Street Rat
Rated SAFE
"Well, if it isn't the street rat."
Brian froze, his head still under the hood of the crap car as he considered all the possible responses to that voice. He'd thought about this moment… obsessed over it, really, but somehow he hadn't ever expected it to really happen.
"Dom," he said as he carefully stood. He laid the wrench on the side of the car and grabbed a rag as he turned around. He didn't know what he expected, but the lack of a gun or other deadly weapon was a surprise. The plain brown Volvo parked at the curb was a bigger one.
"That's all you got to say?" Dom asked, his eyebrows going up.
"Not really much to say," Brian agreed. "You have some reason for tracking me down, something other than making bad Aladdin allusions?"
"Allusions," Dom nodded knowingly. "Big word for you. Then again, I suppose you're a college boy as well as a cop." Dom moved slowly around the car Brian had towed back from the scene of the accident where he'd bought it. The side was still caved in, but Brian planned on going to the junkyard and getting new parts later. First, he needed to get the engine running. Dom ran a large hand over the ripples in the front panel where a tree had stopped the car.
"I'm not either," Brian finally answered. If Dom had come back for a little revenge, there really wasn't much he could do. He had given up his weapon with his badge, and his chances of taking Dom were about as good as his old boss showing up and telling him that all was forgiven after he'd fucked up the undercover opportunity of a lifetime. Brian didn't believe in fairy tales… not any more.
"Yeah, heard about that. Cops tossed you out like yesterday's garbage."
"Shit happens," Brain agreed. Dom continued to stalk around the car, his eyes focused on the machine, but Brian still couldn't escape the feeling he was being judged, and he probably came out about as high in Dom's books as the torn up Ford hatchback.
"Shit happens?" Dom echoed. "You fuck my sister to get in good with me. You fucking write reports to the cops about me and mine, and shit happens is the best you can do? I should have let Vince take care of you." Dom continued to focus on the car, his words sounded as mild as a housewife offering a cake recipe, but cold shivers ran down Brian's back. This was getting ugly.
"I didn't… I liked Mia. I never meant for it to go that far," Brian tried to explain. "Hell, she scares me about as bad as you, so pissing her off was never on my to-do list. It just… it happened."
Now Dom looked at him, his sharp eyes pinning Brian in place and making Brian remember the file he'd seem, making him remember a man who had been beaten past recognition. That man had threatened Dom's family, too.
Brian sighed. No way was Dom buying that lame-ass excuse, and maybe he shouldn't. "You shouldn't be here. The cops still sometimes come by, check on me." Brian wiped his hands, more of sweat than of grease, before he started for the front door of his tiny duplex. Check on him. More like harass him—the cop who'd let Toretto walk away. Brian hadn't gotten more than two steps before a large hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. Without turning around, Brian waited.
"Where's the family? Ma and Pa Cop?"
He couldn’t help it, Brian laughed. "Yeah, well my family was a little less than thrilled with the way this all ended up. The juvie record they could just call boys being boys, but this…" Brian waved his hand at the universe in general. Dom didn't answer for long, heavy seconds, and Brian braced himself for the coming punches. He had fucked Dom's sister… and he'd hurt her. He'd called in the cops when Vince got hurt; he'd spied on all of them. He hadn't stopped Tran from killing Jesse. Oh yeah, he had a lot of sins, not even counting the ones the cops cared about.
"Vince is still in," Dom said.
"Yeah, I know. But not because I testified against him." Brian continued to focus on the house. The front had a big crack going from under the bedroom window to the foundation, the gutters had fallen from one side so that they dangled from the roofline, and the whole thing needed painting. Maybe he should take a break from fixing up cars and do a deal with the landlord to fix up the house a little.
"I don't get you." Dom tightened his grip, and Brian struggled against an instinctive need to pull away. It wouldn't do him any good, not against Dom, and if he planned to come out of this without needing extensive hospitalization, he needed to avoid pissing Dom off any more than he already had.
