Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no money off the Fast & Furious franchise. It is owned by Universal Pictures and various other parties. See prologue for full disclaimer.

December 1998

The next month passed incredibly quickly for Trish. She was either in class, doing work for class, using what she was learning to slowly build a better computer then her own store bought PC or at work at the coffee-shop.

Except for Sunday's. After finding that note in Han's hoodie Sunday had quickly become her favorite day of the week.

That first afternoon had been uncomfortably awkward; she showed up at the fairly empty bar and got the usual eye roll from the bartender. He had seemed ready to drag her out himself until she decided to take the note's advice and told him she knew Han Lue.

Apparently, her mysterious benefactor had some real pull because almost immediately the bartenders expression had changed. Instead of looking at her like he was waiting for the punchline to a bad joke after she simply asked about the 1pm game; he was eying her much more carefully.

She had dressed very carefully that first day; ripped jeans, a band t-shirt and a vintage blazer with a pair of cowboy boots. She knew she looked younger then she was; but she was trying as hard as possible to minimize the effect. Hopefully, if she looked less like she came out of one of the poorest towns in California and more like she was trying look 'trendy' and lose Daddy's money they would be more willing to let her play.

She really hadn't expected using Han's name to actually work. Because it certainly hadn't been her clothing choices that had gotten her whisked downstairs into the basement. Not when she had found herself sitting with a mix of men and, surprisingly, women who were an even mix between blue collar and Beverley Hills. She might have been the youngest there; but it apparently didn't matter so long as she knew someone the owner considered legitimate.

For whatever reason that was. She stopped caring when she went home with almost two thousand dollars that first Sunday.

Which is why four weeks later, almost to the day, that she had met him Trish was once again leaning against her car, smoking her own cigarette this time, behind a warehouse and watching the races. Only tonight she was looking for someone specific. She had a business proposition to make.

"Well, well, how long did it take you to cave?" a familiar voice asked from behind her, startling Trish out of her crowd watching.

"How the hell do you do that?!" she asked him, turning around to face Han who was standing behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets and smirking.

"Do what?"

"Never mind," she mumbled and tossed the cigarette away. "I decided I was too stressed with school to quit at the moment."

"Oh, right. So you chose to keep smoking? Did that give you control?"

"Don't you mock me," Trish replied, glaring lightly. "Being in control of whatever situation you are in is the best way to keep life as smooth as possible."

"You can not possibly think you're going to control everything in your life."

"I'm certainly going to try. And I'm not discussing this right now; but I was looking for you. You ninja assassin."

"Racist," he responded, smirking again.

"Stop popping up out of nowhere then! And stop distracting me I'm sure you have skanks to go woo."

He chuckled and leaned against her car next to her and nodded, "Alright, you have my undivided attention. Now, what did you need? I figured I gave you what you were looking for last week and I'd never see you again."

"You did; and you knowing my pastimes is something else we're going to have to discuss by the way. But for now, I have a business proposition for you, you creeper."

"Nothing creepy about it. I played cards at your Mom's big game a few times. Your face was everywhere in that bar. Also, I knew Salvas for a few years so I knew he had a little white girl who followed him around and liked to cheat people out of their money at cards. Not hard to put two and two together. Speaking of them both, I heard about what happened. Sorry 'bout that."

"Asshole drunk who hit her got three to five for manslaughter," she told him, shrugging. "Not much else I can do about it. And that idiot kid who hit Jose is in a wheelchair for the rest of his life; so that's it's own punishment," she continued and then paused looking thoughtfully at him. "You really knew Jose?"

"Barstow is only about two hours from here. The underground racing scene isn't exactly a huge community if you only take into account the real racers. He used to come down to race every once in a while...among other things," he explained, giving her a very pointed look.

Trish nodded as Han's explanation began to make more sense in her mind. He hadn't exactly paid off a house; but he had done his own version of taking care of someone Jose had left behind. And she had wondered where he was dropping off the car parts; LA certainly made sense.

"Well, that makes me feel a little better about what I had to speak to you about," she continued after a few seconds of thought. "First of all, here," she added handing him her license.

"Your license?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not. Jailbait," she clarified. "Eighteen. Proof."

"I'm still not going to fuck you if that's what this is about," he responded looking confused from her to the license, though she noted with amusement that he did seem to double check her birth date and glance her up and down at least once.

"That wasn't an invitation. I was just pretty sure you didn't believe me about my age."

"Honestly, I didn't," he admitted to Trish before handing the card back. "Jose didn't exactly talk about you much. If anyone asked they got shut down quick. But at least this way I know I'm not contributing to the delinquency of a minor," he added and she had to bite back a laugh when he proceeded to hand her a cigarette before lighting his own.

"Thanks," she replied in a dry tone, shaking her head but lighting the cigarette anyway.

"So was it just the license thing? Cause I'm supposed to race tonight. Soon actually."

"No," she quickly responded and fished around in her bag, not wanting to keep him waiting. "Here," Trish said and handed him a sealed, obviously stuffed, envelope.

Han glanced at her curiously taking the envelope cautiously before carefully ripping it open. Then she did laugh as he froze and stared at the contents with an almost dumbfounded expression, "Huh?"

"Finder's fee," she explained, correctly judging the source of his confusion. "Ten percent from the last months take," Trish elaborated and watched him silently count the bills contained in the envelope.

"There's a grand here," he stated after he counted a second time.

"Yup," she replied, nodding and grinning in excitement.

"A thousand dollars? Ten percent?"

"Yes. What about this are you not understanding?"

"You made ten thousand dollars in four poker games?" he asked her, physically turning his body and then hers to stare her directly in the eyes. "Seriously?"

"Just about. I rounded up this time. I actually made nine-thousand eight-hundred and fifty-seven dollars."

