Not for you (FIN)

Note:

There's a spin-off to this story, in particular this chapter. If you want to know what Dom's thinking... read it after you read this chapter.




I took a look at Dom over my shoulder, still grinning about the race I had just won; the wind was blowing through my hair. He was smiling back at me, sweating as if he had done some hard work, and as he came near, I noticed that he smelled like... burned oil.

My brow creased.

"Dom! You don't happen to have any idea why that car there beside the road smoked?"

He turned his head to me, slowly. "Ya, well, I do. Any problem with that?"

My eyes grew wide. "Dom! You did that intentionally? You knew that Brian's Turbo would choke from that!"

He shrugged, then smiled a predatory grin. "You gave me the idea with your air intake being just above the ground while his is situated a lot higher. Smoke doesn't remain on the ground so I knew that only his car would choke."

"Brilliant. You're so full of shit," I murmured, "both of you."

"Care to have some lunch with me? It's almost dinner time, but still." he said, ignoring my insult.

"With you? And what if Brian tampers with the food, leaving both of us with food poisoning?"

"That's something our ex-cop wouldn't do. Besides, he can't cook and has no idea that we're going, let alone where we're going."


By the time Dom had gotten into my car, I had finally stopped to shake my head about those two. He laughed when he saw the way I looked at him.


"Well, perhaps you wanna get rid off us really soon, be it just because our company is such a nuisance."

"Your company isn't the problem, but you two could at least try and get along, you know, sort of nicely? Or do I have to expect that each time you play your little antics on one of your team, I have to expect to be kissed or what? That is why he did it after all, right? Just to tease you?"

He still laughed, shaking his head. "Probably yes. It's just to put up a show, we get along quite nicely; even if we don't talk too often. All those years made us pranksters. Please, leave me that. The only thing I haven't grown up from, and I think insults keep our team together - now."

For a short moment it seemed a dark cloud was passing his face when he said the last word.

"I'll leave you anything you want as long as I'm in the middle of your little fights! And somehow I think a team should be held together by more than that."

"I'll tell him that, but I can't guarantee for anything."

"Never mind, I'll tell him myself when I break his nose for touching me."

Dom snorted. "You really don't like that, do you?"

"No. I loathe it. I usually freak out if someone does - well, you know that already. And this is a problem bigger than you can imagine." I scratched my upper arm.

He turned to me, looking at he. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Still not."


"I'll pester you for it later. And now, what about lunch? There's a small diner at the road to here, just about thirty miles outside the camp. We have two hours until my race starts. Think your shopping cart can make it in that time?"

"Still drive no shopping cart, I just smoked Brian. Thirty miles? Two hours? We're not at the Olympic games, remember?" I retorted, pushing the pedal to speed up to the sound of his laughter.

"Who 'smoked' Brian, me or you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He had you, and if I hadn't intervened then he would have won."

"I think I know a certain racer who, among other things, became famous for this quote 'Winning's winning, no matter if by an inch or by a mile'."

"You know strange people, Dana."

"You bet. Which reminds me, I still have to make a phone call."

"To be called my bitch again?"

"No, just to find out where that guy actually is."

"Do I want to know what you're talking about?"

"Not really."

"Hum."


"Say." I was still wondering. "Did you do that to help me or to make him lose because you thought it would be funny?"

"Well, both, actually."

"I don't need your help, Dom; I need no one's help."

"Ah, come on. You're pissed?"

"Just a bit."

"Then show me what your car's got without my help. I'm hungry."


I showed him.

Funny, when we arrived, he wasn't so hungry any more but seemed to be much in love with my dashboard from the way he held on to it....


The rest of the day went relatively smooth. In the evening, I had two more races, both of which I won, and the registration guy really had the guts to come over and ask for the spelling of my car's real name.

Good, seemed that I earned some respect.


In the evening I called Dirk. He insisted that he had no idea where Michael was, but admitted that he hadn't seen him for over a week. Taking Dirk's somewhat strange memory into consideration, it was well possible that he hadn't seen him for at least two weeks.

From this timing I thought that it would be well possible that Michael was in the US, but somehow this seemed ridiculous. The chances that he - even if he was in this country - would find me were low. So low, in fact, that I decided not to think about this any more.


Later that evening I was sitting by my computer and found that I was still thinking about this.

I felt the urge to escape from all my thinking for some minutes; so I took a CD and placed it in my sound system.

Depeche Mode, as loud as I could tune it up. That would do me good. And what song... I went through them, finally getting stuck with 'I feel you'.

