Author's Note: Greetings Readers! I know that I have one other SOA piece already going, and I've already started on a few one-shots that will fall into its series, but this was something that has been knocking on my brain for a bit. I love the idea of a Bella Swan (Lily Collins)/Jax Teller story, mainly because I think she's got a bit more sass than she plays and could be great for the protective, territorial Jackson Teller. So, without further ado, here we go! Enjoy yourself!

Story Information:
*Rating: Fiction M- We're talking boys and motorcycles here, it's expected! Everything from violence and bad language to adult themes/situations.
*Pairing: Bella/Jax
*Warning!: Considering that this is a Crossover piece of fiction, there will be some definite AU/OOC moments and situations. I have taken some creative liberties with the SOA/Twilight-scape- mainly with the fact that the Cullens/Pack members are all human (AH)! I'm bringing Bella in around the first or second episode, Season One of SOA, BUT...that doesn't mean that all events will take place or match up, but it gives the opportunity to take it and see where it goes! There will probably be some Tara-bashing, I've never been a big fan of her, but nothing too extreme.

Support and feedback is always welcomed and encouraged! Keep any story hating or flames to yourself though please, our favorite Biker Boys are pretty trigger happy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything SOA or Twilight related, sadly for me. It all belongs to the wonderful Kurt Sutter or Stephanie Meyer! I also do not own any recognizable/copyrighted/trademarked material that may be mentioned. I just like to play with the characters!

"In life, every ending is simply a new beginning."

It was the sun that put a smile on her face, for the first time in what felt like ages.

The desert air was dry and while the temperature wasn't quite scorching, it was much warmer than the perpetual Washington chill back in Forks. The clouds looked fluffy, like giant cotton balls decorating the enormous expanse of clear blue sky, and it was the first time in months she had gotten a glimpse of sunlight that she didn't have to worry about disappearing behind a dense cloud cover. The warm air funneling passed the open top of the brand new, jet black Corvette she drove blew back her hair, tangling the long locks of chestnut and mahogany colored waves that fell just above the small of her back. She smiled at the sensation, rose gold tinted aviators shielding her chocolate colored eyes from the sun's vivid rays. With every mile that she put between her and her past, the sunny state of California was looking more and more like a blessed dream.

And she was determined to make sure this one came true.

No matter what it might take.

~.-.~

Her body was numb, her mind in a foggy haze as her thoughts jumped from one to the next, cutting each other off and leaving others unfinished. She could barely feel the cool drops of rain that fell on the skin left exposed by cut of her dress, the deep blackness of mourning standing out on fresh, green grass; nor could she feel the sting of the cold wind that whipped around her on the cliff-side, biting at the same skin left exposed due to her forgetfulness concerning her coat. In the back of her mind she could hear the condolences uttered to her as groups of people stalled in front of her and she could vaguely hear herself acknowledging the pointless words, but it made no matter. The only things that she really remained aware of were the ocean below them, frothy and foaming against the storm brewing out at sea, darkening the skies to a deep gray, and the white-knuckled grip she kept on the canister, no the urn, in her hands. Their empty words and looks of sympathy, of pity, didn't matter.

He did.

The death of Charlie Swan, Forks' Chief of Police, was the talk of the small town.

Rumors of the how's and why's concerning his untimely passing had been circulating for two weeks, referencing everything from a drifter's burglary gone wrong and a past collar's revenge to the wrath and insanity of his twenty-one year old daughter's recent ex-fiancée. The family wasn't talking and with each day's silence, the gossip mill grew a little more ridiculous than previous.

Isabella Swan had reached her limit.

She was ninety-five percent sure that if she heard one more whisper, she was start screaming and never be able to stop.

Her only sanctuary seemed to be on the Reservation, and even that came with limitations. Between an almost step-mother with the tendency to bake in stressful situations, her father's oldest and overly concerned best friend, and his youngest son who had apparently forgotten the long talk she had with him when she was eighteen and he was sixteen, explaining to him that she only could ever love him as a little brother…she was constantly on the verge of snapping.

When she wanted quiet she showed up and Sam and Leah Uley's woodsy cabin, making herself at home as she helped her near step-sister cook or enjoyed the solid, silent support of her new husband, Sam.

When she wanted to scream, yell, hit something, or give in to carnal pleasures that left her body weightless and her mind fuzzy as she melted into the pleasant heat of a man's body, she paid a visit to Paul Lahote's beach-side home. A fresh plate of her grandmother's secret recipe brownies and a six pack could get her just about anything she wanted from him.

