She woke up when his weight shifted. He was getting up and his bulk leaving the bed always made it rock slightly. She groaned softly and squinted at the clock. Three a.m.

She had a vague sense that the phone had rung. Late night phone calls almost always meant tragedy. Though she knew instantly that it wasn’t personal, not theirs…otherwise he would have woken her. She could relax back into the sheets. Other people’s tragedy was just his job.

He was puttering around the closet, pulling out a fresh shirt. He pulled on the pants he’d been wearing earlier; they chimed lightly with keys and coins. He buttoned up, his fingers still a little clumsy from grogginess. Age, too maybe. Seeing him like this, in this unguarded moment, he looked old and tired. She loved him desperately.

“Old one,” he half-whispered back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She shrugged off his apology. He pulled down an overnight bag and shoved a few clothes in casually. “I have to go back to Miami,” he said.

She beckoned him over when he was dressed, but before he’d put on his holster. He looked worried. His forehead was crumpled with worry. He sat down heavily on her side of the bed. She was suddenly anxious even though over the years this had happened more times than she could remember.

She stroked her thumb over his moustache. They had this ritual perfected in the fifteen years since he’d joined the Bureau. “You be careful, Special Agent Bilkins.”

He smiled a little, leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I will, Mrs. Bilkins.”

“Who was that on the phone?” Dom asked without looking up from the newspaper.

“Maria.” Mia put the phone on the cradle and closed the screen door. That got his attention; he put his cup down, but he still didn’t look her way.

“She got an offer on the garage.” Mia watched him closely as she walked around to the sink. The edge of his face crinkled as he winced, but he’d smoothed it out by the time she was facing him.

She watched as his shoulders slackened and the corners of his eyes relaxed. Ten months under the bridge and she could tell just how much each day weighed on him. Dreading the calls that heralded all the little changes. Watching that other life get buried under the shifting sands.

It had been ten long months for her too, but it didn’t seem to chafe her as much. By now, Echo Park felt like some kind of long, exhausting dream. Living here was just different enough to seem like a reflection, some smaller, quieter corner of the neighborhood. Except for the loneliness. She picked up a dirty dish and stared at it for a second.

“Couple of guys, partners,” she continued. “She’s only met the one though, said he seemed nice enough.”

Mia leaned hard on one hand and shrugged her other shoulder. “But she was worried ‘cause he was young. Kind of a player. Wanted to know if he could make a down payment in cash.”

Dom lowered his head and squeezed the back of his skull. After a second, she noticed that his shoulders were shaking. He was chuckling down at his newspaper. “She’s worried that some kind of jumped-up rice boy is trying to buy our garage?”

Dom leaned back in his chair. “Shit. That’ll change things just about not at all.”

Mia shoved her hair back from her eyes. “So you don’t care? I take their money, sign the papers?”

“Take their money,” Dom toasted her with a coffee mug. “Sign the papers.”

One eyebrow curved up along with the corner of his lip. He was still amused. “Weird?”

“Dom,” She put a little no-bullshit into her voice. “You know just what I mean. You’ll act like you don’t give a shit until it’s a done deal and then the week after that, you’ll have a peptic ulcer.”

He was still smiling, though his eyes no longer laughed. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

“No, you remember…!” She started angrily and trailed off. Fiercely, she fought back the urge to remind him just whose big ideas had brought them down here. That conversation would go nowhere fast.

She turned away from the cold, hard stranger who occasionally sat in her brother’s chair. She blinked down at the sink and chose her words carefully. “Remember what mom used to say.”

She could feel him stand up behind her. She wanted to turn and go to him, give him a hug, say that she loved him no matter what and that she had adapted to this life and she was sure that someday he’d adapt too. But she didn’t because she wasn’t sure if any of that was true.

He took a deep breath and it seemed like his shoulders slumped a little. He nodded slowly and pushed his sunglasses up his nose. “Mia, I always do.”

She watched as the light streaming in the door was blotted out by his bulk. She listened to the crunch of his footsteps as he walked up the long gravel drive. After he was gone, she let herself sigh.

“Cut me off? What the fuck, are you fucking stupid?” Roman Pearce yelled at the Dodge Intrepid’s taillights. He reached out the window to give his hands more room to be rude and spoke out of the side of his mouth to his passenger. “Is it always like this?”

“Nah,” Brian O’Conner shoved his knees up the dashboard and started picking at the sole of his shoe. “Usually, it’s worse.”

Roman muttered under his breath something that sounded like ‘left-right-coneheaded-bucktoothed-bowlegged-crosseyed-leatherback-granola-dip-lip-Cadillac-muffler-head’. Brian turned and grinned at the purple neon of the Staples Center. No one could curse like Roman when he got riled.

Rome suddenly transferred his annoyance to a more accessible target. “Remind me just why I am sitting in traffic on the 110 freeway and not kicking it with some honeys and Bacardi back in South Beach, cuz? I still don’t got a clue how your cracker ass sweet-talked me into hauling my shit out here.”

Brian bit his lip to keep from sighing. They’d had this conversation once a day ever since they’d zoomed through Amarillo, Texas.

Roman was still working himself up a good head of steam. “Miami was cool, man. Miami was fun. Miami was good times. Now, I seen a few palm trees, but so far Hell-A has been nothing but traffic n’ shit.”

“You were having fun in Miami?” Brian cut in like he was just asking for information.

Roman leaned back and blinked exaggeratedly, “You’re deaf now? Didn’t I just finish saying that?”

“That’s funny, see,” Brian said idly as Rome pulled into the HOV lane. The Intrepid wavered a little, then mirrored them. “I seem to remember you having to bow out of more than a few poker nights because you owed too many people money.”

“My cash would flow too, if I had a dollar for every time I had to stall some pissed-off business dude while you helped his trophy wife find her panties and shimmy out the front hatch.”

“Hey, I ran interference for you lots of times…” Rome interjected defensively.

“I seem to remember that we were down to three clubs that you hadn’t been asked to leave.” Brian continued.

Rome glared at the poky Dodge in front of them. He leaned on the horn for a moment just on general principles. It started a chain reaction and the underpass rattled with a kazoo-like symphony.

Rome slid his eyes over to Brian and grinned suddenly. “All right, so it was time for a change.”

“But you, you’re getting on my last nerve, boy.” Rome knocked his fist like a hammer on Brian’s chest.

“This was your idea.” When he raised his eyebrows, Rome looked younger and somehow more sincere. “But ever since we got here, you been walking around all down in the mouth, like your dog just died. It’s pitiful.”

“Bullshit.” Rome scowled. “I’m the one driving around with these realtor-ladies looking down their noses at me. I don’t even know what you do all day.”

Brian noticed that they were passing an LAPD black and white. He leaned on his elbow and tilted his face away.

Rome’s eyes flickered between Brian and the gridlock ahead while he lectured. “…And I found you a good setup for a great price and you won’t even go look at it. I mean, are we just gonna sit around on that money with our thumbs up our asses for the rest of our lives…or was that shit about a garage for real?”

Brian squinted hard. The smog, the noise and the afternoon sun were giving him a headache. This had been one of his stupider ideas and boy, that was saying a lot.

Rome gestured at the lowing herd of late-rush-hour commuters in front of them. “I’ve got time.”

Brian shifted his weight. He was starting to feel sick to his stomach. There had to be some way of not having this conversation. “If you really like that place you saw with Maria, let’s make an offer.”

Rome, who had been opening his mouth to argue with whatever Brian said, paused and asked, “For real?”

“You’d take it just on my say-so?” Rome asked suspiciously. “You don’t want to check it out yourself?”

Brian swallowed the knot in his throat. This, he thought, this is probably a really bad idea. “I trust you. Sounds fine to me.”

Rome looked at him dubiously for a moment longer, then leaned out the window and bellowed, “Your car’s Intrepid, motherfucker! Why ain’t you?”

The sign was still up. Brian shoved his hands in his pockets and peered up at it. The blue had faded a little, maybe.

“See, check out this lot. Nice, huh? Just the right size.” In one smooth motion, Roman rattled the gate back. It only hitched for a second, like someone had kept it oiled. Brian looked up and down the street, half-expecting Vince to come boiling out of a doorway and ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing. But the street was quiet except for a couple of kids sharing a battered skateboard. Brian wondered vaguely what had happened to the trailers. Still out in the desert, probably.

“I like the brick-stucco combo myself,” Rome confided. “Gotta lotta style.”

Brian nodded slowly, like he was taking it all in for the first time. He looked away from the ‘Contractor’s Pyramid’ feeling slightly queasy. After a quick fiddle with the lock, Rome hitched the door up.

“C’mon, brah…check it out, it’s already got all the big stuff.” Rome had spread his arms, already prepared to emcee. “Check out that side, man, scissor lift. Old school.”

Brian leaned on the row of lockers by the door, picking idly at a Black Magic sticker.

“Look, it’s already got an office built in.” Rome went over and tapped the glass. “This is cool, man, you don’t lose any light.”

Brian had a flash of Jesse’s cigarette tracking the dust motes in the early morning. He pursed his lips and nodded.

Rome was still talking, “Look, this is what’s really incredible.” He jerked open a wide locker and gestured. “Look, tools. Snap-on, man. Quality stuff.”

A beam of sunlight caught the silver edge of the socket wrench Rome was holding. “It’s kinda weird that this shit’s all here. Like they just left it ready for us to move in.”

Rome raced up the orange staircase and stood on the landing like a preacher addressing his flock. “See we got storage space up heeeeere.” His voice echoed a little in the deep silence. “I bet you could stick some cots up in here and stay, in a pinch.” He leaned over and regarded Brian expectantly.

“Wow.” Brian tried to make his face look appropriately enthusiastic. The happiness he’d felt here appeared to have dried up like dust. Just breathing this air was like punishment. He took a deep breath. Maybe a little punishment wasn’t out of line.

“Jesus-is-Lord, what does it take to get a little enthusiasm around here?” Rome flounced back down the stairs. “What is up with all this hateration? This place is awesome at the price and you’re acting like I just shit in your mouth.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Rome looked at him closely. “Starting your period?”

Brian flicked Rome’s nipple hard enough to make him curse. Dom was probably on another continent by now, a million miles away. It had been a long-ass time. Dom had probably sold this place once already and all this anxiety was for nothing.

“It’s great.” Defiantly, Brian raised his voice enough to hear it echo a little. “Let’s make it happen.”

“Hey, that smells great!” Mia tossed the stack of mail onto the counter before lowering her bags more gently. “You should have called me, told me you were taking off early.”

“Wash your hands,” Dom started ladling sauce into bowls. “You’re just in time.”

“What a treat,” Mia leaned around his shoulder and took a deep sniff. “You been working on this all afternoon?”

Mia started sorting through, “Bills, bills, junk. What is this?” She brandished a box emblazoned ‘Camberwell’ at him.

She set the box on the counter, put the envelopes beside her plate before dabbing her hands under the faucet.

Dom did a quick scan, grabbed the salad bowl and sat down heavily. “Your turn.”

Mia looked at him while she sat down and waited until he’d folded his hands. She murmured at her plate, “Lord, this food to our strength, our strength to your service. Amen.”

Mia glanced at him occasionally as she ate, sorting through the mail while she chewed. He stared at the table and thought vaguely about how he could fit an intercooler into his latest project. If it was worth taking the time to cut down the intake valve.

“Oh, hey,” Mia brandished a large manila envelope at him. “Maria sent on the last of the paperwork.” She slit open the edge muttering to herself, “Hope they didn’t screw us.”

“This for the garage?” Dom had been thinking about it without really thinking about it since they’d talked about it. Selling the garage had become a constant low-grade hum in the back of his mind. Hopefully, the feeling would fade once the deed was done. “I trust her. That’s why she’s got that power of attorney.”

“Yeah,” Mia extracted a sheaf of paper that was still dotted with tiny ‘sign here’ flags. She started scanning it, looked up abruptly and offered it to Dom. “You wanna read this?”

“Nah, nah, you’re better at that stuff.” He took another bite and chewed dispiritedly. He couldn’t help staring at the papers while she read. Going, going, gone.

Suddenly, she blinked and recoiled a little, as if she’d discovered a dirty joke in the paragraphs of legalese. She put her fork down. Dom stared at her. More accurately, she dropped her fork.

“What is it?” He wondered if they’d moved a decimal place or two on the price.

She swallowed before she looked up at him. “Nothing.” She looked back down quickly and traced her finger along a line of type. “This just…”

He reached over and spread his hand on the page, pulling it away from her. She resisted for a second and he locked eyes with her. She seemed to quail under his heavy regard. He scanned the page impatiently, ignoring all the ‘whereas’ clauses, wondering what could have…

His mind skimmed over some words at the bottom of the page and stuttered to a halt.

He blinked and held the page up, a foot from his face. There. In black and white. A name.

Mia’s voice came faintly, like she was speaking over a deep roar. “Maybe it’s not him.”

Dom set the page down carefully on the pile. He raised his head and spoke carefully around the sudden tension in his mouth. “Oh, it’s him.”

Something about this feeling, this familiar feeling, was good. He felt more awake than he had in days, as if he’d slept deeply and woken to a bright morning. He stood up and rolled his shoulders back, feeling his strength crackle to the tips of his fingers. He took a deep breath and felt the joyous rage swell within him.

“Dom,” Mia had shrunk in the chair. Her eyes were huge in her face. “Dom, please.”

She sounded scared. The thought came to him vaguely as he left the kitchen. He heard her chair clatter backwards as she rushed after him. He grabbed a jacket on his way out the door. The tank was full, he was ready.

“You can’t do this, Dom.” Mia caught at his arm. “Think for a second. Are you seriously going back there? Going to risk another border check on the strength of that crappy I.D?”

“Don’t do this, please, don’t do this. Is this worth…” She choked a little. Her eyes shone, oil-black in the evening light. Her voice grew stronger, surer. “Is he worth your freedom? Has vengeance ever gotten you one good thing?”

He jerked his keys from his pocket and slid down into the Spyder. It was as low-slung as the Mazda, the thought just spurted a little more fury into his veins. He twisted the key and felt the engine ignite with satisfying vigor. He jammed into gear and paused for a second. Mia was blocking his exit.

“This is the third time you’ve left when I’ve begged you not to.” Mia stood in front of the Spyder. Her hair streamed around her face and over her bare arms. She looked like a strega, bruja, a witch about to curse him. “I can’t take this shit anymore. You leave now, I won’t be here when you get back. That’s a promise, Dominic.”

Somewhere deep in the rational part of his brain, he knew he was going one step too far. Her eyes reflected his, dark and implacable. But rage foamed and frothed within him, threatening to burn right through until he quenched it. He took one long look at his sister and slammed the car into reverse.

Brian shivered a little. He’d forgotten Los Angeles winters, how the temperature dropped like a stone after the sun set. His sweat drying felt like someone had dropped ice down his t-shirt. The Honda’s alternator clicked at him in a chiding way.

Three weeks in and business was booming. Rome had quit complaining and thrown himself headfirst into the scene. He’d sniffed out races nightly from Eagle Rock to the O.C. Win or lose, he came in the mornings all smiles and stories. By midweek, the trickle of his referrals had become a flood and now Brian was pulling his third twelve-hour shift.

He could hear Roman, pottering around outside, talking on his cell phone. At dinner, Brian had mentioned that if this kept up they were going to need to hire someone and Roman’s laser-like focus had taken the idea and run with it. Roman loved nothing better than ringing through his cell directory of newly-made friends, dredging up the guy whose girlfriend's cousin's ex-wife's brother knew a dude who could tune.

Edwin had come sniffing around first. He’d traded his cornrows for a fade that suited him a lot better. He'd talked metric tons of bullshit, spiked with a few subtle questions that Brian had managed to evade. A much harder test had come yesterday afternoon when Hector's compadres had shown up en masse, the roar of their engines drowning out the rest of the street. They'd come in like a small, smiling army, dressed in a uniform of blinding white t-shirts, oversized jeans hemmed at the knee, tube socks and white BKs. Hector himself was in Texas, they said. Putting la raza back in the NHRA. Brian shot the shit with them for a while, both sad and grateful that Hector was living the dream. Sad because it would have been good to see ol' Hector. Grateful because Hector wouldn't have hesitated a second before asking him straight: Hey snowman, where's Toretto?

No one knew and no one could seem to come out and ask. It should have felt good. The fact that no one knew the exact story of what went down was the best proof that Dom had gotten clean away. Which was what he’d wanted, right?

But Brian couldn’t seem to shake the foreboding that followed him around like a shadow. Why had he done this? No one was watching him in Miami, no one had anything in particular against him. Here, he'd come back to live in a hornet's nest of people whom he'd hurt and actually betrayed. The thought of seeing Sergeant Tanner made him feel almost sick to his stomach and the thought of seeing Dom...

He was gonna see Dom. He'd put them on a collision course as soon as he'd signed that paper under the beneficent eye of the realtor. It was no longer a question of if, just when.

Another part of Brian's head chimed in, he doesn't care. He imagined Dom on an empty beach, lolling on a towel, cupping his head in the V of his crossed arms. A sarong-wearing Letty walked toward him on the edge of the surf...

Brian suddenly remembered Hector saying, "Words, homie, they float in the air." L.A. was a huge playground, a megatropolis, but the serious street racers were a pretty exclusive club. News passed through them like a virus through a body. Dom was gonna know.

Dom was gonna know, and knowing Dom, Dom was gonna care. A lot. That had been part of it, Brian thought, the possessive and proprietary way Dom treated the people and things he wanted was...

Brian blinked at his diagnostic computer and shivered again. He needed to concentrate on work. Otherwise he was going to be here all night, getting nothing done except turning all of Dom's vices into virtues. Dom wasn't here, Dom didn't know, he didn't care, Brian was never going to get to see him again...

"Rome, this is what I mean, could you be more specific?" Brian didn't look up from the overtaxed alternator. "I mean, is this a customer dude, a delivery dude or..."

"How 'bout a big, scary dude?" Rome continued, unimpressed. Brian looked up just as Dom seemed to loom out of the darkness behind Rome's shoulder. Brian pulled his hands away from the alternator like it had shocked him and stood up too quickly, knocking his stool back with a loud, metallic screech. Dom pushed past Roman, who stiffened and eyed him dubiously. Brian straightened his shoulders and unconsciously wiped his hands on the hem of his shirt.

They stared at each other for a second and Brian found his breath coming a little faster. He could feel his heart beating in the back of his throat and an odd liquid feeling rolled through his stomach and the base of his spine. He'd imagined this so many times, so many different versions of this same moment, even down to the shade of rage in Dom's eyes. Dom's face was caught in its usual scowl, almost impassive except for the muscle in his jaw that jumped occasionally. In the silence, Rome's gum-smacking seemed to echo. Rome cleared his throat, but it was Dom who spoke.

"I should smack that look off your face right now," Dom's shoulders swelled as he clenched his fists. "I don't even know why we're talking."

"We're talking?" Brian said, and almost winced at his own smart mouth. Dom's lips tightened at that and his eyes practically shot sparks.

"Hey look, big homie, " Rome cut in. "In case it's 'scaped your notice, there are two of us here and I'm not..."

Dom turned his chin to his shoulder and eyed Rome for half a second. "Suits me, player, you wanna be the appetizer or the main course?"

"Look, who the fuck are you?" Rome widened his eyes theatrically and let the muscles in his own shoulders bunch.

"You're that sure?" Dom turned his full attention back to Brian and showed his eyeteeth.

"Why not?" Dom's voice seemed to have dropped an octave. Brian would bet that Rome had to strain to hear Dom and he lowered his own voice too.

"'Cause at the end of the day, it's not worth it. You won't feel better and it's not worth your freedom." Brian said softly. He'd thought about this moment for so long that suddenly he knew just what to say. "And I paid too much for both those things for you to throw 'em away, Dominic."

Dom's eyes got bigger for a second, the skin around his lips went white. For one moment he looked down and seemed to be casting about for words. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Why do I have to be doing it to you?" Brian asked reasonably. "Maybe I'm doing it for me."

"All the garages in all the cities in all the world," Dom said even softer. "And you have to have mine?"

"Shame to let it go to waste," Brian murmured back and for a split second, he was sure that if Dom had had a gun, Brian would have been severely perforated.

Dom's nostrils flared when he let his breath loose. He shook his head slowly. "This isn't over."

"I know," Brian nodded, fleetingly feeling like he was back in the academy: Hostage Negotiation 101. He felt like he was watching everything happen from about ten feet up. Dom seemed almost back to rational, until he stepped forward and jabbed at Brian's face with a pointing finger.

"This is not your place. You don’t belong here," Dom's index finger was so close to his mouth that Brian could have licked it, if he were so inclined. The veins in Dom's temples pulsed angrily as he repeated. "You do not belong here."

Brian nodded again, fighting the deja vu. In the blink of an eye, Dom was gone with no more evidence that he'd ever been there than Roman's raised eyebrows. Rome let out a low whistle. "You are going to tell me just what the fuck was going on there, right?"

