"You know how ridiculous you sound right now?" said Deckard. "Come on, Hobbs, think about it! She's only in this for herself."

All things considered, Luke having a front row seat to witness the unholy level of masochistic self-sacrificing tendencies that the Shaws had drilled into Elizabeth gave him a pretty good insight into exactly what she was in this for. The money held allure, no question about that, but no thanks to Cipher kidnapping his daughter, Elizabeth's interest had grown beyond finances.

Now she wanted her own personal brand of justice, and as messed up as it might be, Luke wouldn't hesitate to step aside and allow it. Anything short of that and he might as well slap a label on his forehead that read hypocritical asshole.

"We established that a month ago. Now if you don't mind, I'd prefer we have this conversation somewhere safer."

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke could see Elizabeth climb past Sam and move toward the door beside him, all but ready to step in at the first hint of a fight. He lifted his left hand into view and made a fist, signaling her to freeze. Shaw did, sitting with her head pointed in Deckard's direction. No doubt her gaze was locked on him as if her brother wore a homing beacon.

"I'm not bringing her back with us."

"This isn't a debate, boy. Get your ass in the car."

"Hobbs."

"Deckard, he's right." Like a gift from God, Ramsey stepped in. Maybe she sensed the shit about to hit the fan, or maybe she was the only one of them with a cool head right now who seemed to remember what Luke was capable. "We need to go."

Deckard scowled, almost as if he wanted to toss Luke through a wall and try and knock some sense into him. It wouldn't work. He'd made his choices, given his word in return—turning his back on that now would only be tantamount to complete and utter disrespect for what Elizabeth herself had done.

Before Shaw could get another word out, Luke circled around the sedan and got in, seating himself next to Sam. In a way, it'd be easier to grab the wheel if worse came to worst; he wouldn't have to climb around the damn driver's seat first.

"You want to start the car, kid?" Seated behind the wheel, eyes forward and fingers in a death grip, was Little Nobody. Clearly they'd drawn straws before figuring out who would be in which car. All the unease and tension in Eric's body couldn't be denied no matter how much he tried to mask it. "Or do you want to ride with Dom and we'll follow behind you?"

"It isn't like that," Eric said, glancing over his shoulder. "Things have happened in the last couple days. He—"

"He who?"

The kid took a breath and sank back into the seat, dropping his hands to his knees. Luke wasn't going to like what Eric said next, was he? The look on his face, reflected in the rear view mirror, was one of complete dread. "Mr. Nobody disappeared two days ago. There hasn't been any sign of him since. I called his daughter but Tess doesn't know anything. Neither does anyone else."

Well, shit.

That threw a spanner in the works.

"You try his safehouses?"

"Every single one. Hobbs, I even had local police go check his cabin up in Alaska. The man has gone AWOL. We're on our own."

"You think he's been kidnapped or killed?"

Little Nobody shrugged and started the sedan. "I don't know what to think."

They drove out of there without another word said between them. Even Shaw kept quiet, staring out the front windshield like she was anticipating all hell breaking loose or worse. Her left heel bounced up and down on the floor, lips pressed together and burnt hands resting by her sides. A betting man might have said she was nervous, but Elizabeth didn't seem like the type.

The truth was more likely to be Shaw was ready and waiting, preparing herself for whatever came next. Trying to figure out all the right moves before the chess pieces were even placed on the board and outmaneuver Cipher before the psychopath lifted a finger.

"...Dad?" Sam squeezed his hand as they reached the highway and started heading northeast. The three other cars trailed behind them, spread out in a loose formation. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe, baby." He squeezed back then lifted his arm, allowing Sam to hug him tightly. Luke held her like that as they drove, keeping his eyes on their surroundings. "Nothing's going to happen to you, I promise."

Eerily enough, nothing did. Every mile seemed far more peaceful than it should've been, especially once they got off the highway and took the long way around before finally heading south. Not east towards Mappsburg, the Farm, or some other hole in the ground where Cipher would never find them. Not west, or even north to Maryland, but south toward North Carolina, or somewhere in that direction.

