A/N: Baby Toretto will be referred to by his middle name: Marcus. Little Nobody will be referred to mostly by his non-canon name: Eric Reisner, and Mrs. Shaw by her non-canon name: Magdalene. There'll be a mix of US/UK/etc terminology throughout the fic.
Los Angeles. Present day.
"Say 'hi, Papa'," Elena said, waving Marcus' hand gently. She'd sat him on her hip till he finally stopped fussing and decided he liked the view. With Dom back from a trip to Greece, she'd taken it upon herself to give him every chance to spend quality time with his son. So far, Marcus was loving it.
Already just weeks short of properly walking without assistance, Marcus was getting into all kinds of mischief. He'd climbed his way into a kitchen cupboard without Mia noticing and closed it on himself, leaving them in a panic till Brian pointed out the pant leg hanging beneath the door.
Dom's chest swelled at the sight of him. Though it'd been less than two days since they last saw each other, Dom swore he'd grown half an inch and gained three pounds. Parading his son around on his shoulders would have to wait till later once Brian and Mia arrived with Jack and Sophie. "Hey, Marcus, you wanna come watch Daddy and Letty fix his car?"
"Papa!" Marcus stretched his arms out, straining as if to jump between their arms. Elena lifted him forward and Dom swept him up, allowing Marcus to start tugging on Dom's silver crucifix necklace. "Papa, car!"
There was no way to ever truly make up for lost time, but seeing Dom like this eased her fears; and seeing Letty with Marcus was even more reassuring. Elena slid a blue bag off her shoulder and handed it to Dom as well. "Hobbs has taken another trip down south, and I've got to cover his shift. Can you look after him for the weekend?"
"Elena, he's our son. I didn't let either of you die on that plane and I won't let any harm come to the both of you now." Dom squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and smiled, even as Marcus decided to start poking him in the side of the neck. Seeing her in Cipher's photo, her clutching Marcus while Rhodes stood to the side with a gun to her head, had angered him at first. It wasn't just the threat to her life, or the threat to the baby; nor was it Cipher's gall to walk up to him and blackmail him into betraying his family. Elena had fallen pregnant and never told him, but after the first few days of playing the events of the past few years over in his head and wondering how all of this happened, he calmed down. Letty had returned to his life so suddenly, ending the hollow pain he'd been feeling, and Elena had walked away without so much as hearing a thank you from him.
A thank you for being there, for being the first person in a long time to completely understand his pain; for giving him someone to talk to who shared the unfortunate experience of losing the most important person in their world; and for not trying to force him into being someone he wasn't. Her words still echoed in his mind sometimes, and God help him, Dom wished he could've returned the favour. If that was my husband, Elena had said that morning, staring at the photo of Letty, if there was a chance.
"I packed plenty of diapers, formula," Elena said, gesturing to the bag, "he's been getting diaper rash lately, so his legs might still be sore."
He nodded and switched Marcus to his left arm then stepped forward and hugged her. "Promise me you won't go jumping out of any buildings today. Hey, Letty, guess who's helping build the car!"
Elena waved as Letty walked out of the garage. Things had begun as awkward between them when Letty first watched her and Marcus with Dom, till they talked it out. She'd been officially dead for months and Dom was alone, still grappling with how to survive now that his heart's burning flame was extinguished. It didn't take an idiot to see Dom was better for the experiences, regardless of how strange Letty felt being around Dom when Elena and Marcus were also.
"How's he been at night?" Letty said, grabbing a tyre off the stack. Hair tied back in a bun and gloves still on, she looked every part the badass mechanic momma she'd begun to feel like. With Brian and Mia running the cafe, their life was stabilising once more. "Last week he wouldn't settle at night."
"He's started teething again, so he's grumpy come the afternoons." Elena waved to Marcus and said her goodbyes before heading for her car parked out front. She'd left a note in the bag for Dom, telling him exactly where Hobbs had gone in case things went south. Everybody at the DSS loved to act as if he could cover his own ass without issue on hunts, but she knew better than most. Losing his team in Brazil had left Luke vulnerable, and Hicks' following betrayal had only buried a protective instinct to mistrust further inside him. Whatever happened, Elena hoped Dom would have his back when the storm began again.
"And I'm telling you, you can't sell woof tickets to people with experience, kid," Luke said. He closed his eyes and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, trying to rid himself of the sticky feeling. A dark stain had already formed along the front of his tank and over his ribs. The humidity he could deal with, being stuck in a car with Eric on the other hand was starting to try his patience. "You don't walk up to someone in a prison and play ball like that, or have you forgotten the last time you tried that tactic?"
