Disclaimer: The Fast and the Furious franchise is owned by Universal Pictures, various producers including (but not limited to) Neal H. Moritz, Vin Diesel, Michael Fottrell and Clayton Townsend. It is the intellectual property of writers Gary Scott Thompson, Erik Bergquist, David Ayer, Michael Brandt, Derek Haas and Chris Morgan. Last, but not least, Ken Li, author of "Racer X" the story the first movie was based upon, also has a piece of the pie.
I technically 'own' the very few characters you will not recognize from the series, including Trish, this story's protagonist. However, that does not mean I am making a single shiny penny off of this story. If anything, I am acquiring debt as writing it takes away time from doing things that could be making me money.

Kind of important Story-note: This is my first F&F fanfic. I feel like I should offer that up straight away. I haven't written anything for pleasure in almost two years because I just couldn't find a single piece of inspiration. It's sick and twisted and kind of disturbing (to me) that the recent tragic passing of Paul Walker (R.I.P. I am still in shock) apparently stirred up some writing bugs in me. But then again, find me a writer who claims to be totally 'normal' in the head and I'll show you a liar. We tend to live in our imaginations and look at the world just a little cock-eyed.
Now, for this story I spent quite a few hours working out a realistic timeline of the series (down to possible/realistic ages of characters). The movie series would almost have us believe that the movies happened near consecutively. I have a major problem believing this so, well, in my little world they didn't (ex: there is no way in hell Jack O'Conner is a few days old when Dom shows up to tell Mia and Brian about Letty. He's holding his damned head up himself!). So in this story there is some space to breathe between films where other things happened. This story, god willing nothing happens on my end, is going to start before the film series begins and follow through it up until the end of Tokyo Drift (after that is open season as far as I'm concerned); but, at the same time, will not be a simple rehashing of the films. I've seen them, you've seen them, my character is (hopefully) not some Mary-Sue who is suddenly interjected into the cast. She's highly intelligent, a little weird and somewhat amoral about things like money and who it really belongs to and why she should take it off their hands. But she's not some brilliant racer/action superhero/genius mechanic. She has connections to the cast, but she's not just suddenly there in the films. That's not how I write. I write in the universe...I don't rehash everything you already know. I hope you can be patient and stick with it and I very much hope you enjoy it.

Relationships/Pairings: Canon: all pairings will be acknowledged and addressed as they pertain to the film series. Non-canon: Brian/OC familial, Han/OC (eventual) romantic.

January 2012

I've learned a lot in my life and I've heard a lot of unsolicited cliched statements from a lot of pretty cliched people during that life about how I should live.

Life is but a roll of the dice. My mother. I live my life a quarter mile a time. Dominic Toretto. You make choices and you don't look back. My friend, lover, husband of convenience depending on the day of the week. Good intentions are nothing without hard work. Luke Hobbs,my current personal jailer, I mean, employer.

Mrs. Gump probably said it best though when she compared life to a box of chocolates; you really do never know what you're going to get.

Because the simple truth of the matter is that life is complicated. There's no fate or grand design to life. There's just you and everyone around you. Life is all at once messy, confusing, heartbreaking, frustrating and never really goes the way you initially planned.

Hell, if a plan never survives first contact with the enemy then life is the biggest, most evil, son of a bitch you could ever throw down with. I figured that out by the time I was eleven and decided from that point on that my life would be lived in a series of short-term goals. As long as I worked my way from one goal to the next I'd probably be fine.

Probably.

For example, if you told me ten years ago that at the age of thirty-two I would be in another country legally stalking both my ex-husband and an apparent sociopath, with the full backing and power of the D.S.S., I'd probably have laughed in your face. That was seriously, seriously, never in the plans.

For more then a few reasons.

Marriage, theoretically, should be something sacred and I'm living proof that it isn't. Why would I want to legally tie myself to someone so I could stand by and wait for them to fuck me over? If I love someone and they love me? Awesome. I never wanted paperwork telling me this. I honestly think the news that I would be working for the Diplomatic Security Service, in some capacity, might have come as a lesser shock.

If the FBI hires hackers and basically pays them to stop them from doing illegal shit; then why couldn't the D.S.S.?

Now, despite my twenty-two year old self's shock and horror at the situation, I'm still sitting in the middle Tokyo in an ostentatious Nissan 370z that I've been informed will blend in nicely wherever my ex goes. Speaking of which, I can almost see my ex's expression if he heard my disdain for the vehicle; his unflappable cool would probably even be visibly shaken. For about a second. It'd almost be worth seeing if I ever had a chance to voice the thoughts out loud.

