I don't remember much from that night apart from when we were together.

I know Dom and I had a fight. I don't remember what about, though for a change, it wasn't because I'd caught him with some bitch. No, I remember all of Dom's stupid little indiscretions, even if I wanted so much to forget about them.

Like a lot of our scream fests, this one ended with me walking out.

It was during a race. Left before I could take a run. I know because I felt stupid for leaving without winning…and missing my adrenaline rush for the evening.

That made me foolish.

Restless, craving speed, all hyped up from my fight with Dom, full of energy that had no where to go. Fine recipe for trouble.

I ended up in some bar. Not too far, but far enough that nobody knew me. Not that it mattered. Everyone I knew was at the race.

I don't know how I got there, and I didn't care. I just needed somewhere to go, so I went. Drove around. Saw a place with a bunch of boring cars parked on the outside. Save for this little blue Mustang. Not the good one, but the crappy one, '70s model.

I went in anyway. Because just like everything else, it was the car that drew me in.

There wasn't anything special about the place, though the place seemed respectable. It was clean, for one. A lot of people were playing pool. And though it was pretty dim, I could see the pictures adoring the walls.

It was the time of the night when it was either too late or too early for anything, so there weren't a lot of people on the counter. Some biker dude who was chatting up the bartender. Two big guys in windbreakers complaining about their wives.

Your usual, boring shit.

I leaned on the counter and caught the bartenders attention "Corona!"

He nodded, popped a bottle and poured it into a glass, then slid it down the counter to my hand.

At first I wanted to laugh. I never had a Corona in a glass before, always straight up. And I'd sure as hell never been to a bar where they bothered to slide the beer on a shiny counter top.

Fuckin' Cheers, that place.

Which was why I stayed. No one would come looking for me here. The team wouldn't think twice about this place and Dom…well, Dom and I love to have our own quarter mile between us every time we fight.

I drank through the froth and stared into my drink. Like into it.

My dad, when he got drunk, used to say that if you stared hard enough into your drink, you could see your future. His alcoholic version of reading tea leaves.

Hard to do that from a bottle, but with me bored and with a glass, I thought I'd give it a try.

"Doesn't work you, know"

I looked up and glared at the voice.

A tall, rather wiry young man was sliding in next to me. He gave me quirky smile, then knocked on the counter.

"Hey Gus" he smiled

A glass immediately made its way down to his hand.

"You can stare at it all you want, but I can assure you that tomorrow's news is not gonna show up."

My eyebrows shot up, but then narrowed down again. I wasn't in the mood for some chit-chat, let alone with some cocky ass in a fucking plaid shirt.

"And I thought my father the drunk was being original."

He just smiled. "I think it's an old Irish tale."

I snorted. "Do I fucking look Irish?"

Normally, my attitude would be enough to scare some stupid vato away or have some idiot on the races turned on and spoiling for a fight.

This one just laughed and held out his hand.

"Jim Street."

Dom looked like he wanted to crush a few bones but decided to be polite.

"Dominic Toretto"

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about you."

"And I've heard nothing about you."

I already knew that Dom was going to be an ass, but how he would react is a different thing.

Things have changed in the past six months, and we were different people. Older, certainly wiser, and maybe a bit more jaded and feeling a lot more mortal.

We all looked at things differently now, after Jesse, and I wondered how Dom would look at this.

I could see him contemplating what to do, saw doubt simmering in his dark eyes.

I couldn't hide anything from Dom. Ever. And though I'd held out this long, I knew that this would have eventually come out.

But not like this. I didn't expect this. Not with Jim looking earnest and Dom looking like he wanted to smash his fist on somebody's face.

We all kind of stood there. Me waiting for the ground to open and swallow me whole, Vince and Leon suspiciously looking ahead, Dom scowling and controlling his temper, and Jim just waiting for something to happen. At last, Brian cleared his throat and decided to take control of the situation.

"Now that you've met Dom, I'll introduce you to the rest of the team" Brian put an arm around Mia and pulled her out "This is my girl Mia"

Mia stepped up and shook his hand. "Hello"

"And Leon"

Leon held out a greasy hand that Jim readily shook. "'Sup man."

"And Vince."

Vince didn't move for a while, just looked him up and down, his good arm forming a fist by his side.

He was worse than Dom, maybe because he was hurt more than Dom, in more ways than one.

Jim extended his hand, now grease stained from Leon.

For a minute I thought Vince was going to spit in the ground, instead he extended his right hand. The bad hand, the one with the whip-like scars coiled on his arm, making it shake.

I thought everything was okay, but when Jim tried to pull back, Vince wouldn't let go of his hand.

Vince always had the better senses, and this time was no different.

"Are you a cop?" he asked

My blood froze and I could see Brian stiffen from the corner of my eyes.

Mia and Leon watched nervously from the sides, while Dom looked ready to kill.

But the nuclear blast that I was waiting for didn't appear, as Jim—cocky Jim—just stepped back, and scratched his head.

"Actually, yeah. I'm SWAT."


Author's Notes: If anyone can tell me what car Jim really has in the movie…I would be very grateful. I thought it was a Mustang, but the back is wrong. I'm going nuts here. So if anyone can tell me, please let me know, not just for this fic, but more for the sake of knowing. I'm going out of my mind!!!