"Nice job." Dom took the bags from her the moment the cargo bay doors slid open. I knew you could do it. "You alright, Letty?"

"I'm good." She patted him on the shoulder. Shaw was somewhere far behind her, staring at the destruction rained on the interior during Marcus's rescue. Elizabeth had tossed the other bag at her in the hallway, said something about the office door being left open and 'thanks for the help'. "Ramsey, Tej, you're up!"

"Man, I've been waiting to get ahold of this shit." Tej rubbed his hands together as he ascended the ramp, gawking at the stacks of servers on the far left. "Damn, we're going to need a trolley to get all this offloaded."

"Who said anything about disconnecting it?" Ramsey shook her head in disbelief. It would take hours to label, remove and reassemble everything in a SCIF room. That was more time than they could afford to waste. "Leave it where it is. There could be a power surge if we trip something."

"Good point." For all they knew, Cipher had some kind of failsafe programmed or wired into her equipment. Better safe than sorry. "Where do you wanna start?"

"Dom said she had an office?"

He nodded and gestured over his shoulder. Dom had memorised every inch of the plane's layout before tracking down Deckard's mother and meeting her in the pub. "Go past the couches and keep on going till you reach the last hallway. There'll be a corner door on the right-hand side, but it's—"

"Shaw already hotwired it," Letty said. "It's open."

What Elizabeth had failed to mention to Letty was the bedroom had been stripped clean. No weapons, no clothes, no sheets. Everything that might have had trace evidence on it was gone. Damn it. She stepped carefully, avoiding the shattered glass spread over the carpet and the tipped-over lounge chairs. What a mess. Her eyes ghosted over the blood stains, the bullet holes — Elizabeth didn't want to know the details of what her brothers had done.

The office had also been cleaned out too. The servers in the cabinet behind Cipher's desk were still there, her computer too, but the spare clothes stashed in a wardrobe had been removed along with the leather chairs. After checking over the room, she cut a hole in the wall and killed the door's motor.

"It's down here," Toretto's voice carried down the corridor. Footsteps overlayed footsteps, and soon enough, Dom and Letty passed Elizabeth with Tej and Ramsey in tow. "And there's another room back that way," he gestured. "It was where they congregated during jobs."

Elizabeth hurried toward the open cargo bay, keeping her eyes focused on what was ahead of her. If she looked at the floor, noticed the slight red streaks on the soles of her boots, Beth was pretty sure she'd throw up then and there. Don't look. Don't think about it. Someone just spilled a ton of wine.

The moment her feet hit metal, she rushed through the bay, down the ramp, past Hobbs and Deckard, and ducked outside.

"Wh—" The faint sound of dry retching reached Luke's ears. Well that answered that question. "Now we just need to find that truck," he said to himself. That presumed it existed. For all Hobbs knew, Elizabeth had lied through her teeth. "And lock her up permanently."

"You think they'll break it?" Deckard looked towards Hobbs. He didn't doubt Ramsey's skills, or Parker's. It was less a question of ability than time, and how long they could devote to decryption before they moved onto Hobbs' next winning strategy. "It's not like she's got a quantum computer in that bag."

"You're the IT guy," Luke said. "You tell me."

"That was nearly two years ago. Move on."

"You almost killed Elena."

"And I've said I'm sorry for that. She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Neves was a nice woman. Hobbs wasn't. It didn't take a mathematical genius to figure that out. Deckard pivoted on his boots and left Hobbs to deal with the rest. His car was parked outside and the longer Elizabeth was out there alone, the likelier it was she'd—

A shit-eating grin spread across his face as Hobbs' Gurkha was slowly reversed away from the group of cars. The low rumble of the engine could be heard from the hangar doorway, perhaps even further in. From where Deckard stood, he could just make out Elizabeth in the driver's seat through the tinted windows. At least it wasn't his car, he thought. She and Hattie had generally always respected the sovereignty of his cars, but Owen's was fair game more often than not.

Beth stuck her arm out the window and gave him a thumbs up. Deckard nodded and waved back, waiting till the window was wound up and the Gurkha a good hundred metres away before turning to look at Luke.

