**Please Read Authors Note Before Reading**

Edited: May 25th 2020, this is a disclaimer. I own nothing but my original characters and original storylines. Everything else belongs to their respected owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Hey there! Here recently I became obsessed with Sons of Anarchy on Netflix. I never watched the show when it aired weekly on FX, and now wished I would have. I love it SO MUCH. So, I decided to write a fic for it!

This story will follow the show as close as possible, but the first few chapters will be getting to know my OC. It will be a Jax/OC story all the way. In my version Jax is only 23 years old, he looked pretty young in season 1. My OC Rowan Collins is 21 years old. I'd like to make this a very slow burn between Jax and Rowan, so they aren't going to be jumping each other's bones anytime soon. But, it will happen. Lol.

Cast List for all my OC's:

Rowan Collins is portrayed by: Candice Accola (previously was Taylor Swift)

Rebecca Collins is portrayed by: Elizabeth Shue

Deacon Willhite is portrayed by: Jeffery Dean Morgan

Lena Jacobson is portrayed by: Shelly Hennig

Please review, good or bad, and let me know what you think, or what you'd like to see! Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Rowan's Point of View

The rhythmic sounds of the beeping monitors greeted my ears as I slowly pulled myself awake. I opened my eyes one at a time, blinking away the blurriness and sleep that had taken over my vision. I sat slouched in the arm chair in the corner of my mother's hospital room. Stifling a yawn, I stared at her motionless body lying in the bed across from me. Glancing down I could see a wooly blanket one of the nurses had covered me up with in the middle of the night. I felt a small smile form on my lips at their kindness, and then felt it disappear almost as quickly as it had appeared. I'd become extremely bitter on the inside since my life had ultimately went to complete shit. I guess that's what the world does to you; it makes you bitter.

My eyes flickered to the small crack in the wall above the hospital bed. It seemed like it was left there to mock my life. I mentally flipped it the finger every time I looked at it. Every time I looked at it, it seemed as if it had grown bigger, like the tumor growing inside my mother's brain. Everything started so small, just like the crack in the wall, then it splintered and spider webbed its way from there.

St. Thomas Hospital has been our home for the past three and half months... This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Not by a long shot.

I placed the wooly blanket on the back of the arm chair as I stood up and stretched my arms over my head. I let out a sigh as I took in the room for the thousandth time. It was so cold, haunting even, with the four white walls that felt like they could cave in at any moment. The air was sterile and smelled like lemons and bleach mixed together. I've grown to hate that smell. I wrinkled my nose as I lifted the blinds on the small boxed windows, letting in some light, taking in the tops of buildings in the distance.

"Hey, baby," My mother whispered almost inaudibly from her bed.

"How ya feeling?" I asked quietly, turning to face her. Mustering up the smallest smile I could manage; I walked over and sat down on the edge of her bed.

Her once curly golden locks of hair were now completely gone, replaced with a shaved head and beanie to keep her head warm. The doctors told her the chemo would make her hair fall out, one of the wonderful side effects of treatment, so instead of waiting for it to go little by little, my mother decided to chop it all off. I didn't blame her either; if it were me I would have done the same damn thing.

"Oh, I'm hanging in there." She smiled warmly, before coughing and wheezing.

It was heartbreaking to see her once vibrant face turn pale and blotchy, with tubes snaking in and out of her nose. I grabbed a glass of water off the bedside table and helped her get a small sip of it, before setting it back down.

"Baby, I told you to stop sleeping here. You need rest just as much as I do. Go home, and sleep in your own bed." she whispered warily. She took my hand in her own. Her hand felt like a block of ice. I squeezed it and rubbed my other hand over the top of it in hopes of getting it to thaw out.

"I don't mind. Besides, if I went home I'd just worry too much. Plus, it's closer to the diner anyway." I explained. I just didn't want to tell her that we were about to be evicted from our house because I couldn't make the rent this month, or last month.

Jerry, our landlord, had been lenient with us for the most part, understanding the situation I was in, but two months had passed and he needed rent. He was determined to get his money, or throw us out on the street. I glanced at the clock hanging above the RCA TV on the opposite wall of the room. I'd picked up two extra shifts this week at the diner, trying to scrounge up enough money to make rent. Somehow, it just never seemed to be enough.

