#fanficfriday

There was no way.

 She nearly bolted upright in bed. Bright loght streamed in through the open door behind him, beaming through the windows in the room just beyond. The backlighting made it hard for her to focus on his face. 

“Whoa, you ok?” 

He was holding out his hands as if ready to who knows what- steady her?

“Maybe you don’t need coffee,” He chuckled and reached for the mug on her nightstand as if he were going to take it away.

“W-” Bell shook her head and corrected herself, “Frank?” 

“Better be, I’m wearing his underwear.”

She could just make out a smirk on his face.

She looked around. She was in her room, in the apartment she had shared with Woods and Mason. 

 Frank and Alex.

 No gray concrete block walls. And real bed instead of a cold uncomfortable cot. 

“You’re still feeling a bit out of it, huh?” 

Woods reached up and pushed a hair out of her face, his hand lingered on her forehead. 

 Checking for fever maybe? But why?

 “I don’t,” She shook her head, “How did I get here?”

“You were kind of out of it.”

Not wanting to look at Woods she looked down at her hands and balled the bedcovers up in her fists.

“I wouldn’t take your calls,” She said shaking her head, “I wouldn’t see you.”

“Couldn’t just sit back and watch you self-destruct.”

“Frank, I-”

He patted her hand. 

“Look, you should just take it easy, ok? I’ll make you something to eat,” He paused, reconsidering,  “Or… I’ll make Al cook you up something. Yeah.” 

He stood up and left the room pulling the door closed behind him. 

Bell watched him go and sighed. 

 “You think I’m pathetic, don’t you?”

The marionette’s little laugh rang through the room before she materialized next to Bell. As soon as she appeared the laugh ended with a sickening gurgle. Bell had to suspect she was choking on blood again. A surprising feat for someone with a solid wood respiratory system. 

“No, not really. You could just stand to dream a little bigger.”

The marionette coughed. Blood dotted the blanket which began to steam as the air became cold. The bright light dimmed into darkness. And the blanket became white snow. They were outside. 

Bell shivered.

Just ahead of them a lump of snow rose and fell steadily. Small puffs of steam appeared in the air in time with the movement. 

Bell reached out to brush a layer of snow away. She uncovered a patch of gray woolen material. 

The arm of a coat. Bell tugged at it and the snow shifted to reveal a tiny figure.

“Save her,” The marionette urged. Her glass eyes were shining.

“I can’t.”

The ground began to rumble and small figure seemed to sink back into the snow.

“Save her!” The marionette shouted. She began coughing again.

Bell leaned forward reaching for the tiny arm, but the moment she touched it it was gone. Swallowed by the snow.

She began to dig, sending white flecks into the air, but the snow pile began to swell.

Standing, Bell stared at the growing mass. It seemed almost alive.

The marionette’s strings were pulled by the unseen hands that manipulated her, dragging her out of the way as well. She fell into her place, suspended in the air next to Bell. 

“Keep going,” The marionette urged. 

“She’s gone!” Bell insisted.

“She doesn’t have to be.”

Bell didn’t move.

“You don’t have to be Bell in here,” The marionette stared gravely at the ever growing snow. A strong wind picked up and the puppet began to rattle on her strings. But her face was resolute as she said, “Save her. Stay here with us. Rewrite your story.”

“It won’t change anything.”

“You think so?” 

A pair of wooden hands landed on her shoulders.

“You’re already losing your mind anyway. Why not go out on your own terms?”

And then she shoved Bell into the snow. 

The impact as she hit the snow was barely noticeable. A small puff and a rush of ice on her skin. And below that was nothing. 

So she fell. 

She had a point. If she was going to eventually lose herself wouldn’t she want to build a world where she could be anyone and anything? Where her sister could live and grow up? 

They could be together. She wouldn’t have to be a monster. 

No it was too easy.

There was someone out there with itchy trigger fingers who had already shown he was willing to nuke a continent to get what he wanted. And she had been a part of that. 

She needed to carry on, push as hard as she could to ensure that he was stopped before anyone else got hurt. Or died.

“No,” She whispered.  

Saving the world was worth losing her mind.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bell shook herself awake. Adjusting her eyes, she realized she was facing a gray cement block wall. A thrill of terror hit her gut as it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t falling into it.