"You didn't leave your keys in the ignition, did you, Hobbs?"

"Why? What'd you do, Shaw?"

"Three klicks east, right?" At a casual pace, that had to be a solid forty minute walk with Hobbs' stride. "See you when you get back."

"Goddamn it, Deckard, what did you—" Luke walked outside to the cluster of cars. His own was noticeably absent. Shit. "Where did you move it, you sneaky sumbitch?"

"If I were you, I'd think about doing a headcount before making any accusations."

A headcount? The Torettos, Ramsey and Tej were inside the plane. Little Nobody was sitting against the crane. Rome and himself had been standing inside the hangar with—

One of these Shaws is not like the other. "Your goddamn sister better hand over those keys before I toss her ass in a cell."

"Guess I'll leave you to it then." Deckard slid inside his black McLaren and immediately locked the doors. The last thing he needed was Hobbs scratching the paint job or ruining the interior. "Enjoy the walk!"

Luke grit his teeth. Walk? Oh there'd be no walking involved. He'd hunted Elizabeth down once before and he'd do it again. At a run, Luke estimated it'd take less than twenty minutes to get back. He'd be pushing himself but it wasn't impossible. That woman had taken his car and his gear inside it. "Reisner, I'll meet you back at the warehouse!"

"Okay!"

"Yo, Dom, we're gonna be here all night. This encryption is . . ."

"The password is thirteen characters long and Cipher wrote it down on a post-it note." Ramsey laughed, holding the yellow note up above her head. "Tej, try this. It was on the inside of the cupboard door. An expert hacker and she couldn't remember a password that short?"

A post-it note in plain sight? "I thought they cleared everything out." Letty frowned. "How'd they miss that?"

"I don't know and I don't care. If that works—" Tej read the password aloud as he typed. He pressed the enter key, watched the screen turn black . . . and clapped his hands together as the desktop loaded. "Oh shit. I think we're in."

"Say that again?"

"We're in, baby!" Tej slapped the desk and sidestepped so Ramsey could stand besides him. "Alright, Hobbs said we were looking for a truck, right? Then she has to have some kind of GPS software installed on here. Maybe if we're lucky, the last known location will still be logged."

"This could take a while, guys," Ramsey said. "We'll yell out when it's done."

"Okay." Letty tugged Dom out of the office and down the hallway. The idea that the Feds had somehow missed something didn't sit right with Letty, but neither did the idea of hiding the truth from the team. Not that it was hers to tell in the first place. "Since we've got some time to fill, I was thinking we could talk."

Talk? Why not? They could do that anywhere, at any time. Being onboard the plane made his skin crawl but Dom wasn't about to run off because of it. He let her lift his arm and wrap it around her shoulders as Letty guided him towards the cargo hold. "What's up?"

"How would you" Letty began, walking by his side, hand clutching Dom's wrist, "feel about expanding our family?"

"You want to invite the Shaws around for a barbeque?"

"No, I'm being serious, Dom," she laughed. As funny as it would be to watch them flounder at the prospect of saying grace, no. "I thought it was about time we asked the question. Brian and Mia have Jack and Sophie, and we have shared custody of Marcus."

So long as Dom didn't assume she was pregnant, there was no harm in talking it over. She didn't have a clue where the nearest drug store was, but it was easy enough to drive back to the coast. Sooner or later she was going to have to face up to reality and buy a test. There just wasn't any sense in getting Dom's and her own hopes up if it was a case of stress or early onset menopause.

"Which question would that be?"

He was really going to make her come out and say it, wasn't he? Letty looked up and smiled at him, catching her reflection in his eyes. The faded scar above his lip was still there too, from when she'd split it open when he was eighteen and dumb. "What if we decided that every other weekend wasn't enough?"

"Elena—" Dom couldn't rip Marcus away from her. He hated not being able to live in the same house as his son but there wasn't a chance in hell he would ever willingly march into a courtroom and demand sole custody. "I couldn't do that to her, Letty."

"Can I finish?"

Was she about to suggest they buy a larger property and move out of Los Angeles?