Don't get me wrong, I can drive like a bat out of hell when I absolutely need to; I'm not going to hit ninety and suddenly freak out and blow myself up or anything. Hell, at one point in my life, I could even race with the best of them. But, fact is, I'm not seventeen and trying to figure out where I fit in and who I am anymore. I've accepted that I'm a geek and my place in life is behind a computer while someone else handles the action.

I'm happier for it too.

In fact, pretty much everyone I know agrees with me on this very fact.

So why Luke Hobbs, my current boss (by default being that the choice was work with D.S.S. or a fairly lengthy jail sentence), thought it would be a good idea to send me personally to Tokyo with a small team to keep an eye on Han is beyond me. I considered asking if the man actually wanted my ex-husband dead; but I wasn't entirely certain what his answer would be. And if he said yes, I might have had to try and shoot him on principal alone, which would have defeated the purpose of working for him and turning down the jail sentence in the first place.

Which leaves me sitting here, right in the middle of the busy the Shibuya District, waiting for one of two cars that the agents I'm traveling with have managed to plant trackers on to move while studying the images from those same two cars dashboard camera's that I've hacked.

Not that those images have changed in the last three hours either. One showed an empty vehicle and one showed an unmoving male who seemed to be completely focused on staring out the windshield. He had almost stopped scaring me out after the first hour. Now it was just weird and annoying.

Things I've learned since Hobbs broke into my house almost two years ago, stake outs are boring and will cause you to chain smoke due to lack of anything else to do.

Fuck this; radios and back-up exist for a reason.

"Hey Carson?" I asked, the annoyance at the situation bleeding through into my voice.

"What is it O'Conner?"

"Is there a reason we can't just go pick up Shaw? The asshole is still just sitting in his car behind the hotel."

"He hasn't done anything yet O'Conner."

"He's creepy and Hobbs is certain he's a sociopath even worse then his brother; that should be enough. Also, your use of the word yet does not comfort me in the slightest."

"Just shut your mouth, do your job, watch the feed and send us the coordinates if they move O'Conner. Your little boyfriend will be fine."

"Yea, whatever. O'Conner out," I muttered back darkly. "Not my boyfriend," I added almost silently.

I should remember to thank Hobbs for sending such scintillating personalities with me to Japan; not to mention, apparently, using my ex-husband as bait. Ruining his credit rating could be a nice thank you gift since I can't shoot him. Asshole still hasn't given me back my gun; he claims it's an illegal weapon and he doesn't trust me not to finally just shoot him in the back one day.

I told him I was incredibly offended by the implication that I'd shoot a man in the back and if I was going to shoot him I promise he'd see it coming. He got even less enthusiastic about returning my weapon after that. It's not like I wasn't any good at my current indentured servitude.

Ian Shaw wouldn't even be on our radar if it wasn't for the fact that I might still be a little, just a little mind you, in love with the stupid ass I was currently, legally, stalking.

I maintain that it's completely normal for someone of my skill level to have written a program that tells them if anyone is looking into certain people. It's a very short list of people that Han just happens to be included on. Hell, I even have my asshole half-brother flagged too and I can barely be in the same room as him without wanting to mess up his far too smug face. I blame my nephew for that; the kid shouldn't be at risk of growing up without a Dad like Brian and I did. Even if his dad is Brian O'Conner.

So yea, it's Jack's fault I try not to let anything happen to my sibling...even if he was born years after I added Brian. Even if Brian was the first, and only, person I had in the program for a while.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Again, for Jack's sake, I even added Brian's whole motley crew of fellow criminals to my 'saftey-net' program after Hobbs dragged them in to help us with the Owen Shaw case. I'd probably never be in the kids life as his Aunt Trish and quickly realized that those people would be his family. Then I found that I even somewhat liked most of them; once I realized that they could actually do their jobs between rounds of bickering. I've kept my thoughts about Giselle to myself since the end of that job as I was raised to believe that it's rude to speak ill of the dead; and when I'm feeling particularly logical I can admit my issues with her are just that. My own issues.

Plus, I can't really bring myself hate the woman anymore being that she died to save the life of the man we were both stupid over. It'd be easier for me if I could.

My musings were interrupted, thankfully, as I maudlin self-pity had never really been my style by the voice of the current bane of my existence and field leader, Matt Carson, "Hey O'Conner?"

"What?!"

"Are they moving yet?"

"Believe me, if anyone were moving you'd be the first to know. Are you sure we can't just go pick up Shaw? He's got to at least be illegally parked."

"No."

Fine then. If Han gets hurt because Hobbs wants to catch Shaw on something he can actually hold him on, rather then just interrupting his plans, I am definitely shooting the man. Possibly twice. Maybe even in his stupidly large head.