And, when the time finally came, in the darkness of night or at three o'clock in the morning, she sought out the firm, muscled shoulder of one Embry Call. There she finally broke down, crying the rivers of tears and the chest-aching sobs that shook her entire body and left her gasping for air as he muttered soft, soothing words against her ear. He held her tightly, kept her anchored as he let her know that, despite all she had lost, there was still someone there.

Still, Bella felt as if she was suffocating, the world closing in on her slowly and leaving her no room to simply…breathe.

"Bella, sweetie?"

Couldn't they all just…stop?

Stop talking to her, stop looking at her like that, stop staring at her as if she would lose her fucking mind any second?!

"Isabella?"

The cool touch at her elbow shook her from her desperate thoughts and her eyes snapped up the next second, her body immediately jerking away from the sight in front of her, without her permission, as if she had been scalded. Her jaw clenched and her spine straightened in a defensive posture, her wary eyes darting around her to find all those who could rescue her from her current predicament were busy, unaware.

"Mrs. Cullen," She gave a curt nod in greeting, forced politeness.

"Please dear," The woman chided, clasping her gloved hands in front of her designer skirt. "There's no need for that, it's still Esme to you."

Bella nearly snarled in response.

Her upper lip threatened to curl back in a malicious sneer, the anger roiling in her gut igniting a fire that burned through her very blood as she grappled with control with herself. She forced it down, acutely aware of their audience because, while her allies were all currently occupied, plenty of Forks Washington's finest were watching the confrontation with excitement, eager for any hint that could give truth to their musings.

"Esme," Bella gritted out, fixing a plastic smile to her face, though she lowered her voice as she snapped. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Displeasure flashed across the elder woman's features before she quickly stowed it away, fixing her expression to one of concern and motherly love.

"You haven't taken any of the family's calls and you have yet to cash your check," Esme murmured, making sure to keep her tone low enough that their words stayed between them. "Carlisle and I were becoming…worried."

Righteous fury whipped through her, leaving her body trembling as she locked her knees and gripped the urn in her hands that much tighter. Her hands itched to set it aside, reach toward the woman in front of her and wrap them around her dainty throat as she choked the very life from her body…but she could do no such thing. So, with fire flashing in her eyes and her nails digging into her skin where her hands overlapped on the cold metal, she hissed.

"I want nothing to do with your blood money!"

Esme scoffed, though somehow managed to keep up her polite façade. "We only wish to support you during your tragedy, we understand how distraught-

"You understand nothing! You vile, horrible-"

The older woman's small hand darted out, grasping Bella's wrist with such a fierce grip that the girl was sure she would snap it. Her bones ground together in protest as she let out a small gasp, taking notice that Esme's concerned expression was long gone, replaced with one of contempt, though it remained hidden from passerby under the brim of her hat.

"You forget your place, Isabella! You will take the money and do as I say or-"

"Is there a problem here?"

~.-.~

Pulling into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair was…not what she expected.

Knowing full well that it was an auto repair shop that specialized in motorcycles, she had been prepared to see plenty of cars, trucks, and bikes that were there for their check-ups. What she hadn't been prepared for was the sheer amount of people milling around the concrete castle. Workers hidden beneath vehicles and leaning underneath hoods of cars she expected, but the men walking around in black leather vests that looked like they could kill her with a flick of the wrist and the odd skinny chick with no meat on her bones and even less clothing?

Not what she expected at all.

The purr of her Corvette's engine did not go unnoticed, drawing attention from those (seriously, what was up with all the vests?!) who were lounging on a few wooden picnic tables scattered across the lot and a few who perched on motorcycles that had been backed up into a line against the railing of what she guessed was a loading dock. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel and she kept her eyes forward, refusing to give into the insecurities and self-consciousness she hadn't felt when moving to a new place since she was fifteen and her father had told her she would have to leave her little bubble at the Reservation school in La Push, enrolling her for her freshman year at Forks High.

Charlie…

No.

She shook her head, guiding herself into a free space next to a familiar Cadillac XLR, and a small smile tugged her lips upwards as she cut the engine, popping her door open in the process.

She'd made it.

Rising from her seat, she stepped from the car and took her first real look around her, taking stock of her surroundings. To her right sat a three bay garage painted in light blues and grays, filled with all things mechanical that she'd more than likely end up hurting herself with if she even tried, and it ended with what seemed to be a small office on the far left side. From there, a back lot could be seen before she turned her head, her eyes tracing along the line of bikes against the loading dock that led to another metal building, though this one was much larger with what looked like possibly a second level and followed the length of the drive all the way back to the street. Bella's eyes lingered on the strange insignia, a skeleton reaper with a scythe that was made out of an M-16 (she was pretty sure, if her squinting was doing her any good), and her eyebrows furrowed.

Motorcycle enthusiasts…right.

"S'cuse me lassie?"