"What if we wanted more than one Marcus running around?"

His eyes widened in realisation. More than one Marcus? Letty wanted to settle down? Had this come by way of some discussion between herself and Elena, or Letty and his sister? "I don't think it's really the right time to start thinking about kids when—"

"There's never going to be a right time, Dom." She stopped and tugged him close, slid her hands up along the length of his chest and cupped the back of his neck. Dom's skin was warm, smooth under her fingers. Letty had missed having her hands on him, him lifting her up and carrying her into the garage. She especially missed Dom on his knees, staring up at her as if pleading for Letty to take her sunglasses off, her cargos, and look him in the eyes. "If it's ever gonna happen, it'll be when we make it happen."

"Where's all this coming from, Letty?" he asked. Had something changed? Was she — No, that was crazy. They used protection every time. Letty herself was still on birth control too. There was no chance she was pregnant. They'd talked about it over the years but the question hadn't come up, and then suddenly he'd thought she was gone for good.

All Dom's ideas and plans had turned into what ifs and maybes.

"I just got to thinking," Letty said. It wasn't a total lie. She had been thinking. A lot. Wondering if she was ready to be a full-time mom. Asking herself how she would cope with the physical changes, the hormones and doctors appointments. "We lost each other for all those years and I guess I've been imagining what it would've been like if things played out differently."

"Me? I wouldn't change what happened." Dom seized her by the thighs and lifted her, leaned back against the plane wall. The way her eyes lit up, the smile on her face, made him light up too. He wanted to kiss her right then and there, carry her to their motel room and show her just how differently things might have 'played out'. "Losing you tore me apart, Letty, but I'm stronger for it now. I went through hell and you were still there in the end."

She ducked her head under the running shower and rested her forehead against the cold tiles, depressing the soap pump furiously. Elizabeth scrubbed her hands together and lathered herself up from forehead to toes. The acrid taste of bile still lingered in her mouth while the acid stung her throat. Her stomach ached and spasmed as if she were still bent over the toilet but Beth grit her teeth, ignoring the sharp pain that stabbed through her abdomen as best she could.

Her boots were in a bin beneath the sink, red flakes and streaks clinging to the outer soles. Blood on her shoes. On her hands. Spatter on her face; her ex on the bed, lifeless. She squeezed her eyes shut and punched the tiled wall, whimpered into her chest at the sudden burst of pain. The image in her head cleared instantly, leaving only the cold sensation of reality. Jesus. I need to get the hell out of here. Let Deckard deal with the mess he made.

Elizabeth turned around, slumped back against the wall and slid down till she felt the cold shower floor beneath her. This wasn't her mess to clean up. None of this had anything to do with her. If only she'd stood there with Magdalene instead of getting involved, turned a blind eye to whatever shit her brothers were neck-deep in. Deckard and Owen could more than handle themselves but still she tried to protect them. Idiot, she berated herself. Every damn time they get you.

"Shaw!" Hobbs' voice came from somewhere outside. The shower and closed door muffled his words. "Goddamn it, woman, all you had to do was ask."

It always came down to her brothers. It was never Hattie, was it? Hattie didn't go on rampages in tanks or trash a hospital. No, she was the good sibling among them. The one who'd learned what not to do from the insanity that'd surrounded her. Or so Beth thought. That whole ETEON incident painted their sister in a new light: only Hattie would choose to infect herself with a bioweapon instead of letting it be stolen.

You went and signed up for it. She scrubbed herself clean till her skin was raw and the soap pump empty, hot water streaming down her body, washing away any traces that might've been on her. There's still a job to finish. Walk away now and you'll never see a pound.

"Shaw, what the hell—" Luke stepped into the bathroom and looked toward the corner shower cubicle. Clothes were folded over the top of the door and the foot-high gap at the base of it showed a set of knees. Shit. He looked away before his eyes could slide upwards, busying himself with opening the closet to his left and fetching a fresh towel. That solved that mystery. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "You wanna leave some hot water for the rest of us?"