"I've got to get to work, but I'll be back later tonight. I'll bring you some pecan pie from the diner." I assured her, before getting up and pulling on my leather knee high boots. Pecan Pie was her favorite food of all time. I remembered making them with her when I was younger. We'd make dozens of them and then donate them to the local meals on wheels.

I grabbed my fringed leather bag off the floor by my armchair and slung it over my shoulder then walked over to her bedside and kissed her forehead lightly. "I'll be back later, don't hassle the nurses too much." I smiled, winking at her as I pulled away. She held my hand and smiled back at me weakly. I hated leaving her. I didn't have much time with her from what the doctors said, and I wanted to spend as much time with her as humanly possible. Working at a hole in the wall diner for shit pay was shit.

"It's you and me, mom." I whispered, feeling the tears welling in my eyes slightly.

I took a deep breath and held them back as she squeezed my hand faintly.

"It's me and you, kid." She said.

It was a saying that had stuck from when I was a kid. My mother worked constantly when I was growing up, to support us. My father was never around and whenever she would leave me at the babysitter that's what we'd say.

I smiled and headed out the door into the hallway.

I never knew who my father was growing up. Even now, I still don't. My mother always said he wasn't ready to become a father when she found out she was pregnant with me, so he bailed and left us alone to fend for ourselves. I wondered what he was like though. Did I have his eyes? Did I have his smile? Did I have his laugh? Or did I have all of my mother's traits? All questions I would never find the answers too. For all I know, the man could be dead. In all honesty, I'm glad I don't know who he is...at least that's what I tell myself. It would be kind of nice to have someone to lean on right now...

The halls of the hospital were busy as doctors and nurses bustled about, taking care of patients and getting where they needed to go. I walked down the hall and made a left, and stopped at the elevator, jamming my fist onto the down button repeatedly. The doors swished open and I glided inside, turning on my heel to hit the ground floor button. Just as the doors were about to close, a hand appeared between them stopping them from closing just in the nick of time.

Chief Wayne Unser of the Charming Police Department stared back at me for a moment, before wandering inside the elevator. "How are you doing, darling?" He asked, glancing over at me as the doors closed to the elevator.

"I'm doing alright," I muttered. "How are you and Della?" I asked sincerely, readjusting the bag on my shoulder. Chief Unser and I had become quite close since my mother had been admitted into the hospital permanently. He was suffering from bladder cancer and often had chemo treatments the same days as my mother. His wife Della would come and sit with him through treatments some days, although here lately I haven't seen much of her at all.

"We're doing just fine. How's your momma doing?" He asked, as I turned to look at him. Unser was probably in his mid-fifties at best, and has been the Chief of Police in Charming since before I could remember.

"The doctors say she's stable for now, but the cancer is spreading aggressively to other parts of her brain. I don't know how much longer she's going to hang on. It's taking everything out of her." I answered honestly, feeling my heart breaking with each word. I knew she was dying, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I hated feeling helpless and useless. She's been my best friend all of these years. She's all I have left. The thought of saying goodbye killed me and scared me shitless.

"You're momma's a tough one, Rowan. That's where you get it from. You let me know if you all need anything and I'll do my best to help you." Unser said, as he pulled me into a side hug.

"Thank you." I replied, as the doors to the elevators opened.

Unser walked me to my car and waved as I left the parking lot to head to work.

Charming was a small quaint little town in the middle of nowhere. It was one of those blink-and-you-miss-it towns. The kind of town where everything stayed the same and nothing changed. As much as I wanted to leave Charming when I was in high school; I never did. Something always kept my feet planted in the redwood mud. This was my home whether I liked it or not. Most of the people I went to high school with ended up dead or in jail or pregnant or hooked on drugs.

Maybe I was sort of lucky, I mean I hadn't gotten knocked up. Yet.