Coming out of her dreams and adjusting back into reality was becoming more and more surreal by the day. The dreams themselves were more vivid and at the same time reality began to slip into gray. 

Just part of the drug trip.

Side-effects. 

Reaching her hand out, she touched the painted-over pockmarked concrete. The cracked callouses on her palm caught on some of the rougher texture, and she pulled her hand back to examine them. 

Reality always felt like reality. There was pain yes, but also there was no mundanity in her technicolor dreams. And it was that that always assured her realize she was no longer in a dream. Dry and cracking hands with thick and sickly yellowed flesh covering her upper palm? That didn’t exist in her dreams. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just stay there,” The marionette said. Bell knew she only existed in her mind, but she still felt her presence during her waking hours. She hovered in the dark corner of the room always just out of sight. But refusing to be left in her dreams.

 She sat up and cracked her back. Another night of discomfort on the cot made the padded gurney in the lab feel like a damned feathertop. 

Bell placed her bare feet on the cold floor and looked up at Adler, sitting on the other cot watching her. 

“What are you watching me sleep, now?” 

Adler said nothing, only smoked his cigarette and stared.

“At least give me one of those.” 

He nodded to the pack sitting on the table just across from her. Bell was sure it hadn’t been there a moment ago, but she wasn’t interested in thinking about it. 

Instead, she picked it up and shook it. Dipping two fingers into the pack, she pulled out one of the cigarettes. 

Lighting with a lighter that hadn’t been there until she thought of it, she took a long drag. 

It made her cough.

Her throat was dry.

“Did you at least bring me a coffee?” She asked him, her voice hoarse. 

Adler didn’t answer, only stared.

The door rattled. Someone was knocking.

She kicked Adler and the apparition dissolved in a puff of cigarette smoke. 

It was easier to talk to real people without an audience. Though he would likely just reappear again. They always did what they wanted to do, nevermind helping her out for her own sanity.

“If you’re going to live in my mind, at least bring me fucking coffee.”

She flicked the imaginary cigarette across the room. 

“Bell, are you all right in there?”

Park.

Bell sighed and looked to the door. It was covered in dried blood where someone had slammed their hands against it until they bled.

Begging for something. 

She absently picked at the tough skin on her hands.

The echo of herself screaming for Adler reverberated in her mind. 

It had been her, of course. It was her blood decorating the door. 

Screaming for Adler to tell her anything, anything about Woods and Mason. That’s all she had wanted. 

They had left her there for days without a word. Unlocking the door to allow her access to the bathroom and shower, of course. And bringing her food. 

They weren’t monsters, after all. 

She was the only monster here. 

“Bell?” Park’s voice called again, more urgently this time. 

“Yeah?” Bell sat back down on her cot. Adler was back, sitting across from her, smoking his cigarette. 

No fucking sense of privacy. Bastard.

The door creaked open, and Park walked through, holding a food tray in her hands.

She set the tray down on the cot, then grabbed a chair and dragged it near to the cot across from Bell.

 Close, but not too close. Never too close.  

 Bell looked at the tray of food. Some toast, fruit, cheese, and coffee. 

Nothing particularly exciting. 

Whatever they could make in that kitchenette. 

No one was spending time or money on making sure she was fed. 

Picking up the steaming mug she hoped to herself that Park hadn’t made the coffee.

Park was shit at making coffee. 

She took a sip. It tasted terrible, but she drank it anyway. Drinking it down in a single gulp, allowing the burning hot liquid to coat her throat. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. 

It was good to feel something. 

Park was staring at her. 

Bell raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you have more important things to do?”

“Mason called for you again.”

“What, are you a secretary now? You need to get better at making coffee if that’s the case.”

Park sighed.

“You’re slipping.”

Bell frowned. Of course she was. She knew that. Adler knew it. The girl knew it, and the fucking thing in the corner knew it. 

“So you better hurry up and pump info out of me while you’ve got the time,” Bell said with a shrug. As if she didn’t care. 

Bell picked up her toast and chewed on the corner. 

Park swallowed. She thought Park had gotten over feeling uneasy around her. But it looks like not. 

But of course, Park didn’t know how many times Bell had broken out of this room. 

How many opportunities had she had to kill them all? 

Park. Hudson. Adler. 

Of course, that was if she was actually breaking out. Supposing it wasn’t just in her head.

