Not for you (FIN)

>For years I have been desperate to tuck that Barb Wire quote into one of my stories, but to no avail since they were located in fandoms into which that quote wouldn't fit. This time, I finally managed. (Gotta *love* Pam Anderson as Barb Wire - anyone up to writing a Riddick / Barb Wire crossover? Would *so* love to see something like that...)

Did you ever have to travel almost one full day in a very small car with someone who was just interested in finding out everything about your personal life, your love- and sexual life and encounters in particular, and who is really skilled in asking silly questions? No?

Well, from my experience, I don't particularly recommend it.

That someone I traveled with - Vince - was really so *holds up hand and shows tiny space between thumb and index finger* close to being kicked out of my car several times, and in one instance, I actually let him stand on a parking lot near the Oklahoma border for almost an hour before I allowed him to get into the car again, only after he promised not to pester me for at least one more hour. Which, by the way, then resulted in me driving the wrong road for that hour because he refused to say anything, not even giving me directions.

The whole thing delayed us for three hours.

And of course he claimed that it was all my own fault.

But besides the urge to strangle him several times I really started to like that guy. We had a similar kind of humor, and during a coffee break in a small roadside cafe I found that we worked perfectly together when it came to annoying other people.

It reminded me a bit of a time years ago when Michael and I still could have fun together, when he didn't try to please me with everything he did, when we still were just friends instead of having a relationship dreadfully gone wrong which was constantly hovering over us.

It was late that evening when we arrived in South Oklahoma, at the entrance to a valley that seemed to be deserted. The increasing number of incredibly shiny and fast cars which overtook us on the way, however, told me that the inside of this valley was not as deserted as it looked from the outside.

Vince told me to stop the car on the street when we were still not inside the valley.

"What do you want now? Going to tell me that we're wrong again? This time it wouldn't be my fault." I said, tired and unnerved.

"No, not really. I just wanted to tell you that I enjoyed our tour immensely." He said, opening the door of the car, getting out.

"And what exactly is this stop then about?"

"Want to remove something from your trailer." He walked away, somewhere to the back of my trailer, then came back, holding something in his hand.

"What's this?" I asked, staring curious at a small device that somehow reminded me of a hockey puck and of which I was certain that I didn't install it.

"It's a tracking device."

"How the hell did I get a tracking device on my trailer?"

"Don't know, you tell me?" He stared at me with that same kind of intense, questioning look that he had when he asked me for my ID card.

"I have so no idea?!?" I snapped, and, after about half a minute of thinking, added "I think you can tell me, how on earth did you all of a sudden know that there was one?"

The stare lasted, about a minute, then all of a sudden he grinned.

"After all I've seen, you wouldn't assume that I would get into your... car... and drive with you through almost two states without letting anyone know where I am, would you?"

"Ohhhh! Bastard! You mean we were tracked all the time?"

"Sure."

I took the small, flat plastic cylinder from his hand. "And what would happen if I just...." I opened my door, placed the cylinder near the lock and slammed the door shut. When I reopened it, the crushed cylinder's contents - very electronic looking parts - fell down to the road.

He just stared at his watch and counted down. "Ten... nine... eight..." When he had counted to zero, nothing had happened, and he was wrinkling his forehead, tapping on his watch.

Not even three seconds later, his cell phone rang.

"They're a bit late - but... See - that's what happens if you do that. Want to see what happens if I don't answer the phone?"

"Not necessarily so."

"Good." He said, answering the phone. "We're almost there - Yes, I know that you know... - What? It stopped working? Have no idea how that happened, no... - Yes, I'm fine, thank you, someone pick me up? - No, the patient is still healthy, I just thought it would be better if she would look for a place on her own... - OK, I'll just wait here..." The cell phone was tucked back into his jacket.

I stared at my steering wheel. "Why did you do that?"

"Because Bri would kill you if he knew that you deliberately smashed one of his precious tracking devices."

"No, I meant, why did you track me at all?"

"Because I've seen things you wouldn't be able to imagine," he said.

"I daresay I've seen some likely things." I snapped bitterly.

"No doubt about that, woman.

"And now?"

"Now you just drive along this road a bit; and when you get to the gates, you greet the fierce looking ward saying 'Hi roadrunner!'. After doing this, you'll be allowed into the protected area, pay $20, get a number painted to your car, drive into the camp, look for a place to park your trailer and either you run around a bit or sleep some hours first - I would recommend the latter."