That thought was immediately cancelled out and replaced in my brain by total confusion as I realized one of my trackers had gone from a dead stop to moving all over the place in mere seconds. Han wasn't a reckless driver. Ever. Fast yes; reckless no.

"Hey Carson?"

"No we can't go pick up Shaw."

"No, umm, Han's car is moving. Fast. And beyond erratically. What the hell is going on near the garage?"

"We didn't see shit. Are you sure?"

"Yea; I'd say so," I replied watching the tiny dot begin moving in and out of, what I assumed to be, traffic. I hit a few keys and activated his dashboard camera, taking in the expression of stress on his face and frowned. "Carson? Maybe you should get on the damn road," I added through the radio, knowing he too could see the GPS signal at this point. "Something's going on. And Shaw's starting his car too."

The police scanner I had in my car started picking up chatter about street racers but Han's expression told me this was much more then that. This wasn't driving for money. This wasn't driving for respect. This was driving for your life.

And they were headed right in my direction.

Without making a conscious decision I had the engine turned over and my own GPS tapped in to track the path of Han's RX-7 and relate a path I could take and possibly intercept from where I was.

This was definitely not a situation to test and see if I could still drive like I could at seventeen. I'm pretty sure Hobbs would stick a murder charge on me if I hit anyone. I couldn't really bring myself to care as I floored the gas pedal.

As I weaved in and out of traffic I made myself ignore the radio and just breathed with the engine and shifted on instinct while keeping half an eye on the two GPS trackers. Han was still flying through the streets and Shaw was creeping along back alleys, stopping every few seconds and obviously waiting on something.

What the hell was he waiting on?

I remembered once when I was sixteen and a friend said precision driving is like making love to your car. At the time I joked back that if you let yourself go out of your head that much while you're driving you're definitely going to be fucked; probably as you hit an unmovable object. I don't think I understood him until this very moment. I hadn't needed to understand him.

And then I swerved around a corner, barely missing a group about to cross the intersection, when I saw them. A black Nissan Fairlady. The red Evo that belonged to Han's new puppy. And the orange RX-7 that I knew for certain contained my ex. The person me and my team had been watching the back of for the last three months.

Not that he knew it.

I jerked around an incoming car and continued following the three cars, further back then I probably should have been, when the gunshots started. I refused to let the sound of them or the barely noticeable fear on Han's face in the dashboard camera shake me.

"Who the fuck did you piss off you idiot?!," I screamed at the image of his face and took a second to glance at Shaw's GPS signal and image.

He was waiting near the intersection Han's car was headed towards. The same intersection the police scanner had just announced the cars were heading towards. He had an expression that crossed somewhere between glee and anticipation on his face.

And in that moment I knew.

"Carson where the fuck are you?!" I screamed into the two-way.

"We're a block away O'Conner. Do not lose them."

"That won't be a problem," I muttered throwing away the radio and taking a chance after glancing at the map again. I dodged down an alley and behind the same hotel Shaw had been waiting by for hours.

As I sped through the alley everything felt like it slowed down and sped up at the same time.

There was no way I was going to be in time to stop Shaw.

I had more then enough time to get things done.

I ripped my e-brake and actually managed to drift around the last corner, slamming the brakes on before I got close enough to catch Shaw's attention.

Once again, I was more then a little pissed off that Hobbs had taken my gun. Just outright shooting Shaw would be so much easier then anything else right about now. That action I would happily go to jail for. Since, he apparently, hadn't done anything...yet. Hitting his car with mine would have been another lovely option but hitting the hundred or so people standing between our cars, staring at the 'race', while I was at it would probably be frowned upon.

I had fourteen years of friendship with on and off sex where I was regularly discarded by the one person in the world I would probably ever love completely; and I was okay with that. I was perfectly fine with that so long as he was still breathing.

And in that instant I could almost see what was about to happen like it was a premonition. I jumped out of the car, ripping off my long trench coat as I moved forward shoving forcefully through the panicked crowd; for once grateful for my near 5'11" in height.

In seconds Shaw's Mercedes moved forward into the intersection and to me it was as if it was in slow motion. I knew I couldn't stop it completely; there was just not enough time. But I could do something; even if it wound up being dying with him.

I saw the cars collide and Han's car flipped into the air and for a moment I was confused because I still felt like everything was creeping along underwater. Shaw couldn't have been going fast enough to do that. It didn't seem possible.

Then everyone around me screamed, seemingly at once, and life returned to it's normal pace. The sound of metal screeching along pavement was all I could hear as I watched Han's car skid across the street, somehow by a miracle coming closer to me. I knew I had about three minutes, most probably less, to act knowing the amount of NOS Han probably had put into his systems. I was near praying that he had used his NOS on the road and that the tanks were empty. I doubted I was that lucky.