I pulled up in front of Franny's Diner just off of Main Street and put my old beat up Mustang into park and shut off the ignition. I stepped out of the car and headed inside, feeling the wind blowing my messy blonde hair all around as I went. I walked inside, put my bag underneath the counter, and pulled out my black apron, securing it to my waist by tying the strings behind my back.

Franny's was an old diner that had been in town for years. I've worked here since I graduated high school. I pulled some cleaning supplies out from underneath the counter and began wiping down the front counter and bar stools that lined the front. Small red booths and tables and chairs filled the rest of the place. It all did have a certain level of southern charm to it, I had to admit that.

"I didn't know you were working today!" Someone shouted from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see my friend Lena walking towards me. She removed her ray bans, placing them on top of her head as she walked behind the counter. Her reddish brown hair flowed down around her face.

"I picked up a few extra shifts. I need the money." I replied quietly, finishing up with the counter as an older woman and her husband came in for lunch.

I seated them by the windows, took their drink order, and left them to look over their menus.

Lena and I have been friends since we were in fucking diapers. Our mothers went to high school together and both got pregnant around the same time. We grew up together, so in a way she felt like the sister I never had. She was the complete opposite of me, reckless and obnoxious, which is what I loved about her. She pulled me out of my shell and I helped reign in her wild side and posted bail when need be.

I walked to the back of the kitchen to hang the older couples order on the wheel for the chef and turned to look at Lena stealing fries off of someone's plate. I laughed and shook my head, taking one for myself. The diner was pretty dead right now, only a few people had begun to trickle in for the lunch hour. Things would pick up in about an hour or so. This was one of the only half decent places to get a real home cooked meal in town. I mean we had McDonald's, a Burger King, and a local Pizza Hut that had just been put in about a year ago. People around here though liked to walk in and have a proper sit down meal.

As more people came trickling into the diner, I waited on more and more tables, brought people their greasy cheeseburgers and fries, and fish sandwiches. I also cleared tables, loaded and unloaded dishwashers because we were short on people today. I was your real all-American girl. I felt like I lived inside a freaking Carrie Underwoodvideo sometimes.

Lena was filling two cups up with Coke as a small grin formed on her face.

You could hear them before they even pulled into the lot; the rumble and roar of the motorcycles as they barreled down Main Street, heading straight this way. "Oh, you know what that sound means." Lena grinned as I looked at her, confused.

My mind was all over the place this morning. I needed money to make rent, which I didn't have. I needed new breaks on my car among other things, which also cost money I didn't have. I've had bill collectors blowing up my phone for weeks now wondering when I'm going to make a payment on some of my mother's Mount Everest pile of medical bills and Jerry the royal pain in my ass landlord stalking me at every turn.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, glancing at her as I made a smiley face out of the bacon and eggs on the plate in front of me for the little boy waiting in booth five with his mom.

"Mr. Hottie is on his way!" Lena laughed, and gave me one of those "Seriously, you don't know who I'm talking about" looks. I shrugged my shoulders as we both walked out of the kitchen balancing trays of steaming food on our arms.

"You have so many "Mr. Hotties" it's hard to keep them all straight. I mean there's Mr. Hottie from the video store, with the snake bites. Mr. Hottie from the gym, with the tattoos... And Mr. Hottie from the movie theater with the shitty Camaro." I pointed out, smirking as she rolled her eyes. I placed the little boy's plate of food down in front of him and heard him squeal at the smiley face on his plate as I walked away.

"That, Mr. Hottie, badass biker boy," Lena whispered as she passed behind me and pointed out the window at a guy getting off of his motorcycle, along with a few others. I spaced looking out the window as he removed his helmet and then lit a cigarette. Pulling the smoke into his lungs then blowing it out of his nostrils. I never thought smoking a cigarette could look, well, sexy, but he just proved me wrong.

I glanced out the window at him as I made my way back behind the counter and started a fresh pot of coffee. He wore his cut every time he came in here. The back of it read, "Sons of Anarchy MC California." I didn't know his name, but I knew he was a part of the Sons, obviously by his cut. The Sons have been in this town for years, everyone who had a brain knew who they were.

"This is the third time this week they've come in here." Lena whispered gawking at them as they ventured inside and found a booth to seat all four of them.