Brian let his spine soften a little and slumped back down on the edge of the table. It was so quick; it felt like a sucker punch. "Long story, Rome." He didn't have to strain to hear the twin shrieks of an engine erupting and rubber being laid.

"Not to say that we couldn't have handled big dude six ways from Sunday," Rome cracked his knuckles. "But I'm kinda glad we didn't have to, knowwhatImean, bro?"

"Yeah, for sure." Brian tried to make himself relax. Something inside him was jiggling like it was loose. Like Dom had tapped him and made parts vibrate. "When he's not so mad, he's actually a pretty cool guy."

"Holy shit, that was...." Rome's teeth flashed as his mouth fell open. "That was that dude from L.A.! Holy shit....How the...what the...?" Rome looked from Brian to the door as if he was half-tempted to follow Dom in his car.

"Rome," Brian sighed. "I should have said something before. When I left L.A. a lot of people were pretty pissed off at me." Brian raised a shoulder indicating the vanished Dom. "That guy's just one of many and not nearly the worst of the bunch."

"Shit, man..." Rome shrugged a little "How's that different from any other town? I mean, Monica Fuentes nearly snatched you bald-headed when you left Miami and I can't even count the number of folks back in Barstow..."

Brian sighed again. "Ah fuck this, I'm just being paranoid. I was actually...I just expected that to go a bit differently."

Brian tried to grin back. "Yeah, I guess." He ducked out of the office and leaned on the garage door, looking out into the yellow glow of the streetlights. The street was quiet this time of night and the lights of downtown towers smothered the stars.

The low-slung, well-upholstered seat of the Spyder cupped him like King Kong's fist. Dom was huffing like he'd run a mile and the crowded streets of his old neighborhood were making him feel enraged, helpless and claustrophobic. The steering wheel was brushed steel with artful cutouts that he'd had imported at some expense from Japan. Now it felt hot under his hands; it felt like it was giving him a series of static shocks. He jabbed it sharply to the right, nearly rear-ending an SUV. He was really in no shape to drive.

He wondered grimly if this was the first stage of a heart attack. This suffocating feeling of not being able to draw enough air, this tingling sensation in his chest. He had rolled down both the windows and cool air just gushed in, but he was still pulsing hot.

"God damn him," Dom muttered at the back of the white SUV. A Bronco, he noticed. OJ's car.

A cop car idled on the other side of the lights, Dom noted with a slight feeling of unreality. The car looked strange to his eyes, unfamiliar insignia. Dom glanced up at the road sign and realized that he was in Hollywood. He spared a moment to wonder if he'd ever gotten busted in Hollywood. The lights changed and the Bronco moved up to turn left while the cop car cruised past. Dom do-si-doed around the Bronco and moved unerringly up toward Sunset. He needed a little space for his thoughts and the city streets were nothing but a nostalgia minefield.

By the time he'd turned off into the quiet darkness of Laurel Canyon, his breathing had slowed. The road was almost pitch dark, a few house lights glowed through the overhanging canopy of scrubby oak and eucalyptus.

Dom felt around for the rage that had connected him in a single glowing strand to the car, to the earth. He'd driven for hours up to this spot with almost nothing in his mind but white, unalloyed fury. But now it appeared to be gone and he felt himself drifting through emotions as confusing and insubstantial as mist.

A tentative, non-threatening 'beep' sounded behind him. Dom blinked up to where the light glowed green. He turned left onto Mulholland, giving a small, and probably unseen, apologetic wave to the people stuck behind him.

The seat hugged him as he took some turns. The glow of the valleys on either side flashed from breaks in the trees. Traffic was light here. After dark, it wasn't much fun to cruise. He took another turn too fast and fought to keep his lane. He drove past the ruby-diamond chain of the highway and up until the paved road petered out. He got out of the car and let the cool, ocean-damp air wash over him.

He hadn't imagined it would be like that. The sight of Brian, in that familiar setting, like nothing had ever happened at all...it was disorienting. He felt...lost. Like he was driving through a dream landscape, everything he'd ever known, twisted, changed and made unfamiliar. He looked down over the sea of lights that ended abruptly at the actual sea. Dom took a deep breath, trying to pull some of the evening chill inside himself.

He leaned on the car, feeling its reassuring solidity. The engine ticked softly, cooling down. He looked back to see if he could make out the vertical line of lights that signified downtown. He laughed humorlessly to himself. Homeless in his own freaking hometown. Pathetic.

Dawn was coming from behind the city, by the time he'd managed to gear himself up to act.

"So, who else is mad atcha?" Roman was enthusiastically chewing his In n' Out double-double while he asked this, but Brian had no trouble understanding him.

Brian regarded him wryly over his large Coke. "I have a feeling that you're gonna be."

Roman shrugged amiably. He widened his eyes at Brian and gestured impatiently for the rest of the story. "Tell me how it went down. Don't quite know how we never talked about it before."

Brian groaned internally; the reason they'd never talked about it before was because he'd actively tried to avoid the topic. "It's complicated."

Roman leaned forward and whispered theatrically. "Hey, man, you know that part I'd figured out for myself."

Brian leaned his head on his hand and looked out over the crowded parking lot. "OK, imagine...." There was just no good starting point. "All right, it's like this..."

Rome cocked his head, "I know it may not look like it, but I actually don't have all night."

"Fuck it, Rome," Brian tossed a french fry back onto the greasy paper that lined the table. "Remember what we did with Verone? OK, so it was like that, only instead of Monica, it was me on the inside."

Rome bobbed his head sagely for a while, sipping through a straw. He stopped abruptly. "Wait, so who were you fucking?"

Brian swallowed the bite he'd just taken the wrong way and spent a long moment coughing until his eyes stung.

Roman socked him a couple of times in the back obligingly. "This is gonna be good, I can tell."

Rome whistled so loud that the crowd of teenagers loitering on the other side of the patio looked over as one. Rome made a comical 'whoops!' face. "Guess you know that was probably a strategic error."

"Yeah," Brian enunciated, dry as the Mojave. "Yeah, I figured that part out for myself, thank you very much Mr. Pearce."

Rome folded his arms and looked heavenward in a way that told Brian just how very hard Rome was trying not to burst out laughing.

"Big homie didn't waste much time now, did he?" Rome poked his straw further down in his cup of crushed ice. "Came boiling up outta nowhere like a swarm of killer bees."

"Yeah, there's something else I should tell you." Brian said, bracing himself like he was on a window ledge. "It was his. The garage, I mean."

"Our garage?" Roman's mouth actually fell open, and Brian might have laughed if he could have.

Rome didn't say anything for a long moment, just let his eyes dart around for a while. He kept looking back at Brian with little glances that felt like pinpricks. After a while he leaned forward and said, "You were right, now I'm mad at you."

"But you're not," Rome suddenly blazed with intensity. "You're not sorry, Brian. The way you've let this happen, it's...." Rome broke off, looking too angry to talk.

"Bullshit!" Rome barked so loud, all the teens looked over again. Rome leaned forward and growled. "It's you all over, Brian. It's cool and intentional and it's just. Completely. Insane."

Rome stared back. After a long moment, he asked calmly, "So what were you on him for?"

"Grand larceny, robbery, hijacking," Brian cleared his throat. "He was a thief."

"Just a thief, huh?" Roman asked almost casually. Brian shifted on his chair and Rome made him drop his eyes.

Rome lowered his voice again. "Look, Brian, I spent three years in Chino and I learned quick how to tell who was dangerous and who was a loudmouthed punk. And that dude..." He jerked his thumb in some Domward direction. "...was dangerous. And I got enough stuff to think about, all right?"

"Jesus, man," Rome sighed. "You wanna wave red flags in front of bulls, move to fucking Mexico. And leave me out of it. Please."

Brian nodded at the table glumly. When he glanced up at Rome, he could see how pathetic he must look reflected in the worry in Rome's eyes.

Rome scanned Brian's entire face, looking like he was biting back his big brother lecture. Finally, Rome shook his head disgustedly. "C'mon crackerjack, you wanna play it like Evel Knievel, the least we can do is pull the Gs."

What with one thing and another, by the time he got to the quiet town they were calling home, the whole coast seemed to have sunk into a siesta. Even the sound of the waves seemed muted. He pulled up to the house, registering dimly that Mia's car was still there. Reflexively, he looked at the odometer. So many miles, gone in less than a day. He tried to recall exactly when he'd left. He'd practically flown to L.A, fueled by adrenaline and anger. It was a wonder he hadn't gotten himself spectacularly busted.

Mia was in the doorway, looking at him expressionlessly. He took his time extracting himself from the car, wondering how to play it off. He was cool enough now to realize that he'd acted like a fool and she had every right to be pissed. He was just glad she hadn't actually followed through on her threat to leave.

"Hey," he said hesitantly. She stood back and let him shoulder himself through the door. The temperature dropped appreciably once inside, the cool plaster blocking the bright sun. When he glanced back at Mia, the temperature dropped further still.

He wet his lips and strung his keys on the hook by the door. "You hungry?" he asked on the very slim chance she'd just write this off as temporary insanity.

She didn't say anything, just leaned on the counter. He noticed suddenly, that she'd put on clothes that she never wore down here. She looked sharp suddenly, hard-edged, very stylish. Very Los Angeles. She was wearing lipstick and Dom took it as an ominous sign.

“You said you weren’t going to get weird.” She didn’t sound terribly accusing. Just flat.

“I’m not…” Dom trailed off. He couldn’t really say that he wasn’t getting ‘weird’. He certainly felt weird.

“He’s just the exception that proves your rule, is that it?” Again, she didn’t sound like herself with all the warmth extracted from her voice.

"Mia..." Dom started. If she would just let him try to explain…better yet, if she would let him get by without explaining.

"I've been down here too long." Mia said to the ceiling. "The Spanish is messing with my head."

Dom felt himself pulled up short. That comment didn't seem to make any sense and in his universe, Mia always made sense.

"Mia, mia, mia," Mia almost lilted. "My, mine. Belonging to me. But you know, I don't belong to you. I belong to me."

"I...know that," Dom put the words down delicately, like a poker hand he wasn't sure was high enough.

Dom blinked. He was beginning to feel nauseated in a way that he hadn't experienced since his last conversation with Letty. Although that one had been conducted at a much higher volume, he was starting to detect some similarities.

Mia continued, "You know, do you remember how I took college English lit when I was a senior?"

Dom nodded, even though he didn't remember, not really. He didn't remember details like that, and sometimes that was a bigger deal than he ever realized. God, this was an awful feeling. He had an inkling that he might puke in the sink. He wished she'd stop being so calm, if she'd shrieked and wept, he could have held her.

"We had a section on Greek tragedy. I remember writing a paper about how the hero's fatal flaw was always his particular strength taken to such an extreme that it was a weakness."

He wanted to say that this was all way over his head, but he knew she wouldn't let him get away with it.

"Your tragedy is that you don't realize how much power you have, Dominic." Mia said softly. "How much people want to please you and how much they want to do what you want them to do."

"That's your fatal flaw, Dom. Because when what you want them to do is leave, that's what they'll do. Even if it breaks their hearts to do it."

Dom swallowed, trying to push down the wreckage where his own heart was breaking. "I never wanted anyone to leave."

"Yeah," Mia folded her arms implacably. Her voice was silver-edged with sarcasm. "Guess we all just grew apart."

"I'm not mad," Mia said and she didn't look mad. "I'm...just really, really sorry."

Mia came and put her hands on his shoulders. Such feather-light hands she had. "Dom, I hate to say this but you know we could have held it together down here. We were all hurt, in different ways maybe, but we could have helped each other...recover. But....you were a different person. I think maybe you still are. Something that happened up there changed you so much, it surprises me that you still recognize yourself in the mirror."

"It took me longer than I thought to load the car," Mia pulled back. "And I stayed because I wanted to tell you this, so you'd know. I'll always be your sister, Dom. I love you so much. We all do. Me, Letty, Leon, Vince."

Dom pressed his hand under his sternum. He really was going to puke. He almost couldn't hear her last words, it sounded like he was underwater and she was in a boat pulling away. "We're going to be there when you want us back. When you've figured out who you are again. What you want."

By the time he could see, speak and move again, she was nothing but two long ruts on the driveway. He stared at them, then out at the curve of cliff that kept the sun from setting on the water. He stood there while the light softened, then went inside, found a bottle of tequila and crawled inside it.

"I think my two pair beats your....whatever that is," Brian regarded Rome's cards with disdain.

Rome scowled, jiggled his shoulders, then grinned. "Born to lose, man. You want an I.O.U?"

"Nah, but it's your round on the brews, cuz," Brian tipped up the last of his beer.

Rome slid into his flip-flops and scuffed his feet across the smooth concrete to where dusk hid his Spyder. Under Monica's influence, Agent Markham had unwound enough to let them attend that particular Customs auction. It was Rome's pride and joy. He reversed back to where Brian was standing in the doorway. "Corona then?"

"Whatever's on sale," Brian took a few steps out and leaned on the wall. The concrete was still sun-warm. It had been 70 degrees earlier, a perfect L.A. winter's day.

Rome revved the motor while caressing the fully erect handbrake and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Brian. The wheels started to smoke. Rome released the brake and peeled out, roaring with laughter while his engine just roared.

Brian shook his head and said, "idiot" affectionately. He sauntered to the far side of the parking lot where the weedy star jasmine would cover the scent of Rome's burning rubber. The gathering dark was pleasantly cool. Brian unconsciously scanned his surroundings. The residential side of the street was quieting down; the business side was already as silent as a cemetery.

In a blink of time, Rome had gone so native that Brian sometimes had to remind himself that Rome had never lived here. Los Angeles was to Miami like night was to day, but it had the undercurrent of action that Roman constantly craved. Rome hadn't let his earlier anger at Brian ruin a chain of sunny days. He'd call Brian from every cool restaurant, beach or club he discovered and his enthusiasm was like a big Pacific wave.

He hadn't mentioned Dom again. Brian would still catch him watching though, scanning faces in crowds, checking mirrors obsessively in the cars. But then Brian had caught himself doing the exact same thing. Brian wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, but he never found it anyway.

Rome watched Brian, too. Brian would catch him staring at odd moments, over the hood of a car, at the end of a race, even while grocery shopping. He would scan Brian's face as if he was looking for something specific and his eyes held concern that he never voiced. Brian always tried to be present for Rome, but he found himself thinking more than once that it was less a city of angels than a city of ghosts. He saw them everywhere.

Dom had the right idea, Brian thought. Never slow down. If you never slow down, nothing can ever catch up.

Why had he done this? Dom had asked that, why are you doing this to me? And it would have been easy, easy and at the same time impossible to say then, "You, because of you." Because even if he saw the ghosts of Sergeant Tanner, Jesse, Johnny Tran and Mia every single day, it was still worth it. To drive down a street and remember the time that he'd driven down it with Dom. This place was the last place that he'd stood next to Dom and shared that warm, bright moment of perfect understanding. So staying here was worth the ghosts. Somehow.

Brian scratched the back of his head, ran his fingers through his hair until it stood on end, like a sweaty blond 'fro. All of a sudden, the evening seemed too quiet. Even the constant hum of the freeway tapered off for a second. Brian scanned the street, feeling the maddening prickle of someone's eyes on him. His eyes tracked for movement, but there was none, the street was hushed, waiting. He was under a streetlight; he realized suddenly. He'd make a good target.

Brian took two long steps backward out of the light and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He abruptly felt stupid; who was he going to call? What was he going to say? But he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

“Dom?” He projected this so it wasn’t a yell, just a louder-than-average voice. The silence grew. Somewhere a distant cat yowled and in a second, normalcy came crashing back down. He was being stupid. No one was watching.

In the relative quiet, the growling hum of the Spyder was audible from half-a-dozen blocks away. Obviously, the cute girl working the counter at their local bodega was taking the night off. Or Brian had been mooning around in a parking lot for longer than he’d realized.

Brian leaned proprietarily on the Camaro, waiting for Rome. Something was still off, but he pushed it aside. Rome would come back, they’d hang out for a little while longer then go grab some food, find some fun. Go to a club in the Valley, maybe. Brian tried to brush away the last tentacles of paranoia.

Brian pushed himself off the side of the car as Rome’s Spyder crested the ridge in a blaze of purple neon. Shit, that was it. Rome’s car sounded weird, strangely even; there were none of the usual pauses in the engine’s drone. A constant high-pitched screeeee covered almost all the normal noise. Brian ran to the street hoping that Rome was just doing some stupid daredevil stunt trying to see how long he could negotiate the hills of Echo Park without ever…

Brian had run half a block up the hill when Rome passed him and any hope that this was just Rome being a dumbass died. Roman spared one glance at Brian as the Spyder slid past. Rome clutched the steering wheel like it was the only life preserver in the entire Pacific Ocean. Brian could see the panic in the whites of Rome’s eyes. His brakes were non-existent then. Brian froze, the sudden realization that there was nothing that he could do to help Roman at this point hit him like a brick.

Rome was spilling inexorably down from the quiet hills of Echo Park into the busy streets of Los Angeles. Brian strained his eyes and his memory trying to think of just what Rome was rolling into. The road was just about to level out under a freeway overpass and if Rome didn’t panic and hit it just right, he could ease down his speed with the sheer force of gravity and turn into one of the many vacant lots down off Cesar Chavez or Glendale with just a little help from his handbrake. If no one else happened to want to use the two or three intersections between here and there.

On pure reaction, Brian started running down the hill. The only thoughts in his head were the words of some long-gone teacher: Objects in motion have a tendency to remain in motion.

Rome was going to make it. He’d guided the Spyder through one red-lighted intersection without even garnering a honk. Now Brian could see down to the lot where Rome was obviously headed. Roman was jigging the wheel from side to side in an attempt to slow his momentum, doing the textbook response for what to do when brakes fail on a hill.

When he got past the light on Second Street, Rome took a chance and bowed wide, trying to make the turn into a lot without the benefit of a safe speed. Brian winced. The Spyder was pretty bottom-heavy, as befitted a performance convertible, but Brian could easily envision it flipping if Rome tried to cut the turn too fine. He was going to need to set himself into a doughnut as soon as he had some flat ground, a circle where his momentum could safely play out.

He was gonna make it. The last intersection was empty with clear sailing into a weed-strewn vacant lot. Brian pulled himself out of a sprint and took one deep breath of relief.

Brian yelped, stumbled and practically rolled down to the intersection where the Tahoe’s alarm was blaring insistently. The Spyder was practically invisible, squashed like a bug between the SUV and the wall of the freeway.

Before he knew it, Roman was pushing himself up over the side of the crumpled Spyder. Brian clutched his shoulders helping him ease out over the wreckage. With the press of Rome’s hot back on his chest and the steam and smell of hot twisted metal, Brian found the déjà vu approaching almost toxic levels.

“You all right?” His voice sounded loud in his own ears, but Roman blinked and grimaced like he couldn’t hear Brian.

“Keeeerist!” The other driver couldn’t decide whether he should bellow or scream. “What the fuck was that?”

Rome straightened up and shot a quick sideways look at Brian before curling into an elaborate ‘ahhh, the pain’ pantomime. Brian spared a glance for the Tahoe which looked like it was going to need a new bumper. The Tahoe driver continued, “I’m definitely going to need your insurance information.”

“Sure, whatever,” Brian started placating automatically. Rome was still doubled up. “I think this guy’s brakes just failed. You think maybe he could have a second to catch his breath?”

“You guys street racers?” The Tahoe driver who had a nice suit topped by a $5 haircut, was examining the mesh of decals spilling off the Spyder and getting more and more agitated. “I’m calling the cops.”

The Tahoe-driving asshole was talking over-loudly into a ridiculously small cell phone. Brian had the sudden vicious urge to yank off Rome’s sideview mirror and beat the guy with it. Spectators were starting to gather in dribs and drabs so he controlled the impulse. Rome had moved into a quick walk-it-off pace in a tight circle. Brian hoped that if he were really hurt he would say.

Almost like magic, a black-and-white pulled up just as the jerk clicked his cell phone shut. The Tahoe driver started in on his version of events in a loud bray. Brian sidled as close to Rome as he could and murmured, “Do we know each other?”

“Dunno, do we?” Rome shot back angrily, then winced and softened. “Nah, better not.”

“You need paramedics?” Brian had shoved his hands in his pockets and they felt uncomfortably swollen and sweaty.

“Be fine, brah,” Rome shook his head slowly. Then he perked up, “Think they’d be cute?”

The cop who wasn’t taking Tahoeman’s statement examined the Spyder and gave a low whistle. “That’s a damn shame, man, can you tell me what happened? You need medical assistance?”

Rome reiterated that he was fine, then said shortly. “I was coming back from the bodega and around Kennington, I just had nothing man, no brakes and the long hill ahead of me. All of a sudden, nothing’s working.”

“Yeah, I saw him pass around Lorena.” Brian added. “He had nothing, couldn’t even pause. No time to call 911.”

“So who are you again?” The cop asked, with all the politeness of a person guaranteed an answer.

“Nobody really,” Brian tried a self-deprecating face. “I just happened to be watching.”

