Flashback

I woke up to the sound of the surf rolling in.

I could hear people running, dogs barking, kids crying as their mothers reigned them in and birds trying to find their breakfast.

It was the sound of a new day and my body hurts like hell, not from my injuries but from lying down too much.

Today...I decide that it's time to get up.

My feet hit the cold wooden floors and make their way towards the windows, where the blinds are drawn to shield me from the rest of the world.

From in here, it's easy to imagine outside as just another beach in Mexico.

With the hot sun bearing down, tourists walking around, English and Spanish conversations all meshed together as they went up my window.

Where Vince and Leon will be out trying to find some girls, dragging Dom with them and educating Jesse along the way...and Mia...Mia will be downstairs cooking breakfast, something sweet and cold to celebrate our long awaited vacation.

But it's not Mexico...

My side twitches and I lean on a table for support, catching my breath for a few minutes.

Nope, it's not fucking Mexico. My team is not out there and this is not a vacation.

I can either stay here, close my eyes, pretending that everything's okay, or I can crawl out into the kitchen and hope that no one's there to see me looking all pathetic.

I'm finally just won over by an empty stomach, so I limp my way over to the spacey kitchen, hoping for last night's spaghetti.

What I find instead is last nights overworked resident Irish and today's bumbling Celtic zombie.

"Good morning" I grumble, trying to make it the refrigerator

Richard looks up from his paper and stares at me, bug eyed but happy.

"Well good morning, look who decided to get up" he smiles

"I could say the same about you" I mutter, trying to make myself as small as possible

"Sit down, we have pancakes" he says, pointing to the stack in front of him

There's also bacon, some eggs and fruit laid out next to a milk container.

"They must really like you. Best I get when Jim stays over and is a stale can of beer left in my counter."

I give a snort but sink into the chair opposite him. I don't think I can make it as far as fridge.

Richard notices this and starts to get up, and I immediately motion for him to sit back down.

For the past week I've been treated like some shitty ass piece of porcelain, where I have people hovering with concerned faces and fussy questions.

Thank God I can make it on my own to the bathroom.

We just kind of sit there for awhile, eating, before Richard gathers enough maxi to put his paper down and actually ask me a question.

"You okay Letty?"

I shrug. "Yeah. Side still kinda hurts but that shit you gave me really helps."

He gives a nervous nod. I know he's wondering how long I'll keep telling the truth, if I'm still really hurting or it's me turning into a Vicodin junkie.

But he knows I'm not lying, that it still fucking hurts. The dopes good but it's not my thing, and I'm going to tell him that as soon as I don't feel like a deflated air bag.

"Jim's at work and Brian's checking some shit out."

I try not to choke on the last name, but I'm sure my face shows my anger. I feel everything from my neck up burning and a rotten sensation has just crept up my stomach and is making its way to my fists.

"You should talk to them you know, they're worried about you."

"I talk to Jim" I bit back "And I talk to you"

"And Brian?" he asks "He was just doing his job."

I slam my fist on the table top, not caring if it hurts and that it bothers my side. I take a deep breath, count to ten and tell myself to calm down.

To not hit him, that he's just trying to help.

"Look, I don't care what that fucking cop did, or is fucking doing, I don't want to hear about it"

"Uh-huh" he answers "And when are you willing to hear about it? When is it most suitable to your schedule--"

"Shut up" I threaten

"—coz it's been a month Letty, and this is the first time you've actually gotten out of bed without either me or Jim ordering you to."

"It doesn't hurt as much today."

"Well it doesn't seem to hurt when no ones around Letty" he argues "five weeks Letty, when are you going to listen?"

"When I'm fucking ready!" I yell at him then quickly apologize.

Richard doesn't have to do this. He doesn't have to sneak me meds, keep me and two others in his house, or patch me up. He doesn't need three fucking houseguests, one a useless convalescent, trying to interfere in his already hectic life.

"Cut the sorry Letty" he says "I don't mind having you here I'm just reminding you that you've got a life outside of that bed."

I push my plate away, losing my appetite "You make a lousy shrink"

"Which is why I'm a fucking surgeon" he snaps "And I'm not trying to cure you out of a depression Letty, I'm just trying to get you to stop pretending that nothing happened."

I just stare at him, not really wanting to discuss this but not being able to tear my eyes off him.

For the past five weeks, Richard has really taken it upon himself to watch over me. And not because he's my doctor, but because he's become a friend...an annoyingly poised and preppy friend, not the type I usually have, which is why I'm nice to him.

He sighs and looks out the window.