Every minute that passed left him on edge. Luke's stomach churned in anticipation, adrenaline already beginning to build up in his body as he waited for a fight that seemingly wasn't coming. A fight that seemed less and less likely to occur as they passed a graveyard and began to drive through farmland. Empty, unused farmland that hadn't seen a fenceline in who knew how many years. There was nothing but trees and grass in every direction, the land flat save for old dams and the rare house that looked as abandoned as the farm it sat on.

"Dad?"

"Welcome to your new home until we catch Cipher," Little Nobody suddenly said as they reached an enormous faded red barn. There were eight houses—all clapboard, all weathered and old like they'd been sitting there for years—surrounding it, their porches clean and all of them facing inwards. "Don't take it at face value. It's not as bad as it looks. We've got a full Agency setup in there, and you two—"

"Which one are we in?" asked Luke. And just why in the hell had the Agency decided to dump them in the middle of nowhere? This wasn't backwoods small town Virginia, it was ghost town Virginia. The kind of place where they were unlikely to be spotted on any surveillance cameras, or see one, period. "Kid?"

"You guys are in lucky number seven. Keys are inside. I'll come by later after you're settled. Miss Shaw, you're number eight."

The sedan pulled up outside the house, giving the three of them moments to climb out before the car took off. Luke didn't ask where Little Nobody was going, or just where the hell their vehicles were. If they were being isolated, all but hidden from the modern world and by extension Cipher, it was for their own protection. Not that it'd work. They might as well have left a trail of breadcrumbs for Cipher to follow, unless the team knew something he didn't.

"Dad? Can we go inside?"

"You go in first." Sam immediately rushed up the stairs, leaving Luke standing there. "I'll be there in a minute."

"...You want to talk, don't you?" Elizabeth said, as if she was dreading the conversation already. She tucked her hands into her pockets and squinted at the house opposite his own, keeping her back to the empty cars and growing number of people thirty feet away. "Guess you've got sixty seconds."

"You know, if I was them, I'd have a team waiting in that house for you. You want to bunk with us?"

"No." When she turned to face him, there was a weight on her shoulders. Had Elizabeth resigned herself to being here, or was it something more serious? Not once had he stopped to wonder how exhausted she was, what was going on in her head. She had to be at breaking point by now, if not ready to fall apart the moment she felt safe. "I'm good."

"Beth."

"Minute's almost up. You shouldn't keep her waiting."

As easy as it would've been to stand around and argue, he knew Elizabeth was right. He'd told Sam one minute, not ten. Luke walked straight inside and found his daughter sitting on a couch, watching some kids show on cable TV.

With a quart sized tub of ice cream in her lap and a spoon in hand.

"Heh. I don't think so, young lady."

Sam looked up and smiled. "Got you! I haven't opened it, Dad."

"And you won't until tonight. Hand it over before the tub gets hurt."

"Okay. Can we go see Elena later?"

"Once we're settled in. We need to call Uncle Jonah first, and Mateo. Let them know where we are, let them know that you're safe."

"You talked to Uncle Jonah?"

"Yeah, I did. I wanted the best guys for the job. Now we have to regroup."

Luke took the quart and stashed it back in the freezer, alongside what looked like enough food to keep them fed for at least a month. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment and stared at the front door, the question of just what was happening across the way surfacing in the back of his mind. Had they grabbed Elizabeth? Or was he going to find her in the bathtub, unconscious after trying to drink the memories away?

How much damage would there be after she fell apart? Surely even Shaw would try to stop herself from diving right in the deep end. It wasn't as if Elizabeth was alone and up shit creek without a paddle...although all things considered, she might as well have been.

"Dad?"

"Mm?"

"How long are we going to stay here for?"

"I don't know, Sam. I don't think anyone's figured that part out yet. I'm sorry you got caught up in this."

"I know."