I wanted to run to him. I could hear the ticking clock in my head counting down each second I needed to get him out. But I couldn't move; not yet.

It was as if I was frozen, eyes darting between the crumpled upside down car with it's struggling occupant and the sociopath walking past it casually talking on the phone.

Total sociopath. Didn't the fucker feel an ounce of guilt?

In the back of my mind I made a note about the call to track it at a later date. If I was still alive that is.

The second Shaw's back was to me I felt like I could move again and with every ounce of strength in my body I ran the final few feet towards the vehicle that was just beginning to really burn.

I finally understood a true adrenaline response. I knew how fathers's could lift cars off their children. I knew how mother's instinctively knew where their children were and if they were in trouble. More importantly, I knew what it meant to have your life flash before your eyes. Because, I might not be his; but, Han Lue had been my life since he offered me his hoodie on a chilly night in November of 1998 in downtown Los Angeles for no other reason then I apparently looked cold.

That night was all I could think about as I dropped to my knees next to the broken Mazda and reached in, ignoring the smell of gasoline and growing heat. My eyes met Han's and for once he looked completely vulnerable to me. There was first pain, followed by confusion and then sheer terror as I ripped at the harness holding him into the seat. I remember various times in my life wishing to see this man's stoic countenance shaken and I immediately took it all back. I never want to see this again.

"Trish, get out of here before it blows," he mumbled to me, not seeming to even question my presence.

I ignored him and continued counting seconds down in my head, listening to the sound of gasoline hitting the pavement from the punctured tank.

"Trish! Please go," he choked out, eyes wide and staring at me in a panic which didn't do anything to calm my own nerves. Han Lue does not panic. Ever. It should be a universal rule. "You can't die too."

"And I will not just stand here and let you die you asshole. So, shut up," I snapped, refusing to let my internal hysteria out in my voice. I could just barely make out the sound of a voice screaming Han's name and vaguely wondered why the hell whoever was yelling wasn't over here helping me.

Not to mention where my supposed team was.

Just then the harness snapped and I immediately grabbed Han under his shoulders and pulled hard ignoring the idea of a neck or back injury, and his pained scream, in my desperate need to get him out of the car. I fell backwards onto the pavement from the weight of his body just as I heard the sound, and felt the heat, of the explosion.

The last thought I had before the pain hit and everything went completely black was that I was glad I was with him in the end 'cause I couldn't have survived losing him.

A/N: Well, here we have the prologue. First off, please don't kill me for leaving things very ambiguous. This is the prologue remember. Chapter One will be flashing back quite a few years to really get the story background established. I figure if the filmmakers can screw with us by making us love Han when we know the dude's dead in the long run then I can start my story smack dab in the middle of the action and whet your pallets a little. Speaking of the filmmakers; does anyone else feel a little bit bad for them. They shot all of Tokyo Drift and killed Han...and then had focus groups tell them that he was their favorite character in the movie and everyone was a little 'meh' on Sean (the supposed 'star' of the film - who I always thought came across as a cheap Brian rip off). You know that had to be when they decided to make Tokyo Drift a prequel so they could use Han again. Talk about killing the goose that laid the golden egg.

Oh also, I don't hate Brian's character even a little bit. I actually adore Brian's character. Paul Walker is legit one of my favorite actors - outside of this series even more so. Trish just has, umm, issues? They'll be explained. Everything in life is a matter of perception. One man's trash is another man's treasure and all that.

I haven't decided if the rest of the story will be written in first person POV or not. I usually write in third-person-limited; switching POVs between two or three characters when necessary. In this case I'm fairly certain, even if I stick to third-limited it will only be Trish's POV either way (possibly with some Han throw in at times). The prologue was approached almost as if it was a voice-over that you would see in a movie or tv-show being that the source material for this is a film.

Before anyone jumps on me about the accident/explosion and how it was portrayed here vs. the movie - I asked my two uncles a few questions. One is a firefighter and one is a mechanic/(very) amateur race car driver. They both gave me a more realistic time-frame for the car to be able to burn before it would explode. Realistically the gasoline - being that we saw the fuel tank had been punctured and therefore it wasn't all contained in one tight space - could straight burn for at least two or three minutes before it would fully blow. The mechanic uncle said the 'problem' would be the NOS tanks but depending on where the initial fire was located, and how much NOS was actually in the tanks, the clock on the actual car going up would be extended or shortened. Trish was taking a calculated risk either way; but if someone you loved was in a lethal car crash and you had even thirty seconds to possibly get them you - wouldn't you try?

And I'm done. Subsequent authors notes will not be novel length...Pinky-Promise.
Reviews and constructive criticism are like my own personal batch of cupcakes and are appreciated as such. Flames will be reacted to accordingly.