“So can we call you as a witness…” The first cop started in a bored tone just as the second one chimed in. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Hey, man, I thought the same thing. I seen you before, I know it.” Rome had cocked his head to the side and was squinting dramatically. “Are you an actor?”

Brian covered his bark of laughter by clearing his throat. “Guilty as charged.”

Rome was snapping his fingers, “From that commercial, yeah. Yoghurt right…no…”

“Nice work if you can get it.” Rome finished. He reached over the door to work the glovebox open. It gave after two tugs and Rome passed his insurance card over to Tahoeman without a word. He worked his wallet loose and handed his license to the second cop. Brian tried to quell his agitation as the uniform retreated to their car with Rome’s license. Bilkins’ word was good, apparently, because the cop returned Rome’s license without a second glance.

One of the cops said, “We’re gonna have to write you up for failing to yield, but you should definitely file a report if you think you’re a victim of malicious mischief or something. We’ll put the court date a couple a months from now, so if you need an investigation…”

The other cop had been watching with one foot on his running board and he called. “You sure you don’t need an ambulance?” He brandished his radio questioningly.

“You gonna stay with him?” The cop asked Brian. Brian nodded. Tahoeman looked vaguely pissed that the cops didn’t seem to be in awe of the damage to his vehicle. He huffed away.

As quickly as it had formed, the crowd petered out. A fire truck pulled up and got waved off, after Brian mentioned that he could just call some buddies for a tow. After the cops left, Rome and Brian found themselves quickly alone. The Spyder wasn’t blocking the traffic that was easing anyway. It cast a shadow from the spill of freeway light, looking like a large crushed insect.

“You should go get checked out,” Brian insisted. “Cash isn’t the issue.”

“Later, Bri,” Rome fingered the crushed side of the car. “I’m too pissed off to feel pain.”

The tow truck beeped to a halt in front of them and one of Hector’s many iterations of cousin made sympathetic and disbelieving noises. It seemed like it took a long time, trying to work the remains of the car up on the truck, mostly because few of the wheels would turn.

“So everyt’ing just went?” Hector’s cousin Jorge asked for the third time. “All at once?”

“¿No mames? I never hear of that happening before,” Jorge shook his head in disbelief.

It seemed like hours before they got the Spyder back up the hill, into the garage and up on a lift, even though it was less than a mile away. Rome was twitching from foot to foot in a way that looked like pain, but his eyes were so sharp and fierce that Brian didn’t have the heart to bring up the doctor again. He concentrated on pulling up the hood which was now ruched and pleated like a singed piece of fabric.

Brian and Rome nearly knocked their heads together in their rush to get a good look under the hood. Roman glanced about for a second, then slid himself, wincing, onto a creeper. Brian scanned the engine anxiously, and Rome whistled. “Come, look at this.” Brian bent down and rocked himself back onto the cool concrete floor.

The undercarriage looked like someone had dragged a rake over it. Brake fluid traveled around the car in steel tubes. Every place the tube needed to bend was wreathed in reinforced rubber. In the Spyder, every place that reinforced rubber should have been was now a pathetic little black flower. It looked like several small explosions had taken out all the joints at once. Some tubes hung limp, some were gone completely.

“Looks like someone’s fucked with the pressure differential.” Brian pointed “And look at the calipers.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Brian felt his stomach drop. “Someone’s gouged out all their clips. When you burned out like that, you ground them down to nothing.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, faces close together. Brian pointed upward and slowly helped Roman to his feet.

He took a long screwdriver out of his box and prised at the black box that hunched over the firewall mid-engine. The dark metal cylinders and plates made a protective nest for this most important feature of the modern engine. Not the beast’s thumping heart, but its brain. The computer.

Brian peered into the black, plastic housing and grimaced. This time Rome pushed his head so close that for a moment they were cheek to cheek.

“Like someone poured acid in it,” Brian sniffed and pulled away. The scent was acrid and metallic, the tiny chips now indistinct.

“But you couldn’t…” Rome paused, thinking. “You’d have to put it in something…”

“…That would melt away.” Brian finished. “As the engine heat built up…”

They both fell silent. This, with the carnage under the car, looked like a very bad trip.

“Who would do something like this?” Brian ran through a quick mental list. He knew he was a marked man in certain circles, but Rome was no angel either. A sick twinge of Johnny Tran’s face in his head made Brian’s stomach tighten.

“No shit,” Rome chewed on his lower lip. “But it’s weird. Someone wants me dead, it’s just awful…elaborate, know what I mean? It’s not going to look like an accident, not with this undercarriage. I mean, a bullet’s cheaper. And lots faster.”

“Maybe killing you wasn’t the point?” Brian surmised. “Not the whole point.”

“Then what? Scare me to death, destroy my car?” Rome’s voice almost broke. “It’s like…”

“Torture,” Brian almost whispered. “Whoever did this knew you. Knew how you drive.”

Rome just looked at him. “The way we’ve been looking out, whoever did this would have to be lightning-quick and know just what they were doing. So that’s not a lot of people.”

“I can’t think of anyone.” Brian started. It was sickening to think that someone had been creating quiet mayhem while they’d been playing poker in the dusk.

“Yeah, but, why?” Brian swallowed. He’d been trying to push the thought away, and he didn’t want to voice it aloud.

“He’s mad, he’s crazy, why not?” Rome stroked the crushed quarter panel of the Spyder gently.

“He’s mad, but he’s not crazy.” Brian ducked up to look under the car again. “This isn’t something that he’d do.”

“Brian, you got no fool idea, what that guy’d do.” Rome grimaced. “You’re a cop…”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I remember. So don’t let it go to waste. Show me that cop thing.”

When Brian looked blank, Roman made a face. “You got a suspect? Interrogate him.”

Brian wondered who had originally come up with that phrase. His mom had never been much of a cook, much less a baker, but she’d used those words on occasion. He remembered asking her once when he was about seven or eight, why pie was reckoned to be so easy to make. She’d smiled at him…when he was seven or eight, she’d been all smiles…and said, ‘Honey, it’s not easy to make, but it’s easy enough to eat, now isn’t it?’

It was as good an explanation as any. Things had never been that easy around the O’Conner home anyway, so he hadn’t had to think about it much between that day and this one.

One of his first partners on his first crappy beat at the LAPD had been a sweet-natured old Okie named Orrin Chandler who was about a hairsbreadth from retirement. Orrin had never lost his familial Arkansas turns of phrase despite living his entire life in a neighborhood called Pico-Rimpau. Orrin’s easy Zen and laid-back manner had gone down a treat with his law-abiding constituents whether they were originally Laotian, Guatemalan or Ethiopian. He had a face you could tell anything to, and one of his favorite phrases was ‘easy as kissing your sister’, which from him came out ‘easy as kissun yo’ sistuh’ delivered with a sly wink that said: ‘honey, this ol’ uniform don’t make no nevermind, we’s all jes’ folks heah, so why’nt you tell ol’ Orrin where your boyfriend done stashed the coke and his pistolero?’

Brian grinned despite himself remembering that. Though, considering his present circumstances, the phrase ‘easy as kissing your sister’ brought too many more recent memories swirling up.

It had been easy though. Weirdly easy. He’d kind of forgotten how good he was at the disarming grin, the plausible story. He’d walked into Maria Mendoza’s office and walked out with an address half an hour later. She hadn’t known how badly she wanted to give her latest customer confidential information until it was already done. All this with a few words about thank-yous, maybe sending a fruit basket…the tools were just soooo nice and the place was really perfect for them, they sank right down into it like a hand into warm sand.

Initially, Maria had demurred but then softened up under a little flirtation, until she was telling Brian selected parts of her life story and the Toretto’s physical address didn’t seem like that much to part with.

Such a liar, Brian thought to himself. He fingered the piece of paper where Maria had written an actual town and street name after he’d professed concern that his planned thank-you gift (flowers, maybe) wouldn’t get delivered to a P.O Box. Christ. Dom should be more careful.

He shifted uncomfortably in his bucket seat. Was it Dom who needed to be a bit more careful…or Brian O’Conner? It hadn’t taken much for Rome to convince him to do what he was currently doing. Rome had been insistent on coming with him, so much so that Brian felt guilty about leaving at the crack of dawn and without a word. Rome was going to give him an earful when he got back.

Brian drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Everyone always accused him of having no self-regard, not having the sense to be apprehensive of the myriad dangers of life. He might be walking into the lion’s den.

He swallowed. He felt kind of nauseated. He was pretty sure that the tight, swollen feeling in his stomach wasn’t exactly fear. Fear felt cleaner somehow, less ambiguous.

No one on the team had believed him when he’d confessed that the first time he’d ever punched the nitrous was in their first race. He could still see Dom’s incredulous face while everyone else had scoffed at the very notion. Dom had believed him though, quickly turning curious, asking ‘Did it feel like you expected it to?’

Brian had thought that was a good question, better and more exact than ‘How did it feel?’

‘Yeah,’ Brian had lowered his voice to just between them. ‘That was the part that I didn’t expect…I guess you get used to it.’

‘Nah,’ Dom’s smile had turned reflective. ‘You don’t. But that’s okay. In fact, that’s the point.’

Brian blinked and came back to himself, noting that he was riding a Porsche’s ass and hemmed into the far left lane. He backed off to a safe distance. People were always worried about the most obvious risks when the world was full of major and minor traps for the unwary. There were plenty of less-than-obvious dangers that you could never anticipate.

He tried to plan what he would say to Dom. Rehearse it. He chuckled mirthlessly to himself, shaking his head.

The border was easier than he remembered. It looked like they’d jazzed up the station, there were more lanes for cars, more officials. It took ten minutes, which was a pleasant surprise. It didn’t jog him out of this high speed trip down memory lane.

Dom had looked good, even as angry as he’d been. Tanned. Ripped. Brian wondered what he was doing to fill his days down here, surrounded by rich, retired Californians and Mexicans on the make. He wondered what the team was doing with their long nights, miles away from LA’s light.

South of the border sprawl, he pulled off to the side of the road and anxiously scanned the map he’d bought in the last gringo suburb of Tijuana. Unsurprisingly, it seemed like very few of these canyon roads were marked. He’d left as dawn was breaking; it was noon now. He closed his eyes for a second, turning his head up to the sun.

He didn’t believe for a second that Dom would do something like what had been done to Rome’s Spyder. Dom just didn’t have that kind of malice, unless things had changed a damn sight more than he’d ever realized. He’d hoped that, given enough time, Dom would understand why he’d done what he’d done. Maybe he’d given Dom too much credit, but Dom had always surprised him with his shrewdness and insight, his ability to see all the angles.

A small voice in his head asked why, if he didn’t believe that Dom was guilty, was he haring off to Baja California like his pants were on fire?

Another voice coolly responded that if Dom hadn’t done this, he could probably guess who did.

A truck pulled up behind him and an older Mexican man got out and crunched up through the gravel.

“Tu es perdido?” The man’s face was etched with sunworn wrinkles, he looked kind and competent.

“I’m looking for the Calle Playas Docemes?” Brian unfolded his little slip of paper without much hope. He felt he was still a good hundred miles from where he needed to be. But the man nodded and gestured at the road ahead. “Toretto’s is about another hour along…the turnoff is past the village, left after marker 63, then another two miles. The marker is ….damaged. But you’ll see a stand of …cypress? And that’s the turn.”

“My son does…” the older man grinned. “…in a car like this, there’s only one place you could be going. Vaya con Dios.”

This had to be the place. The rutted lot had sixteen…no seventeen…different kinds of tire treads and that Spyder couldn’t be anyone else’s but Dom’s. It was the RX-7 redux, even down to the relative subtlety of the decals.

Brian paused for a while before getting out of the car. He felt a moment of self-loathing that stretched as he watched the dark windows of the unassuming house. He who hesitates is lost.

Anger started to build as he sat in the emptiness. Damn Dominic Toretto anyway, for living in this modest house out in the boondocks of Baja, twenty miles away from anything like civilization. After Brian had turned himself 180 degrees from practically everything that he’d known and cared about, the least Dom could have done was lived like a king in paradise. This didn’t look like paradise.

They probably weren’t even here. Vince, Leon, Letty, Mia, he’d expected to be walking into a hive of activity. They were probably out somewhere, maybe down at the beach that he’d turned away from to come up this canyon. Brian felt a moment of doubt when he noticed that most of the treads were so old they were sinking back into the dust. Maybe they were all gone. Moved on. Maybe this trip was for nothing.

Fuck them, fuck Dom, fuck this entire situation…he made his best decisions when he didn’t think too much.

He slammed his palm down on the steering wheel and the horn erupted with noise. He left off for a second to listen to the echo bounce around the canyon. He punched the horn again and it blared into the silence. It was the aural equivalent of gloves being thrown down.

When no one reacted, Brian’s annoyance was almost terminal. He shoved himself out of the car and was stomping angrily through the dust when he noticed Dom standing at the door. Dom was in shadow, the whole house was a deep shadow behind him. Brian stopped and stared.

The screech of the screen door was loud. The sun, the silence, one circling hawk…this was like a matinee Western, the gunslingers’ showdown.

When Dom stepped down to the drive, he seemed to stumble for a second. When he stepped into the sun, he didn’t squint against the glare, he just blinked slowly. Brian started to move again, squaring up subtly, but Dom wasn’t acting anything like he expected. He didn’t quite know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. Dom had tilted his head and was regarding Brian like he’d come in a rocket ship instead of a Camaro.

Finally Dom said softly, “You lost?” and Brian’s rage felt volcanic. Unconsciously, he rolled his shoulders back. He was so angry he could barely speak.

Dom rolled his own shoulders back, tightened his fists and lowered his head like a bull. Brian realized that Dom was mimicking his posture and his vision started to narrow until all he could see was the slightly mocking expression on Dom’s face.

“You’re half in the bag,” Brian wasn’t sure he could get much angrier without having some sort of brain aneurysm, but the reek of tequila rolling off of Dom felt like a personal affront. It was barely one o’clock.

“Make no mistake,” Dom tilted his head and he almost seemed to grin. “I am completely in the bag.”

If he smiles, I’m going to kick his ass. The thought came to Brian, thin and muffled as if from a far distance. The light here was incredibly bright; it was like he could see the reflections in the drops of sweat on Dom’s temple.

“Why am I surprised?” Dom started talking to the air. “Why would I be surprised? You’d show up at the fucking Apocalypse.”

“I am going to punch you in the face,” Brian said very softly. Dom didn’t seem to hear him and kept talking, playing to an imaginary audience.

“Turning up like the worm in the bottle…the last little bit, when I think it’s all over. When I think I can’t take…one…more…thing. You. Of course, you. S’been a long time coming.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time coming.” And Brian punched Dom almost as hard as he could right under Dom’s solar plexus.

Dom’s breath exploded and he recoiled a step. Brian hesitated for a second before following up and in that second, Dom sobered a little and hardened up. Brian landed another glancing body blow, but Dom slid sideways and raised his hands.

“You sure you wanna do this with me?” Dom growled. Brian feinted and then nailed Dom’s temple from the unexpected side. Dom shook his head and pivoted away from Brian’s second punch. Brian’s knuckles stung when they connected with Dom’s ribcage instead of his stomach.

“You don’t wanna do this.” Dom grunted and pulled back. Pulled back enough so that Brian had to push forward. Dom kept his hands up and then jerked a rabbit punch that fell on Brian’s collarbone. Brian barely felt it, though his bones seemed to jitter a little inside his flesh. He slammed the side of his fist into Dom’s head, then followed with his elbow.

Dom was bleeding, his cheek or…. Blood was dripping from a cut on his browbone, little drops on his cheek. Brian’s hands were sticky. Dom feigned a blow, then grabbed Brian’s collar. He slammed his forehead into Brian’s cheek and Brian’s eye socket exploded in agony. Brian shook his head and tried to pull all his weight back, but Dom’s weight dragged at him. So Brian bulled forward, hammering Dom’s kidneys. Dom grunted but didn’t let go. He didn’t let go and he didn’t let go and suddenly they were on the ground, in a cloud of fine dust.

Dom’s forearm was under his chin. Brian made some sharp jabs with his elbows and writhed out from under Dom’s weight. Dom grabbed the back of his t-shirt and rolled with him. Brian got another good, satisfying clout to Dom’s belly, before Dom grabbed his wrist.

I will punish you, I will, Brian thought, even as Dom twisted his wrist and let his weight press Brian down. Pretty dirty, shit, Dom hadn’t even begun to see dirty. Brian twisted his head and bit Dom’s shoulder so hard that he tasted blood.

Dom snarled in surprise and fought back up to his knees. For a second, they just panted at each other. Brian felt a sticky sting on his own face. He was bleeding, his lip or his cheek. Suddenly, Dom brought his fist down in the meat of Brian’s upper thigh and pain rocketed up his flank, but it put Dom’s head in position for another elbow. Dom turned into it so that Brian’s elbow skidded over his skull, if Dom hadn’t turned, Brian would have broken his nose.

“Stop,” Dom gasped. He was close now, using his weight to keep Brian’s arms pinned. Brian twisted a knee out from under and was just about to make this fight a lot more personal, when Dom spat a mouthful of blood into his eye and slammed Brian’s wrists and elbows into the ground with enough force to make them alight with pain.

Numbness spread down his forearms, but the rest of his body sang with sensation. Brian swelled, pushing with all his might at the weight that held him down. It was awkward, being supine. He blinked furiously, he couldn’t wipe his eyes. Dom had him pinned, but good. Dom’s face was inches away and Brian snapped his teeth at him. He wanted to spit at Dom, but his mouth was too dry.

“Relax,” Dom muttered into his ear and Brian found the leverage to jerk his head up the few inches it took to sink his teeth into Dom’s nearest flesh which turned out to be his jaw. Brian did his best to take a chunk out of Dom, but the angle was bad.

Brian felt this painful twist work through his stomach and he fought furiously until his muscles all began to rebel. Dom held him fast until he slackened off the battle, settling for giving Dom the stare of death. Dom let go of his wrists abruptly, rolled sideways and started to shake.

Brian scrambled back on the heels of his hands, tensing himself to jump up. Dom had covered his face with both hands and was just lying in the dust, shaking. The whites of his eyes peeked out from between his fingers. The white of his teeth too. He was laughing. Dom was laughing.

Brian’s anger made his eyes swell; then it burst out in a hard breath. He was welling up, this hot, metallic taste in the back of his throat felt like a fountain of I’ve-had-enough. He licked his lips with a parched tongue. His fist was clenching, tightening so hard and fast that he expected his knuckles to split out through the skin. His eyes stung and since Dom didn’t seem poised to go on the attack, he dared a moment to brush at them. He felt battered, more by emotion than the flying fists. He looked down at Dom who was still sprawled unself-consciously in the dust and gravel.

Dom was going to have a black eye. One of Brian’s stray elbows had done for him; the crescent underneath his left eye was already swelling. The cut on his brow was already black where the blood had leeched up the dirt. A thread of blood oozed from one corner of his lip every time he hitched with laughter. Brian shook his head slowly…he had to do it slowly, to do it quickly hurt like a bitch…and against his will, he started to grin.

Dom guffawed, clutched his stomach and winced. Brian chuckled too, then grimaced as the cut on his face stung. Then he laughed harder. Too fucking hysterical. He couldn’t stay upright suddenly. He gasped with laughter, lying beside Dom, feeling the fine dust coat the back of his neck.

Dom was alternating chuckles and winces while Brian laughed so hard that he choked a little. Dom watched him, eyebrows raised, while he got his breath back. For a while they just panted up at the sky.

Brian slitted his eyes to watch Dom who was watching him. Then Dom turned hard onto his shoulder.

Brian felt dusty pressure as Dom cupped a hand under Brian’s neck and stroked his thumb over Brian’s cut lip, his eyes suddenly very sober and intent. Brian froze when Dom leaned in closer and closer, chasing his thumb with his tongue. Dom’s mouth on Brian’s was hot and questing and his teeth pressed hard into Brian’s sensitized lip. Dom’s mouth tasted of blood.

Brian had the fleeting thought that this was just a scheme to hurt and humiliate him further and his mind tensed and toughened up against it. Until Dom softened the lips around his teeth and nudged Brian’s jaw with his nose and Brian was going to have to rethink everything that he’d thought, believed, assumed. He pushed back, pressing up hard until they were teeth to teeth and thus mouth to mouth.

Then time seemed to stretch and he was staring at the wide expanse of bright blue sky over Dom’s shoulder and receiving the hottest handjob in the history of his life. Dom caressed him clumsily and Dom’s calluses made him screw his eyes shut and moan like it hurt. Dom kept Brian’s head and neck tight in the curve of his elbow, tilted at the right angle to dip kisses from, nipping at Brian’s neck, while his other hand stroked Brian’s stomach and cock indiscriminately, leaving little flecks of dried blood.

Brian twisted his hips and sobbed as he thrust; it took a while before he realized he’d stopped breathing in for a stupid length of time. He relaxed and tried to suck in air.

“Yeah, like that,” Dom whispered in his ear and that took a while to loop around his mind and make any sense, but that was OK because even Dom just talking into his ear sent thrills down his flanks. He tried to hold back a little of himself, but it was like his body was allied with Dom against him. Dom was still murmuring softly when Brian came. Satiation was heavy, his eyes almost couldn’t stay open and he couldn’t keep a grip on things like shame or rage.