The blinds are open here. I think Brian and Jim didn't expect me to go out today so they kept it open. The beach is actually far from the house and with the one way tint, you can barely see us from outside the house, but they're pretty paranoid.

They're keeping me safe.

"If it were up to Jim, he'd have thrown you in his car and moved back east. But that's just him, there's still you to consider" he says "I'm not being an ass here Letty. I like you. But Jim's a very good friend and I happen to think that Brian is a nice guy. But neither of them is up to knocking some sense into you, so I'm going to do it for them."

I want to ignore what he said, try and block out the words like I've been doing for the past weeks.

But I know he's right...

"You're going to have to move, Letty" he tells me "You can take as long as you like, I don't mind, but you're still going to pick a direction."

Here or there, this way or that, you have to fucking choose Letty...because you're running out of time.

I'm not dumb.

The moment I dialed Jim's cell from that run down motel, I knew it was going to come to this.

But every time I saw Jim, I told myself that I even though I had to make a choice, I didn't have to be now, not yet. It was just easier to sit there in his arms, hearing his voice talking to me, trying my best to answer as the painkillers worked its way through my system.

And I'd close my eyes and be far off, away, drifting in a place where there was no Jim no Dom no heists and even no Letty.

There was just me, and an open road. A straight road. And a car that I drove down the line. As fast as I could, as far as I could. Redlining all the way to nothingness...until the next morning.

Where Richard would be at the hospital, and Jim would be at work, and Brian...Brian would be someplace else, having giving up trying to talk to me. And I'd be free to think, about anything and everything, trying to block out the pain, physical and otherwise, and drowning in whatever kind of comfort I could draw from my IV and my imagination.

But now...now things didn't hurt so much. Richard's taken me off some of my meds, and Jim's starting to ask questions. Real questions. And Brian...he's out somewhere.

He asks about Mia. I don't tell him shit, but he still asks. He loves her, I think. Really loves her. He says he let Dom go, that he's somewhere in Mexico, so Mia's probably in Mexico.

He says he needs Mia. He says he's going to make things right. But I don't know what the hell that means, because I don't really know what's right anymore.

"Letty?"

I snap out of my fugue and look at Richard.

I know I've been in and out lately, but Jim says it's a combination of shock and meds. Richard won't say anything.

Fuck...he's not saying anything.

"Letty?"

Richard's lips don't move, and this time, both of us look up to the entryway in the kitchen.

Brian is standing there, in a suit. He looks tired and his eyes hold so much pain that my heart jumps to my chest.

"Let..." he chokes, trying to get the words out, trying to tell me

Oh God, Dom...

"Fuck it Spilner just tell me" I bark, even if I don't want to hear it, want to run away from the bad news.

"Letty" he says, walking up to me, settling down on his knees, looking in all the world like he's begging for forgiveness

"I'm sorry Letty" he cries

My mind shuts down and I tumble forward as the words leave his mouth in one breath.

"Jesse's dead."

Present

I hear the door slam and the scuffle of feet, sounding a lot like mice running around the ceiling.

Mia and I have been home for a couple of hours.

It took us five rounds of ice cream in order to finish my story. I think the sugar high carried her through, because she smiled and hugged me after, but told me she needed a bath as soon we got home.

She's still in there.

I threw up most of what I ate. Brushed my teeth. Changed clothes.

But as soon as I got in mine and Dom's room, I knew I couldn't stay there.

So I went back here. Lay down in Jesse's small bed. Staring at the Heavy Metal magazine posters and the action figures. The model cars. His sticker filled Powerbook.

Staring so much that I can still see it now, in the dark. There's no light here. No window.

I have no idea what time it is. Jesse doesn't have a clock in here, but that's okay. I don't really care.

I'm half asleep when the light suddenly comes on.

I sit up, blinking, the soft lighting still hurting my sensitized eyes.

"Letty?"

My eyes adjust and I nod towards the door.

"Hey Leon" I greet him. I try to manage a smile, but it comes out as a grimace.

He doesn't come in, just...hovers by the door, looking at his shoes.

Things haven't been the same between us since he dropped me off at the motel.

I think he feels guilty. I know Dom gave him a hard time when he and Vince arrived in Mexico and I wasn't there. I also know Dom would come back to get me, which was why I told Leon to stop him.

Do anything, I remember telling Leon. Drug him, tie him up, lock him in a room, anything to keep him from risking all of them by going back. In exchange, I promised Leon I'd follow them in a few weeks. A month tops.

He wasn't very happy with me when I showed up at the house in Baja six months later. Even when I told them that I'd been injured, and that their names were cleared and we could all go home, back to our own lives, he couldn't—wouldn't—look at me straight.