Hobbs?! Elizabeth's head hit the tap as she scrambled to her feet. "Shit!" What the hell was he doing coming in without knocking? She winced, rubbing her scalp with one hand while she turned the shower off with her other.

". . . Would you like a towel?"

"Otvali!" Get out!

"I don't speak Russian."

Perhaps he could go learn some then. "What the fuck are you doing in here?!"

"You stole my car, woman."

Oh come on! She'd left it outside, undamaged. Elizabeth pulled her bra off a hook on the back of the door and quickly slipped it on. She dressed as fast as she could — stuffed her socks in her pockets — and wiped her hands over her face. Elizabeth put her hair up and left it to drip water down her back.

"Next time, don't leave the keys in the ignition." She unlocked the shower door and stepped out of the cubicle. Eyes on the floor, she waddled towards the bathroom door, careful not to lose her footing. Stole his car? She'd borrowed it in an emergency. Although she considered it more along the lines of commandeering when compared to theft, regardless of the badge that was noticeably absent from her pants. "Puta madré."

"I think you're missing a pair of shoes."

Fist clenched around the handle, she looked back over her shoulder at him. Damn it, don't fall apart now. "They're in the garbage. There was—" She swallowed and shifted her gaze away from Hobbs. Elizabeth pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway, water running down her shirt and neck in rivulets. "They didn't clean the carpets."

It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about. The blood. He hadn't paid much attention to it himself. Once you saw enough of it, grew desensitised to it, red became just another colour in the room. That Luke could look at a crime scene and not flinch said more about him and the issues that arose from his work as a federal agent, he supposed, than it did anyone who wasn't a fed.

The haunted look in Shaw's eyes was what did him in. Elizabeth glanced at him one last time before disappearing out into the hallway, dripping water with every step. Luke shook his head and shoved the towel back in the closet. He heard the clink of mugs in the kitchen and would've left her to it if not for what she'd said. Hobbs fetched her shoes from the trash can, wiped them clean, and left them by the shower cubicle.

"I thought I was past this," she muttered to herself, not looking up from the electric kettle. Guess that's what the doc meant by a 'trigger'. Using a bread knife from the cutlery drawer, she cracked open a tin of instant coffee and measured out a heap of grounds with the blade. Hot cocoa and sugar quickly followed it. A creak came from the hallway so Elizabeth asked, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black and bitter."

"Uh-huh." Elizabeth fetched a large mug from the cupboard and slid it across the countertop. "You can make your own," she said, proceeding to read the large black writing on the side of it aloud, "Finest ass in America."

"Is that sarcasm or are you trying to be nice to me?"

The printed design on her own was a smattering of love hearts that surrounded the words 'I love my valentine'. Once the kettle clicked off, she filled her mug two thirds of the way, added milk and zapped it in the microwave. "Don't flatter yourself."

Hobbs did indeed make his own and sat at the table in the centre of the kitchen. Shaw sat herself at the opposite end, stirring her mocha idly. Not a word was said between them till Luke fetched a plate from the fridge, microwaved it, and set it down on the table. On it were two croissants. "Pastry for my valentine?"

"Sure." She leaned across the table and took both, much to Luke's annoyance. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. Elizabeth took a large bite out of one and set the other atop her mug. "Oh, I'm sorry, was that rude of me?"

"I'd say a little. Yeah."

"Well so is walking into a bathroom without knocking when a woman's showering. Clearly for all the diplomatic security training they had you do, learning manners was never a part of it."

"Y'know, I don't know how any of the lovely ladies at that brothel put up with such a crass, uncouth woman like yourself."

She finished her mocha in silence, glaring at him over the top of her mug. Elizabeth washed and dried it, returned it to the cupboard and walked out of the mezzanine. As she descended the stairs, a thunderous roar came from overhead and the building began to shake. "What the hell is—"

Hobbs came flying out of the kitchen and rushed past her. "That'll be the rest of the cars."

And my wardrobe. Elizabeth took the stairs two at a time, clinging to the railing as she went. Once her feet touched the concrete floor, she sprinted across the warehouse, dodging Hobbs on her way to the hydraulic lift. The Marussias too. Finally!