He breathed for a long moment, pressing his face hard into the dry cotton of Dom’s t-shirt.

After the feeling in his extremities returned, Brian edged his fingers experimentally into Dom’s waistband while snuffling helplessly at his neck. Dom thrust at him instinctively, grinding them both further into the dirt until Dom seemed to come back to himself and circled a firm hand around Brian’s wrist.

“Nah, s’okay,” Dom grinned very sweetly, for a second, Brian could see the boy he had been. “I’m too drunk.”

He pressed his forehead against Brian’s, turning on his side and pulling Brian half on top of him. Then he gently pressed his lips to Brian’s unbruised cheekbone. Brian tilted his head just the scant inches required and abruptly those gentle lips were on his mouth and then they weren’t so gentle.

Brian suddenly realized how hard he was clutching Dom, how Dom’s fingertips were tenderly tracing the muscles in his shoulders while he had snagged his own fingers claw-like into Dom’s back. The desperation he felt was terrifying, he had to get back a little control and distance.

He wiped the sweat and dust on his forehead onto Dom’s t-shirt. Dom pressed his lips to Brian’s hairline, nudging a space with his nose.

“God, you smell like shit,” Brian muttered. Dom’s arm was hard under his neck.

“Yeah,” Dom rolled his head in from Brian’s shoulder to his own and sniffed. “Nice of you to say.”

“Seriously, I’m getting a contact high, just breathing your exhaust.” Brian stuck his nose into the curve of Dom’s neck, there the Dom-scent fought back the sweat and booze reek. “How much have you had to drink?”

“I don’t really wanna know?” Brian tried to ask without grinning. It didn’t quite work and he could feel dust on his teeth.

Dom squeezed him again and then groaned, “Man, you just…” He rolled onto his back and rubbed his stomach, smearing dust into his dingy t-shirt. “Nice hook there. I’ll remember that one.”

“Really?” Dom looked out from under his eyelashes, wily and wicked. He sat up and nodded at the house. “Bedroom’s right over there.”

Inside it was dark and Brian nearly tripped on a neat stack of square bottles that fit together like a pyramid. The empty ones clinked and clattered loudly. The dust motes feathered down over all the dead soldiers littering the table and the floor. The trash and the sink were overflowing, there was a lingering sour smell of rot and vomit under the scent of tequila.

“So how long have you been…” Dom had vanished, so Brian raised his voice. “On the world’s biggest bender?”

There was a pile of silvery cans spilling off the couch onto a woven wool rug. The living room smelled of beer, not unpleasantly.

“…hear you.” Dom’s voice carried him down a hallway. They were alone, the echoes, dust and silence spoke volumes.

They were alone. Brian stopped between one step and the next, thinking how odd, how wrong it was that Dom was alone.

Brian paused at the door. A bedroom, that Dom had very obviously not been sleeping in. Dom’s boots were splayed sideways trailing their laces, victims of Dom’s careless, sulky striptease.

Dom was looking at his bed, his crumpled bedclothes, as if he were surprised to find it still there. Brian leaned on the doorframe, a thousand questions vying for supremacy. Dom looked up at Brian and inhaled and exhaled deeply. Not like he was girding himself to speak…or do anything really. Just breathing. Ready.

Brian’s skin still felt like it had been turned inside out. He felt wary, elated and confused at the same time. It didn’t seem entirely possible that the last twenty minutes had actually happened. He studiously refrained from looking at Dom’s tousled bed.

Dom raised one eyebrow, scratched the back of his neck, then reached further down to the middle of his back and grabbed a handful of his filthy shirt and pulled it up over his head. He dropped the shirt on the floor and his fingers traced lazily over the latticework of his abdomen.

Dom said this very factually, without accusation. All of the questions that Brian wanted to ask melted back into his throat in a sudden wash of saliva.

“Yeah…well,” He couldn’t keep from sounding like an idiot. “You hurt me too.”

Christ, he felt like an idiot, he had no idea what was going on. Which hurts they were even talking about.

Dom shrugged elaborately, his shoulder nearly touched his chin. He twisted the first button on his fly free. He paused for second and made very deliberate eye contact.

“What are we doing?” Brian tried to keep his voice from cracking. It felt like the air had just tightened somehow.

“I stink, remember?” Dom thumbed the second button free. He tilted his chin down, so he was looking sideways and slightly up at Brian, out from under his lashes. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Yeah,” Brian said faintly. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Good idea.”

Dom smirked and scratched himself in the curve under his pectoral muscle. Brian tried to arrange his back more comfortably against the wall or door he was leaning on. Dom laced his fingers together and stretched, muscles rippling in the shadowy light. Brian’s over-sensitized dick fought a sudden losing battle with his cargo pants.

Do not come over here, Brian thought, as Dom seemed to grow closer without actually taking any steps towards him. Dom leaned in and sniffed lightly at Brian, the implication being obvious.

When Dom pulled back, Brian couldn’t stop himself from grinning his smirkiest grin and saying archly, “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Oh God,” Brian groaned, sticking his head deep under the spray. He lost that round for sure. His entire abdomen throbbed with his battle not to come.

At least Dom wasn’t smiling anymore. Dom looked very intense, very avid now. His lips were tight. He leaned hard on the tile, waiting for Brian’s move.

Brian licked his lower lip. He fluttered his fingers for a second, and then dragged his fingernails over the curve of Dom’s hip, rounding the bone with his thumb. His nipple still tingled from Dom’s earlier bite. Dom hissed a little and stiffened, reaching up to rest his hand on Brian’s shoulder in slow motion.

Everything usually happened so fast. But not this. Brian felt that he finally truly understood the full meaning of the phrase ‘painfully slow’. The slight aches that Dom had hammered into him were getting burnished with heat and lust. Fans of heat and tingling were spreading in odd spots like in the hollow of his triceps and between his shoulder-blades. Underneath his sternum.

It was like they were playing chicken at a snail's pace, trying to see who would flinch first. Raising the bets very slowly and purposefully to uncover each other’s bluff.

Dom’s erection bobbed as he arched his neck unhurriedly, recovering his cool as he got accustomed to Brian’s hand on his most sensitive skin. He touched his tongue delicately to the inside of his lower lip and Brian felt a muscle in his groin twitch. Dom leaned in s-l-o-w-l-y and bit Brian’s neck, right under his ear.

Brian took the opportunity to press his painfully hard cock into the curve of Dom’s pelvis. Oh God, that was sweet. Dom pulled back a second and then pushed ahead, spreading his hand over Brian’s chest and ghosting it down his flank to come to rest cupping Brian’s cock in the hollow of his palm. The warm water flowed in between his fingers and Brian gasped with sensation as Dom lightly stroked his dick.

Christ, this had just happened. But he was still going to come in a second, jizz all over Dom’s thigh and seriously, had he just graduated from high school or what?

He spread his fingers on the tile as if he could push the dizziness away. The tiles were so white. The entire bathroom glowed, mostly because it had one crappy fluorescent bar across the mirror and no window.

Dom leaned in and bit him on the jaw so Brian felt perfectly justified in tightening his fingers over the long muscle in Dom’s back and pressing his mouth behind Dom’s ear. The pressure was electric and his cock thrummed as Dom grasped him more authoritatively. Dom snaked his free hand up Brian’s back, tangled his fingers in Brian’s hair and tightened his grip. Dom grunted appreciatively as Brian’s neck was bared to his teeth and Brian was lost, lost, spurting into Dom’s hand and over his stomach. Brian panted as little pearls of come shimmered with the water droplets and vanished.

Dom’s shoulders swelled as Brian leaned on him, exhausted. Brian could feel him grinning.

Brian was very gratified with the choked-off yelp he elicited when he slid to his knees and pressed his cheek against Dom’s swollen cock. Dom seemed to recoil for a second, but there was no escape from the confines of the tiny shower. Dom made a sound very like a whimper as Brian rubbed his lower lip indiscriminately on Dom’s glans. Hah. Gotcha.

Brian looked up, over the flat of his tongue on the upstroke, after he’d teased Dom’s cock into his mouth. Dom’s eyes were so dark and his mouth was almost comically slack. Tentatively, he brushed fingers lightly over Brian’s ear and hair. Brian hummed approvingly. He stroked the backs of Dom’s knees as they quivered. The water was getting cooler, but he barely noticed.

Dom left off petting his hair when Brian decided to get serious. When Brian stroked both thumbs smoothly over the twin peaks of Dom’s hipbones and cupped his ass, Dom spread his palms over the tile like he needed help staying upright. Brian savored the drag of Dom’s silkiest skin over his lower lip, the hot fullness of it now robbed of scent by the water.

Dom tried to say something before he started to come but it came out an incoherent hybrid of moan and growl. Brian tightened down a little, but there was so much that it spilled over his lips. When he glanced up at Dom, Dom screwed his eyes shut and his whole body shuddered.

When Brian woke up, it was dark. The air had changed, the breeze had picked up considerably. Goosebumps flooded over his shoulder and chest. He plucked at one edge of the sheet and then jerked it hard out from under Dom’s weight. He snuggled back under it, closer to the heat that radiated from Dom. Dom stirred for a second, smacked his lips and settled back into a bed-hogging sprawl. Brian nudged him mercilessly until he had enough room again. Dom didn’t seem to be in any danger of waking up, so Brian had some time to think and watch.

He stretched, yawning. This was weird. It had been a long time since he’d had a nap in daylight hours. Of course, it had also been a long time since….he looked over at Dom appreciatively. This wasn’t exactly something he’d put on his schedule for today, but he could roll with it.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he rubbed his knuckle on the seaming cut on his lip. Adrenaline had kept him feeling electrically good for several hours. Now that it had washed away he felt exhausted and achy, but looking at the dark crescents of Dom’s eyelashes buoyed him up past the minor twinges. He felt like someone who had been nursing a long hurt on the day the bandage finally came off.

He’d had snatches of this feeling before, but had never had a moment to examine and appreciate them. Half of the time in Miami, he’d been convinced he’d imagined it all. He remembered the day he’d started the assignment, walking into Toretto’s, how jittery and freaked out he’d been. Constantly questioning himself while trying to act confident, trying not to overthink, but still consider all the pitfalls that could get him killed.

Then there had been the big, dark ocean of calm that Dom had invited him into. So unexpected and unlooked for. This river of understanding that swirled around them. It had felt so good.

“You’re still here,” Dom’s voice came from the semi-darkness, gruff with sleep. Brian stirred a little, guilty at being caught staring.

Dom rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes and mouth. He scratched around the cut on his eyebrow and shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I was operating on the assumption that that might have freaked you out a little.”

“Yeah, well, when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me,” Brian said deadpan.

“Not when you were an ass to begin with,” Dom snarked back, rolling his eyes then shaking his head.

Dom spidered a hand over his thigh and squeezed gently. Brian felt himself harden and tried to ignore it, he had a feeling they might be on the cusp of a serious conversation.

Brian surreptitiously rearranged the sheet so his growing erection would be hidden in a fold. “I was mad.”

“Good at what?” Brian looked over at Dom’s profile which was half silver. The moon must be almost full.

“Making people really fucking mad.” Dom said in a voice that invited Brian to laugh. Brian didn’t though.

“Why did you…” Brian couldn’t quite finish, so he made a gesture that he hoped was expressive.

“Why’d I what?” Dom asked innocently, but the hand gently stroking Brian’s thigh tightened into a squeeze again.

“Stick your tongue in my mouth,” Brian enunciated. “Jerk me off like you were working the late shift at the Spearmint Rhino.”

“You should have seen yourself,” Dom hitched in another chuckle. “You were all…flushed and sparky and you had ‘Fuck you, Dom Toretto’ written across your face as big as the Hollywood sign.”

“Yeah, I could see how that would be your natural response in that situation,” Brian said sarcastically.

Dom’s hand slid up a few inches, ruffling his pubic hair, and effectively shutting Brian up. “I didn’t imagine that I would have to explain this to you, but I guess I do.”

Dom rolled onto his side and spread his palm over Brian’s cock. “I am a bad guy. I am a selfish motherfucker. If someone looks like they’re about to burn a bridge with me, I’ll burn it first. I’ll scorch the earth. And if there’s something I want then, I’ll take it. You got me?”

“Gotcha,” Brian was already breathing hard through his mouth, but he still had a hold of his bravado. “You want me.”

The gleam of Dom’s teeth was bright in the moonlight. “And you’re gonna tell me it’s not mutual?”

“Sure that’s a good idea?” Brian said offhandedly as Dom snapped the top off a bottle of Pacifica Clara. A can of beef stew bubbling on the stove was starting make the kitchen smell warm and happy again. It had taken an hour of both of their concentrated efforts to get it somewhat clean and remove the alcoholic detritus.

Dom looked questioningly at Brian and then frowned down at the beer in his hand. “At this point, I gotta taper off. Or I’ll just make myself sick.”

Dom turned and started stirring the stew very slowly. “Letty was first. She was hurt pretty bad and that kept her around. But after she healed, she and I started fighting. About every little thing. She was so bored here and Letty….”

Dom stopped for a second and painted a question mark in the air with his wooden spoon. “She is calm, but she is not relaxed.”

Brian sat down at the table. He straightened the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers, just to be doing something.

Dom continued, “When you’re used to L.A., it’s really quiet down here. I was fine with it…at least I thought I was. I needed some…peace.”

Brian looked out the door. There was almost no sound at all except a constant shushing which he thought might be the crash of very distant surf. At the edge of the corona cast by the porch light, the darkness was almost absolute save for the faint glimmer of the full moon.

“But that’s not what they needed.” Dom said so low that Brian almost didn’t hear it. “At least, Leon didn’t, because he went next. It was way more chill than with Letty, but that made it worse somehow. His cousin had some scheme and they were gonna get rich quick with his stake from the trucks. He wanted me in, but I…” Dom trailed off, shaking his head.

Dom nodded, bobbing his head deeply. “That was all pretty rough,” Even Dom’s voice sounded rough. “Shit, as bad as Letty was, she healed three times as fast as Vince. He was practically bedridden for months. That was hard, particularly for…Mia.”

Brian looked up at the ceiling. He could still see Mia as if it were yesterday, her face contorted in pain, turning away from him.

“So, anyway, he was angry. Angry that it was taking so long to get back up to speed, angry with all the pain, angry at himself for not being the guy he was before, angry at me for not being the guy I was before. He looked at me like I was a stranger.”

“So it took a while. A long while,” Dom shrugged and started stirring again. “But Vince got better, bought a motorcycle and started hanging out with some bikers from Ensenada. Not really my crowd, not to speak of Mia, and I made it pretty clear that the welcome was not warm for them here. Soooo, long story short, he’s taken up with some hootchie mama and moved further south. Or east. Or something.”

Dom pulled some bowls out of the cupboards, divided the stew between them and put a slice of cheese on top of each. He dug a fork into each steaming bowl and handed one to Brian.

“Both Leon and Vince still call about once a month.” Dom raised his eyes from the table top and he and Brian said “Collect” in unison. They grinned at each other for a moment and took a few bites of meat.

“It was my fault, I got…distant. Sometimes it felt like I didn’t talk for days.” Dom said matter-of-factly. “Wasn’t very good company.”

Dom rolled all his weight back and his chair creaked with the strain. His eyes seemed to carry almost physical weight. “Nah. She left last week. When I got back from up north.”

“She said it was because I wanted her to,” Dom made it almost to the end of the sentence before he had to clear his throat. He choked a little, coughed. When he looked back at Brian, his eyes were fever-bright.

Brian straightened his shoulders to ease the tightness in his chest. He had been feeling good and the vertiginous drop to feeling really awful made his throat close. He hated himself for having been so distracted by lust that he overlooked the sheer volume of wreckage that surrounded Dom.

He’d had Roman and Tej and Monica and dozens of other people to keep him from falling too deep into his own mind. Brian wondered how painful and surprising it had felt for Vince, Leon, Letty and Mia when gravity decided to reverse itself. Planets being spun away from the sun. He could see a reflection of that pain, mirrored on Dom’s face right now.

He must have looked six kinds of stricken, because Dom tapped his fingers on the table to get Brian’s attention.

“Why did you do it?” Brian asked quietly. He had been looking up at the sky for so long, that his neck was stiff when he sat upright. Dom had turned off all the lights so they could stargaze, unobstructed. The moon sucked up most of the light, but a few stars still peppered the sky.

Brian just looked back at him, not giving an ounce of quarter. Dom furrowed his brow and cupped his hand over his forehead. “I needed money, we needed to get out...” he gestured vaguely at the hills around them. “We needed to get out of LA. It was getting too dangerous there.”

“Jeez, you think?” Brian gestured with his beer. “Ever think that street racing and hijacking maybe was contributing to the danger?”

‘Yeah, well, every game has got odds,” Dom continued testily. “I was working the odds. There were just some variables that I hadn’t considered.”

“Like you,” Dom’s eyes were hooded. He grinned a little out at the dark, turning a sardonic sneer off into space.

“What’s so funny?” Brian put his beer down. Dom wasn’t really laughing, but some heaviness appeared to be hitching out of his throat.

“Because as dangerous as Tran was, as dangerous as you were…” Dom paused and gave Brian a look that said ‘and are.’ Then he continued. “I was the biggest threat to everyone’s health really. Just me and my fucked-up priorities.”

Brian opened his mouth and then shut it, struck with the perfection of the mind-fuck. He had actually been getting ready to defend Dom’s choices to Dom.

Dom rolled his eyes. “Christ, why would you think…? Your priorities may be even more fucked up than mine.”

“Maybe you should lay off,” Brian said again, not so gently, when Dom had liberated his fourth beer.

Dom paused with the bottle right in front of his lips. He spoke into it like a microphone. “Don’t think so, no.”

“Why not?” Brian realized he could, realized that a certain bridge had been burnt, so he put his hand on Dom’s shoulder and left it there.

Dom shivered a little, “Don’t you get this? I sober up, I get angry and bitter and, just…you don’t…”

He trailed off, sighing heavily. He scratched his stomach again, digging fingers into flesh that Brian knew was bruised.

Brian shoved himself up from his lawn chair and bent over Dom, gripping both hands on the taut muscles spreading down from Dom’s neck.

“Jesus,” Dom rolled back in his chair, but stayed rigid. “Don’t be nice to me. I’m already starting to get stupid.”

Dom tilted his head to look back at Brian. The whites of his eyes glowed. He touched his tongue to his lower lip and lowered his eyelids. “Oh, I see your game.”

He didn’t know if Dom was still drunk, what Dom was seeing or feeling, how impaired his judgment was. Right now, considering, he wondered if he’d actually ever known Dom, or if aliens had come and stolen that Dom and left something Dom-shaped in his space.

The ‘considering’ being just where Dom’s mouth was at this moment. Brian was shaking internally, full of hope and uncertainty. And come.

Dom could practically unhinge his jaw, like some kind of boa constrictor. Dom didn’t seem to hold much with finesse, but he had zeal and an utter lack of self-consciousness that worked all of Brian’s nerves into a trilling concert while he tried to keep from just grabbing the back of Dom’s skull with both hands.

Dom squeezed Brian’s cock in an impossibly tight grip that made Brian’s eyes practically water. Dom’s mind also seemed to be wandering. He would mouth Brian’s balls and then lick the head of Brian’s cock, but he seemed distracted, not really concentrating on getting Brian off one way or another. It was an odd sensation, considering Dom’s usual laser-like focus. Brian might have found it amusing, if he hadn’t been on the verge of dying from frustration.

He was gonna grab Dom’s head, for real. Trace his thumbs gently over Dom’s ears, delicately trace his clean-shaven skull, tighten his fingers and then fuck Dom’s face. He rolled his hips and clawed his fingers into the mattress desperately. Dom looked up at him for a second, grinned and pumped his fist in a way that made Brian breathe tightly through clenched teeth.

Dom wasn’t even totally on the bed, but still kind of leaning against it. He wasn’t even undressed. His jeans were still clinging to him, unbuttoned. He didn’t look freaked out in the slightest to be casually sucking Brian off. Brian could have gotten worked up about these minor points, except for oh god, that’s his tongue and…

Brian came back to himself, blinking rapidly. He was still on a knife’s edge, a hairsbreadth from coming. He un-arched his back and squinted at Dom who wasn’t even looking at his face.

Brian wasn’t sure how this had happened. This had been his idea and he was still relatively sober so he wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, that Dom had wrestled him so easily out of his clothes, had gently shoved him backward onto the bed, had left his mouth aching with fierce, almost angry kisses. Now Brian was frozen, Dom had him immobilized, afraid to move in case he accidentally did something that stopped the blissful flood of feeling.

Dom’s eyes had fluttered closed and he had spread both his palms over the peaks of Brian’s hips and he was just bobbing his head lightly, letting his tongue and lower lip get most of the action. With his eyes closed, he seemed oddly absent and Brian suddenly needed connection more than he needed that sweet, maddening, delicate-as-porcelain friction.

