A/N: this chapter is entirely flashbacks.

Chapter Two: Letty Remembers…

Whoever said laughter was contagious had no idea just how right they were.

When she was younger, she'd played it off like she had no sense of humor. She'd just roll her eyes and make some smartass sarcastic comment.

But now, when he laughed, she laughed. She didn't know how he did it, but Dominic had the power to make her laugh because she was happy or because she was so damn mad at him that it was all she could do, some times uncontrollably.

There were few times when Letty would actually cry in public.

Both of those times, Dom was crying too.

The first was at her parents' funeral when she was twelve—four years before she would even register on his radar.

The second was at his father's funeral. He'd always been so strong, so difficult to read emotionally.

After the service, back at the house after all the guests had left and it was just Vince, Mia, she and Dom, things went from tense and grievous to angst-ridden.

Then, when she'd leaned in to whisper a good-night, their lips met.

And for a moment, it was like time had stopped before he pulled away and trod off to his room.

A week later, he came home covered in blood, scaring Letty and Mia half to death, though Letty would never admit to it, and within minutes, Mia had gone from fear to straight hysteria.

Letty had Vince take her out of the room as she set about cleaning the blood from him, and removing the stained white shirt and undershirt he'd been wearing when he'd left, silently ordering herself not to stare.

And then it happened—again.

He kissed her—again—but it was different this time. She could feel every ounce of fear, rage—all the raw emotions—through that small piece of physical contact.

Not knowing how to or what else would comfort him, she kissed back, her arms wrapped around his neck, careful not to hurt him.

When she felt his hand on her cheek, she felt she might die if there were anymore physical contact. The kiss deepened at the slightest, barely-there touch of his tongue, drawing a moan from her.

She'd never been much for dancing, which made the fact that she would dance with Dom all the more ironic.

The first time he danced with her was shortly after he'd come home from Lompoc at her birthday party. She couldn't put her finger on it but there was something about him that told her to just let him lead her.

That was when, she supposes, that first spark lit up again.

That was when she knew that she loved him.

That was when she fell—really fell; hard and hopelessly in love with him—the first time