had come undone and was slowly cascading down her back. Great. I'm a bloody mess. Mortified, her cheeks were pink by the time she was forced to look at him.

Tig held the chart out to her. He had picked it up but still hadn't said a word. "I'm sorry I barged into you. I'm on my way to see a Doctor." He still looked at her as though he was baffled by her appearance. Frown lies ran across his forehead, his eyes... disturbed.

He wore what he usually wore. Black jeans, short sleeved black T-Shirt, his SAMCRO kutte and spiked leather cuffs on both his wrists. His hair was windswept and unruly. He looked like what a fallen angel must look like if it had a human form – angry, sad, tortured and a little lonely.

She reached for the folder and made sure she grabbed the very end. Two fingers on his right hand had two heavy looking, thick silver rings with reapers. She couldn't help but notice that his hands were big, with long fingers, quite elegant for a male, but strong, dusted with a light sprinkling of dark hair. His hands looked... capable.

"You're working here." A statement.

"I'm completing my internship. I think I might have mentioned that to you in the minute it took for you to interview me." She had no idea why she'd said that.

His eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"Jax and Tara. I need to take Jax's bike back to the garage. He's driving home with his Old Lady and the kids."

After his answer, she realised she hadn't really expected him to even answer.

She made a move to leave and her neck exploded with pain. She must have swayed because the next thing she knew, his arms held her upright and this time her hands clutched his arms to stabalise herself. His tattooed skin was warm and she could feel the springy hairs on his arms beneath her fingers.

"Are you alright?" He demanded urgently, pushing some hair behind her ear to see her better. "Jesus, we're in a hospital. Should I carry you somewhere?"

"No! No." It was overwhelming. "I think I hurt my neck when I knocked into you." For reasons of self-preservation, she removed her hands from his arms slowly and moved it cup to her neck. "Probably a sprain."

He made a move to touch her neck too; his hand hovered and then dropped to his side when she stepped back.

"If you wouldn't mind dropping those at reception, I'll head over to emergency and get one of the Doctors to have a look." The last thing she needed was him touching or carrying her somewhere.

He looked reluctant but picked up the discarded items. "Sure."

Morena smiled at him tentatively. He didn't smile back. "Thank you."

"For almost running you down?"

"I did the running. And into you."

Pleasure filled her belly when he eventually cracked a smile. His teeth were white; crow's feet fanning out from the corners of his eyes and laugh lines cascading around the sides of his mouth.

His smile was charming.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?"

"I would nod, but then you'd probably have to carry me." She was sure she saw his eyes twinkle. My imagination. "I'll be fine."

She turned to leave but he called, "If you need the week off, it's no problem," as if he wanted to prolong their exchange. She mentally chastised herself for her ridiculous notions.

"Thanks. I'll let you know. I can get hold of you at Teller-Morrow right?"

He nodded.

"Okay." She sent one last furtive smile his way and headed down the hall.

This time, because she couldn't turn her neck around, she didn't realise that he was the one watching her progress until she was out of sight. Even for a little while after she had disappeared.