Bell glanced at the thing in the corner. As usual it had jumped out of the way before she could catch a glimpse of it. 

But she could hear it chuckling.

Bell sighed and tossed her half-eaten toast back on the tray.

“You really think you’re doing something here, don’t you? This remorseful shit?” Bell scoffed, “At least Adler has the sense not to feel ashamed for what he did. Don’t fucking insult me. Stop pretending you’d do it differently if you had the chance.”

Park tossed her head back, shaking the hair out of her face.

“You saved my life.”

“Oh right you owe me,” Bell threw Park’s words back her voice coated with disgust, “Yeah, well, maybe if I had the chance to do it again, I wouldn’t. Save Lazar instead. Or neither of you.” 

The memory of Lazar reaching out to her. The tips of his gloves just brushing against hers. And then she was ripped away. Leaving him to die alone on that fucking rooftop. 

It still hurt. Even when she found out he was part of their little conspiracy. There was a deep ache in her chest when she thought about it. 

Besides he was dead, so he got a pass. 

“I think you would.”

“You were supposed to be covering me,” The feelings of regret were bubbling up inside her. Even if she had just been a colleague of theirs, Park hadn’t held up her end. She said she would provide cover and she fucking failed. Bell had put down her weapon to put on the harness. She trusted Park to watch out. And she fucking chose Park over Lazar. 

“If you had done your fucking job-”

“I replay that moment in my mind every day,” Park interrupted. Her tone was dark.

Bell stared her down. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you think. You have a guilty conscience, and you’re here why? You think this-” She indicated the tray and Park sitting in the room- “atones for that?” 

Bell flipped her hand under the tray throwing it at the opposing wall. Adler ducked.

The thing in the corner laughed.

Park was unmoved. 

When Bell looked down again she saw the tray was sitting next to her unharmed. 

“You think whispering through my door in the middle of the night that Woods and Mason are in the hospital makes any fucking difference to me? Fuck you. At least have the decency not to be ashamed of what you did.” 

She hadn’t intended to lose her temper with Park. But the anger felt incredible. It was empowering to have it coursing through her. To lay into someone. Anyone. And Park goddam deserved it. And for once Bell wasn’t turning it on herself. 

“Should have killed them all,” The thing in the corner hissed. 

“Not Mason and Woods,” Bell spat back.

It laughed.

“Who are you talking to?” Park asked, snapping Bell from her spiraling thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it.”

But Park looked distinctly worried. 

“You’re right,” Park said. 

“What?”

“What you said a moment ago. If I had a chance to do it over again, I would do it. Exactly the same,” Her voice was firm. She meant it.

“Finally, some fucking honesty.”

Park pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Bell. And for a second, she considered shaking her head. Being stubborn. 

But the addiction nagged at her. And it quieted them.

She took one, and Park stood up to light it for her. Then she sat back down and lit her own cigarette.

She took a long drag before speaking again. 

“Mason called for you.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Bell-”

“Let him come visit, see what a head case I’ve become. See how dangerous I am.”

She knew why Park wanted Mason here. He could talk to her. He went through something similar. Seeing and talking to people who weren’t there. 

And. What did they call it in his file?

Disassociating? 

He could talk her down, maybe. Give her advice.

Maybe even try to convince her to go back with him. 

But she needed to stay here, contained. Somewhat. Hadn’t she already hurt them enough?

Frank and Alex.

She had sent the people she thought she cared about most on a doomed mission that nearly got them killed. Who does that?

Even if she wasn’t conscious of it she still felt the fear that maybe deep down a part of her still wanted them dead. And set them up. 

Bell would rather go crazy in this gray room than risk that. 

And Hudson and Adler seemed to agree anyway. At least they saw her for who she was. 

Park opened her mouth to say something else, but Bell cut her off.

“Park, just take what you need from me. And let it go.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bell found herself in an unfamiliar small bedroom. The room was dim, lit by sunlight diffused through soft curtains. Across from her was another soft-looking bed. The room was small enough that she could reach an arm over to touch the edge of the other mattress.

Someone had covered her with an old quilt. She pushed it away and swung her legs over to get out of bed. 

“виктория!” A woman’s voice rang down the hall just outside her door.

Bell looked to the doorway, which was covered with another quilt to keep in the heat. She placed her socked feet on the floor and stood on unsteady legs.