Brian was already there, but we'd already agreed that we wouldn't tell them about the plan.

Only that he'd had a friend check on me before he left. The same friend who told him where they were, the same friend who told them I was fine and recuperating.

I was alive. I would come back.

But Jesse was dead. And I was late. Five months late. And Dom was a basket case, and Vince needed therapy for his arm. And Mia and Brian were trying hard not to be so annoyingly happy.

Brian told me that Leon blamed himself, more than Dom blamed him.

So he was angry for a long time with me, still is in a way. And now that the truth is out...

"I didn't know you were here" he says, still not looking at me "I was just going to get a bunch of stuff"

I stood up, moving to one side of the bed, not knowing how to handle the situation.

I know Vince is with Dom, he always was. No matter what Dom did, Vince would always take his side. So would Jesse.

But Leon...Leon didn't take sides. He was the peacemaker in the group, balancing Mia's reconciliatory efforts whenever some member of the team pissed each other off.

"You can come in" I told him, watching as he took a few steps towards the dresser, then just...stopped.

For a moment I thought he wanted me to leave, and I was about to. Was almost to the door when his question stopped me.

"Did he suffer?"

"What?"

"Jesse" he asked, turning to face me "Did he suffer?"

"I..." I swallow, my throat suddenly dry "I don't know. I never got a chance to visit him at the hospital."

Leon's still not looking at me. He's just fidgeting, playing with his fingers, trying hard not to cry as tries to ask me the difficult questions.

"Brian, he said he was in a coma for weeks before he died. Hooked up to ventilators and shit."

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded. I didn't get to visit Jesse those few weeks. First I was too sick, then I was just...too fucked up.

I thought...I thought Jesse was with them. That he was okay.

I never knew he got shot. I never listened to Brian...

"Said he didn't suffer, that it was all painless shit. Said he hung on for a while, probably waited for us" he went on explaining "Brian said you were really sick, that's why you couldn't go see him. Busted your ribs and punctured your lung."

"Yeah" I answer, embarrassed and ashamed at the same time.

I should have tried harder...

"Jesse...he didn't die alone. And I'm glad for that, even if it was O'Connor that was with him" Leon went on "I wish...I wish I was there with him. I always wondered what happened after...after Mia left him at the hospital, after Dom came to get her."

"Did he wake up? Look for us?" he confessed "At first I thought he was with you, then Brian showed up, told us the news."

He looked up at me then, his eyes like steel, cold and hard as they met mine.

Leon's never looked at that, ever. And it hurts that I'm the one that put it there.

"When he said that, we thought you were dead too. I mean, that's gotta be the only reason why hadn't shown up, right? Especially when you told me you'd be up in a month." he says "Then he said you got into some serious shit, that you nearly died in the car, punctured your ribs, then had some internal bleeding. But that you were okay, that he had a friend who checked up on you, who said you were doing fine. Banged up, but getting better."

"Leon--"

"Six months, Letty. Dom waited for you for a whole month, nearly went catatonic when you still hadn't arrived a week after you were due. We were all fucking nuts until O'Connor came knocking on our door with the fucking news. Two fucking months later."

"Leon--"

"I thought I killed you" he bites back, voice level and dead serious "I had a feeling that something was wrong, that I shouldn't have listened to you and went ahead with my plan to take you to a doctor across the border."

"It's not your fault, Leon!"

"Damn right it's not!" he shouts "Six fucking months Letty, you could have called us! Instead I find out that you've been screwing--"

This time I think I really did sprain my wrist.

"Damn, I'm doing more and more of this shit" I groan, holding my hand

The slap doesn't even faze Leon, who's standing there, trembling in anger.

"You took care of Jesse that I'm grateful for. Brian said you took a risk making the funeral arrangements yourself, but I kind of expected that anyway." he says calmly "I don't hate you Letty, I'm just...fucking angry. Vince, he hates you right now. Says he can't fucking trust you...but the dawgs just for show. He's angry too, and we have a fucking right to be."

I feel like shit right now. Fuck, I feel worse than shit. But Leon's face softens up when he sees just how upset I am over this.

Never say that he guy wasn't sensitive.

"This shit with Street, it's between you and Dom. I ain't gonna interfere. What you did ain't right, but you've put up with worse with Dom. You both fucking cheated and that's yo business, not the teams. I'm sure you have your reasons, but I don't wanna hear it. Just...fix this shit Letty. You and Dom. Coz what I saw today at the garage...the man's fucked up. So you gotta do something about this, before it fucking kills all of us."