"Protected area?" I wondered.

"Yes, it's just to, you know, keep cops off our necks. If you should greet him with any other words, by the way, I guarantee that you will find yourself awaking with a terrible headache from the knock on your head at some deserted roadside next morning."

"How endearing."

"Yes, the Racewars people are all one happy peaceful bunch."

"And what about you?"

"I will enjoy the sight a bit and wait for someone to pick me up. Shouldn't be too long."

"Why not drive with me into the camp?"

"Oh, just in case you should snap in any way during your stay, I would not want to be the one who brought you in there..."

"Thank you so much for trusting me!"

He stared at me. "Woman, I've trusted too many people in my life."

"And it's not like so that this trusting, like, saved your life at least once?"

He just stared at me again, then looked out of the window. "Perhaps. Doesn't necessarily mean that I want this to happen again." He started massaging his leg. "Perhaps the next time there won't be anything left I can massage."

"Sorry," I said.

"Don't you ever excuse yourself for speaking your mind, Dana." He used my name only for the second time on that day; on all other occasions, he had called me 'woman' at best.

"Well, then thank you for remembering my name, Vince."

"Just wanted to tell you one more thing... I'm not the only one who changed."

"Huh?"

"You seem to know a lot about our... crew... at least what we were like five years ago or so. I'm aware that you must have noticed I changed, I just wanted to prepare you for the fact that it's not just me."

"Brian changed?" I wondered.

"Just a bit. Still a prankster, especially when it comes to Dom. No, I was talking about Dom, actually."

"Don't you tell me he's now driving a SUV, respects all speed limits and became a family man."

"I said he changed, not that his brain had been amputated and replaced by the usual version."

"What do you mean then?"

"Well, our Fearless Leader has grown a bit tired, I daresay."

"The fact that your Fearless Leader has grown in any way tells me that there is still hope for him."

"Good to hear that you see it this way, other people didn't welcome the change that much."

"I think I know where you're coming from."

A car came towards us, slowed down and came to a halt at the other side of the road. Wine red car, and through the darkness I could not see the driver.

"My ride," Vince said, swinging his legs out of the car but remaining to sit sideways.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Leon."

"Ah."

"Good luck then, woman, with your strange little car. Perhaps we'll meet down at the races."

"I would hope so. You race too?"

"No, I've become a watcher. Rather enjoying this, though." He tried to touch my cheek, obviously to say goodbye; and I, as usual, flinched back, knocking my head to the side window in the process. "Woah! Hey! Didn't want to rape you, woman... Hurt yourself?"

"No. Well, not badly. Sorry, I just don't like being touched anywhere near my face..."

"Now where does that come from?" Obviously curious, he was about to pull his legs back into the car, and Leon, on the other side of the road, started signaling impatient.

"None of your business, Doc."

"But there seems to be a medical condition here..."

"Still not your business." I insisted, staring at my steering wheel, as so often before.

"Then let me give you one more advice, never let anyone know that you're scared of something." He said, swinging his legs back out, getting up.

"I'll try."

"And I'll keep pestering about that condition of yours when we meet next time."

"Then I shall take care that my trailer is parked far away from yours."

He laughed, closed the door and limped over to the other car.

As soon as they had gotten out of sight, I took a deep breath and hid my face in my hands. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps not. And perhaps I should take better care to not let anyone get that close that they could actually reach for my face.

I sighed, stared down the road and tried to grasp what was before me. My god, they really were all here, as if nothing had ever separated them. And I had really found them, by a coincidence that I never thought would take place. I even knew one of them already. Why did I worry about anyone touching my face? I had everything I ever hoped for right in front of me.

I started my car and slowly drove down the road, soon arriving at a gate where a really intimidating crew of about six wardens waited. And - good grief! - Dom was also standing there, talking to two of them.

"Hi roadrunner!" I smiled through my opened window, having my baseball cap pulled deep into my face.

"What's that? A shopping cart?" The one standing next to my car of them said.

Testing my patience, are you?


"That's not a shopping cart. Obviously, 'cause there's no place to put a baby into or hang a bag onto."

"But there is a babe in there..." said the one standing next to him, taking my cap off.

"Don't call me babe," I said through gritted teeth.

"Oh my god, it's Barb Wire." Said the first, and they all roared with laughter, Dom included.