It gave him a deep-bellied thrill to cup his palm lightly over Dom’s uninjured cheekbone. Dom’s eyes flashed open and Brian let his hips twitch minutely while he muttered thickly, “I’m gonna come.”

Dom pulled back and touched his tongue to his carmine-red lower lip. Brian might have protested the loss, if he’d had time. But something had sparked to life in Dom’s eyes like some vital switch was suddenly flicked to ‘on’.

Dom dug one hand hard into the curve of his ass, pressed the other palm flat into his hipbone and flipped him over like it was a magic trick. Brian dug his fists into the bed, pushing up on bent knees for a second and managed to take one deep breath before Dom’s weight came down on his back.

He felt the sting of teeth where his neck joined his shoulder and goosebumps gushed in a wave over his back and side and chest. Brian’s nipples tightened as Dom nipped at his earlobe. Dom’s steamy breath on the back of his neck almost seems like an unspoken promise: Before? That little game of chicken in the shower? That was kid stuff. You ain’t seen nothing yet.

Brian swallowed. His knees weren’t doing a very good job of holding him (them) up and his too-sensitive cock dragged over the rough sheets in a crazy-making way.

Brian had been with some aggressive people in the course of his sexual career, but he’d never been with anyone who just did and took without a touch of hesitation. It was frighteningly hot. This deep, unfocused want that Dom was spilling over him made him feel drunk with arousal. Dom moved across him as gracefully and inexorably as the tide coming in.

For a moment, Dom’s teeth snagged into the triangle of muscle on the other side of his neck, spreading that sudden gush of weakness and heat down his other flank. Dom mouthed the knobs of bone at the base of his neck and then drew his tongue down in a wide stripe in the hollow of Brian’s spine. Brian bit his lip and watched his own hands tighten in the sheets. They were careening in a certain direction and Brian knew he had to speak up fast if he wasn’t cool with it.

He could feel Dom’s nipples dragging along his back. It made his eyes screw up with sheer stimulation. He had opened his mouth, meaning to protest, but what came out was a drawn-out “Ooooh, yeah.”

Dom bit him again, his mouth too wide to hurt, just a slight sting and thrill. Brian felt his chin pull up involuntarily as Dom spread his palms over Brian’s ass. Brian wondered if this would be better or easier if he could see what Dom was doing and then considered wryly that he had already come three times in six hours and maybe, just maybe, there was a limit.

Dom slid the flat of his hand down, making Brian spread his legs a little more. Dom cupped Brian’s balls, while his other hand stroked the back of Brian’s thigh. Brian noticed that his own breath was getting noisy and choked-off and kind of undignified. He tried to take a deep breath which was cut in half when Dom unceremoniously stuck his tongue into the tight pucker of Brian’s asshole.

Jesus, Brian wanted to say, but something a lot less than a word came out. His knees gave out completely and he found himself grinding into the bed, squinching his eyes shut. Sweat prickled everywhere and the sheets smelled of Dom and god, he was ratcheted so tight with arousal that whatever Dom had in mind wasn’t gonna…

Brian managed to pull one knee up and turn around enough to look back and say, hey d’you wanna maybe not fuck me blind right now? My head will explode. Unnervingly, Dom was already watching his face. Now, of course, Dom was bright with awareness and focus. Dom was heavy-lidded, half-smiling and as Brian watched, he very deliberately stroked his thumb over the flat of his tongue. Oh God.

Brian’s protest died in his throat and he had to shut his eyes again quickly. Dom chuckled appreciatively when Brian untwisted his hands from their death grip and tilted his hips up. He snaked one hand back, dragging the inside of his wrist along his flank. He brushed Dom’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

Brian rubbed his sweating face hard against the hot sheets. He was leaning hard on his shoulder and it ached a little, but the pain seemed very far away, crushed under the weight of Dom’s hot body, a ton of arousal and a few pounds of shame. His face was flaming as he dug his hands into his ass, spreading himself wider, cracking himself wide open. For Dom. He could feel the cool when Dom sucked a deep breath in through his teeth.

Dom twisted fingers inside him, alternating with his tongue, nasty-sweet until Brian felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He was arching his back, rolling his hips a little, and his balls had tightened up until they felt full in his stomach. The pause when Dom shifted his weight and the pressure got all new and different made Brian remember to breathe through his nose. The sudden rush of oxygen almost made him high.

Greedily, he pushed back. He inhaled and a droplet of sweat fell on the back of his hand.

Dom was clutching him tightly everywhere. His fingers dug into Brian’s hips and Brian felt himself twisted slightly. Dom’s hand closed around his cock and Brian felt the pull drawing both ways deep inside. Dom was saying something, grunted and snarled nonsense-words that just vibrated straight through Brian’s taut, bow-strung body. Within moments, it seemed like his world was wet, pulsing and glowing, all heat and spunk and tingling lassitude.

As Brian came back to himself, trying furiously to get his breath back and his sense of which way was up, it occurred to him that it wasn’t usually that great an idea to just give it all up like that. He swallowed as he jerked the come-soaked sheet out from underneath them. He had never thrown away all power and dignity this quickly in a relationship.

Then Dom slung his arm over Brian’s stomach and nudged his nose into the back of Brian’s neck and the cool surge of anxiety faded.

“No,” Brian mumbled, sliding to the edge of the bed out of the wet. “We’re faster.”

Brian squinted into the dazzling bar of sunlight gushing out from between the curtains. He’d managed to ignore the light for a while; something else had pushed him into wakefulness. His cell was buzzing insistently in his pants. He curled up wincing, and rooted through a mixed pile of twisted clothing full of focus: kill the evil noise that was keeping him from sleeping. Dom stirred fitfully while Brian finally managed to extract the phone. Glancing at the caller ID, he clicked to forward to voicemail.

“Who’z m’phone?” Dom rumbled around a yawn. When he twisted, the bed shook.

Brian grunted. He flopped back onto the rumpled bed and rubbed his eyes. He ached all over. Maybe if he just pretended to fall back asleep, Dom would forget it and then he could really fall back asleep.

Dom was silent for a while. Brian leaned a little harder on his left side and rubbed his shoulder against Dom’s, like he was just trying to get comfortable.

“The guy who was with you at the garage?” Dom sounded like he was just confirming this; it was mostly statement, with just a hint of question. Dom rolled inward and made no bones about sliding his heavy thigh over Brian’s.

Dom’s eyes were open, he didn’t say anything but something in his face felt like a prompt.

“He n’ me….go back a ways,” Brian started slowly. “Friends since the Dark Ages.”

“Back in Arizona?” Dom’s curiosity seemed to be waking up slowly, that was actually a question.

“Huh,” Dom rolled fully back onto his back and turned his head to face Brian. Silence stretched.

“What?” Brian snapped finally. Dom’s look was so intense, it almost tickled.

“I’m just trying to picture it,” Dom grinned suddenly. “It’s hard for me to imagine.”

Brian’s phone rang again while he was puttering slowly down the hall to the kitchen. Dom stood in front of the sink and watched. Again, Brian let it click over to voicemail and settled himself at the table.

Dom’s sudden sobriety didn’t really lend itself to appetite, but Brian might be hungry. Dom felt brittle and kind of shaky; he covered it by moving very deliberately. He shook a couple of cereal boxes but they rattled all light and mostly empty. Slim pickings.

When Brian looked up too-casually from his phone’s tiny green screen, Dom tried to pull his face out of its wry lines and make it look sympathetic. He didn’t do a very good job, because Brian ducked his head and started peeling the label off an empty beer bottle.

Dom opened his mouth to say something and then covered it with a stifled yawn. The lightest dusting of stubble roughed Brian’s face. Yesterday had been warm and clear, but this morning was misty and damp; marine layer sliding in off the ocean and turning the sky white and the air cool. Being so suddenly sober made him feel fragile, like the breeze could knock him down and shatter him.

Dom put a kettle on with the vague idea of making some coffee. Behind him, Brian cleared his throat and fidgeted.

Dom stared at the shelf in front of him. He blinked. The broad spread of Brian’s fingers clung, tanned and dark against white sheets. The long, curving slope of Brian’s arched back and his even voice was raised to keen. Dom breathed in deep through his nose and out through his mouth. It was nine o’clock in the morning and it was almost all he could do to keep his hands on the counter and not reach for a beer.

Dom kept his observation sidelong as he assembled instant coffee for both of them. Brian rolled back into his usual sprawl and his face tightened marginally. He pulled himself back upright.

Dom leaned the heels of his hands hard on the counter, rocked his weight back on his heels and ducked his head. Hopefully, it would look like he was just stretching. Of course, Brian couldn’t sit still or get comfortable. Dom sunk his teeth down hard into his lower lip, trying not to feel the thrumming thrill that surged up through his stomach.

God, he’d been so deep inside Brian last night, but this morning Brian was sure enough deeper in him. He couldn’t free himself from searing sense memory. It was like his ears were ringing with it.

He couldn’t say anything. At this moment, it felt like he literally couldn’t speak. His mouth had been sewn shut. His throat had been filled with glue.

The kettle started to hum. Brian crumpled some thin plastic something behind him. This was just all very….delicate. Intricate. And terrifying.

“What are you eating?” Dom asked finally. He peered over Brian’s shoulder at the crumbs on the table.

“Uh….” Brian looked down at his hands. “Bread. This is white bread. Hey, don’t look at me like that; it’s all you had that wasn’t green or rock-hard.”

“Whatever,” Dom growled turning back to the cupboards. “I’ll make you some eggs.”

“Don’t just on my account.” Brian seemed to perk up at the mention of eggs though, and Dom could tell he was just being polite. They hadn’t eaten that much last night.

Dom swallowed down a splash of deep and unreasoning fear, then reached for a bowl and creaked the refrigerator open. “No trouble.”

Some low, savage voice in his head muttered behind the fridge’s door, you’re gonna need your strength.

Brian decided that he didn’t really like this feeling. It was an itchy feeling, an on-edge feeling and it sucked. It was the almost-there feeling and it made him twitch and fidget more than the slight ache over his collarbone where Dom had punched him or the small twinges at the base of his spine where Dom had…done other things.

Dom was doing the watching without watching thing, that was super annoying in and of itself. He kept trying to catch Dom in a glance, but Dom could be a sneaky motherfucker if he hadn’t decided to play all full-frontal. Brian had a moment of swift and hopeless nostalgia for the first words that Dom had ever directed exclusively to him: I’m in your face. Today, after they’d finally managed to extract themselves from the bed, Dom suddenly wasn’t able to meet his gaze for ten consecutive seconds.

Dom had moved half-idly into the space that obviously occupied most of his time. His garage on the property was obviously about function, not form. The structure looked sturdy enough, if distinctly unlovely, sun-bleached siding that was cracked in the spots where it got hottest.

A vehicular rainbow sparkled behind the sliding door. Some of them half-veiled by tarps, some of them dripped chrome. Candy-striped and dazzling decals. Brian blinked.

Dom looked back at him blankly for a second, fingering the wrench he’d just picked up. “Nah, most of them are works in progress for some of the guys around here.”

“Works in progress?” Brian bent down to admire the spoiler something that had started life as a Hyundai.

“Income streams aren’t regular,” Dom explained shortly. “They bring cash when they can or other stuff. I got the space to garage ‘em here, so they get to roll ‘em out when they’re done to the dubs.”

“Nice work,” Brian leaned over the open hood of a Subaru Impreza. He couldn’t help smiling down at the guts of the engine. When he glanced up, Dom was watching.

Dom bent down and grabbed a couple of water bottles from the tiny fridge. He tossed one at Brian, who caught it unthinking.

Brian paused in mid-sip and looked up at Dom and blinked. He swallowed and leaned hard on his fist. “From L.A.? After?”

Dom nodded and glanced over sidelong. “Had pretty much everyone looking for you.”

Brian straightened out of his lean and made a face. “Huh. All twelve million of them?”

“Smartass.” Dom turned around, leaning on the low tool shelf, arms folded. “Enough of them, anyway. If you’d been in L.A., I’d’ve found you.”

“Huh,” Brian said again. He made his voice even and uninflected, and made his eyes opaque. “You had people looking for me.”

Dom shifted a little like he was trying to get a feel for the temperature of the air. “Yeah.”

Brian gazed at him for a long moment and then had mercy and looked away. “I was in Miami mostly.”

“Why not Miami?” Brian shrugged and muttered. “The highway ends in Jacksonville and I wasn’t tired of driving.”

Dom leaned back on the counter. “So basically, you’re saying, the music stopped and that’s the chair you got to first?”

“Yeah, well…” Brian grinned and jiggled his leg. “If I think about it, y’know that whole Deco/fifties thing that L.A.’s got going?”

“You mean…” Dom scratched the back of his neck. “Like the architecture?”

“Miami’s like that too.” Brian went on. “Felt similar somehow. Sunny and warm. Palm trees and bikinis.”

Dom stayed silent and Brian continued hesitantly. “Just on the outside, though. It’s still different. Wetter. Stickier.”

Dom rubbed around his blackened eye. “So did you get into any…sticky situations then?”

Brian snorted. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He hardened his eyes a little. “Worked myself into the scene there. It’s pretty cool.”

“So that’s not why you’re back here all of a sudden.” Dom folded his arms again and looked down at Brian’s bare feet.

Brian’s eyes flickered around, bouncing off of Dom’s gaze. Finally, he shifted his weight, sighed and said, “I was….punishing myself maybe.”

Dom folded his arms and looked forbidding. But Brian could sense the uncertainty hidden in his shoulders and the corners of his mouth. Dom was longing to be convinced of something.

“I got out,” Brian stared at nothing so he could keep talking. He had hunched up his shoulders protectively over the car. “In Miami, the cops pulled me in, but I had some shit to offer them…”

“Not names. Not people.” Brian teeth clicked in annoyance and he cut his eyes over at Dom. “Skills they needed. So I got clear. Even got Roman paroled.”

“Your friend,” Dom said slowly. “From back in the day. He’d been inside.”

“Racing,” Brian grinned off Dom’s look. “When I left you, I was but the learner…”

“The circle is now complete?” Dom finished the geek moment for him. Dom tucked a corner of his lip under his teeth. “So, what’s that all mean?”

Brian turned a shrug into an abbreviated stretch. “Means I’m okay. No longer wanted for the stuff I did…after.”

“You killed Tran,” Dom said. It looked like he’d surprised himself by speaking.

Brian’s shoulders slumped, his whole body felt like it had begun to deflate. “Yeah. I remember. Are you sorry?”

Brian felt the blankness descend. How many months gone…he still didn’t know how he felt. If he felt anything at all.

This time it was Dom who had mercy. “Is that why you’re, how’d you say…punishing yourself?”

“Yeah, well…thanks.” Brian looked over at him. “I kinda thought it was stupid, but it’s nice to get independent confirmation.”

Dom shrugged. “So stop doing it. It’s a big world, you could probably get good without coming back to SoCal.”

“Well, either you don’t get me at all, which I don’t think is the case,” Brian dropped the wire brush he was messing with and stood up straight. “Or you’re angling for some kind of bullshit confession, which is kind of a dick maneuver, if you ask me.”

“When did you start thinking that I was above a dick maneuver?” Dom asked reasonably. His eyes glittered.

Brian folded his arms, pissed. It seemed like the wheels were just about to come off. The silence stretched. Dom looked ready to wait for the apocalypse so Brian mumbled something.

“Stupid, you know,” Brian enunciated softly. He looked at Dom dourly, eyes narrowed. “Thinking you can ever go back to something.”

“Yeah,” Dom swallowed. He took another long slug of water. “It’s no good wanting it all ways. We only get one way.”

“I just wanted to be around,” Brian said even softer. “For whatever. I still do.”

Dom shifted his weight and somehow the atmosphere lightened. Maybe the sun was burning through the morning mist. Or he’d found just the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Dom’s face seemed to relax a little. He said casually. “Good.”

“Hey,” Brian moved closer cautiously. Dom seemed to shrink back slightly, he tilted his chin down. Brian stopped, confused.

Dom pulled onto the highway just by tightening his wrist and tilting his head a fraction to the right. Traffic was a bit heavier than it had been yesterday, but it occurred to Brian that he’d come in just on the cusp of siesta.

Brian watched the coast spool away in the sideview mirror. The sun was growing so strong that he felt like he was getting pushed back into the warm breadth of his bucket seat. He’d loitered in front of an old Monte Carlo, hoping for a bench seat, hoping for something with a backseat maybe, but Dom had made a beeline for the Honda.

Dom had done some rather intense things to this car. Brian traced his eyes around gently, not wanting to gawk at anything, but he could feel the power flowing around and under him. The Honda looked showroom-new, but there were a row of gauges that were obviously aftermarket and it looked like Dom had replaced the passenger side airbag with a fuel/nitrous management computer that he accessed through the dash.

Dom subtly put the car through its paces and if he hadn’t appeared so abstracted, Brian would have thought he was showing off a little. Dom managed to drive absently with the gauge hovering around 120. Brian nibbled on the side of his lip while Dom scissored in between a big rig and a beat up old Ford.

Brian watched the veins rise and relax in Dom’s forearm. The Honda seemed to float at its higher speeds and Dom hadn’t stinted with the soundproofing, because the thin snarl of the engine was muffled to a hum. Dom sliced his eyes over at Brian as the tachometer moved into permanent redline. Brian could read the hint of a dare there. He wiped his own face clean, but he couldn’t stop his elation bursting through. With anyone else, this would have felt like ultimate peril, seriously stupid, the pointless risking of life and limb.

These weren’t mountains, not really. Just high enough to be a hell of a view. The sun was burning through, the haze was lifting. The dense scrub crowding into the dirt track smelled sharp and vinegary.

Dom seemed to be driving hard, concentrating now on the dirt road. Halfway up into the canyon, Brian couldn’t help himself and had stretched his arm over the back of Dom’s seat, reaching up to stroke the back of Dom’s neck. Dom had taken a quick gasp of breath and slid his eyes sideways, so sharp they could cut glass.

Brian pulled his fingers back. Then he leaned back and just let Dom take him wherever.

Dom pulled up on a narrow strip which looked like a place to pass more than an overlook, but when Brian got out and stretched his legs, he noticed how close they were to the top of the ridge. When Dom shut the engine off, the silence was almost perfect with only the light glide of wind rustling the branches.

From here, he could see the length of the coast in both directions. Brian cupped his hands over his eyes and looked his fill. He glanced at Dom, who was watching him.

Brian was suddenly so happy that it felt like it was choking him, happiness was pushing all the breath out of his lungs, all the blood into his heart…he was so full, it almost hurt.

Dom was looking back at him, but then it was like Dom suddenly remembered himself. Brian sighed inwardly when Dom cast his eyes down.

Dom shrugged and his throat worked a little. Brian wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching like a hawk.

“Why so shy, Toretto?” Brian circled his left thumb over his knuckles. They were still sore from yesterday. On a sudden impulse, he reached out and tweaked at where he expected Dom’s nipple hid under his taut t-shirt. Dom recoiled like he’d been stung.

Brian touched his tongue to the edge of his front teeth. He took a deep breath, because he thought he was going to need it. He said very quietly, “What?”

“I don’t…” Dom’s voice got caught on the way out of his throat, he paused for a second to unhitch it. “I don’t wanna do this with you.”

Brian shifted his weight marginally and looked back out over the horizon. He could feel the blood rising in his face, so he took another deep breath trying to draw the cool in. He repeated, “What?”

“So don’t then,” Brian folded his arms and leaned his weight back. He kept breathing tightly measured breaths in and out through his nose.

Dom’s face crumpled deeply and suddenly, as if Brian had just knee-capped him with a two by four instead of saying three words. He leaned so hard on the car that the tires dipped a little. Brian blinked. The pain in Dom’s face radiated heat like a burn. Brian could feel it from steps away.

“You can’t even….” Dom looked like he was trying not to grind his teeth. “I’ve lost everything, and yeah, it’s my own fault, but you…you’re just…”

“I’m just what?” Brian flexed his fingers outward, they kept wanting to curl into fists.

Dom cut his eyes back up, he was half-doubled over like he was expecting to be sick. He mumbled something. It sounded vaguely like ‘too much.’

“How’s this so goddamned hard all of a sudden?” Brian bit the words off carefully. “Didn’t stop you…before.”

“Yeah well, you weren’t supposed to...” Dom sounded like the desperation might strangle him. “…you were…you were supposed to say no.”

Dom blinked at him and then dug his fingers into the lines on his forehead. Dom took a deep breath and looked around at the serene hills, as if they would somehow come to his defense in the argument.

“Yeah, well,” Dom seemed to be regaining something of his equilibrium. “It’s too late.”

“Hey,” Brian reached out and caught Dom’s arm. “C’mon. We’re done with no.”

Dom was still stiff but he didn’t jerk his arm away. Brian steeled himself and moved closer. Dom’s face was hard and unyielding, the dark crescents of his eyelashes fluttered incongruously when he blinked.

Brian took another chance and pressed his mouth into the hollow at the corner of Dom’s eye. Dom was awkward, unmoving and bulky. Brian cupped both hands over Dom’s triceps and squeezed at the resistance that Dom was holding in his shoulders.

