Disclaimer: Some characters aren't mine, some are. And yes, the title comes from the song by Taylor Swift (I want to hate her but I still find myself singing along to her songs! They're catchy!)

A/N: So thanks to everyone who's been reading my previous Brian/Mia stories! Here's something I've been trying to write my way through for the past couple of months, hopefully it turned out okay. There are going to be three parts to this, so hopefully you'll enjoy it and want to stay tuned for the next installment! If you feel so inclined, review and let me know what you're thinking!

(I.) October, 2011

"Mercedes?"

"No."

"Porsche?"

"No."

"Ferrari?"

"God, Brian, it's like you want our daughter to become a stripper or something." Mia rolls her eyes in disgust, sliding out from under his arm. She has the baby name book open across her knees but clearly she's the only one making any use of it. If she had known that Brian was just going to rattle off the names of cars he likes to drive she never would have suggested they name this baby together. She would have just chosen the name herself and saved her future daughter a lot of teasing and low expectations.

Brian gives her a look and Mia can tell that the idea of having his child grow up to make money by stripping on a pole is not exactly in his plans for his daughter's future. "I was just trying to think of things that we both liked." He points out defensively.

Mia can't help but roll her eyes again. "We also seem to like grand theft auto and committing serious crimes. Do you want to name her Felony?" She arches an eyebrow. Brian makes a thoughtful noise and she hits him in the chest with the baby name book. "Just forget it." She mumbles, turning away from him and lying on her side, facing the wall of their bedroom in their perfect little house on the beach. She can see the nightstand out of the corner of her eye, with the framed pictures of her wedding day sitting beside the lamp and the paperback she's reading. As usual, seeing the pictures gives her a pleasant flutter in her chest and she feels her daughter kick, like the currently nameless baby can feel the wave of love that starts in her chest and tingles all the way down to her toes. Love for the man currently infuriating her.

Brian lays down beside her, hooking his arm around her hips and curling against her back. "C'mon baby," he whispers into her hair, "I was just teasing. Don't worry, I don't want our daughter to become a stripper." He tries to cuddle up against her, kissing her cheek and down the side of her neck, a tactic that usually gets him out of fights.

Tonight, however, Mia just shrugs him away, keeping her face turned away from his. "I'm tired, Brian." She says softly. "I just want to sleep."

Of course, he's not going to deny his pregnant wife her request for rest. He rolls over onto his back, thinking how foreign it feels to lay like this, so separate from her. He hasn't slept like this in ages (okay, if he's being honest, she has shrugged him off once or twice because those hormones can be killer, not that he'd ever say that to her) and as he stares up at the ceiling, Brian realizes that there might be something wrong aside from the fact that he wanted to name his daughter after a car. Which, to be fair, was a joke anyway. Mostly.

Brian's belief that something is bothering Mia is further confirmed the following afternoon when he brings home stuff for the nursery and barely gets more than a thank-you. Usually, him bringing home stuff for their unborn baby is an aphrodisiac but that afternoon, the adorable stuffed pig and delicate lavender paint swatches go pretty much unacknowledged. Mia is sitting in the rocking chair in the living room, angled toward the window that affords them an unblemished view of the beach, a book in her lap but a faraway look in her eyes. Brian puts the stuffed pig in the empty crib and tosses the swatches in the trash because, to be honest, he's not painting his kid's room periwinkle or whatever it's called. He might be having a girl, but that doesn't mean he's got to deny her any chance of being a badass before she's even out of the womb. Granted, she's pretty much guaranteed to come out with a knack for trouble given who her parents are. His badass daughter is not going to have a periwinkle room.

Brian figures that reminding Mia exactly how kick-ass their kid is going to be is the perfect way to bring her out of her funk. Maybe all pregnant women get like this, all moody and silent and pensive and maybe it's just the hormones again coming in and messing with his happy home but he's not going to use the 'h' word around Mia ever again. He learned his lesson the first several times.

He makes dinner for her that night and they sit out on the back porch and eat as the sun goes down and the tide crashes against the beach. The season is heading toward winter but you couldn't prove it by him because it's still the perfect temperature outside and really, he never saw his life heading in this direction but it's pretty much as perfect as perfect can get. The only thing that will make it better is having his daughter on his knee.

Brian reaches across the table to take Mia's hand and smiles at her and runs his thumb across the ridge of her knuckles. "You know, I was thinking earlier today how awesome our kid is going to be." He smiles at her and Mia just rolls her eyes good naturedly but he can finally see the hint of a smile turning up the corner of her lips. "I mean, between the two of us, she's going to be breaking the law and boosting cars by the time she's five years old."