"You know what?"

"That you're sorry. You were saying it in your sleep."


The second the door shut behind her, her legs began to give way. Elizabeth stumbled toward the couch, collapsed onto it and sank into the cushions, trembling while silent sobs ripped free.

Each heave of her chest sent pain pulsing through it, as if the constant ache in her shoulder and hands wasn't enough. Tears and exhaustion followed for who knew how long, with numbness creeping in behind them.

One month and nothing to show for it...

No money, no information—all her plans had fallen apart the moment she was in the thick of it. Nothing came to fruition, nothing got any further than an idea in her head because why would it?

God, what a waste of time.

She'd had one job. One single job and Elizabeth couldn't even manage that because she was so far out of her depth it wasn't funny. So neck deep in shit that it became crystal clear she didn't have a single clue how to pull it off.

And why would she? She was a puppet on an apron string. An idiot who'd let herself be dragged into someone else's problems for no other reason than loyalty.

Now here she was yet again, all but dragged back into their mess. Trapped between prison, Cipher and—

"Knock knock."

Hobbs.

What the hell was he doing here? It'd only been five minutes since they spoke, hadn't it? There was no reason for him to be on her doorstep.

"It's open." Elizabeth sniffed and pushed herself up, drying her cheeks with her shirt as the door creaked. "What are you doing here, Fed? I told you not to keep her waiting."

"You up for dinner?"

"What?"

Hobbs walked in and helped himself to a seat on the couch. No shirt or shoes, just a pair of pants like he was on vacation or something. "Beth, it's almost five thirty."

Oh.

She'd been laying there for a while then.

"Right. Uh, no, I'm good. You go and enjoy yourself."

"Elizabeth, I don't think we're having the conversation you think we're having. I'm asking if you want dinner."

God, how exhausted was she that hours could pass without her noticing? How much pain and anger had she buried to survive this nightmare instead of simply confronting it? "I'm filling in the blanks. Dinner involves Toretto, barbeque, and his team, yeah? So thanks, but I'll pass."

"Not tonight."

"Okay. I'll still pass."

"You know, if you just don't want to have dinner with me, you can say so."

As much as she loathed him, dinner with Luke was fine. Spending time with him wasn't utterly intolerable, and Hobbs could make her laugh, at least. There weren't many men who fell into that category nowadays. ""I don't want to intru—"

Hurried feet rushed up the porch, then a knock sounded on the open door. "Hi! Um, Dad, Elena asked if we want to have dinner with everyone, and I said yes. Is that okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Bye!"

"Called it."

Shaw didn't say it too loud, but Luke heard her nonetheless. Once Sam's footsteps faded, he turned on the couch and lifted his leg up, getting comfy. "You get five seconds of being smug and then it's over."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"And why is that?" asked Elizabeth as she crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him like she couldn't believe he had the gall to tell her how to act beneath her own temporary roof.

"Because I'm going to close that door," Luke said, standing up, "and then we're going to talk."

"...Whatever you're planning to say, don't waste your breath. It's only going to go in one ear and out the other."

"I can be very convincing."

"Of course. You're Hobbs."

He shut the door and returned to the couch. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"

"When you speak, the world bends over backwards. It doesn't matter what you do or how you do it, as long as at the end of the day the bosses are happy and the job gets done."

"And for that, I paid my dues in blood. My team are dead. You know that. Don't act like—" Luke took a breath and sat back, exhaling as he sank into the cushions. "Is this even about me? Or are you just itching for a fight?"

With some reluctance in her voice, she admitted, "No, it's not...so go. Have dinner with your team."

Ah. Shaw was now in the anger stage of recovery, wasn't she?

The part of processing just what she'd gone through that left her snapping at everything, ready to rip someone's throat out if they looked at her wrong. Angry at herself, angry at the world, frustrated all of this had even happened, and furious it'd been allowed to happen in the first place. She was a pissed off bull who could only see red. Luke remembered the feeling well.