Looking down, she realized she was wearing some kind of shift nightdress. Lifting the bottom edge of the garment she examined the hem. Someone had sewn this for her. She dropped the hem and looked towards the door again. Pushing the quilt aside she stepped into the hallway. 

The scent of eggs and sausage frying in fat in some nearby kitchen wafted down the hall. 

He stomach growled and it was then she realized she was so hungry that she wanted to swallow that scent in large gulps. 

Behind her she heard thudding footsteps which caused some of the floorboards to creak. A girl in a matching nightgown ran past her.

“виктория?” Bell asked the girl who stopped mid-run, turned, and wrapped her arms around Bell’s waist. 

The girl stepped back and grabbed Bell’s hand, pulling her further into the hallway. 

They came to the kitchen. A woman was standing by the sink washing dishes.

Steaming plates of food awaited them at the table. 

But this was a shared kitchen. She moved to turn back, realizing that she should be dressed before sitting at the table. But when she looked down again, her nightgown had been replaced by a dark gray wool dress—her socks with opaque tights. 

The other girl, her sister, had taken her seat at the table and looked at her expectantly. Her clothes had also changed. 

Bell reached for the back of her chair, grasping the polish wood. But when she pulled it out she instead found a gray wool coat in her hand instead. 

Now, she found herself standing by the stairwell. The girl was beside her, dressed to go out. 

It didn’t look that cold out, but their mother had insisted they wear their hats and coats. 

Bell shrugged her coat on with a sigh. Her mother smiled inuldgently at her.

Then her face fell and her head snapped back to the direction of the kitchen as if she heard something. Her sister had a fearful look on her face and buried her head in Bell’s coat, wrapping her arms around her.

Her mother turned back to the girls stretching her arms out in front of her. Bell’s first thought was that she was going to hug her. She stepped in. And was surprised when her mother’s hands hit her hard in the chest, and she and her sister were falling through the doorway backwards.

They were going to fall down the stairs!

Bell tried to look to her mother, ask her why she would do this, but she only saw the night sky and falling glass. 

Her sister slipped out of her hands. 

Bell hit the ground; the wind knocked out of her. 

Warm wet droplets pattered on her skin. Above her the marionette hung on twisted strings.

“Stay with me,” She pleaded, “Save her.”

The glass eyes of the marionette stared at her from behind a curtain of limp dark hair. Cradled in one arm was a bundle wrapped in dark gray cloth—a coat. A red stain blossomed across the gray.

Bell raised herself up on her hands, fighting against the pain in her body. Against the sharp sting of the fresh lacerations on her back. Hot blood pooled on the ground around her.

But she ignored it. It was too much blood for one person to lose. But here she could ignore it. 

Bell stood up and reached a hand out her fingertips touching the cold dead fingers of the marionette. 

But quickly, violently the puppet was yanked away disappearing into the night sky. 

Two droplets landed on her cheek.

She wiped them away leaving a smear of blood on her face.

“She’s dead, Bell.” 

 God Adler.

A red door slammed down in front of her with a metallic thud, embedding itself in the earth. 

Adler wanted her to move forward. 

Pushy bastard. 

She turned her back on the door and sat cross-legged on the soft earth. 

The ground was cold, sending a chill through her.

Red doors fell around her, and she shut her eyes, ignoring them. One nearly clipped her, but she refused to move.

Adler could bring them down on her head if he wanted to, but she wasn’t about to move.

A soft wind blew past her. She opened her eyes. The doors had turned to stone.

No. 

She was in a cemetery. 

Those were gravestones. 

She touched the letters etched into the freezing cold stone, running the tip of her finger through each one.

It was a sort of ritual she indulged in each time she came here. A meditation.

The closest thing she may ever have come to prayer.  

Pulling her hand away, she wrapped her coat tightly around her body as an icy wind rolled through the cemetery.

She sat there and contemplated. Asking herself the same question she asked every time she had come here. 

Why her and not me?

Why had she made it? 

By all rights, she should have died. Bled out in the snow. Or be shot by that American.

Fate had other plans for you. 

The cold air made her tired, and her head drooped as she began to doze. 

Rest here with her family. 

If only for a moment. 

“You’ll freeze to death out here,” A gently voice said. She was slow to register it. Slow to react. 