"What's to get? Look, they sent me in undercover because I know cars. From their point of view, I fucked up the job—let myself get too damn close to you, to Mia, to Jesse."
"That how you see it?"
"Doesn't matter how I see it. Now, are you planning on us fighting because if you do, I'm just too fucking tired right now, Dom." Brian looked over his shoulder, and Dom was studying him, his fingers still making bruises on Brian's arm. "And if you don't plan on beating the shit out of me, I'm hot and I'm still just too fucking tired to have this conversation."
Dom cocked his head. "Nice place."
Brian didn't answer. He just stood in his dirt yard with a wanted felon holding him tightly enough to leave marks, wondering if he was going to survive this encounter, and strangely, he found he didn't care enough to try and do anything about it.
"Get in the car," Dom said without letting go of Brian's arm.
Brian started shaking his head. "No way. No fucking way. You want some sort of revenge for Mia, fine, take it, but I'm not about to get in a car with you, Dom." Brian paused. "Not after what I did."
"When I came here I didn't know what the hell I was going to do, but I take care of family. It's what I do," Dom said quietly.
"Yeah, I get that. But there's a limit to what you can expect me to go along with. So, you want to get in a few hits for Mia, you go for it. And then you take off before someone calls the cops, not that they'll show up very fast in this neighborhood."
Dom stared at him for a long time, and Brian waited, his stomach heavy and his heart pounding until he could feel it strain in his chest. Fear, he realized distantly, but he couldn't feel it the way he had when Vince had been dangling from the side of a truck and Brian had raced to save him before he could bleed to death. No, he felt this strange new breed of fear that he'd first felt in the station when he'd given his statement to his fellow officers. He felt a fear that crawled up into his belly and then circled and settled down like a familiar cat finding a warm spot in the sun.
"Get in the car," Dom repeated as he started pulling. Even though Brian set his feet firmly in the dry dust of his dead front yard, he felt himself pulled inexorably toward Dom's Volvo.
"You don't want to do this," Brian tried arguing, even though Dom's stubborn face made it very clear that he did. "You don't want to be a murderer."
That stopped Dom. "You stupid little shit. You think I'd kill you over Mia?" Dom asked as he suddenly let go. Brian stumbled back several steps before he could catch his balance. "Mia's a big girl, and she could have castrated you herself if she thought you were worth it." Dom crossed his arms over his chest, and Brian didn't really have any answer since he was totally confused. Now Dom looked less pissed than he did just flat-out amused.
"When I came here, I figured you'd be back to being the cop, but you aren't. You're still the same snot-nosed kid with his head in an engine. The cop I would have beat the shit out of, not because of Mia, but because he fucked with me and mine. But…" Dom stopped. Even though Brian thought he had followed that logic, he didn't dare let himself believe. He held his breath.
"Brian, the grease monkey who saved me from the cops and nearly got himself killed saving Vince's sorry ass—he's one of mine, and I don't leave mine behind. Now get in the car, Brian."
"Dom," Brian said softly.
"There's nothing around here you need. So get your ass in the car before I kick it up between your shoulder blades and toss you in the car, Bri," Dom threatened.
"This is crazy." Brian stepped forward, toward Dom, and Dom just stared back at him. "I have a landlord, bills."
"Tough shit," Dom shrugged. He turned around and headed for the curb. "Get the lead out, O'Conner," Dom called from the street. Brian took one last look at the house: the tinfoil in the front window, the tilting TV antenna, the screen door you had to lift to open or it fell off its hinges.
Brian dropped the greasy rag on the ground and headed for the Volvo just as Dom gunned the engine. It roared to life and then quietly purred, the sound completely at odds with the plain body. Hurrying now, Brian pulled open the door and slid in next to Dom.
"'bout damn time. Shit, you're slow," Dom complained.
"Sometimes," Brian agreed with an amiable shrug. "But I catch on eventually."
Dom revved the engine one last time before slipping it into gear and pulling away from the curb and away from the life Brian had hobbled together.