My face, I noticed, turned a nice shade of red.

"Barb Wire is dangerous to tires, I heard." I tried to snap, not really successful. "This is Racewars, lots of tires around, you know...you sure that you want to bring in Barb Wire?"

"Not really," laughed the first, "that's twenty then."

I handed the money over, they painted a number to my back window, and I was driving towards the camp.

It took me a while to find my way through the large camp site, which hosted hundreds, maybe thousands of people and cars. Eventually I parked my car and trailer at the very outside of the camp and spent two hours just walking around, finding out where toilets, dealers and races would be. Even if I was tired from driving all day, I needed to walk around because I had been sitting so long.

I also found out that Dom's crew was situated not too far away from me, about a hundred yards, but more to the middle of the camp with dozens of other camps between them and my position.

The fact that I had been up since early in the morning finally took its toll, and I was so tired that I didn't want to walk around any more. However, I was so tired that I didn't want to sleep either. And so I dragged a comfortable deck chair, a soft blanket, my binoculars and something to drink to the roof of my trailer. This way I was still able to look around, and the warm evening would even allow me to fall asleep on the roof if I wanted to.

Eventually my eyes wandered over to their part of the camp, and I could easily make out what seemed to be Brian's trailer as it was painted in the bright blue of his car's decoration and was conveniently lit from the side by a car that still had its lights on.

No lights on in it, no sign of him or Vince or Dominic as far as I could see. Perhaps they had just gotten themselves some nice companionship for the night; I wasn't necessarily trusting Vince's words that most of them had changed to go that far. This place was practically crowded with girls who just waited for a chance to be picked up.

Taking a mouthful of my Coke, I was just about to look away from the trailer when I caught a movement at the corner of my eye; but staring back, I saw nothing. With a frown, I picked up my binoculars and focused on his trailer.

There was a movement, yes, but not where I had expected it. There was someone sitting on the roof of the trailer. I smirked. So not only I had that strange habit.

The figure on Brian's trailer sat on his or her backside, legs at an angle, arms leaning on his or her knees, head between the arms. One hand was holding a bottle; and there were several more scattered around the person on the roof.

I watched the figure, and more and more I became sure that this was Toretto. The muscular arms, the lack of hair on the head; that could only be Toretto.

One of his hands touched his face, rubbed or wiped his eyes; then scratched the back of his head and again wiped his eyes.

The crease on my forehead deepened. If it was me who would have performed that movement, I would sure as hell be crying. But Toretto?

What the hell was he doing up there anyway? The party animal locked himself out from all the fun?

The wind carried the sound of laughter and music from one of the parties that were going on in a distance. I looked at the place where the sound was coming from. Bright lights indicated that some of the guys were obviously making good use of their car lights, sound systems and batteries.

I couldn't help but chuckle. Some of them would be in dire need of some starting help by the next morning. Not that this was a place where one would search for something like that in vain, though.

My binoculars went back into the direction of Brian's trailer. Obviously he also had heard the sounds and was, just like me, about to turn his head back into the other direction, when suddenly it seemed as if he had seen something right in the middle that interested him.

He was looking at me. Shit.

Carefully lowering my binoculars, I raised a hand. Just a short motion, a not really wholehearted greeting which came more automatic than conscious, and he obviously didn't have anything to magnify his view; but he saw it. I cursed myself for a moment. Why did I have to draw his attention to me? I only wanted to watch.

A few seconds passed, not long enough that the following movement could have been mistaken for anything else than a reaction to my raised arm; but still too long that it could have been a spontaneous reaction.

Whatever he intended, he had thought over it before he raised his arm and made a short, waving movement into his direction.

What's that, I thought. Dominic Toretto wants me to come over to his place?

It was out of question that he knew who I was from that distance. In fact, it was more than likely that he had no idea who he had invited. I breathed out, which took a long time. Too long to shake my head in response. I shrugged. What could possibly happen if I walked over? Nothing. Perhaps some talking. Nothing more.

I noticed that I was shivering when I picked up my Coke bottle. Dammit, Dana, stop shaking. It's just a driver. You have seen and talked to hundreds of them in the last years. In fact, you've just spent a day in your car with one of his friends.

Ignoring the little alarm bell in the back of my head ringing 'But it's Toretto!!!' all the time, I sighed and climbed down from my trailer, walking through the other trailers to get to his.