"I guess they like the food here." I replied, laughing, pouring a cup of coffee for Lena to take to her table. Indistinct conversations flitted throughout the diner followed by the clanking and banging sounds of pots and pans in the kitchen.

"The food here sucks ass." Lena pointed out, shaking her head. She was right, the food here was shitty.

"Don't look now, but that older dude is staring at you again. I think he wants to get himself a piece of you." She laughed, causing my face to turn a bright shade of red. I glanced at the back booth to see the man she was referring to. His name was Deacon I think. He came in here a lot, mostly by himself, and he always tried to make small talk with me for some reason. I didn't know what his deal was, but he seemed like a really nice person. When you work for tips, making small talk is a small price to pay.

"You know, he left me a hundred dollar tip last week, for a fucking cup of coffee. When I went to give it back to him, he'd already flown out of the lot on his bike." I told her, filling the creamer and sugar containers back up.

"Seriously?" Lena shrieked. I nodded my head and noticed the blonde haired Mr. Hottie staring at us from his seat. He licked his bottom lip then looked away and resumed talking to the guys at his table, removing his riding gloves from his hands.

"Can you cover that table? Find out what they want to eat, please." I asked, mustering up the best pouty face that I could. I liked joking around with Lena, it made me forget about everything else going on for a while, but I felt hollow inside. It all felt forced and unnatural.

"I can give Mr. Hottie something to eat, but it's not on the menu." Lena teased sending glances back at the table with her 'fuck me' eye stare. Mr. Hottie smirked at her, and then his eyes caught my own making me look away quickly.

"Don't do that. Don't be that girl," I told her, holding back a laugh noticing the long blonde haired guy leaving his seat.

"I've got them." she said before heading over there to take their order.

I made my way into the back of the kitchen and picked up two orders of fries and cheeseburgers and balanced them on a tray on my arm, pushing the swinging door open with my shoulder, walking out into an aisle. My body collided with something hard as fries flew everywhere, and plates shattered as they hit the ground along with me. I looked up mortified to see Mr. Hottie staring down at me apologetically.

"Jesus Christ, I didn't even see you." He said with a husky voice, kneeling down to help me up. The guys at his table laughed and yelled, "Way to go Jackie Boy." So, his name was Jack? I wondered as I stared at him with a deer in the headlights expression.

I got to my knees and began to pick up the food and broken shards of plates and place them on my carrying tray.

"It's okay. It was my fault." I apologized profusely, feeling embarrassed and like a complete moron. He stayed kneeling down in front of me and started to help me pick up the food off the ground.

"It was my fault, I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?" He asked his voice full of concern. I looked up nodded my head and let my eyes connect with his crystal blue ones.

"Yeah, my dignity broke the fall." I joked, as he grinned. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt underneath his leather cut. The patch on the front of his vest read, "Vice President". I wondered what that meant, but said nothing. I finished piling the wasted food and broken plates on the tray with his help, then rose to my feet.

"So, it's Rowan, is it?" He asked intrigued, staring at the shiny name tag pinned to my low cut grey V-neck shirt. I wasn't sure if he was staring at my breasts or really looking at the name tag and just didn't want come off as a pervert, but I felt a flutter in my lower stomach and didn't quite understand why.

"That's what my birth certificate says." I smiled, moving slowly towards the door near the kitchen.

"I'm guessing your mom didn't name you Vice President?" I questioned when he kept staring at me, gesturing towards the patch on his cut. Lena came to the rescue and took the tray out of my hands and handed me a wet rag to clean up the spilt soda off the carpet, not before giving me an 'oh my god, he's hot look.'

"My mother has a lot of different names for me, dumbass, dipshit, and jackass, but I prefer Jax." He said, smirking at me as I dabbed the green carpeted floor. Once I realized the stain wasn't going to come out of the carpet, I gave up and stood up as Jax stared at me curiously.

"I'm sorry for crashing into you." he said as he moved past me, our shoulders brushing against one another.

"I'll see you around." He whispered, before he went back to his table...

A/N: Follow Rowan's journey through Charming on her 'personal' Instagram at: collins_rowan