He picked her up and carried her out of the cemetery and she fell back asleep in his arms. 

When she woke, she found herself in a warm room. The only sounds were a ticking clock and a pencil scratching over paper.

He was sitting at his desk, writing.  She was curled up on his green couch. His long coat draped over her. Bell pushed it off. 

“You’re lucky I knew where to find you. You could have died out there.”

She gave him a dull look in response. 

“You’re such a serious child.”

Her expression turned to disgust. 

 She was 16. 

Probably.

 He turned his chair to face her.

“You were visiting your family again.”

An annoyingly obvious statement that she didn’t feel the need to respond to. 

“Have I ever told you that your father and I were friends?” He continued, “We worked together once.”

He hadn’t told her this before, but she kept her face even. She’d spent enough time around him and the people he worked with to know to not reveal anything if it can be helped. If he had caught her off guard, she wouldn’t let him know. And the old man would get to his point eventually.

“I knew what they were planning. Your parents.”

 He knew. 

 She felt a rush of fear. Her parents had warned her to never tell anyone. And she held to that. No one needed to know, especially now that they were dead.  

He opened a drawer on his desk, and her eyes followed the movement, wondering if he had some evidence stored away there. But when he produced a cigarette, she relaxed. He lit it and smoked. He was going to let her sit with her thoughts. Maybe to see if she would reveal something. But she knew to wait. 

 “Get their children out. Provide them with a better life in America,” He waved his cigarette as he spoke those last words. 

“I never thought they would buy into that nonsense. And turn their backs on their country,” He took a drag and eyed her. 

She had been holding her breath. 

He knew. 

Had he known this whole time? 

What was he going to do to her now?

“People will do what they can if they think they are protecting their children.”

It was then that she realized she hadn’t blinked, so she blinked now. It was the slightest movement, but his eyes flicked to hers. He had caught it. 

“But what if the Americans didn’t want you there? They’re afraid. They think everyone is a spy.”

“How-” She cleared her throat, “How did they know?”

“The Americans? Well, someone told them.”

There was no controlling herself. She leaped from the couch and onto her feet. 

“You?” She accused him in dark voice.

He stared at her and chuckled.

That fucking sound.

She was seething. 

He stood and shoved her back down onto the couch. Bell sputtered at this like an angry cat.

“Of course not.”

He looked her over. His denial hadn’t done much to calm her anger.

“What if I told you I found the man who betrayed them?”

“What would you do?”

“I’d kill him.”

 “-memory lane-”

“It’s a process.”

 Somewhere outside of her head the gods were fighting. 

Bell continued, ignoring them.

 They were standing in front of a door in the basement. A single ugly utility light illuminated the green painted metal door. Two guards stood on either side of the door. 

“He’s here?” Bell asked, staring hard at the door.

“He is.” 

The man placed a hand on the latch of the door and pushed it open a crack. 

Then he handed her a pistol. 

No one had given her a gun before. Outside of the shooting range at least.

Those were his orders. She was too young. And what did she need a gun for anyway? She was only breaking codes and providing translations. 

She took the gun and looked it over. 

From beyond the door she could hear heavy breathing. 

Who was behind it? Who had betrayed her family?

She had to know. And it would seem that the last thing they’d see was her face before she pulled the trigger.

Would they recognize her?

Bell stepped forward and pushed the door open.

There, in the center of the room, tied to a chair sat an old man.

Not the menacing figure she had expected.

He looked frail and starved. Beaten and bloody. 

Her breath caught in her throat as the man lifted his head and looked at her. Green eyes just barely visible underneath thick gray brows. 

“виктория?” The old man croaked. 

His voice dry. His face was so pale it seemed transparent. She could make out the blue veins spidering just underneath his skin. Blood dripped on the floor behind his back, his restraints cutting into his wrists.

Tears threatened to breach her eyes. But she wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of these people.

Not in front of him.

“We found him hiding out in an abandoned building. Living with the rats-”

“No!” The tutor rasped. 

The old man put his hands on her shoulders. 

“He betrayed your family.”

“Why?” She asked, her voice was soft. 

“To save his own ass. Coward,” He spat, “He was helping you to leave. Teaching you and your sister English. Idiot. Americans already have targets on their backs.”