Brian rubbed his forehead against Dom’s, brushing his hair over the unyielding skull.

“Why’s this so easy for you?” Dom mumbled into the side of his neck. His chin sunk down deeper, it almost looked like shame.

Brian pressed the wry twist of his lips into Dom’s cheekbone. “Sure, easy, you know…all you have to do is give up your entire life and…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dom yielded. Brian could feel Dom’s surrender all over; the hardness of him didn’t go away, it just…molded itself into Brian’s space.

Screw deniability. Brian tipped his fingers lightly over Dom’s jaw, teasing up to the right angle. Dom’s mouth was so large, his lips were so full, Brian felt like he was losing himself. Drowning.

Dom kissed with gentle violence. He flexed his shoulders in the circle of Brian’s arms, pushing greedily into Brian’s strength. Brian dug two fingers into the hollow where Dom’s neck met his skull and stroked there lightly. Dom moaned into his mouth and Brian’s knees tingled with weakness.

He could feel Dom clutching his wrists, much, much tighter than he was cupping Dom’s face. Not to make him stop. To make sure he didn’t stop.

“This is too good for me,” Dom said, so low, Brian could barely hear him at six inches away. “This is more than I deserve.”

“Relax,” Brian breathed into his neck. “’We practically never get what we deserve.”

Seven and a half hours later, Brian answered his phone while they were making dinner. Well, Dom was making dinner. Brian was watching him. Dom concentrated on the burgers discreetly, while Brian clicked open the receiver, took a deep breath and spoke.

“Hey….yeah…no. Relax.” Longer pause. “Seriously. No….no. Yeah, well...Yeah….Whatever.”

Dom couldn’t hear the words on the other side, but the volume was rising steadily. Brian rolled his eyes when Dom managed to make eye contact. Brian turned away and said the word ‘yes’ six times. Then “Later,” and he snapped the phone shut with a flourish.

Dom grunted acknowledgement. Brian looked at him sidelong and said, “I’m supposed to ask you something. Don’t get mad.”

Brian paused for a moment and shrugged. He leaned on the counter and watched Dom intently.

“I had another reason for coming down here,” Brian confessed. Dom looked over at him; suddenly Brian was dead serious.

“What?” Dom felt the back of his neck tingling. Shortness of breath. Brian’s regard was like the first symptoms of a heart attack. “What do you wanna know?”

“Hey, can we turn this off? Just put it in the oven or something?” Brian gestured at the stove and nudged at his plate.

“Thought you were hungry?” Dom took a deep breath of Brian’s sun-warmed hair.

“I am hungry,” Brian took the plate from Dom’s hands and put it on the counter behind him. “Just not for food.”

“So this is nice, but you’ve gotta go?” Dom asked sarcastically. Three days had evaporated like magic.

Dom didn’t pull back fast enough so Brian managed to snag his waistband and twist his hand in it firmly. Dom let himself be tugged into the circle of long arms. Brian cupped his hand around Dom’s ear sliding firmly into Dom’s guard. Dom held it manfully for a minute before his resistance melted with Brian’s mouth on his neck. Brian was whispering.

“Sure, if by nice you mean mind-blowingly awesome, then yeah, kinda nice.” Brian pursed his lips. “I don’t wanna go, you know I don’t.”

“So don’t,” Dom grunted. Two could play this game. He stroked down Brian’s shoulder blade and the curve of his spine and tightened his arms possessively. Brian relaxed into him.

“I’ll be back,” Brian caught his teeth on the edge of Dom’s ear. “Nothing could keep me away. But I gotta make this thing work with Rome. I gotta try.”

“I owe him,” Brian rubbed his chin over Dom’s shoulder. Dom shivered when he felt the brush of Brian’s eyelashes under his ear. “Or it feels like I do. I’ll be down next weekend.”

“Business is gonna go nowhere, you aren’t open on the weekends,” Dom said darkly. A tiny part of him knew that if he insisted, Brian would stay. Another tiny part of him wanted to grab Brian, shove him in the bedroom, lock the door and swallow the key.

Brian pulled back and grinned. “How about you let me worry about my business? Rome can pick up my slack just fine. Plus, I don’t have expensive tastes, like some people.”

Dom’s chest swelled with a sudden urge to laugh, even though it wasn’t that funny. He was starving and Brian was just doling out tastes. He ran his hand down Brian’s arm and circled his wrist, glaring down at Brian’s stupid little rope bracelet.

“Next weekend,” he said, trying to make it sound more statement than question. Brian grinned and tilted Dom’s head for another kiss, whispering ‘you know it’.

Brian drove like a citizen all the way up to the border. He found himself singing along to the radio a lot. Luckily, the road was mostly empty until he hit the outskirts of TJ. He grinned at the Customs officer who waved him through and she grinned back in spite of herself.

Passing the towers of San Diego, then the long hill up from Interstate 8 to the 5, he tried to settle into the rhythm that would keep him from ever having to tap his brakes, no matter how dense the traffic got. The corridor traffic up to L.A. was Sunday-evening heavy, but it never managed to harsh Brian’s aloha. He had three days of memories to comb over and appreciate.

Hands. Dom had great hands. Stretched out thumb to pinkie almost a foot wide. Long fingers. Clever hands. Brian revisited all the moments when Dom’s surprisingly gentle touch would subtly transform from something tender into hungry, grasping, heedless desire.

Hands that never…well rarely… hesitated. And even when Dom hesitated, it was hot.

Brian blinked. He was 15 miles from Irvine. He tried to concentrate harder on the road. But memory kept tugging at him, if he tried he could keep the deep rumble of Dom’s voice alive in his head, even through the radio noise. Their conversations, he could recall verbatim.

He remembered Dom looking over at him, their second breakfast. “I’da thought if you could square it with the law, you would have gone back to it.”

“’Course, I guess they have reasons to doubt your commitment,” Dom said ironically.

Brian chuckled a little. “Yeah.” Dom seemed to look a question at him, still giving him room to be silent.

"It's a tough job." Brian started slowly. "Mostly I started because it seemed...exciting. Exciting and you get to be the good guy. But really, it’s not exciting…mostly it’s dull. And depressing as fuck.”

Brian stared off into space, running a finger around the white porcelain of his mug. “...and just who the good guy is gets harder and harder to figure out."

His dry tone made Brian chuckle in spite of himself. Brian ducked his head, almost needing to explain even to himself.

“I didn’t have much trouble with the job...before. Y’know, when you’re young and…well, everything looks black and white.”

Dom was listening intently. His lower lip was wet, like he’d accidentally bitten it.

“It was because I wanted to do right by you.” Brian looked straight at Dom as he said this.

“Yeah?” Dom said quietly. He stirred his coffee, the clink of steel on porcelain filled the silence. “How come?”

“You know why,” Brian snorted a little and shook his head. “That you know.”

He felt the insole of Dom’s foot brush warmth against the outside of his own foot and ankle. Dom was smiling with his eyes.

Dom sighed and spoke into his cup. “Guess it’s good that one of us wasn’t.”

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Dom blinked at him, “Everything.” Then Dom had raised an eyebrow and muttered something.

“I said,” Dom set his cup down and looked over very deliberately. “Until now.”

Dom hadn’t flinched when he’d kissed him then. Dom had pushed back fiercely, coming apart under Brian’s quick jerks and touches until they’d spilled the cereal and gotten jizz on the floor. Brian’s knees still ached. He could still feel a tug in his groin if he just brushed a thumb over his lower lip. He didn’t do it often, but he did it consistently.

By the time he pulled up in the lot at the garage, it was full dark. The lights were blazing, Rome was obviously at home. Brian pushed himself up from the seat, feeling the pleasant ache thrum through his body. He stood back to push the door closed and that was when the lights exploded in front of him like starbursts and then everything went ultra-black.

Rome jerked the crowbar fiercely. Loosening the bolts, after the crash had nearly snapped his back left tire clean off took all of his strength and most of his concentration. For a second, he couldn’t do anything but work ‘em loose. The bolts were jammed so tight, it made his muscles bunch. Which kinda sucked, because, holy hell, if he had to replace the goddamned axle without Brian’s…

And just like that the anxiety was back. Because Brian, the fucker, hadn’t been around for almost four days and had left Roman neck deep in it with just two phone calls to tide him over. And Rome had already boxed a few rounds with furious and was now moving into a sparring session with freaked out.

He straightened, wiped his sweaty hands on a rag and fished his phone out of his back pocket. No missed calls. No voicemails. Son of a bitch. Rome pressed Brian’s speed dial again muttering to himself. It clicked straight to voicemail. Rome clicked the phone shut angrily; he’d already left two voicemails at a volume that didn’t exactly leave his feelings in doubt.

He was going to brain that fluffy-headed white boy when he saw him again. Seriously, gonna hit him so hard with, like, a brick.

But there was a quiet engine sidling up outside. Rome took a deep breath of anticipation, relief and rage. He looked down at his hand. Nah, crowbar was too much. He ran up the few stairs to the second level, there was a baseball bat up there somewhere, he just knew it.

“It’s about damn time, motherfu—“ Rome closed off on the word abruptly when he realized that the face looking up at him wasn’t close to…

“Not who you were expecting?” Special Agent Bilkins looked up at him dryly, before casting a vaguely disgusted look around the garage.

Rome blinked rapidly, but didn’t say anything, because the likelihood of saying something stupid seemed to be pretty high. He stared laser-like at the back of Bilkins’ grizzled head until Bilkins deigned to look at him again and speak.

“You know this’d be almost the last place I’d look for Brian O’Conner.” Bilkins said kind of vaguely. ‘Course, you guys mastered that ‘do what everyone least expects’ crap back in Miami.”

Bilkins actually appeared to be musing, Rome suddenly noticed that the man was swaying on his feet a little. He looked bone-tired. That didn’t make Roman feel sympathetic, only wary.

“What do you want?” Rome made it sound flat, took out almost all the attitude, because he just didn’t need the hassle that Bilkins could dole out, not now, not ever.

“You don’t know, or you don’t wanna tell me?” Bilkins had also flattened his voice, taking all the inflection out.

“Shit, I sure hope it’s not,” Roman jeered a little. “We ain’t got that much in common.”

“Son, we don’t have anything in common,” Bilkins said calmly. “And if you think I’ve got time to spar with you, you are even dumber than you look.”

Rome would have bristled, but however dumb he looked, the significance of having one of the FBI’s SAIC coming to call wasn’t lost on him. “Something’s gotten fucked up.”

Bilkins shook his head, but not like he was denying it. “Where’s O’Conner?”

“Went down to Baja for a couple of days,” Rome shrugged, like he didn’t really give a damn what Brian did or what Bilkins thought.

Bilkins scowled, slightly harder than he’d been scowling before. “He’s on vacation?”

“Something like that,” Rome spoke airily. Somehow having Bilkins annoyed lessened his own annoyance. Made it more bearable.

“Christ,” Bilkins stood still for a second, hands on hips. He yanked a cell phone out of his pocket and pressed a number on speed-dial. “Callie, O’Conner’s in Mexico, could you call your guy at Customs and whoever you know at CBP to get us a line on his crossing? And run a trace on this number….” Bilkins glanced back at Roman and made a ‘talk quickly, jackass’ gesture.

“Civil liberties, much?” Rome leaned on the side of the car and folded his arms. “Why don’t you back up a bit and explain to me why I should.”

Bilkins took two steps forward and Rome stiffened. Bilkins had always seemed kind of harmless back in Miami. Fatherly, almost. Right now though, Rome was getting the sense that Bilkins wasn’t just a pencil pusher, and the man was big. And angry.

“Don’t have time for this, Pearce,” Bilkins said just short of a snarl. “If he’s still your friend, I’d cough it up double-time, before this shit gets any deeper.”

Rome blinked. Momentarily, his common sense took possession of his mouth. “213-555-7556”

Bilkins turned back to his phone without acknowledgement. “Did you get that? Good. Pearce is coming into PC now, if you or Quinn get anything, you call me. I’m coming in to Wilshire.”

Bilkins clicked the phone shut and Roman set his feet a little harder, widened his stance. “What’s PC?”

“Did I do something? I don’t remember doing something.” Rome tried not to sound as freaked out as he felt. “You gonna run me in, you better mirandize me or something.”

Bilkins looked like he would cheerfully body-check Roman and just drag him to the car, so Rome talked fast. “Man, give a little, take a deep breath and maybe I can help you out.”

“You tell me what’s going on,” Rome said firmly. He narrowed his eyes at Bilkins, flexing his shoulders mulishly.

“I’m serious, Pearce!” Bilkins barked. Then he muttered to himself something that sounded like, I can’t believe this.

When he raised both hands to rub his eyes, his jacket pulled up and Rome could see his holster. “Do you boys ever watch the news?”

Rome just blinked at him and Bilkins gritted his teeth. “Newsfeed nationwide this past month about one particular well-heeled fugitive? Busted out on his transport from SFRC to Union Correctional. Not ringing a bell? It would have been a name you recognized.”

“I’ve been busy,” Rome’s skin thrilled with defensiveness. He was a working man, for God’s sake.

Bilkins blew out his breath. He swallowed and rubbed his eyes again. Man looked like he hadn’t slept for a week. That more than anything else sent chills crawling up Roman’s back. “Tell me what happened.”

“He has two children. Ten and twelve.” Bilkins still sounded flat. It seemed like he could only sound flat or angry. “They’re both in the hospital right now. Burns. They’ll recover. His wife might not.”

Rome started chewing the inside of his mouth. It tasted like hot, metallic meat. Sweat prickled under his arms and on top of his cheekbones. Bilkins reached into his jacket pocket and Rome backed up a step, but all Bilkins pulled out was a crumpled manila envelope, thick and bristly with glossy photographs.

Bilkins didn’t say anything and just turned toward their makeshift office, stopping in front of the battered table that was still adorned with Brian’s spot welding kit and the remnants of a fast food meal. He tilted the envelope up carefully, gently, like he was freeing some dangerous animal.

The pictures spilled out over the table. They were black and white and they looked like the inkblots the prison psychologist had occasionally made Rome study. “What is this?”

“That is…” Bilkins paused and cleared his throat. “Or rather that is what is left of Monica Fuentes.”

Rome’s own throat closed, which was bad because at that moment the contents of his stomach decided they would much rather get some light and air. His tight throat worked with gulped heaves while he shook his head. Bilkins continued talking somewhere up in the ether, while Rome braced his hands hard on his knees and tried to force the color back into his vision. Grayness wavered in the corners of his eyes.

“I’ve been tracking him for four weeks. He’s obviously still got a lot of folks on his payroll, and we’ve got more leads to run down than people we can spare. Prelim signs are that he’s here. It took me four hours to find you punks, can’t imagine that it would take him much longer. So we need to find O’Conner and you need to come with me. When was the last time you spoke with Brian?”

Rome spat a gout of saliva on the floor and tried to stand upright without giving himself a head rush. His knees were shaking, so he leaned harder on the car. He managed to grunt, “Two days ago.”

“Fuck me,” Bilkins looked pop-eyed for a second. He reached for his cell phone and then seemed to think better of it. “Pearce, go get in the car. You know you’re not safe here and this way you can help O’Conner.”

“How?” Rome took a deep breath through his nose. Anger was beginning to slice through the nausea. “How’m I gonna help him, you guys gonna put me in the basement of some federal building?”

Bilkins had shoved the photographs helter-skelter back into the envelope. He contemplated Rome, like he was considering whether he had an argument that was worth a damn or if it would be easier to just clock him.

“Get in the car, Pearce.” Bilkins said softly. “Let’s not do this the hard way.”

“Shit, man,” Rome took another deep breath, feeling steadier on this familiar ground “Hard way is the only way I know. I ain’t going with you.”

Rome shifted his weight forward onto the balls of his feet. He could totally outrun old Bilkins, the problem was, he didn’t have a car option that wasn’t missing some vital moving piece and Bilkins was big and angry, had at least one gun, probably two and the full weight and breadth of Authority behind him. Shit, he might even have a partner out in his car, even if Rome doubted it. Rome sucked his teeth and hardened his eyes. Odds like that weren’t anything new.

Bilkins was still looking at him balefully. “You really are even dumber than you look.”

It didn’t sting so much this time. “Whatever, man. I still ain’t going anywhere with you that ends with me on the sidelines while God knows what goes down. That ain’t me.”

Bilkins still looked like something pulled off of Easter Island, so Rome talked faster. “I’ll be your decoy. Whatever it takes, man, you know I hate that motherfucker.”

“Hate’s not enough, Pearce.” Bilkins said sadly. “I have a responsibility to keep you safe.”

“Man, that shit wasn’t bothering you so much last time!” Rome shouted exasperatedly. “I can’t fucking believe this shit. You’re the ones who let him get out and now you’re worried about keeping us safe? What the fucky fuck is that action, huh?”

Bilkins’ teeth flashed white below his moustache. “Pearce, for the last time, go get in the car.”

“No,” Rome folded his arms and leaned back on the quarter panel of a Honda. “It’s too late.”

“Pearce, so help me God, I will…” Bilkins jabbed his hand toward his waistband.

A low voice swelled out of the shadows around the door. “He said he wasn’t going.”

Rome was watching Bilkins as closely as a dog watches a steak, so he didn’t miss that Bilkins froze for a second before snapping his sidearm free of his holster. Bilkins froze for just a nanosecond and Rome thought it might have been from disbelief.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Bilkins enunciated very distinctly. He pivoted like the hand of a clock, gun tracking the deepest part of the shadow. “Toretto, you’ve got some balls, I’ll say that for you.”

Toretto stepped into the light, led by his own 9mm. Rome squinted a little. It was a very shiny piece. Dom gestured at him with it for a second and Rome gawked at him stupidly before he realized that of course what Dom was indicating was ‘make your choice who you’re leaving with’.

Rome started edging sideways, trying not to bob conspicuously. There were a lot of firearms and temper loose in the room. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach made him almost dizzy. He’d thought this whole situation couldn’t go much further south, obviously someone upstairs had something to prove.

“Toretto, so help me God, you don’t know who or what you are messing with,” Bilkins’ voice was tight with fury. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to put you away for over a year now.”

“Which do you think is more likely?” Dom Toretto said calmly, though his eyes looked like holes in his head. “That you won’t shoot me, or I won’t shoot you?”

A muscle in Bilkins’ jaw twitched. “I’m not here for this, for you, and I got more important things on my mind right now, so I suggest you just walk away. Now. And keep walking.”

“Can’t,” Toretto said soft as a purr. He jerked his chin and Rome edged up on his sinister side.

“Pearce, you know he’s out for blood,” Bilkins said, lowering the gun a bare inch, so Rome could see all of his face. “Brian’s as good as dead, if we don’t find him.”

Bilkins grunted a little and shook his head, almost like he was darkly amused. “This is gonna end badly.”

“Just…” Roman held up his hands as if to block punches. He suddenly realized that the Man with the Shiny Gun was no longer behind him, but Bilkins wasn’t moving, was still just shaking his head. An engine roared to life behind him but no lights went on. “Just…”

Rome turned and bolted for the passenger side of a Honda which was already rolling out of the lot, no lights, the dome light didn’t even go on when he wrenched open the door and tossed himself inside.

“Go, man,” Rome thumped the dash in time with the rhythm of his heart. “Go, go, go!”

“Man, who?...what? What the fuck…?” Rome tried to stick the questions in between deep rolling breaths. It felt like there was not enough air to breathe or talk in. It was like the air wouldn’t hold his voice, it kept evaporating.

Dom Toretto glanced at him sidelong and turned back to the road without saying anything.

“Say something!” Rome demanded. Toretto had just driven almost 10 city blocks without turning his lights on. Which you could do in L.A. for a while after dusk, but they were sliding quickly into the dark side of the light city.

“Finish a question,” Toretto suggested reasonably and Rome barely restrained himself from smacking Toretto in the mouth.

“Why are you here?” That wasn’t the first question that Rome had, but it was the first one that he could verbalize.

“Brian got snatched,” Toretto said so low that Rome had to strain to hear it.

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Rome clamped down on the coldness that spread through his belly at Toretto’s words. “I just figured that out myself and no-one spelled it out for me, so how’d you know, are you psychic?”

“I had someone watching,” Toretto’s voice seemed to catch deep in his throat. “He called me.”

“OK….OK, I’m not even gonna get mad right now. Raincheck on the mad.” Rome rubbed the tips of his fingers together quickly to keep them from going numb. The big splash of outrage gushed into his chest but it was quickly subsumed by a wave of chilled fear. “When’d he call? What’d he say?”

Toretto glanced down at the dashboard. “Four and a half hours ago. Took me a while to clear the border.”

Rome jiggled his head, refusing to acknowledge that border troubles aside, Toretto must have driven like he was piloting a fighter jet. “And?”

“I didn’t wait for all the details,” Toretto had pursed his lips sternly, but his eyes were darting around in a way that made the stillness of his face eerie and not calming. “Figured you might know stuff, so you were my first stop.”