"Come with me," he said. "Have a beer or three. Eat some barbeque."

"No, but thanks for the invite."

"Elizabeth." She looked away, yet Shaw didn't get up to leave or tell him to. Her style of barbeque didn't involve sitting around a table, Luke knew that, and a good steak was no substitute for shashlik in summer with fire-baked potatoes and wine, followed by swimming in a river, but it had to be better than being alone in this house and stewing in her emotions. "I'm going to be sitting there, suffering the indignity of being in Deckard's company the entire time."

"Then why did you agree to go?"

...Was she purposefully being dense right then to mess with him? Or could Beth just not read between the lines? If he kept twisting her arm, would she even notice? Luke stood and moved into her new line of sight, only to notice the active struggle on her face as Shaw tried to suppress a smile. Of course. "You're messing with me."

"I'm also serious. You can talk all you want, it won't change things."

"Then how about I stop talking?"

Luke braced his hands on the back of the couch and planted his knees on either side of Elizabeth's legs. She stared up at him, not speaking as he settled his weight so the entire thing wouldn't tip over. Every breath Shaw took was shallow and uneven, mouth working to try and form words yet nothing came out; even when he leaned down and brought his head closer to hers, she didn't make a sound until...

"Don't do this to yourself. You're not a masochist. Walk away," she said, pressing one hand against his chest and pushing gently. "Go eat barbeque. Enjoy the peace and quiet before Cipher comes crashing down on our heads."

"Anna."

"What?"

"You can sit here and be miserable in this empty house, or you can sit with me and Sam, consume your weight in beer, meat and potato salad, and find yourself slightly happier, maybe even slightly drunker, than you are now."

"Jesus," Elizabeth groaned, dropping her hands and slumping down on the couch. "You don't ever quit, do you? Until you get what you want, we're going to go around and around in circles. I'll say no, you say yes, we argue, I say no again, you say yes, it all repeats ad nauseam."

"I'm Hobbs, remember?" said Luke, leaning just far back enough that he could still make eye contact with the woman beneath him. "And when I speak, you bend over too."

She glared at him like the words hadn't come from her mouth first. Elizabeth could try to call him a filthy old man all she wanted—and he knew it was coming sooner or later—but it was her who ran her damn mouth almost nonstop like fighting for her life had become the only thing Shaw was capable of. "Fuck you."

"Not until your ribs are healed, princess."

"Shut up, Jak—" Slowly but surely, she clapped her hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut as if anything she did could hide the damage; the fresh scars, both mental and physical, that Elizabeth now bore. "Give me two minutes to get presentable."

"You look presentable enough to me."

"I could be wearing nothing but a towel and you'd say the same thing."

"Oh, believe me, you wouldn't need the towel," Luke said, getting to his feet and giving her space to move. Shaw eased herself up, legs slightly wobbly, and staggered toward the short corridor that led to the rest of the one story house. He followed close behind, tucking his hands into his pockets while Beth figured out which room was hers. Taking up the doorway, he leaned against it and watched as she pulled open a short wooden dresser and found new clothes. "You want a hand?"

"Please."

Pushing off the doorjamb, Luke stepped up and helped her strip off, only to slip on a loose short-sleeved tee, denim shorts, and a crocheted cardigan. Nothing too heavy or tight, he noticed, or that would restrict her ability to move. Whether Elizabeth was conscious of it or not, her mind always went to ensuring she could escape any place or situation, didn't it?

"Two minutes isn't up yet," Shaw fidgeted with her shirt, tucking it into her shorts before second-guessing herself and pulling it free. "I still have—"

"Beth."

She paused, turning her head just enough to look back at him. That dark hair framed her face and equally dark eyes, and her lips pressed together like Shaw didn't know whether to ask if she was underdressed or overdressed. "What?"

"Stop delaying the inevitable. Let's go."

They were outside a minute later with Hobbs carrying a dining chair. The cool summer evening air and the faint scent of smoke blew in their faces, letting Luke smell the first hint of meat cooking, alongside whatever else Toretto and the others had thrown on the grill.