He hadn't forgotten being planked against a brick wall, he merely chose not to bring it up. Hobbs had six inches and about ninety pounds on him — it was somewhat unfair to compare that mildly traumatising experience to this venture. Little Nobody crossed his arms and stared out the front windshield as they followed the highway down towards the western landing point. The ferry would be waiting for them at the docks, and from there they'd make their way across the bay. "My bargaining chip is going to work, Hobbs. Give me twenty minutes and we'll be on our way."
"This is gonna be embarrassing. Fine, twenty minutes, then I go in."
"One question," Mr. Nobody spoke up from the front passenger seat. "Did you call to confirm your target is still down there, Eric?"
Luke said nothing. He'd made a call weeks ago and learnt of a lawyer's intervention two and a half years ago. According to Ramsey, the target now lived somewhere in Santa Clara.
"It's Gitmo, the most secure prison in the world," Little Nobody said, gesturing to the distant bay. At least I think it is. God, I screwed up bad. "You can't escape from there, it's an island surrounded by water."
"So was Alcatraz, but you can walk out of there if you have connections and a lawyer." Luke stretched his arms out and smiled to himself. If 'Little Nobody' didn't start thinking ahead, that fresh baby shit smell was going to linger for a while. "Might wanna call for a plane, Junior, or would you prefer a three hundred and forty mile drive?"
"You planned this, didn't you?"
"Oh don't get your panties in a knot," Mr. Nobody said, glancing over his shoulder. The look on Eric's face said he wasn't impressed, and the smirk on Luke's said their wake-up call had worked like a charm. It'd been nothing shot of a miracle Eric realised there were no rules come New York. "I told you we wouldn't be taking our time. A plane will be ready and waiting once we cross the bay. We'll be landing at a private airfield in Santa Clara; you'll have your chance then, kid."
He sat up and focused on the folder wedged between the gearstick and Mr. Nobody's seat. It'd been sitting there the entire trip, staring him in the face. Knowing what his boss's attitude was towards privacy, Eric had left it alone. Now he wondered if that was the file on their target, or simply another red herring. "Santa Clara? The target stayed in Cuba?"
Hobbs shook his head in disbelief. Why had Nobody entertained this kid for so long? He was clearly out of his depth yet insisted he had a single clue as to how life played out. His stupidity had nearly gotten them killed last time. Rushing headfirst into a fight with Toretto, Luke had almost smacked him upside the head afterwards for screwing up and opening that exit. "Do you even know who we came here to pick up?"
"Mr. Nobody said get in the car, I got in the car. He said bring your best sales pitch, I brought it. Who's the target?"
"The usual criminal type." Luke snatched up the file and dumped it in Eric's lap. Having to work with goddamn newbies after all these years made him wish he'd just taken Toretto down that day in Brazil, wrench or no wrench, and gotten out with his own team alive. If Fusco, Wilkes, Mac, and Chato, had been here, he would've already had his target in cuffs again and been having tea and crumpets in celebration.
Reisner didn't talk to him for the rest of the trip, allowing Luke a comfortable silence. He watched Eric's face transition from curiosity to concern then outright unease and worry as he read the file in the car. Each time he flicked back to the first page, Luke heard him mutter something that sounded like 'this wasn't in his file.'
No, it wasn't. He'd dug through all those files looking for Owen Shaw the first time, only coming across a small note from the late eighties by chance. It'd been shoved in with a pile of loose papers down the bottom, easy to miss if you weren't willing to individually read each sheet. After checking the holes, Luke found the police report it belonged to.
Filed only as a complaint with no charges laid, it detailed how Nikolai Dmitrovich — the owner of a corner shop near the Shaw family's council estate home — had suffered a spate of small thefts. Mostly just food off the shelf, a camera; nothing worth much, till the thieves decided to up their game. The last straw for Dmitrovich was the cash register itself at midnight, albeit with an empty tray.
The note itself read: DI Hedgeway translated for the sister after she claimed she didn't speak English. Owen denied they're related and called her the whore's child. She says he's been getting involved with the St. Thomas gang.
"How'd we miss this?" Eric said, stepping from the car with his nose still in the file. He glanced up to align himself with Nobody's footsteps and kept walking in the direction of the plane that awaited them. "I did my research: Deckard Shaw's military file lists a deceased father, unknown mother, and a brother. Owen's reflects that."