Rome rolled his lips tight over the nausea and closed his eyes tightly, trying to follow all the crazy angles and lines around until they made a clear picture. His eyes flew open and he recoiled into the side of the door a little. Toretto felt Rome’s gaze and looked over at him warily.

“Are you even on my side here?” Rome couldn’t believe he’d actually let time pass, been too caught up in his own head to even cover the basics. “Why are you here? You gonna help me or are you thinking that the enemy of your enemy is your friend or some such bullshit?”

Toretto shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenward. He gripped the wheel tighter while Roman watched expectantly.

“Man, I just pulled a gun on a cop,” Toretto said. A muscle twitched underneath his eye. “That should leave you in no doubt as to where I stand, yeah?”

Rome’s mouth twitched marginally. From a far distance, it was almost funny. “Hey, man, hate to break it to you but that was no cop.”

Toretto turned his head as they pulled up to an empty stoplight. He raised his eyebrows.

Rome turned to face forward, still watching Toretto from his peripheral vision. “That was a G-man, dawg. Special Agent in Charge from the Eff Bee Eye.”

Rome couldn’t keep his lip from twisting when a shadow seemed to roll across Toretto’s face, Toretto’s jaw worked for a second and he jerked open his low-slung door, leaned out and spat on the pavement. Rome bit down on a sour chuckle and then it all rushed back in on him, far too real.

Coming back to himself was like struggling to breathe. He was pretty sure he was doing it, but there was a pounding in his head and lethargy in his limbs that felt a lot like drowning. He tried to sit up, thinking the air would come easier but that just turned the pounding in his head into a lance of pain so sharp he forgot to breathe altogether.

Then it was muddy darkness and the scent of stale air that smelled like rot and old grease and ammonia that made him sneeze. He automatically reached for his nose only to fail and slammed his head back.

He almost passed out again, his ears ringing from a metallic clang and the pain in his skull exploding again.

He had snot in his nose and a salty, metallic taste in his mouth that made him want to gag. He almost choked on it and only barely managed to turn his head enough to cough it up and spit it out.

He remembered just in time not to let his head drop back again and forced himself to ease down, swallowing carefully to keep from choking again.

He couldn't move his arms, or not much. Couldn’t move his legs either and cautious tugs told him his wrists were held fast against some metal piping and a half-assed tap of his foot rang on metal again. He could flex his knees and his arms but not enough to sit up or roll over. He could, he found, twist enough and stretch one arm enough to bring his face closer to his hand long enough to wipe at his nose and mouth, but the bindings cut into his wrists with a painful sharpness.

It wasn't totally dark here, he realized. Light glinted off the metal pipe his wrist was secured to and every move he made caused a scraping sound as the rivets on his jean pockets scraped metal. He blinked and swallowed again. Squeezed his eyes shut and opened them blinking.

His head was killing him. He lay back down, taking stock. Trying to figure out how he'd gotten here, where here was. He'd been outside the garage. Had just locked his door. That was it. That was all he remembered. He didn't remember getting hit, but he must have been given the size of the goose egg he felt on the back of his skull every time he laid his head back.

His eyes adjusted and he sniffed. Tasted blood and snot again and swallowed, nausea edging out the pain in his head for his attention. Concussed, and who knew what else but his nose didn't feel broken. He tested his mouth and lips with his tongue and found the split, a tear in his lip from the inside to the corner of his mouth. Probably from his own teeth.

His fingers tingled and he twisted again -- carefully -- studying the white plastic binding strips that secured his wrists to the upright pipes. He could almost get close enough to get his teeth into them, could just brush his face with his fingers. Any further, though, and he felt like he'd dislocate his opposite shoulder.

Below him was more metal, stainless steel, and he stared at the pipe then up, seeing shadows above but only directly above. Another twist and he could catch the glint of more faint light on metal, the light seeping in from up above where narrow transom windows had been painted black. A couple of them were broken and what light there was came from outside.

It took him another couple of minutes to make sense of what he was seeing. He was tied to a stainless steel table, like the ones used in restaurant kitchens. Sinks and more steel counters lined the wall below the windows. On the other side of him was the stoves and grills, fryers and more sinks. A kitchen. The smell of old oil and rotting food -- a restaurant kitchen, then, fairly good sized. But there was dirt and dust and cobwebs up near the windows. The kitchen was abandoned, empty, it could be any of a hundred of them spread out around LA.

He couldn't hear anything. No traffic sounds leaked in from the broken windows but he couldn't tell if it was day or night and the light bleed came from street lights.

He tested his feet again but if anything, the bindings on his ankles were tighter than those on his wrists; figure-8's wrapped tight enough that he'd be bleeding if his socks hadn't offered some protection from the plastic.

He closed his eyes again and forced himself to relax. He didn't know what this was, who this was. But he was still breathing so that was good. So far. But it was hard -- no impossible -- not to let a little panic sink in. Somebody wanted him, alive for now but why? This had a little too much finesse to be anything but pro. This wasn't gangs, or random…he checked that. Random. Serial killer random maybe.

If he tilted his head a little he could ease the pressure on the knot at the back of his head. Made his neck ache and he had to piss in the worst way suddenly. He couldn't get loose. He didn't know where the fuck he was.

He started yelling. It was the only plan he had. Yell and listen. Yell some more and listen. Try to work up enough saliva to keep yelling and not choke on his own spit.

He tapped his head lightly against the table and gave half a thought to doing it hard enough that he might just knock himself out again. It pissed him off, giving up. Even thinking about it. Taking a deep breath he twisted again, feeling the strain on his shoulder. If all he had was his teeth and his wits they'd have to be good enough. He could feel the burn in his left shoulder as he strained, finally getting teeth to plastic. Trying not to tense his wrist up so that he couldn't work at the thick stuff. The burn got sharper, racing across his shoulder and down his spine. He couldn't just bite through it, he'd have to gnaw on it.

He'd actually made a groove in the plastic when he heard a clang of metal not caused from where his leg was trembling from holding the awkward position.

Doors and footsteps, sounding flat and hollow on tile. The bounce of a light across the ceiling through the grimy plastic of the kitchen's pass-through doors. It danced across the ceiling as the door was shoved open, the sudden light differentiation rendering him blind again for a moment. He could only make out a vague form behind the light -- just one he thought but couldn't be sure -- but then he had to squeeze his eyes shut as the light hit him full in the face and he forgot to listen as well.

"What's going on? What do you want?" he asked, daring to crack his eyes a little. The brightness of the flashlight made his eyes water. He didn't get an answer but the light flickered away for a second, across him to his wrists, to his feet, checking the restraints. "Who are you?"

"Think of me as a ghost," a disembodied voice said but not near his head, near the door. There had been two of them. A shadow moved forward. "Get the lights. In the back."

He knew that voice, remembered the almost accentless cadence of it. The flashlight bobbed away but after a minute he heard the hard click, barely remembered to close his eyes before the overhead lights came up in all their fluorescent glory.

When he opened them again his captor was leaning over him, hands pressed to the table near Brian's armpit and hip.

“Long time no see,” Brian pulled his lips off his teeth; his mouth was completely dry. “Verone.”

Rome managed to stay silent while Dom zigzagged them all over creation, but when they had zigged over the train tracks on either side of Union station, he finally spat out, “Look are you trying to shake a tail or pick one up?”

“Place we’re headed doesn’t get a lot of night traffic,” Dom rumbled. “We just gotta be sure.”

“He’s my best friend,” Rome whispered this into the side of his knuckle. He wasn’t even sure he’d said it aloud, but the side of Toretto’s face that he could see in the faint streetlight twisted.

Toretto nodded deeply, but he stayed silent. They cut south suddenly, riding San Pedro down through Little Tokyo. The streetlights got straggly as they moved into canyons of dark, hulking warehouses.

“Where are we?” Rome kept his eyes peeled for humans. This was like where you’d set your film if the script instructions were ‘post-apocalyptic urban dystopia’.

They pulled up past 5^th Street into some alley that didn’t even have a name. Toretto pressed a button on his key fob and the car didn’t beep back at him, it just made some kind of odd pneumatic hiss that freaked what was left of Rome’s fragile nerves right out.

Toretto stood in front of a darker shadow in a cluster of shadows that Rome realized was a door. Rome also realized that he could hear a faint thumping that resolved itself into a bass beat. Toretto tilted his head up as a light came on. Toretto didn’t seem overly alarmed by any of this and Rome rocked his shoulders back and forth, determined to be cool.

There was another buzz, a click and Toretto slid the door sideways. It sounded like it weighed a ton, but Toretto just set his weight and jerked. They shouldered into the dim light together.

The light came up gradually. Rome blinked and made his face blank with what he hoped didn’t look like surprise. They were standing in a large glass box that had to go up the three stories of the building. He glanced upward quickly. Skylight. One side of the glass framed a glass elevator that wouldn’t have looked out of place at the Hilton and the other side was coated with a constant evenflow waterfall. The water gushed into a riverstone-lined pool studded with carefully trained bamboo and a few water lilies. The rest of the foyer was fringed with lace-leaf maples and carefully combed sand. Rome tried to keep from gawking as classy, ultramodern décor and a Zen garden was about the last thing he had expected.

Toretto stepped delicately into the elevator. Rome shrugged and followed on his heels.

The third floor was completely open, loft-style. It was lit by a neon ‘Eat at Joes’ sign at one end and appeared to be decorated with very artful graffiti. The lights were low otherwise, barely illuminating clusters of people who appeared to be grouped at random with the furniture, like a Benetton ad. A rainbow of races and a wide spectrum of genders. Everyone stayed engrossed in their conversations/art projects/Playstations, except for a handsome Asian man who peeled off to greet Toretto somberly. “Dom.”

“Han,” Toretto sounded more-than-average gruff. One of the kids playing with the game console looked over at them, then poked the kid next to him so they could both gawk.

It was almost impossible to guess how old Han was. He wore his hair a bit longer than was considered fashionable and he was munching on something unself-consciously, like a kid or a teenager might. But something about him looked like he’d seen a few things.

Han nodded at Roman, just a quick, acknowledging-type nod. He gestured at a free-standing edifice that was crowded with glowing bottles. Like everything else in this place, the bar was the apex of cool. Toretto refused with a little hand wave, but Roman grabbed a beer to have something to do with his hands. He wasn’t driving and he felt like he’d just mainlined six Red Bull. Adrenaline was pulsing through him fast and hard; it felt like his heart would never beat right again. But somehow, just standing next to Han was…relaxing. Han seemed to radiate calm like a psychic space heater. Rome breathed in Han’s detachment.

“I’m sorry about this,” Han tucked the package of whatever he was eating away neatly. “It didn’t go as smooth as it should. When your guy wasn’t around, we used the B team.”

For a second, Rome felt vaguely dissed that apparently he only rated the stubs on Dom’s amateur surveillance team. Then he snorted at his own ridiculousness.

Han scanned the room and then unsheathed a cell phone. He flipped it open, thumbed a couple of buttons then spoke into it while holding it sideways, like a trucker would have held a CB radio. Another Asian kid popped up from another floor with the twin of the phone, his round face accentuated by his buzzed hair. He looked furtively up at Toretto, abashed down to his eyelashes.

Roman had a moment of confusion since Kensington and Sunset ran parallel to each other, half a mile apart. Then he realized that the kid was talking about a time of day. He’d been at the garage all afternoon and apparently at least two sets of people had been watching. Rome cursed himself for cranking up the Wu-Tang.

The kid continued speaking in mumbled quick-fire bursts. “They cruised up behind the guy in the Camaro. It was like…surgical. Two dudes. Huge.” The kid paused as if waiting for an invitation to elaborate on the hugeness of the dudes.

The kid seemed to relax a little, like he was back on familiar territory. “Late model Lincoln Navigator, 2002. Black with details, stock rims. Windows tinted like Oakleys.”

The kid tried to keep himself from squirming. “Uhm, they got on Glendale. Heading north.”

“So.” the kid hung his head like a schoolboy. “You know that interchange when Glendale hits the 5?”

Rome shuddered internally. He’d been in LA only two months and he already knew that particular clusterfuck.

“Thought they were taking it,” The kid shook his head sadly. “They were almost off. I was pulling up fast and they’re just gone. They juked me practically on two wheels and stayed on the 2.”

“Fuck,” Rome realized that he’d spoken aloud when they all looked at him. Disappointment and frustration hung in the air like a particularly poisonous fart.

Rome could hear the kid, Joe, take a deep breath even over the techno bass beat. Han gave him the nod and Joe vanished back into the clusters of soft LED lights and beeping consoles. Han shot a vaguely apologetic look at Dom and shrugged as if to say ‘kids these days…’

Rome didn’t hesitate, even though it occurred to him that they were both strangers. Both of them looked at him so intently, two very different sets of black eyes funneling down his words. He gave them a short character sketch of Carter Verone. He told them what happened to his car. Han asked a few questions, but Toretto just looked grave.

“So know we know who. And we know how.” Han spoke very deliberately. “Now all we need to know is where.”

“Dom,” Han said gently because Toretto seemed lost in very deep thought. “What do you need?”

Toretto seemed to come back to himself, he let the ghost of an embarrassed grin drift over his face. “I was just wondering how much you feel you owe me.”

“Let me make a suggestion,” Han continued, serene as still water. “Let’s get all eyes on deck for that Navigator.”

“There’ll be a million of those,” Roman protested.

“Way they were headed cuts off four fifths of the city,” Han countered. “This guy sounds larger than life. He’ll have made some waves.”

Toretto nodded slowly.

“Talk to your people and I’ll try to get a bead on this end.”

“I’m going to talk to everybody,” Toretto raised his eyes and looked full in Han’s face. Rome got the sense that that meant more than it sounded like. It almost sounded like a challenge. Han quirked an eyebrow and nodded.

Toretto turned to go and Rome followed, clinking his beer bottle back down on the bar. All the kids watched them leave surreptitiously. It wasn’t unfriendly. But all the eyes still made Rome uneasy. He was first out of the elevator.

“Who is that guy?” Rome shifted from foot to foot, waiting for Toretto to unlock the car.

Toretto waited until they were both inside the Honda before saying, “Old friend. Really knows what he’s doing. I always go to him when things get…complicated.”

“Maybe he should come with us then?” Rome tried to hold his leg down so it wouldn’t jitter uncontrollably.

“Nah, he’ll be better working this his own way.” Toretto put the car in drive and again pulled out with no headlights. “He’ll have resources that he won’t want me to know about and vice versa.”

“So you’re saying Han works solo?” Roman couldn’t resist.

Toretto growled at him, wordlessly.

Carter Verone smiled. It almost made it to his eyes, which reassured Brian not at all. "Officer Brian O’Conner. We meet again."

"You're in prison," Brian said, knowing it was stupid, and wrong, but he hadn't quite wrapped his brain around it yet.

Verone lifted his hands and spread them. "Obviously not. I didn't like the accommodations. Thought a little holiday was in order. Take the time to visit some old friends before I settle someplace more my style."

Brian swallowed, still tasting blood and bile. "You shouldn't have, man. A phone call would have been fine."

Verone smiled and rocked back. "No, I don’t think so. I owed you so much O’Conner. I wanted to make sure you know how much I owe you. Up close and personal."

His smile sent a sickening shiver up Brian’s spine. "So, you like my place? It's looking a little rough right now," Verone said stepping back, looking around. "I got a great price. I've always liked L.A. I thought maybe I should bring a little Miami spice and Southern hospitality to the West Coast."

Verone wandered around testing the sinks, water sputtered and ran, echoing loudly against the metal and tile. He shut it off. Tested the stoves. There was a click of ignition but no flame. Verone cut the gas and pulled out a lighter, tried again. This time the burner caught, blue-white flames burning off dust and grime and not a few dead bugs. He turned it off again. "I told you. I owe you. I always pay my debts. I'd have been here sooner but you left Miami without dropping me a note. That's not very friendly."

Verone came back to the table, reached underneath it and wrenched a drawer open. Brian couldn't see anything but he heard metal scraping, the rattle of utensils against each other. "No. no, I guess not. Colleagues, maybe. Briefly."

"You know they're looking for you." Christ, how had Verone gotten away? Out of prison. Busted out or what? He'd been convicted. Brian had stayed in Miami long enough to know that. Monica had told him, called him when the trial was over.

Verone chuckled and Brian felt a quick bubble of nausea burst in the back of his throat.

Toretto didn’t bother with an elaborate route back out of the warehouse district. He drove with purpose through the broad arcs of street light, up to Cesar Chavez and then west. Sunset Boulevard, back up toward Echo Park. He turned onto Glendale, Highway 2. Rome thought he was going to retrace the route Brian’s kidnappers had taken, but then for some reason Dom pulled to the side in the underpass of the Hollywood Freeway. Rome had been here before, passed through about a dozen times a day it seemed, but he’d never really noticed the street art. The sides of the underpass were blazoned with enormous stylized portraits.

Rome cursed under his breath when Toretto actually got out of the car. It was an hour past midnight now, traffic had eased somewhat, but it was never truly gone around here. Toretto stood in front of the car, looking around at the underpass like it was the fucking Louvre.

“What’re we doing?” Rome tried not to lose his temper. He had to stay chill for Brian, but really he was pretty frayed.

Toretto didn’t say anything. He cracked his knuckles; the sound was washed away by traffic.

“So what’s the plan?” Roman bounced on the balls of his feet a little. The night air was growing a deeper chill. “What’re we doing here?”

There was a long pause, fringed by a distant siren and the whoosh of a row of cars.

“Brian shot a guy right….there,” Toretto gestured at the curb about ten feet from where he was standing.

“Guessing he never told you that,” Toretto looked up at the underside of the Hollywood freeway.

“I bet he had reasons.” Rome said sharply. “Truth, justice, the American way and all.”

“Why’s this got your panties in a bunch?” Rome snapped. “We need to go, man.”

Rome folded his arms. He was tempted to call bullshit, but Toretto looked a bit over-sincere. Rome tried to imagine the set of circumstances that would make Brian do something like that, but found that he couldn’t. It was like Toretto was talking about a completely different person.

Toretto rolled his shoulder back and then looked up at Rome. A passing set of headlights caught his eyes and they gleamed like a coyote’s. “Let’s go.”

Toretto made two very terse phone calls after they got in the car. This time, about thirty seconds after Toretto flicked the ignition, Rome pulled on his seatbelt. When Toretto decided he wanted to move, he was fucking seismic.

“Here,” Toretto shoved a cell phone at him. One of the cheaper Nokias, probably retailed for about thirty bucks. “Call that cop, that G-man, give him the Navigator and the plates.”

Rome opened his mouth and then just called information. After a little telephonic maneuvering, he left a message with a person at the Federal building who he figured must be pretty plugged in. When he dropped Bilkins’ name, she tried her damndest to keep him on the line.

“Now what?” Rome beeped the phone off. Toretto frowned at him, snatched the phone back and threw it out the window.

Rome relaxed a little, content that Toretto’s priorities were in the right place. The stop light changed and Toretto brought it to redline in a nanosecond, but he didn’t lay any rubber. Vrooming, but no screeching. Rome found himself admiring Toretto’s control.

Toretto rocked his head to the side. He tightened his hand on the wheel and muttered, “I’m gonna give it a good 110%, how about you?”

Rome ducked his head. “You know, Brian was almost my only friend growing up. He had that fire, you know? Like me. Wanting to get out.” Rome looked at the horizon, fringed with lights and palms. “I mean…I know it might sound funny coming from me, but shit. The people we grew up with were like cows in a field. Com-placent motherfuckers. You get me?”

Toretto raised one shoulder. “There were some brighter lights where I grew up, but yeah, I get you.”

Toretto jerked his thumb back the way they’d come. “About two miles that way. Born and bred.”

“Hunh,” Rome leaned back and scratched his chin. “A native Angeleno. Hear that’s pretty rare, don’t most folks here come from somewhere else?”

Rome rolled his head against the window and said straight, “Nah, but I see how it could be tough, competing with all the talent pouring in from Iowa and Wisconsin and…”

Toretto gave him a look that said quite clearly, don’t bust my balls. “I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” Toretto shrugged again, “I’m nervous.”

“And I’m all good with the Lord over here?” Rome started, then fell silent himself.

“Maybe better if you don’t know.” Toretto leaned down to check a street sign.

“Nah, that don’t play,” Rome knocked Dom’s shoulder with the edges of his knuckles. “I ain’t flying blind with you. I barely know you.”

“See, how hard was that?” Rome relaxed back into his seat. After two lights, he stiffened up again. “I know that name. Why do I know that name?”

Toretto sighed more deeply. “He’s relatively senior…” Dom turned off of Cesar Chavez and the lights muted a little. “With the 18’s.”

Rome swallowed the excess of saliva in his mouth. He breathed deeply through his nose and tried to relax his suddenly tense arms, hands and fingers. “They call him ‘Revolver’ Rivera?”

“Bingo,” Toretto said quietly. He glanced at Roman with new respect. “Keep your ears open don’t you?”

“You know, I always liked you,” Verone had pulled out one of his ubiquitous cigars. He patted his pockets and pulled out a handful of cigar accoutrement.