"Holy shit," Han whispered. "Salvas wasn't kidding," he mumbled the last part under his breath and looked back up to see Trish grinning brightly at him. A grin he quickly returned. "You said something about a business proposition?"

"I figured showing you the money first would bring you around quicker," she joked. "Okay, so you obviously know people in LA. I do not. You're holding proof in your hand that I can make decent money playing cards. I need you to get me into a higher stakes game preferably with trashier players who are more willing to throw away money."

Han frowned as she talked and shook his head, "No."

"No? What do you mean no? Is 10 percent not enough? I'll go up to fifteen."

He laughed, almost darkly, and shook his head, "It's not the percentage. It's the situation. The types of games you're talking about aren't the kind of places you should be going."

Trish raised an eyebrow and then narrowed her eyes as she fully processed what he meant, "I have an older brother thank you. He's an asshole but he does exist. I don't need someone to protect me."

"Obviously you do," he shot back. "If you think I'm just going to set you up to go into the kind of games you're talking about so I can get another grand you've got to be joking. The kind of people you're talking about will shoot you without thinking twice about it if they realize you're counting cards. I might not know you very well, but I could do without your blood on my damned hands."

Trish growled under her breath, dismissing his concerns and trying to get around them by thinking quickly. She finally nodded and gave him a counter-offer, "Okay, how about a compromise? I'll work my way up to those kind of games. I'll build a bit of a name for myself first. Get myself invited. Then it isn't on you."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head looking slightly frustrated. "The second you start winning like this," he explained, waving the money in her face. "Those guys will know something is up."

"I don't win all the time Han; I'm not stupid," she told him. "I make sure to lose just often enough, even on the big pots, so it doesn't look suspicious."

"We'll agree to disagree on your intelligence at the moment. Anyway, what's wrong with just going back to Danny's?"

"Danny? Oh, the owner on Callahan's."

"Yea. It's a nice game. I've played myself a few times. No one goes armed. No one gets pissy when they lose money," he prodded, poking her shoulder, causing her to poke him back and then jump out of the way when he went to retaliate.

"I feel bad," she finally mumbled and blushed when he laughed. "Don't laugh at me over it. Even the really wealthy players are all nice people. I tried to mostly beat them. I never do that. Hell, I never feel bad about that shit."

Han blinked at that and looked at her again, "Maybe I was wrong. You're not a racist. You're a sociopath."

"Jesus H Christ on a cracker. I'm not a racist or a sociopath. Stop even joking about that. That could get me shot here. When I said I don't feel bad; I mean, I don't feel bad about things like counting cards and taking people's money. They're obviously going to throw it away playing the game anyway. So why shouldn't it go to me rather then some other schmuck?"

"Still."

"Oh please! Like you've never done anything even a tiny bit morally questionable in you're entire life?" she asked incredulously and was a little surprised when Han's relaxed expression immediately shut down and become closed off.

"You're right. Who am I to judge?" he asked, a cold tone seeping into his normally smooth voice. "I'll find you another game; but I'm not going to be getting you into any of ones run through the clubs or gangs."

"Alright," she agreed, sensing that arguing now would be a very bad idea. She'd talk him into it eventually.

"Give me your phone," he added, still in that clipped voice. She immediately handed it over and watched as he programmed his number in and then called his own phone with hers. "Now go home."

"What?"

"Go. Home," he repeated, pointing away from the warehouse. "We can not be seen together right now, not if we want this to work. You'll probably wind up playing some of the people here eventually. Also, the crew I'm with isn't exactly welcoming new faces with open arms at the moment."

She nodded quickly and exhaled as he ran a hand through his hair, aggravation seeming to sit right under the surface of his stoic expression.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to piss you off. Especially when you've got to race."

He finally sighed and shook his head, pushing off the car, "You didn't. It's not your fault. Just, shit, let's just say you were very correct and leave it at that okay?"

"Yea, alright," she agreed, nodding again and walking around to the drivers side of her car, watching while he rolled the bills she gave him and stuck a rubber band around them. "Umm, did you want your hoodie back?"

"Keep it," he replied, walking away without looking back.

She was starting to think that Jose's mismatched overprotective behavior, sheltering her from the actual underground world he lived in - all the while still letting her help him steal cars, had caused her to miss some developmental step that had just caused her to put her foot in her mouth. She ran the end of their conversation back through her head again and winced as she realized he had been absolutely fine until she made the crack about morally questionable actions.

"Well shit," she muttered, getting into her car and starting it. "I didn't mean it as a bad thing," she added as she flipped the radio on and hit the start button her her disc-man so the sounds of Metallica could drown her thoughts out on the way home. 'Cause if Han knew Jose, then he knew what Trish had been involved in; so what could he have done that was possibly so bad that he would have shut down like that at even the implication of it being brought up?

AN: Bit of a shorter chapter this time. I tend to write in a way that you get a 'fade to black' feel whenever something important happens.

Now we're starting to get into the development of their friendship. Plot will begin moving a bit quicker soon, just need to establish a bit more of their background.

What does everyone think of Trish? She's a bit naive and too used to being the 'most intelligent person' around, and unfortunately doesn't see that about herself yet. Believe me, I understand how that could be annoying.
As we see more of her you'll begin (hopefully) to understand why she's so convinced she has this 'control' over her life and why she needs it. She won't be such a stickler forever...but keep in mind, she's 18, just about 19 now, and on her own for the first time. She's gotta grow up a little bit and have her eyes opened to what's really out there.
Do you want to see Han's POV at all? Anyone curious as to why Han shut down so suddenly? Cookies for anyone who guesses correctly.
We'll be seeing Brian quite soon too. Should be an interesting reunion for the siblings.

Reviews and constructive criticism are awesome. Flames are not and will be used to roast marshmallows.