Impact [Jax Teller//Sons Of Anarchy]

Chapter One

"Get up," a voice said rather loudly as its source nudged me with a foot. A black boot was pushing at my shoulder in a disgusted, but gentle sort of way. I opened my eyes to almost nearly be blinded by the sun glinting off of a policeman's badge. I squinted and covered my eyes with my hands. "Jesus," was all that escaped my mouth.

"No, try again," the voice said very dryly. I looked up into the face of what appeared to be a man dressed in a black police uniform with thinning light brown hair and a signature cop moustache.

"Rhodes?" I asked. The man stood with his thumbs in his belt loops and nodded. "Get up," he repeatedly. Slowly I tried pushing myself up with great difficulty. My head felt like it had a marching band consisting only of cymbals putting on a show inside it. Eventually I got up, dusted off my denim mini skirt and for the first time noticed just exactly where I was.

I could tell I was in an alley between two shops near a busy road. I appeared to have dozed off on a piece of cardboard box near a dumpster. How exactly I got there was a bit of a mystery.

"You do this to yourself, Quinn?" Rhodes asked. I reluctantly touched my face, but felt absolutely no pain, which I guess was a good thing. "Yep," I said.

"Pedestrians called the station. They thought you were dead."

I chuckled, "Nope, just hungover." I looked back at the dumpster and spotted my (now brown) white faux fur coat which I had obviously been using as a pillow. I tried to reach down to grab it, but the damn marching band in my head was weighing me down and I nearly fell head first into the wall.

"Woah," Rhodes said grabbing my arm. He pulled me up straight and picked up the coat for me. A loud clatter filled the alley as a lone tequila bottle fell from it.

"Whoops," was all I could muster. Rhodes sighed deeply and pushed the coat at me. "Put this on. I need to take you to the station."

"But why?" I dragged out the last word in a pouting sort of way. "Because you're basically a danger to yourself, Quinn, now get into the car so we can get you out of here. People are staring."

He was right. At least half a dozen people were peering into the alley from the sidewalk. I smiled politely at them as I entered the cruiser. Rhodes didn't cuff me or anything, he just put me in the back of the car like a dad picking up his sixteen year old at a house party she snuck out to attend. But Rhodes wasn't my father and I wasn't sixteen.

"I don't know why you do this to yourself," was all he said during the short ride to the oh-so-familiar police station. To be honest, I didn't have a precise answer for him. All I knew was that drinking made my job a little easier.

He opened the door for me once we got to our destination and nodded for me to go ahead. I knew exactly where to go. This was just another routine visit for me to Dunkin' Donuts' best costumers. And I shit you not, what was lying on one of the desks I passed as I headed to Rhodes'? A Dunkin' Donuts box. Priceless.

I practically fell into the chair besides Rhodes' desk and starting inspecting the picture frame he had. A perky blonde was standing in a beaded white ball gown dress. She smiled happily at the photographer as she held a bouquet of wild flowers in her hands.

"You're married?" I asked in a surprised tone. He plucked the picture from my hand and put it down on the side of the desk furthest from me. "Don't be like that, Rhodes. I thought we were friends."

He stared at me with a serious expression. "And I thought you were going to stop passing out in public places. I guess we're even."

"Touché," I said tapping an index finger to my temple.

"Listen, you can't keep walking in and out of this station like it's your house, Quinn. Sooner or later we're going to have something to charge you on and you'll be in juvie again."

"I'm nineteen now Rhodes. 'was my birthday yesterday," I said smirking.

"So you've spent an entire year selling yourself. Good for you," he said sarcastically.

"Are you charging me?" I asked. I was done talking about the last year. Hell, I wasn't exactly proud of taking dick for cash, but it paid the bills.

I could tell by his expression that he was damn near giving up on me which I guess might have sucked if I genuinely cared about anyone or anything other than myself for that matter. Rhodes was the one who kept me out of prison for the last year. "No, not today," he said.

"So you were hoping to scare the piss out of me then," I said smirking again, "Well, it worked because I really need to."

"Would it kill you to at least try to be respectful of me," he asked.

"It might. Best we don't find out," I said moving to the edge of the chair.

"Go. You know the way," he said nodding towards the back of the room. I saluted him as I got up and confidently trudged to the restrooms.

I was nearly there when I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a window. "Fuck," I muttered as I saw the smeared lipstick on my cheek and the ruined mascara beneath my eyes. I looked awful.

I quickly turned around so I could pee and fix my face. Just then a man came out of one of the rooms with a box full of photographs and naturally I knocked them out of his hands.

"Oh shit, sorry," I said as I picked up two of the mugshots of some Mexican men. He took them from me and popped them back in the box. He was dressed in a suit unlike the other officers at the station. I could tell he was someone important by the way he held himself, but that made no difference to me.

"Best not mix the Mayan shots," I said with a wink and headed into the women's restroom.

I quickly emptied my bladder and splashed my face with cold water while trying to look less like a raccoon and more like a classy prostitute. The night truly was a blur for me. The last thing I remembered was buying that bottle of tequila at Lenny's Liquor. Let's hope I just walked around drinking and singing merry drunken songs, because the only time I was going to ride some asshole's dick was if he paid me fifty and I did not have any money in my pockets.

After feeling a bit better about my appearance and getting the marching band to turn it down a notch and pouring sweet, cold water into the Nevada desert that was my throat, I headed out again.

To my surprise the classy man was talking to Officer Rhodes right by his desk. He spotted me, turned back to Rhodes and then headed off again. I hoped my shitty sense of humour and knack for stirring the shitpot didn't just land me in a world of trouble.

I slowly made my way back towards Rhodes. He got up as I reached him. "I'm taking you home," was all he said.

"Why so glum, sugarplum," I asked as we exited the building.

"Just get in the car, Quinn. I'm done."