“But the Americans were the ones who came for us-” Bell started. It didn’t make sense. Shouldn’t it have been the KGB then?

She looked up at the old man wide eyed. 

“He must have got a sense that the KGB was watching-”

“You!” She shouted, “You were watching! You asked all those questions!”

Bell raised the gun pointing it at the old man. 

He put his hands up, but signaled to the guards to stand down.

“Yes,” He admitted, “It was my job to look out for those who weren’t as committed to our cause. Imagine the pain I felt when I found out that my old friend, someone I trusted, was among them.”

 He took a beat before continuing.\.

“So I watched your family. And the people who lived in your building. We tapped into all communication. We followed everyone. And when I found that this man had betrayed you all, I came running. That’s why I was there that night. To warn you. To save you. But when I saw that building on fire, I thought I had lost. But then you were there, just barely clinging to life in the snow. I had to take you in.”

 He was right, he had saved her. She would have bled out if he hadn’t been there.

If his aim was to kill her, wipe out her family, then why would he have saved her? 

Bell shifted her stance, pointing the gun at the tutor now. 

 “Pretty speech. What a hero,” The tutor chuckled bitterly. 

“Funny coming from a man who sold out children. You contacted the Americans to get yourself out. Because you realized as soon as her family left we would start looking for anyone who helped them. But the Americans wouldn’t have bothered with an old nobody like you. However, they were interested in a scientist who had ties to the KGB weren’t they? That piqued their interest. And they could pick you up while they were here. Nevermind the family. Isn’t that what you said?”

Nevermind the family. 

Bell felt sick.

She thought he was her friend. That he was helping them. He had seemed so kind.

“They hadn’t expected a fight from the mother, had they? But she was just doing what mothers do best. Protecting her children.”

“Do what you need to do, виктория. I can’t weave tales the way he does,” The tutor said with a sigh. 

“If you don’t do it, I will,” The old man said matter of factly, “He will die tonight either way. Justice needs to be served.”

His words lit a fire in her. 

If anyone was going to do it it was only right that it be her. She couldn’t bare the shame of not acting. 

And so she fired.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bell turned up the handle on the shower. The lukewarm water quickly turned hot. But it wasn’t unbearable.

She placed her hands on the cool tile wall in front of her, letting the water run over her. It created rivers in the deep scars of her back before rolling off her skin and going down the drain.

She had killed a man and she hadn’t been certain about it. She had acted on an impulse. Because the idea of not acting had been unbearable. 

The memory felt fresh in her mind. Another regret to add to the list. Her chest felt tight with it. 

She could have asked more questions. She could have fired at Perseus. Which would have resulted in her own death, but wouldn’t the world have been better without them in it?

As these memories came to the surface wasn’t she realizing more and more that her existence only caused more suffering?

“Come with me,” The marionette called to her.

What would be the harm if she just quietly slipped away into her subconscious? 

Who would miss her? She hadn’t given the CIA any good information today. Perhaps she was reaching her expiration date. And they were only delaying the inevitable. 

“That’s just the drugs talking,” She whispered. 

She wasn’t thinking clearly. Bell turned up the hot water again. Her skin began to redden. 

Maybe the pain would bring her to her senses.

She leaned forward, placing her forehead on the tile.

“You don’t have to suffer like this. Haven’t you paid for your sins already?”

 Was she right?

 “We’re waiting for you. Come with me.” 

Bell slumped against the tile, slipping down the wall until she kneeled on the shower basin. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Ok,” She relented.

There were two rules you had, two rules your half brother gave you when he promised to take you in when you had nowhere else to go.

Rule One you kept up with your studying, just because you had the surname Toretto didn’t mean you could slack off, he wanted the best for you and not to end up like him or the rest of the family.

Rule two was you would keep out of trouble. Stay off the police radar and keep your head clean.

The first rule was easy and you were keeping your grades up and would be ready to sit the Bar soon enough, becoming the first lawyer within the family. But the second rule was hard, you grew up around cars and the fast life so it was in your blood.

It had been a long and exhausting week of studying and you needed a break, before you exploded. So as you climbed into the driver's seat of your Hellcat you went into auto pilot, cruising through the streets until you found an empty parking lot. You needed to let some steam off, it was late so you were less likely to get caught, or that’s what you thought. Little did you know you had a cop following you ever since you left the campus library.