"Dad!" Sam shouted, waving her arm from a cluster of chairs around a table. "I saved you a seat."

"Thanks, honey. You want to tell Pearce to move his ass up? We need to make some room."

"Man, I just sat down, I ain't—" Roman looked over his shoulder, sitting next to the empty seat that divided him from Sam, then got up and moved his chair three feet to the left. "Hey, y'all," he said, keeping his voice low enough for only the team to hear. "Hobbs is bringing company."

Deckard glanced in Luke's direction first then returned his attention to the beer bottle in front of him. "Hostile inbound," he said between sips. "Three o'clock."

Seated on one end of the three tables they'd pushed together were the Shaws—Magdalene, Owen, Deckard and Hattie—with Roman and Elena sitting on either side of them.

"Alright," said Magdalene, keeping her voice low, "I don't want to hear a word out of you three tonight. Sit there and behave. She's your sister, not the bloody devil."

"You sure about that, Mum?"

"Hey, Toretto," Luke called out as he neared, "you mind if I bring a plus two?"

Dom looked over his shoulder for all of half a second before his attention went back to the chicken. "Why not? We don't have a spare chair—"

"I got it covered." Before anyone could get a word in edgewise, Luke moved his own seat, set the one he was carrying down next to Sam, and tapped the back with his hand. "Sit."

Elizabeth did, not giving him a single chance to boss her around further. She glanced up before Luke sat, planting his ass on Shaw's left, between her and Pearce. There was still a noticable gap between them and the rest of the team, but oddly enough Hobbs couldn't bring himself to care.

"What took you so long, Dad?" Sam was the first at the table to acknowledge their presence. "Did Beth have to find your big boy pants again?"

That giggle started again, and even the woman in question sat there and chuckled. Luke just leaned back, cracked his beer open and took a sip. For the sake of not causing a scene, he'd pretend he hadn't heard that, but the odds were very low Sam would drop the subject, least of all because his daughter didn't quite comprehend the implications of what she was saying when context was taken out of the equation.

"Not this time," Elizabeth said from between them. "Where the rest of his big boy clothes are, that's the real mystery. Seems your dad can't keep a shirt on for more than two seconds. "

And there was that music to his ears laugh, then Sam leaned away like she knew what was coming next. "Alright," said Luke. "You—"

"It wasn't me." Sam grinned and scooted her chair across by an inch. "I didn't say it!"

"—stop running your mouth in front of my daughter," he finished, giving Shaw a glare, "before I whoop your ass."

Just loud enough for them to hear, Deckard muttered, "I'd pay to see that."

Luke hadn't turned his head so much as an inch in the bald sumbitch's direction before he felt a hand discretely touch his leg. Beth squeezed just above his knee, drawing his attention to her, and smiled as she said, "You should do the same unless—"

"Brian," Dom called out. "You want to give me a hand?"

Elizabeth scoffed quietly. "Saved by Torettus Interruptus."

"Lucky for you."

"And lucky for you we have company." She tightened her grip, still looking at him like Shaw wanted to eat him alive. Anyone else might have seen nothing but a challenge—Elizabeth being Elizabeth and pushing back, threatening him. All Luke could see was the restrained smirk as she said, "Seems I have to be on my best behavior."

"This is your best?" Roman's quiet comment went ignored, though Luke sure heard Deckard make an amused sound. "I'd hate to see your worst."

"I have an idea. I grab two more beers, Mila, you sit there and play nice with the kids, and no one starts a fight."

Beth all but did a spit take, shoulders squaring up and tension going straight to her spine. She turned away, bracing one arm on the back of her chair even as Elizabeth visibly flinched from the movement. It seemed like for all of two seconds, this barbeque just might go off without a hitch...then she slid her chair back and stood.

"Thanks for the invite, Fed, but I think I'll pass. My throat's still sore from that fire."