I used the song to strip from my dress, dancing all by myself to the lazy, bass laden beats, my eyes closed, and then, still dancing to the same song, I pulled new clothes - a shirt and trousers - from the cabinets and put them on, still dancing to the last tunes of the song.


Just minutes after I was finished and turned the music off, I heard a knock on my trailer's door. "It's open." I said.


Vince stuck his head in. "Hey, want to have dinner?"

"Want to invite me?"

"Sort of, we're having a barbecue."

"Oh, good." I said, switching off the computer. By then Vince had completely gotten in and was looking around. "So that's the wondrous trailer," he said, still looking, in particular at the space that was now filled with my table.

"I gather someone has told you that there's not always a table?"

"Yes, and that someone seems to be interested in seeing the conversion of the table into the bed again..."

"Then all he has to do is ask."

"Knowing that someone, I think he won't. Congrats, though; I think you found a friend."

"Huh?"

"You just wait and find out yourself." Vince grinned, turned and left the trailer.

I shook my head, grabbed my jacket and keys and followed him.


The Toretto camp looked different than in the pictures I knew from some years ago. It was definitely smaller. But then, the team had shrunken considerably; only Dom, Vince, Brian and Leon were left; Letty and - what was this other guy's name, who was killed that day five years ago? - Jessie, right - were gone.

Two trailers, two race cars; Brian's and what I had already seen as being Leon's the night Vince and I arrived. There was no car that I could positively identify as Dom's.

They had put a sunscreen over the space between the trailers; under this there was a table with several chairs; Leon was sitting there, obviously waiting for his dinner. The barbecue was located a bit further away, not under the sunscreen; and Brian was busy with it. Dom was nowhere to be seen, though there was a light on in one of the trailers.


"Hi," I smiled at Leon, "nice to meet you. I'm Dana."

"Wow, she can properly introduce herself." Vince wondered, taking place on one of the chairs.

"Sometimes she can." I snapped.

"Leon," Leon said, shaking my hand. "So you're the one with the cool trailer and the strange car?"

"And with the strange exfoliating habits," said Brian, just a bit too loud to be overheard. I gave him a stare. "Come over, woman, you could cook for us." He grinned.

"Brian, I'd say that if I would cook for us, we'll all be in hospital with food poisoning by the morning."

"What's a woman who can't cook good for?"

"Smoking your car?" I grinned. He just gave me the eyebrow and continued to care for the steaks.


"What is that car of yours?" Asked Leon, and I spent ten minutes explaining it to him; how I got the car over fifteen years ago, how I got the motor, the funny shopping cart side decals and about anything else I thought would be necessary; and this included a bit of my background in Germany.

Vince and Brian listened, also obviously interested. From time to time one of the three would ask me a question about it; and while we were talking, Brian provided us with the steaks and sat down at the table.


When I was finished, Dom came walking into the camp.

"The Fearless Leader!" Vince cheered a bit too enthusiastic to be serious.

"Now look at this. We have a guest." Dom said.

"I invited her," Vince said, "I'm sure you don't have a problem with that?"

"No, but if you had told me, I wouldn't have had to run through half the camp just to find her trailer empty."

"Poor Fearless Leader, all running around and shit. You look sweaty, did a lot of running around, I assume?" Vince said, having Dom stare at him.

I snorted, not really knowing what to say. Was there something going on between the two that I was obviously missing? I smelled something on Dom, who was sitting next to me, that I couldn't quite place, but I didn't feel like asking at that moment.


"Steak for me?" Dom finally said into Brian's direction.

"Move your ass and get one if you want one." Said Brian.

Dom pouted at Brian, then got up.

"I think you've spoiled him." Laughed Vince, looking at me.

"What? I didn't do anything."

"Believe me, bed and breakfast is a much higher standard than what this guy is used to."

"Want to walk home, Vince?" Dom said.

"I'd love to, but actually I could only limp back home." Vince said, his tone not amused.

"Too much." Dom growled, getting up very quickly and sliding his still empty plate over the table, where it fell down at the other end right next to me.

"Woah, guys, wait a minute. Can't we all, like, just sit down and have some friendly talk while we eat our steaks?" I tried to intervene. Were these people supposed to be a team?

"I'm not hungry any more." Dom said, not looking at anyone and walked away.


Vince seemed to notice the slight, shifting movement on me. "Don't." He said, putting his hand on my arm.

"Don't what?" I asked, but I guess he knew. And he did.

"Don't run after him. He needs some time alone."

"I guess that's one of his biggest problems, having too much time alone." I said, not really knowing what to do.

