A/N: This is what happens when I get bored during Macroecon lectures. Let's just say May can't get here soon enough...

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It was more than she'd ever hoped for, to be in his arms again. Crushed, really. Their fronts are so squished together it requires serious effort for her to breath. He seems to realize this, pulls back a little, still keeps his large hands around her upper arms.

"Letty-" he breathes. The emotion in his strangled words make her close her eyes, swallow harshly. He didn't, couldn't know that no one had called her that in a very long time, didn't know the rush of feelings the simple word, the mere vocalization of her name, brought about.

"Hey, tough guy." She whispers back, forcing the side of her mouth into a half-smile she doesn't quite feel. Tries not to think about the warmth of his hands, the magnetic pull of him that made her want to fall into his arms and bury herself. Gravity.

He shakes his head then, slowly. Licks his lips. Nervous? "Not without you." Determined.

She looks down then, at her muddy boots, at his, anywhere but his face. She knows what she'd find in his eyes, written across his expression, just for her. Something she wasn't quite prepared to deal with, not after everything she'd been through. His thumbs brush along her skin soothingly and before she can stop it, the tears slowly slide down her cheek. One hand releases her, brushes them away. It traces from under her eyes, down her cheeks, across her lips and cups her jaw softly.

When it really feels like he's going to kiss her, she shakes her head slowly, tries to pull back. She doesn't have time. His hand quickly returns to her arm, holding her in place.

She stumbles over her words. "You can't-I can't be here…I can't be here with you."

"Yes, you can."

"No, you don't understand." She begins to struggle. "I'm not done yet."

"Done with what?"

She sighs exasperatedly, pressing her lips together before avoiding the question. "You don't understand what is going on, who I am working for."

"Help me understand. Letty, I-I can fix it. I have a team-" He stops, pulls her against him. His hands shake a little, like he really can't believe that she's there in front of him. Alive. Breathing. She rests there for a second until-

Images of her boss. His cold eyes, the cool metal of a revolver against her temple, his calm, deadly threats, all flash through her brain. She shakes her head, desperate. "No, you can't. You can't fix this for me. I have to-"

"I can, baby. I can. Let me help you."

The tears are falling faster now. He didn't understand. That everything she'd been doing the last two years, every job was redemption, every scar was penance. She couldn't be helped, not by him. But she couldn't tell him this, couldn't reveal the secrets she kept, so instead she begs. "Dominic, you can't get involved with this." The name nearly chokes her, she stumbles over it clumsily. Never thought she'd say it aloud again.

"Why not?" He demands, his arms slide around her waist and stop at her lower back. His fingers close around the foreign object there. Her gun. His eyes snap to hers, questioning. There's another around her leg that he wouldn't find, knives tucked away in her boots.

There once was a time she nearly used pepper spray on him for the mere suggestion that she carry it.

Over a decade had passed, though. Their family torn apart, their home destroyed by lies and deception. Burning, overturned cars.

She can't go there. Wiggles her way free of him and backs up quickly, puts her hands up to stop his desperate advance. "I have to go."

"You're outta your fucking mind if you think I'm letting you go now." He nearly growls, his eyes fierce as his fists clench.

It had been days of desperate, possibly futile searching. Across what seemed like half of the continent, following the word of someone he knew he could never trust. And yet, he'd found her. Or, rather, she'd found him.

"You have to." She sobs out, hating herself for the tears and the tightening of her throat, but hating herself even more for the part of her (larger than she'd even admit to herself) that wanted to stay with him, let him sweep her away and clean up the mess she'd leave in her wake. But it didn't work like that. She knew very well how much time she had before she had to return to her boss, and it was dwindling away faster than she'd like.

When he looks like he's about to argue more, she steps right into him, knocks him off balance and drags his face to hers.

Later, she'd tell herself it was all just part of a distraction. But, after over two years of being denied this privilege, of being holed up in Europe while everyone she'd ever loved believed her dead, she allowed herself this moment of selfish indulgence. Of a promise she didn't intend on being able to keep.

I'll come back to you.

She pulls back quickly, brushing her thumb over his ear and licking her lips, backing all the way into her car. He realizes then, a second too late, as the locks click shut and her engine starts.

She's pretty sure he's half a second away from busting in her window when another set of headlights illuminate his face. She uses that moment, his distraction, to her advantage. Slams into reverse, spins, and is under the bridge and speeding away before the other car even slows.

Brian hops out, strides over to him quickly. Follows Dom's eyeline to the taillights, steadily growing smaller and smaller in the night. Takes in his steely, determined expression.

"Who was that?"

He smiles wryly, runs his fingers over his lips slowly. "We have work to do."

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