Bella whipped back around, her eyes widening when she noticed how the taller man had managed to sneak up on her, now standing less than two feet from her. She craned her neck up a bit to take him in; salt and pepper hair that was styled messily, rugged features that were accented with a pair of scars that ran from the corners of his mouth back across his cheeks, and eyes that were hidden behind a pair of narrow-lensed sunglasses. He seemed to be in his forties she guessed, and the Scottish accent was enough to bring a smile to her face.

"Lass?"

She blinked herself from her blatant staring, fighting back a blush that tinged her cheeks a faint pink when she took note of the smirk on his lips, a clear sign he had definitely noticed.

"Bella." She coughed, throwing her hand out toward him.

He grinned, a bit cautiously, as he took her much smaller one into his and gave it a gentle shake. "What can we do fer ye' Miss. Bella?"

"I'm looking for Gemma Morrow?"

She didn't miss the way he stood up a little straighter, his smile freezing in place, and if she could actually see his eyes, she had no doubt that they would have been sweeping over her. Appraising her. He gave a short, curt nod as he turned on his heel, gesturing with his arm toward the office before waiting to fall in-step alongside her.

"What business do 'ye have with our Gem-"

He was cut off by a loud exclamation, something between a bit of a squeal and a laugh that was quite unusual for the woman who had thrown open the door to the garage's office, metal meeting metal with a startling bang. Gemma Teller-Morrow stepped out dressed to the nines in tight jeans that hugged her ass, a black button down complete with a wide belt underneath her breasts, and high-heeled boots that clicked as she hurriedly made her way across the pavement.

"Babygirl!" She cooed, opening her arms wide. "Get your ass over here!"

Bella laughed, turning a blind-eye to the now curious gazes of the men standing up from their seats at the outside tables as she half-jogged toward the older woman, her own cowboy boots echoing the clicking sounds Gemma's had made before. Without preamble, she threw herself into the woman's embrace, taking a deep breath as every muscle in her body that had been tense after leaving the city limit signs finally relaxed.

Two weeks.

It had been only two weeks since she met Gemma, and she was already more important than any other mother figure she had ever known. Despite being intimidated upon their first meeting, she had immediately been indebted to her for getting her out of a sticky situation, and that only increased when she opened Bella's eyes to new information, things she had never known about herself.

And given her a one-way ticket out of Washington.

"How was the drive?" Gemma asked, pulling back so that she could look Bella over.

The girl seemed to have put a few (much-needed) pounds on since the last time they had seen each other (per Gemma's strict orders), and her eyes had lost their haunted look that had taken Gemma's breath away the first time she had peered into them. The pain was still there, followed closely by a bit of darkness and loss, but it was nothing like they had been before.

"Wasn't half-bad." Bella shrugged, flashing her a grin. "Did you hear the way my new baby purrs?"

Gemma smirked, giving a small shake of her head. "Yeah baby, I heard that."

Both women were completely oblivious to the crowd of bikers that slowly began to close in around them, circling the embracing duo as they continued to chat while each of them looked on with curious eyes, muttering to each other as they asked if anyone knew the new girl. Though a few thought she held some vaguely familiar features, none were able to outright place her, leaving the curiosity over her presence to grow.

"Ma?"

The deep, smooth voice halted her mid-sentence.

She slowly turned her head, and the breath in her lungs hitched so intensely that she was left almost choking on the air. Her eyes widened comically as she took him in, sweeping from head to toe and back again almost involuntarily. It made her more than thankful for the sunglasses she still wore. He stood around six-two, maybe six-three, and had a broad frame that had been filled out with muscle that was so defined; she could still catch sight of it even with the baggy shirt and leather vest. His hair reminded her of cornsilk, and it hung in locks of medium length, just long enough to brush his shoulders. It was paired with unbelievably blue eyes, leaving her to debate between cobalt and ice to describe the hue. His features were chiseled, sharp, strong, and he had just the faintest bit of blonde scruff over his chin and jaw.

Beautiful, she thought to herself, and completely out of my league.

"Who's this?"

Gemma tossed an arm around her arm around Bella's waist, biting back the smirk that threatened her lips after watching the younger girl nearly swoon over her son. She hadn't even been on the lot ten minutes and already, Gemma's plan for pushing the girl toward her son was taking shape, if her inability to look anywhere else had been any indication.

"Boys, meet Isabella Swan."

There was immediate chaos as questions were stuttered or shouted rapidly, the news obviously catching them off guard in a way that Bella still didn't quite understand. It mattered very little, really, she decided. As her eyes trailed over the expressive group, lingering on the blonde god she had been ogling before and Gemma's strong and defiant form, there was only one thought that came to mind.

New and unsure as it was…this was home.