"He's choosing this."

"No, he's not. I think he's just too fucking stubborn to admit that he wants company."

"And whose fault might that be? Ours?" Brian asked.

"From what I've seen here so far, yes. Say, it's none of my business, of course - but did you all ever sit down to talk about what happened five years ago?"

They stared at each other. Then, finally, Leon spoke. "Not really. It's difficult to get Dom into any kind of talking about this."

"And did any of you see a psychologist after this?"

"What for?" Snapped Brian. "We're not mad idiots."

"Bri, a psychiatrist would be for mad idiots. A psychologist would help with problems that you can't deal with all by yourself." Vince said.

"I gather at least one of you has seen one." I said, looking at Vince.

"I did." He admitted.

"What? You never spoke about it." Said Leon.

"Given Brian's reaction, I have a faint idea why." I said. "But perhaps Vince can tell us more?"


"I can. I was in hospital for over five months after that... accident. None of my former 'friends' visited me; and at that point of time, I had no idea where they were. I had fucking nightmares and I didn't want them; but I had no idea what to do.

Then, finally, when I came out of the hospital and was sent to jail - I completely blacked out when I read in the paper about you, Brian, fleeing through all states, and successfully so. I was aggressive. Aggressive towards myself, which didn't do the rehab too good that I went through at the same time. Aggressive towards my inmates and the wardens. Finally, they sent me to the prison's psychologist. Took me several weeks to finally talk to him, but when I did., it was as if a heavy burden was taken from my shoulders."


"That's how you've changed so much?" Leon asked, and I found myself staring at him.

They had never asked why Vince had changed that much? Seemed as if this group of people really, really had a communication problem in the last years...


"Yes. It took the psychologist almost a year to teach me how to deal with my feelings, how to get rid of my aggressions, how to focus on important facts. In fact, he taught me to think, I guess; something that I really rarely did before. Before... it was doing, then thinking; sometimes just doing without the thinking. After that... it was thinking, then doing; or not doing. I'm quite thankful that he reminded me I actually have a brain, though, and that it's useful for more than just thinking about the next race or how to beat someone down."


"I don't need that." Stated Brian, a bit more angry than he needed to.


"Of course not, you've not lost anyone on that day. We've lost Jessie, we've sort of lost Letty and Dom disappeared for almost three years and came back as a tired, sad mirror of himself." Said Leon, obviously not catching Brian's a little too aggressive self defense which surely indicated that he, too, had a problem.

"I liked Jessie too!" Brian protested.

"Yes, but you didn't exactly raise him for several years like we did when his father went to jail. You were not that close. Besides, I bet you had psychological training with the police how to deal with such situations." Said Vince, his voice quiet, but strong. "But I guess you were somewhat attached to Jessie after seeing what he could do, and that makes your problem our problem."

"Does anyone have any idea where Dom might have gone?" I asked.

"Why?" said Leon.

"Oh, just because it seems that you all finally start talking about this shit. And I think it wouldn't hurt if he would participate; in fact, I think it would help. As in: much."

"Here," came a hesitating voice from above us. I instantly knew that he was sitting on Brian's trailer.

"Get down," said Vince.

He did.


And for the first time in years they all sat down at one table to seriously talk about what happened instead of constantly and perhaps unconsciously insulting each other.

They talked about Jessie, what potential the boy had, and about some funny kind of grace saying of his.

About Letty, and how she grew from a chubby little girl to a beautiful woman in the years before the accident; and how the team had spent much time getting either her or Dom from someone else's bed so that the respective other would never find out where they had spent the night..

About Mia, Dom's sister, who was now owning a small café in New York and didn't want to have much to do with the racing scene despite always having free coffee for the team.


They talked about the accident, each of them from their point of view, coming to the conclusion that what happened was either no one's fault - or everyone's who had been involved in it.


And, most important, about what each of them did after the accident; Brian opening a shop with a friend of his in Miami; Leon just trying to keep the original Toretto house and some of the cars intact, Vince spending his time in prison, getting the high school degree he never thought to achieve, and Dom fleeing around the world, getting to know many people and learning togue drift racing in Japan. He also told them what he had told me the night before - his inability to sleep, the loneliness, the constant wariness.


And in the end they laughed together about the fact that they never talked before. It was a different kind of laughter than what I had heard from any of them before - they were over the accident.


I just sat there in silence and smiled to myself. Seems as I'm witnessing the team becoming a team again, I thought, and I brought them to this table. If that's not something to be proud of, then I don't know...