Author: Moon Roses or Moony
Rating: R for language
Disclaimer: *insert witty disclaimer here* Gimme the Light belongs to Sean Paul.
Summary: This story takes place two years after the last heist. Leon, Letty and Dom ran to Mexico for six months before returning after the investigation was dropped due to lack of evidence. Mia is good. Vince is great. And Jesse lives simply because I wanted him to.
Feedback: Not necessary but greatly appreciated.
BackgroundInfo: I started writing this in, gosh, must have been late 2002/early 2003. I got bored of writing but have found myself wondering if I can reignite that passion I once had. This story has been edited with quite a few changes. Obviously it also doesn't follow the storyline of the movies since I began it before I had seen the next four movies.

Prologue

Grinning, Shorty leaned forward to turn the volume up, thankful that her boys had taken the time to make her a goodbye playlist. Granted most of the playlist featured pop songs they knew she hated, but amongst the trash were a few gems. She was truly going to miss them, wild and devious; they had been her entire world for the last ten years. However, the time had come for her to return home, for her to take her rightful place beside her team. Her family.

Concentrating on the road ahead, she shifted absently and weaved through the traffic all the while singing as loud as humanely possible. Laughing when she realized that her boys were right – she really could not sing for shit. Shrugging to herself she continued to drown out the music.

Jus gimme the light,
and pass the dro.
Bust another bottle of moe.
Gal dem in me sight,
and I gots to know.
Which one is gonna catch my flow.
Cause I'm in a the vibes,
and I got my dough.
Gurl dem lookin hype,
and I gots to know...

Glancing at the car beside her she saw a young business man shifting his eyes between the road and her. Obviously he either thought she was insane or he could hear the awful noise spilling from her mouth through the closed windows. Perhaps though, he did not know the meaning of road trip. She sang louder.

Could I be your protector,
your buff in every sector.
Every man around dem,
wanna turn your inspector,
but you no let them sweat ya...

Grinning widely Shorty looked at the man once more and winked before weaving around him and speeding off.

After days of driving the city had finally come into view and for the first time in ten years she realized how much she had missed it. Sure New York had a great nightlife, pretty decent street racing, incredibly hot men, and generally a good atmosphere – it did however lack something L.A. did not. Like palm trees, warm Ocean water, her family, and of course giggling bimbos. One could not forget the idiots, it was as if L.A. was synonymous with bimbos. Los Angeles definitely had more of them than New York. Maybe stupid people just migrated here.

Turning left the city started fading away only to be replaced with residential areas. Casting her eyes to the time she groaned inwardly. 3:23 and counting. She was late and her brother was going to have her head on a spit, roasting, before she could even begin to lie about traffic.

Pulling quickly into a local drug store she slammed the car to a stop, scaring a mother and child. Snatching her keys from the ignition she grabbed a ten from her wallet and slid out. Setting the alarm over her shoulder the mother muttered "Lunatic" as she ushered her child away.

Smirking at the woman, Shorty pushed her sunglasses into her hair. She sought out a bottle of water, a Twix bar, and a small box of tampons as fast as she could. Throwing the cash on the counter she stepped back into the California sun.

In every direction she could see young children playing in sprinklers and her mind immediately wandered to her backyard pool. The minute she was home she planned to take full advantage of the cool water. Sliding back into her car Shorty pulled her sunglasses back over her eyes and dropped her purchases onto the passenger's seat. 3:36. She was sixteen minutes late. Now she was really knee deep in the proverbial shit.

Turning onto another residential street she began recognizing the community around her. Like the park where she broke her first nose in a fight at the tender age of 10. Like the house where she smashed a window with a brick because the little girl had keyed her brother's car. Like the curb she had broken her wrist on when she had tried her first kick flip. Like the hill where she first kissed a boy from down the street. Everything looked familiar, except the houses. Had they all been painted the same damn white while she was gone? Whatever happened to variety?

Most of the homes in this area had already resembled each other without slapping the same paint on every house. She just hoped she could find hers without any trouble. 3:40. Two more minutes and she could expect a phone call asking where she was and what trouble she had gotten herself into this time.

However, before she could worry about getting lost she saw it straight ahead. Her house, at the end of the cul-de-sac. It looked much smaller than it had when she was younger, and more faded. Or was that a new coat of paint? Had the team painted over the white with a dingy gray? Now that was variety!

Five high performance vehicles were crowded along the street. She was definitely home. And that was definitely her cell ringing as she pulled into the driveway and parked next to her brother's Honda. Pulling the phone from the cup holder and flipping it opened she listened. No need to say hello. She knew who it was and she knew she was about to get an earful. "Where the fuck you at?"

Snorting into the phone she answered before her brother could launch into another lecture about getting him and the team all worked up. "In my car, on the driveway. Where you all at?"

"What the hell you doin' on the driveway?"

"Oh, you know, just admiring the pavement," she laughed. The call ending was her brother's response. Shorty shook her head in amusement and stepped from the car. She leaned against it comfortably and almost immediately the front door opened and her brother rushed out. He had not changed much since the last time she had seen him three years prior when the team had come to visit her in New York.

He was still as handsome as ever with a shaved head, big expressive chocolate eyes and slightly darker skin than her own. Another problem with living in New York. Her skin had lost its California tan. Her brother wrapped his arms around her tightly and hugged her to his chest. Hugging him back she breathed in his scent. He still smelt the same, hell he even dressed the same. She could always count on him to be the same guy she had always idolized. The same guy who taught her everything she knew about cars. The same guy who taught her how to fight. The same guy who got her out of all the shit she always ended up in.

"Bout time," he smiled down at her.

"Hell yeah it is!" shouted a voice from the doorstep. Shorty pushed herself away from her brother and looked towards the four other people crowded around the door anxiously. They looked at her cautiously, checking her over as it she was a mirage. As it she was an imposter. She returned the gaze before they all rushed her, bodies pushing her back into her brother from the force. She was enveloped in hug after hug as she was passed from man to man. Questions were fired at her left and right and trying to answer them all was exhausting. Soon she was resorting to nodding and shaking her head to answer. The welcome was expected but still surprising. She knew they had missed her, but she never realized just how much. The reception she received was enough to tell her it was a hell of a lot.

"YO! Give the girl some air," yelled her brother. The bodies around her separated slowly, caution again written on their faces. Shorty laughed. Did they think she was leaving again? Hell, she had not wanted to leave in the first place. Her brother threw an arm around her shoulder and led her towards the house with the team following close behind. "Sure glad your ass is home".

"No shit vato," Shorty answered softly. No shit. She was home. Finally.