Of course he means it to be a joke. Because, really, what parent wants their daughter running around being chased by the cops and drag racing. But Mia doesn't seem to think it's very funny. She pulls her hand away and shakes her head. "Yeah, that's the last thing I want to hear, that my daughter has a life of crime ahead of her."

Okay, it's definitely the hormones. "Mia-"

But Mia just gets to her feet. "I'm taking a walk." She says this in a way that lets Brian know a) his company is not welcome and b) he's going to be doing the dishes. Brian just watches her head down the beach, trying to figure out exactly what's going on inside that head of hers. And he clears the table and does the dishes because…yeah, pregnant Mia is even more intimidating than normal Mia.

While Brian washes and soaks dishes, he wishes that he had a sister or female cousin or somebody that he could call who could give him insight into the inner workings of the female mind. Unfortunately, there isn't any such person on his speed dial. Even talking to Dom over beers would be a welcome change from trying to figure this one out for himself.

When Mia walks in from the beach her hair is wind-blown and her cheeks are flushed from the early evening heat and Brian nearly forgets what he wanted to talk to her about in the first place. But when she doesn't even acknowledge his presence or the perfectly clean kitchen, he gets up from the sofa and moves to block her way to the bedroom. Mia narrows her eyes and suddenly it doesn't really matter that she's eight months pregnant because she looks like she could still kick his ass. It's those Toretto genes but Brian knows from experience that that look in her eyes is more bark than bite anyway.

"You're not going anywhere." Brian informs her frankly, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. "Not until you tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me." Mia lies effortlessly. "I'm just tired." She ducks around him just as easily and starts toward the bedroom.

Brian follows after her, something that earns him another dirty look but he ignores it because he's not going through another day of wondering why his wife is acting so unlike herself and why the change in mood has come on all of the sudden. "Mia, stop, you're being ridiculous." Another look from her lets him know his word choice might have been a little poor. "I don't understand why you don't just tell me what's bothering you."

He expects her to deny that there's anything wrong, to assure him that everything is fine and dandy and he's being ridiculous by pestering her with silly questions and thank you Brian dinner was delicious and thank you Brian the kitchen looks great and let's name our daughter Mary or something just as traditional and normal and I'm sorry I've been so crazy let's go back to normal but instead Mia just bows her head and Brian knows she's about to start crying and if there's one thing he can't handle it's his girl crying.

"What are we doing Brian?" Mia asks softly. She doesn't lift her head when she feels him settle next to her on the bed. "We're fugitives. We have fake names and fake birth certificates and that's the world we're bringing our daughter into. How are we supposed to explain that to her?" When she looks up at Brian, she can see the quiet understanding in his eyes and he can see the unshed tears in hers. "What are doing?" She asks again in a whisper.

Brian takes her hands in his and holds them tightly. These are thoughts he's had himself during those sleepless nights when dreams of losing Mia and his unborn child had him tossing and turning. "I don't think anyone really knows what they're doing before they're about to have kids." He starts but she jumps in before he can finish his train of thought.

"This is hardly the same as normal pre-baby jitters." Mia points out with a glare that lacks the ferocity of her previous stares. "Everything we're ever going to tell her about us is going to be a lie. She's not even going to have your last name." A tear falls to her cheek.

Brian thinks it's outrageously sweet that that is one of her concerns. And yeah, he's thought about it but thinking about getting to raise a daughter at all usually outweighs any other concerns. Brian reaches up and wipes the tear away from her skin. "We're starting over, people are allowed to start over Mia. The life we're going to have with her…that's not going to be a lie. You and me…we're the truest thing I know." More tears fall onto Mia's cheeks but there's a hint of a smile ghosting her lips. "Everything is going to be fine. We're still going to be a family, even if we have fake names and fake passports and our money comes from a bank heist…which was pretty epic…maybe we could tell her just that one story." He smiles at her.

Mia rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "You just want her to think her dad is a badass."

Brian raises an eyebrow. "Her dad is a badass, baby." He leans forward to kiss her softly. "And so is her mom, fake name or no."

Mia smiles. "That's pretty true." She puts her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. "I'm sorry I've been crazy lately." She feathers her fingers through his hair.

"Baby hormones." Brian shrugs and quickly kisses her before she can object to his terminology. "I love you Mia and that's real."

"I love you too." She says softly, keeping him close to her. "But, seriously, let's not tell her about stealing cars or robbing banks or anything. I don't want her to get any ideas."

Brian smirks. "I can't make any promises."

They name their daughter Connor Toretto Berry and when she holds the baby for the first time, Mia can't remember what she was so worried about before.