DISCLAIMER: I don't own RUSH HOUR. If I did, I'd have better things to do with my time than write fanfiction about it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is an attempt to explore what Lee thought of Carter when they first met. It's not slash. I have also done some editing. The only thing I hate about RUSH HOUR is the rather foul language.


ARCHIVES: Tell me where.


America. I am in America.

I get off the plane, thanking the pilots and flight attendants. As I do so, a tall black man walks over to me. Fortunately, being a policeman has taught me to control my outward display of emotions. Otherwise, I would probably have laughed out loud. I recognize his manner-it's that of a young man who thinks he's immortal and invincible. I know because I had it once, too.

"Please tell me you speak English." The black man says to me.

Of course, I can speak English. But I decide to keep silent for now, see how he reacts.

His reaction is exactly what I thought it would be. He leans forward and speaks louder and slower. "I'm...Detective...Carter." He says. "Do you speak-a in English."

Even if I couldn't speak English, there is no need to yell. I may be Chinese, but I'm not deaf. I decide to lead Carter on for a little bit and see what else he does. He leans forward even more. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE WORDS THAT ARE COMIN' OUTTA MY MOUTH?"

I give him an innocent smile. It's the closest I can come to laughing without really doing so. Carter turns away. "I cannot believe this!" He yells. "First I get a crap assignment, then I get Mr. Rice-a-Roni...and he don't even speak American."

*Nobody speaks American.* I think. *I do, however, speak English.* I don't let on, however. I want to see what else the Carter does.

"Come on, man, the ride's over here." Carter waves me over to his shiny black Corvette. "Put your bag in the back."

*Back? What back?* I think. This car has no trunk! It's certainly one of the strangest-looking cars I've ever seen. There's no roof, either. I have seen that before. What are they called, convertibles?

Carter walks over to me and starts yelling again. "PUT YO' BAG IN THE BACK!" I try to hand him my bag, since he seems to know where the back is. "No-no-no." Carter refuses. "You put your own stuff in the back!" He flips the front seat forward. So *that's* the trunk. Interesting.

"I'm not a bellhop!" Carter yells. "I'm FBI, understand?!"

Yes, of course I understand. I put my stuff in the back. I get into the car. I am sure this will be a very interesting car ride.

"Look, Captain, I don't think this is funny." Carter has been on his cell phone for the past ten minutes yelling at his captain. "You gotta call the FBI and tell them there's a mistake." There is a pause, and Carter's face tells me that he doesn't like what he's hearing. "No, Captain, I'm serious!" Then he looks at the phone as if it's done something wrong. He snaps it closed and says, "one man gets a pinky blown of, man, and everybody's trippin'!"

I show him one of Consul Han's business cards.

"Chinese consulate?" Carter asks. "That's one place you can't go, man."

I pull out Soo-Yung's school picture. "Soo-Yung." I say.

"That the little girl?" Carter asks. "Huh? Say somethin'!"

I simply sit back. Even if he knew that I speak English, I couldn't say anything. I don't want Soo-Yung to die. It has been a constant burden on my heart since I was told about the kidnapping.

"Well, I gotta show you somethin'." Carter takes a right and stops in Chinatown. "Look familiar?" He asks. "Just like home, ain't it?" It's actually a fairly good reproduction of Hong Kong, although I wouldn't say it's "just like home."

"I ain't never been to China, but I bet it look somethin' like this, don't it?" Carter asks. He points to the ground. "See that?" It is two footprints with JOHN WAYNE written above them. "John Wayne? You know John Wayne?"

"John Wayne." I say.

"Yeah, The Duke, man! Hang out with The Duke!" Carter slaps my back. "I'll be right back. You stay right here, you might see one of your cousins walking around here."

Carter leaves, and I shake my head. I know his type. I was his type once. And I can see through him like glass. He is not following leads, or trying to solve the case. He's all talk.

I look back at the pavement. Who is The Duke? I assume Carter was talking about John Wayne, but never before have I heard him called "The Duke." I'll have to ask him when I reveal that I speak English.

I decide to make a run for it. I won't go out of Chinatown, but I'll just give Carter enough of a scare so I can see how he reacts under stress. I see a bus coming by and decide to board it. As I get to the very top of the bus, I see Carter turn around and realize I am not there. He runs through the street, pulling aside every Chinese man he can find-there are quite a few-before spotting me and running after the bus. I sit down and wait for him to come and pretend he has some idea what he's talking about.

I feel the coldness of metal against my neck, and I know Carter has pulled a gun on me. I seriously doubt he will shoot, though. But in any case, I raise my hands. The people on the bus all turn around and gasp.

"What you doin' on this bus?" Carter asks. "I told you to stay back there with The Duke!" It's all I can do not to roll my eyes at him. Doing so would probably reveal that I know English.

"It's OK." Carter says to all the flabbergasted people on the bus. "It's all right. I'm FBI."

Someone takes a picture of him. "All right, take a picture." Carter begins striking laughable poses. As we pass a street sign, I see my way out and jump up to grab it. A lumber truck stops below it, and I jump down. As luck would have it, a motorhome is also stopping. I jump onto its roof and go through the sunroof, apologize to the somewhat befuddled family, and roll into a taxicab's open window.

"Hey, where'd you come from?" The driver asks me.

"Just drive." I tell him breathlessly. Looking behind me, I see Carter riding after us on a motorcycle. Finally he corners us, and I tell the driver to stop. The driver does so, looking at Carter suspiciously.

"Get outta the car!" Carter yells at me. I do, holding my hands above my head. "I told you to stay with The Duke!" Carter yells.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" The taxi driver asks.

"Look, just stay outta this, old man." Carter says. I take advantage of the opportunity to grab Carter's gun and hold it at his head. Of course, I'm not going to shoot him, but I want to see what he'll do.

"Whoa, man!" Carter says. Before I know what's happening, he's pulled out another gun and pointed it at me.

"Hey!" The taxi driver has pulled out a gun of his own. "Hands above your head!"

Carter and I both obey.

"Drop your guns!" The driver yells, so Carter and I both release our grip on the guns, letting them dangle from our fingers.

"It's OK!" Carter uses his free hand to show the driver his badge. "FBI."

I decide it's finally time to speak. "I'm a policeman." I say. "I'm just showing him how to take a gun from a suspect."

From the look on Carter's face, you would have thought I'd just grown another arm.

"Now all of a sudden you speakin' English." Carter says.

"A little." I tell him.

"A little my butt!" Carter says indignantly. "You lied to me!"

"I never told you I didn't." I say, trying to keep calm and not punch this talkative detective square in his nose. "You assumed I didn't."

"*Assume* I kick your little Beijing butt all the way back to China!" Carter yells.

I stop and turn to face him. "I am not responsible for your assumption."

"You full of bull, you understand that?" Carter says. "You full of bull!"

I look him straight in the eye. "Not being able to speak is not the same as not speaking." I say. "You seem as if you like to talk. I like to let people talk who like to talk. It makes it easier to find out how 'full of bull' they are."

"What in the world did you just say?" Carter asks. He walks away, doing what I assume is supposed to be an imitation of me. "You like to talk, I let people talk." He turns around. "So now I'M the one who's full of bull?" He asks me.

"We're both full of bull." I respond.

"No, YOU full of bull." Carter responds, leading me to his car. I follow his lead, shaking my head. I can already tell this partner is going to be different than any partner I've ever had. Working alone doesn't sound like such a bad thing anymore.