Brian tried not to let his eye be drawn by the silver disk of Verone’s cutter. He didn’t want to put ideas in Verone’s head. Verone clicked his lighter on and Brian watched him draw a red glow out of the blue flame. He puffed for a few moments, appreciatively.

“Yeah?” Brian practically drawled. Getting out of this was going to require extra special helpings of bravado. Brian knew he couldn’t let Verone scent the slightest hint of fear on him. Fear would give Verone just the opening he wanted, just a little crack and Verone would poison him like rust ate metal.

“Yeah, I did,” Verone looked up at the industrial strength lights, almost like he was musing. “I liked your attitude. You had, as my people say, cojones.”

Enrique, one of Verone’s thugs, had said that too, near the end. I like you, but I still have to kill you. Verone’s use of the past tense was also something to chew on.

“Hey man, I really appreciate that.” Brian flexed his hands as much as he could. “So’re we done here? I gotta be at work in the morning.”

Verone laughed aloud. His eyes sparkled with amusement. He looked so handsome and normal, but still not too hard to see past the veneer to the psychopath.

“Not done here,” He patted Brian’s thigh like he would’ve slapped him on the back. “Not quite yet.”

“What’re you doing then, Verone?” Brian asked flatly, willing his voice to stay even. “What’s the plan?”

“You know, I had this whole…life back in Miami,” Verone was still moseying around the table, circling him, shark-like. “I was really enjoying myself.”

Verone raised his hands and shrugged like it was a fair point. “Keeping a lot of people employed.”

“Hey, it’s all dirty work,” Verone stopped and grinned down at him. “Don’t you feel like that sometimes? You know, I heard that they had to use a little blackmail to get you to play ball, too.”

“Anyway,” Verone continued after the pause had gotten lengthy. “Point is. You took that life from me, Brian O’Conner…I’m here to take a little something from you.”

Brian held his eyes, just locked them tight onto Verone’s. Verone stared back at him for a while, then grinned. When a cell phone blared out into the quiet, they both flinched. Verone looked up at his associate in the shadows. They seemed to have a tacit conversation, then Verone patted Brian once more and made to leave.

Brian felt the pressure first, then an intense pain flaring out from his hand to his elbow. He clamped down on his yelp and looked up into Verone’s cold blue eyes. Verone tossed the cigar that he had just stubbed out on Brian’s wrist onto the floor.

Dom pulled to a halt outside one of the anonymous single-story houses that spread out around the Evergreen cemetery south of Cesar Chavez. Rome shook his head in disbelief when Dom tucked his piece carefully underneath his seat. Dom stared at him until Rome got the message that it was more dangerous to bring it than to leave it.

He got out of the car and looked over the hood at Roman dubiously. Just having the homeboy along complicated things to a factor of ten. Just getting out of the car and walking up the drive would have to be a cautious exercise now. At least he didn’t have to tell Rome to be cool. Rome had already slumped into a studied casual slouch, full of jailhouse insouciance. They both kept their hands visible and didn’t walk favoring a side. Rome stayed a little bit behind Dom all the way up the walk.

Behind a chain link fence, a Rottweiler regarded them balefully, but it didn’t bark. It looked like it didn’t often bother.

The door was open by the time they got to the stoop. Like most of the little bungalows it opened right into living space with just one slab of pasteboard paneling instead of a foyer. A teen-aged Latino boy, just on the edge of his full size and weight nodded them through into the living room.

‘Revolver’ Rivera was an average looking man. Average height, average coloring, the kind of person you could easily walk past and never notice and witnesses would find it hard to point him out of a crowd photo. He was sitting on a couch like a golden Buddha in a shrine. But instead of being surrounded by incense and seed cakes, he was surrounded by a small arsenal of light arms. He was carefully cleaning a classic .45, so he didn’t stand up to greet them.

“This is Roman Pearce,” Dom muttered. Rome was playing it right. Rome didn’t reach out for a handshake, he just nodded at Rivera with his hands clasped in front of him. Dom continued. “El no vive acqui, solo esta de visita.”

Rivera smiled, whether at Rome’s Spanish facility or his acknowledgment that they were just passing through, Dom couldn’t tell.

Dom took a deep breath. So far everything seemed to be going okay. But Revolver Rivera had been known to smile while his face was getting splashed by arterial blood, so that didn’t mean much.

Dom enquired gently about the car he’d restored. Rivera tinged his reply with the affection that most people reserved for children and animals. Rome was trying to watch them without watching, letting his eyes track on everything and catch on nothing.

“So Dom?” Rivera always spoke with a quaint kind of politeness, as if for some reason the irony appealed to him. “¿En que puedo servirle?” How can I help you?

“There’s a man in town.” Dom paused when the boy came back with a small tray full of drinks. Rome took two long-necked bottles and passed one to Dom. Rivera waited until everyone was served before pausing in a silent toast. Dom continued. “Name of Verone. Carter Verone.”

“Ese nombre me suena.” Rivera nodded to himself. “Lo he oido antes” I know that name, I’ve heard it before.

“Broke out of prison on the East Coast a little while ago. He’s from Miami. Trata en droges,” Dom continued seriously. “But that’s not our problem. Our problem is that he’s kidnapped one of ours.”

Rivera paused while stroking the barrels of his pistolas. The corners of his eyes crinkled with regret. “Si se trata de dinero, yo no puedo ayudar.” If it is a question of money, I can’t help.

“It’s not ransom he’s after,” Rome piped up. “He ain’t after money.”

Rivera cocked his head doubtfully at Rome. “Well that is a problem, yes? If he doesn’t want money, then what he does want except for making a point?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dom could see Rome’s Adam’s apple bob. “This person he’s got is our friend.” He bit down hard on his own helpless fear. “We can’t let him make this particular point.”

“Just…if you should happen to hear anything,” Dom tried to smile a little, it didn’t feel like it came out quite right. “…I know you hear a lot of things. I would just like a call. One phone call.”

Revolver Rivera cocked his head. This time he did shrug and Dom felt the very tenuous hold he had on this man vibrate in his fingers. Rivera owed him nothing. Maybe less than nothing. And it wasn’t like Dom could appeal to his better nature. He didn’t have one.

Roman said softly, “Lo que sucede es que no podemos hacerlo sin tu ayuda.” The fact is, we can’t do it without your help.

Rivera seemed to swell slightly and Dom tried not to stiffen. Then he realized that Roman had played it just right. You couldn’t appeal to Rivera’s better nature, but you could still make a bid for his ego.

Rome continued. “I’m new here in town, but Dom here, he knows the score and when he heard about this problem…you were the first person he thought of. We came straight here.”

Rivera leaned back against his couch and spread his hands expansively across the tops of the cushions. Dom shifted his weight a little and hoped Roman hadn’t overplayed it.

“You know something,” Revolver Rivera leaned forward and looked very, very grave. “I like you.”

He smiled then and after a second Rome grinned back at him. Dom felt like he was going to puke, but Rome just continued grinning and half-chuckling along with this man who had killed six people this year and it was only October. “I like this one, Dominic, you should bring him to visit more. I will call you, if I hear anything.”

“Román,” Rivera stopped Roman on his way out of the door. It was funny how the smaller man just needed to raise a finger and they were both suddenly all ears. Rivera said simply, “Hay un refran que dice, “ Hombre prevenido vale por dos.”

“Here, ese, take this,” Rivera picked up one of the guns he had just cleaned and handed it, grip first to Roman. “I notice you are traveling light. Es bueno para todo fin.” It is good for many purposes.

After the door slammed shut, Brian relaxed marginally. His neck complained until he found a good spot to rest his head. He sucked a dozen deep breaths in through his nose.

Brian blinked rapidly trying to settle deep into himself so he wouldn’t have a hysterical screaming freakout that would end with Carter Verone putting a bullet in him just to shut him up. He made his mind blank. There was nothing in his current situation that was safe to think about.

After a few minutes of doing nothing but breathe, he sighed and worked his sore, tired head up to where he could gnaw on the plastic binding his wrist. He found the groove he’d made earlier with his tongue.

“You’re pretty hot shit, huh?” Toretto said, not like he was annoyed or anything. In fact, he almost sounded relieved.

“Man, when you got it, you got it and I got it,” Rome shook his shoulders out and examined his new gun.

“You know that thing is probably hotter than the sun and a total felony magnet, right?” Toretto continued wryly.

Rome flounced a little. “Man, I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night, got me? I know this! Do you see me fronting?”

“Yeah, well,” Dom returned. “Could you just keep it out of sight for now? Look at who we are and where we are.”

Dom paused just long enough for Roman to consider the deck stacked against them. To be young, black and male at 2 AM in LA was one thing, add a couple of guns and a barely street legal vehicle, that was something else.

Dom continued gruffly, “Deck is already stacked without you making like you’re Billy the Kid.”

“Whatever,” Rome mumbled, but he tucked the unloaded gun underneath his seat, while keeping a sharp lookout for LA’s finest. “What’s the next move? You got anymore drug kingpins to enlist?”

“Some of the stuff we need to do…some of it scares the shit out of me,” Toretto said slowly. “But I kinda wanna see a friendly face before I do.”

“Man, I ain’t saying no,” Rome settled back in his seat and jerked at the seatbelt.

Rome watched the guy hug Dom Toretto so hard that he lifted him off the ground. The fact that Toretto was chuckling, pressing their foreheads together and giving his own special handshake let Rome know this wasn’t some casual acquaintance for sure.

“You said it, man, but …you…know…the door’s always open down Mexico way, right?” Dom said slowly, trying to draw a deep breath. The guy kept squeezing him until Rome’s own ribs hurt.

“So what brings you back up here, D?” The guy leaned back and looked between Dom and Rome expectantly. “Can’t be real safe.”

Rome snorted a little. Considering the neighborhoods they’d visited, the company they’d been keeping and the speed at which they’d been traveling, safe was kind of in the eye of the beholder.

Leon just slapped a hand in his with surprising force. “T’sup, guy, you a friend of Dom’s?”

“Something like that” “Yeah, you could say so,” they spoke over each other.

Leon shrugged. “Well, c’mon in. My cuz’s gone home and I was just about to roll up outta here myself.”

“Ain’t nothing, D…what am I gonna do, go home and sleep?” Leon asked as if it were the most ridiculous proposition in the world. “Gimme the story: you up for a visit or just passing through?”

“I got some trouble, Neon,” Toretto said quietly. “I’m bringing trouble.”

Leon grinned as if it was a pretty good joke. “S’alright, man. Can’t be that bad.”

Dom looked like he’d say more, but then he just shut his mouth and quirked his chin.

“What do you need, man?” Leon ambled back into the hangar-like enclosure with his arms outspread. Rome whistled under his breath. Man, there were like a dozen cars in here, looking like glossy toys in a box. Whatever this Leon dude was doing, it was bringing in the cash okay.

Toretto didn’t seem to see anything. “Gonna need some clean phones. Place to get some calls made. And I’m going to need another car.”

“Not a problem,” Leon was already examining each of the gleaming beauties, all crouched on the floor like they were poised to spring. “Anything special?”

Rome just shrugged and left it for Dom to explain. Dom sighed, “Nah, this ain’t business.”

“Brian?” Leon wrinkled his brow, looking pained. “Sure, dawg, I remember….” Leon made a sweeping gesture that seemed to encompass the whole world.

Leon’s jaw worked, he suddenly looked as fierce and serious as a hawk. “What’re you saying?”

Dom beckoned him down to the side of an acid-green Maxima. Rome stretched out his exhaustion, trying not to listen to their urgent, low-voiced conversation. Hearing the story repeated just made it seem more hopeless. Looking for one person in SoCal was looking for a needle in a needle stack.

They seemed to come to some agreement, Leon vanished momentarily and Dom sighed and stretched himself. “You tired? Hungry?”

“Good,” Toretto wiped his hand over his face. Leon came back with two fistfuls of cell phones.

Rome studied the back of the phone where the number had been helpfully affixed with a label-maker. Very efficient, if a little sketchy. He wondered what Leon’s game was. He bet whatever it was, Leon was good at it.

Dom picked up a phone and squinted at it tiredly. “OK, just pick one for a red phone and get cracking.”

Roman opened his mouth and then it occurred to him that he didn’t really need an explanation. He thought to himself: mobilize. Leon was already yakking away into one phone while punching numbers into another. Dom slumped down at Leon’s desk and start dialing with his thumb. Rome sighed, started pacing and calling everyone he knew.

Brian’s eyes snapped open. He’d held them open for so long against the darkness that they hurt now, they were glazed with ache. He hadn’t really been sleeping; it felt like he’d moved into some sort of suspended animation strung up between terror and helplessness. He blinked up at the flaking, black-painted windows. Morning? He might as well take Verone’s word for it. His hands and feet felt coated in a thick layer of plaster.

“Fantastic,” he croaked. All the yelling had started to make his throat swell.

“You look it,” Verone chuckled. “Actually, my boys tell me that they did that knot on your head, but you showed up already sporting the shiner.”

“Didn’t really notice the bruises yesterday,” Verone paused, leaning on the table and grinned. “Still making friends and influencing people, huh?”

Brian pulled his lip up off his teeth. Being supine gave everything an odd dreamlike feeling, all the shadows looked odd since he was looking up at Verone’s face, the underside of his chin.

“So I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to do this,” Verone drawled lazily.

Brian didn’t say anything, he just drew a deep breath in through his nose. Even though he filled his lungs, it still felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. His vision started to pulse.

Verone paced around his steel table with one hand in his pocket. He was, Brian noticed, smoking another fucking cigar.

Brian stayed silent. The urge to pee had slowly dissipated, leaving an odd distant ache in his groin. His mouth was dry. A day without water would do that, he supposed. He focused on Verone’s movement, not his words. Deep breaths.

“You know when you’ve got a lot of time to think about it, you can come up with some pretty elaborate shit,” Verone mused. “But I’m a big believer in the simple way.”

The silence stretched. Verone half-sat on a corner of the table and slumped, watching the smoke filter up in the faint light. Brian kept breathing.

“I mean,” Verone leaned and reached to pick up a mallet off the far counter. He hefted it. A meat tenderizer. “I guess I could a few swipes at your kneecaps with this.”

“Or,” Verone picked up an ice-pick. “I could always turn those baby blues into baby blue.”

Brian couldn’t help blinking rapidly. Verone was brandishing the point in his peripheral vision, he couldn’t tell how close or far away it was. His sweat had glued him to the table at strategic points, it prickled with the sudden chill.

“You know, it’s funny,” Verone said softly. “I thought it would be like an egg yolk breaking…but it’s not. The color in the iris doesn’t shift, it just turns into a mess. Just bloody.”

He looked down at Brian and grinned. “I did a little experimenting inside. Getting prepared and all.”

Verone stood like that for almost a minute, weighing the two implements in his hands. He jabbed the air with the ice pick and swung the mallet experimentally. Brian didn’t breathe until his lungs shrieked.

A cell phone rang out into the silence again. Verone sighed, dug it out of his pants and looked at the screen. He looked up and quirked his eyebrows at Brian drolly.

“See you later, O’Conner,” He set down the mallet and ice pick in Brian’s direct line of sight. “Duty before pleasure.”

Rome came awake very suddenly, a muscle in his back shrieked in agony. His hand had little grooves cut into it from the cell phone that he was still clutching. He stood up and nearly fell. The headrush nearly sent him bowling over into Toretto who was face-down at the desk. Toretto snorted awake suddenly and did the same stupid little pantomime, gawking down at his phone-imprinted hand, realizing he’d actually been asleep and attempting to leap to his feet.

The chair he’d been sitting in screeched back until it slammed into the wall. Toretto kept himself from tripping over his own feet by clutching at Rome. Rome let him find his balance before giving him a shove. Unfortunately, that put Rome off-balance again and they swayed together like drunks.

“Ah, fuck,” Toretto bent double and clutched his head in his palms. Rome winced as the headrush gave way to headache.

“Yeah,” Rome looked out at the faint light gushing in the windows. “Ditto.”

“Jesus, man,” Toretto gestured helplessly. “What the hell….time is it?”

Rome looked around the office for a second, then realized that he was still holding the damned cell phone. “Uh, it’s…” he squinted. “Seven thirty.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Rome dug his knuckles into his eye sockets and grimaced. “We’re assholes.”

Unexpectedly, Toretto bunched both of his fists and slammed them, hammer-like, into his own chest.

“Hey,” Rome’s muzziness was starting to lift, but his eyelids still felt weighted. “You want me to do that?”

“I feel you,” Rome tried to stifle a yawn, then gave up. “But shit, man… call between 3 and 5 in the AM and people’ll pay attention ‘cause it’s important. Call between 5 and 7, you know most of ‘em just roll over and go back to dreamland…”

“What’re we gonna do now?” Rome checked the phone for messages and then tucked it into his pocket.

Toretto checked his own phone, scowled and rolled his jaw around. His fists were still clenched and the veins rose out his forearms angrily. Rome cleared his throat and started to cough, trying to clear the tight panic that clutched at him when he realized that he had no next step. There was nothing else to do but wait.

“’S go get some food,” Rome tried to make it sound more like he was telling, than asking.

“We need to be strong, man,” Rome restrained himself from saying ‘dumbass’ but it was a near thing. “You need to be cool.”

If he reconciled himself to damaging the nerves in one of his wrists, Brian found he could twist himself onto his side, the better to gnaw at the ties cutting into him. He tried to keep all his fingers moving at intervals, but it got progressively harder. They felt as swollen as sausages. His legs had started cramping violently about two hours ago, enough pain to make him hiss.

It was wretchedly difficult to get a lasting purchase on the thin loop of plastic. After a while, his incisors and canine teeth ached like they were about to fall out. He couldn’t tell if he was making any headway, no matter how hard he chewed, it seemed like the loop got tighter and his blood got more sluggish.

He broke off, gasping. His left eye was watering uncontrollably. His whole body screeched when he tried to wipe it on his sleeve. He focused on the pain, the dimensions of it. It kept him from sliding into the hopeless hole in his head. The place full of whispers telling him that he wasn’t going to get out of this. Not in one piece.

“I think I should take over,” Rome steeled himself for an argument and then deflated when he realized that Toretto was so far in his own head, he might as well have been talking to the car.

“Lemme drive for a while,” Rome said reasonably. “You’re running on empty.”

Rome put a little edge in his voice. “And that’s the third car that you’ve almost sideswiped but hey, if you don’t think that another wreck might slow us down a little, then whatevs…”

Toretto rolled his eyes a little and grimaced, but he pulled into the lot of the next filling station. A Mobil, Rome noted grimly as he jerked himself up out of the bucket seat. Toretto moved like he was still asleep, but they were soon settled again. Rome pulled out of the lot with a screech, but just a little one. He got a feel for the Honda quickly and if he hadn’t been so angry, scared and freaked out, it might almost have been a pleasant way to spend the morning. The sun was slanting up behind downtown’s towers, which looked almost pretty gilded in light.

Dom continued looking out the window like he’d seen one hundred years of carnage and expected one hundred more. Rome drove purposefully for a while, then considered that he didn’t actually know where they’d been headed. He passed a Denny’s without pausing.

“What?” Rome squinted. Cripes, now Toretto wasn’t even keeping the crazy to himself. Awesome.

“You said another,” Dom was scowling at him owlishly in the bright morning sun. “Another wreck.”

“Man, I told you what that psycho did to my car,” Rome started, aggrieved. “Told you and Han last night.”

Dom just blinked. And then blinked more rapidly. He rested his head back on the headrest and took a deep breath.

Hours. Or maybe a few minutes before the doors creaked again. He could hear the clatter of footsteps in the quiet, below his heaving breath and the blood pounding in his head. It was so quiet; he could hear perfectly when Verone said, “Wait here.”

There was another bulky shadow up there. For some reason, Verone didn’t like to come and see him alone. Something to consider. He wondered what the anonymous person made of the ‘conversations’ they were having. What he thought about all this.

“Brian,” Verone purred from the foot of the table. Brian shifted his eyes unwillingly. He wondered if it would be better not to look, but then realized it was futile. He was as helpless to stop looking as he was in all the rest of this.

Verone tapped on the side of the table, in an elaborate rhythm for a moment. It put Brian’s teeth on edge, jounced his head just enough to make ache blaze up behind his eyes.

“Did you fuck Monica?” Verone asked unexpectedly, trailing two fingers down the inside of Brian’s arm. Brian had been holding it taut for so long against his bonds that Verone’s light touch made him shudder involuntarily.

“I know you did, Brian, I can tell by that look on your face,” Verone smiled, stood up and clasped his hands behind his back. “You look like you’re about to swallow your tongue. I hope you fucked her. I hope you both enjoyed it.”

Verone continued, “Man, she was one sweet piece. I thought I’d really hit the jackpot. Body was perfect, gorgeous face and she was tough, never clingy, all attitude, fearless.”

Brian tried not to think about Monica, tried to keep her face from forming in his mind. Hopeless. Her eyes had always been so warm, not just beautiful, but kind.

“Of course,” Verone shrugged. “Last time I saw her, she wasn’t quite so perfect. I had to stick a tennis ball in her mouth, she got kind of…noisy…toward the end.”