"Read it again, you'll find your answer." Luke took the flight stairs two at a time and proceeded to quickly find a seat by the window. He'd dropped her off that day without a word, leaving it to Chato to walk her into the facility. How the lawyer had figured out where she was was anyone's guess, but sure enough one of Chato's buddies said a woman turned up one day, made a phone call while standing in the entrance foyer, and Shaw was released within half an hour.
"I've read it twice, Hobbs."
"She's not on government documents because she wasn't born in the UK, kid," Mr. Nobody said, ending Hobbs' guessing game. For all Eric's improvements over the past few months, he still had a few things to learn that'd only come with experience and time. "God's Eye and Toretto are the best chance we have of taking the Shaws and Cipher down."
Luke feigned disinterest as Mr. Nobody went into the details of the planned op. Deckard had chosen to go completely underground, along with Owen. A deal had been struck and so far it was being kept to, aside from their monitoring of the Shaws. Luke couldn't help but feel that screwing Deckard over now would only go against them if his services were required for Cipher's removal from the planet. The longer it took to find her, the more certain he became that Deckard would be that necessary of evils.
"Everything alright, love?"
She glanced over her shoulder then went back to focusing on beating the egg whites. Her right bicep and shoulder ached from the constant circular motion but Elizabeth persisted, choosing to vent through food rather than punch a wall. No, everything wasn't alright; hadn't the old woman noticed the growing pile of baked goods taking over her dining table? There were plates of blini, chak-chak, warm granola bars, bowls of dips, among other things, and now she was in the midst of finishing the zapekanka batter before the cake went in the oven.
"I can still feel my fucking stomach dropping."
One minute she was in South America sleeping with a book on her face, the next there were men in suits hauling her out of bed and throwing her bags at her. She was scheduled to fly to England, they said, at the behest of one Magdalene Shaw. She hadn't heard that name in over seventeen years. Not the type to reject such a . . . well phrased invitation for tea, Elizabeth went with them. The plane ride itself could be summed up as one thing: a hellish nightmare.
"Have a blini," Magdalene said, picking one up and dipping it in a chives and sour cream mix. She'd offered to break out her own biceps, or an electric beater, but Elizabeth refused and said her whisking ability was great. Her folding technique, Magdalene noted to much inner amusement, needed improving. "Your mum teach you to cook?"
"No, a nice old lady named Marya. Mum —" she tipped the batter into the greased and crumb-lined pan, evened it out, and shoved it in the oven "— Mum died the week Dad flew me here. He never told you?"
"I didn't want to know," Magdalene said. She'd called her sons twice, telling them to get their arses over there and be quick about it. The sooner they arrived, the sooner she could get down to business. "Would've killed him that night if he hadn't said you was only six. It's what I got for thinking he'd be capable of keeping his pants on after the first time."
"You wanna tell me why I'm here? I never had nothing to do with you or them after I moved back home. Didn't want to." Till Deckard called out of the blue and told her about Cipher, convinced her to try and be a 'good sister' and protect Owen; because that always turned out really well. "Still don't."
"They're your brothers, Lizzy, you ain't got much of a choice, and this family takes care of its own."
She snorted and muttered 'course they do', earning a whack to the shoulder with a solid wooden spoon. Elizabeth ignored the momentary pain, along with the kiss on the cheek that followed. What, did she just expect them to see each other and play happy family? Smile and pose for the Christmas photo that'd wind up on the mantle place.
Magdalene patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and said, "I'm glad you're here, sweetheart. Makes it feel like we're all living together again."
Your goons put a gun to my face and forced me out of my home, she thought, stacking the dirty bowls in the sink and washing her hands before she walked out to the living room. Ain't got much of a choice is right.
The doorbell rang a few minutes later but she ignored it, opting to sit on the couch cross-legged and rest her head on the arm of it. She could still feel the nausea creeping up on her, the stomach acid stinging her throat serving as a reminder there was a completely valid reason her feet usually remained on the ground. "Mags, who is it?"
"Just me." He walked into the living room and dropped down on the couch next to her. Hair cut short back and sides as was military standard, he looked every bit the soldier she imagined he'd once been. His eyes betrayed nothing, not even the surprise he felt at seeing his sister. "It's nice to see you, I guess."
"Sod off, Owen."
"You on your —"
Before he could finish his sentence, she punched him in the arm and got to her feet. "Act your age, not your shoe size. Where's Deckard?"
"He's on his way."
Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief and immediately retreated to the kitchen. Deckard would be in his old role of peace keeper for as long as it took their mother to cut to the chase and stop messing about. Whatever the true reason for their gathering, it'd be down to her eldest brother once more to stop them from killing each other. As nice as it probably was for Magdalene, she had no interest in being part of some bullshit happy family illusion.