A few burnouts and donuts never hurt anyone.

There was something about throwing the car about that made you feel free, the smell of burning rubber was one of the best smells and you found it relaxing. There was no doubt that you were a Toretto, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have the same mother as Dom and Mia, all that mattered was the Toretto blood than ran threw your veins.

You were in your own little world as you tore up the car park, leaving tyre marks as you went, to even notice the cop had put his lights on. It was only when you heard the blip of his siren you knew you were fucked. And you had broken rule number two.

“Fuck,” you mumbled bringing the car to a stop, killing the engine before slowly climbing out of the car.

“Should have known it would have been a Toretto,” the cop scoffed, instantly getting your back up.

“Talk about pre-judgement,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that Toretto?” The cop spat.

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “Look can I just go and we pretend this never happened?”

“I’ve been watching you all night, ever since you left campus, so far I can do you for speeding, reckless driving, criminal damage, and I’m sure if I looked probably illegal modifications,” he said, puffing his chest out.

“Look, do what you gotta do, I need to know what’s happening with the car so I can arrange a lift,” you said calmly, when inside you were panicking. You knew Dom was going to flip.

“I’m tempted to seize the car,” he laughed.

“Do it,” you shrugged, pulling your phone out, looking for Dom’s name, hitting call.

Within three rings he answered.

“You do realise the time right?” He laughed.

“Yeah I do but I need you, look don’t flip out but I went to let off some steam in an empty parking lot,” you sighed, “turns out a cop followed me from the campus and is tryna do me for so many things. And is now threatening to seize the hellcat.”

“Fuck sake, Y/N. What did I say?” Dom shouted.

“I know I broke rule two and I’m sorry okay.” You mumbled. “Just please come down, I don’t like the look of this cop, he is giving me the creeps.”

“Say no more kiddo, I’m on my way, ping me your location.” Dom said softly, he knew you didn’t get scared or creeped out often so he trusted your feelings. “I will bring the busta as well. Don’t worry.”

It didn’t take long before you heard the sound of Dom and Brian speeding down the street, pulling into the parking lot, parking with your car.

Dom jumped out the car, instantly pulling you into his arms. It didn’t matter that you were half siblings, neither of you saw each other as that. You were blood and he was going to do anything he could to keep you safe.

“Has he touched you?” He asked.

“No, thank god,” you whispered looking up at him. “I’m sorry, I should have come straight home.”

“It’s fine kiddo, I know you are stressed.” Dom smiled softly, kissing the top of your head, before letting you go.

“Oh so I see you called your half brother,” the cop laughed, “thought you were meant to be a Toretto?”

“You wanna shut your fucking mouth officer,” Dom snapped, pushing you behind him. “I mean is it that slow of a night that you have to follow a young woman and keep her blocked in a parking lot at eleven pm?”

“She was breaking the law,” the officer shrugged, “and just one look at her car tells me that it’s been illegally modified,”

“Well I’ve just had a walk around your car and I can find at least three different violations,” Brian said calmly. “For starters your tyres are bald, you have a brake light out, and the window wiper is broken, that is just from walking around the car.”

“What would your chief say if we reported you?” Dom said, “told him all the issues with your car and how you made a young woman feel uncomfortable. I’m not quite sure that would go down well.”

“Dom my dash cam is still recording,” you whispered.

“And we have proof,” Dom laughed, stepping closer to the cop. “So here is what’s gonna happen, you are going to climb back into your squad car and drive off, pretending that this never happened, that my little sister was never here.”

“But she obviously was here,” the cop laughed.

“I mean it’s our word against yours, these tyre marks could have been from anyone,” Brian shrugged, “and plus Y/N has been with me working on my car.”

“Fine,” the cop huffed, “but if I catch you driving so much one mile an hour over the speed limit I will be coming for you.”

“And then I will just come after you and send this little video to your chief.” Dom hissed. “Now get the fuck out of here and go you know, be a police officer.”

The three of you stood there, watching as he pulled out of the parking lot, driving off into the distance.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hugging Dom. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

“You are kidding right?” Dom laughed, “Trouble is your middle name”

“So you aren’t mad?” You asked looking up at him.

“What is there to be mad about? You were never here remember,” Dom laughed, “Now come on let’s get you home.”