Brian walked into the diner and sat at his usual chair, waiting patiently for his usual tuna sandwich. When Mia set the plate down in front of him she bit back a curse. "Jesus, Brian, what happened to you?" she asked, rushing to grab a bag of frozen peas that she kept just for this use. She'd never used frozen peas in the diner in her life, other than for a cold compress on the boys after they'd gotten themselves into a fight.

He shrugged slowly, careful of his ribs, and wiping blood from his split lip. "Someone disagreed with my morals." He answered slowly, warily watching Dom come out from his office.

Strong arms crossed over a singlet covered chest. "What morals are those?" Dom asked curiously, brow raised to prompt an answer.

Brian took a deep breath, as deep as he could with broken ribs anyway. "I was undercover for the cops, under duress. They didn't think I'd learn anything from them while I was forced to work with them, but I picked up a few things. Like the fact they were breaking god knows how many laws to blackmail me into going undercover. Made sure they're case against you was as bogus as I thought and then I handed in my resignation."

"And your face?" Dom prompted, his voice an angry growl as he stepped closer and realised just how much damage there was. Brian had obviously put himself on the line for the Toretto's, and even if he hadn't, Dom felt protective of the blond.

Brian shrugged one shoulder. "Cops and FBI don't like it when you don't play their game. Especially when you're the best undercover they've got and you tell them to shove it." There wasn't an ounce of ego in that statement, just statement of plain fact. Dom could see how the kid would be a good undercover – seeing as his life before the police had been just that.

Dom stared for so long that Brian started to squirm. "You said you were undercover under duress. How long have you been working for them, and what do they have on you?" Mia asked softly, hoping to distract from Dom's intent stare.

"When I was nineteen my best friend got done for grand theft. A week later the cops came knocking at my door, telling me that the guy had died of a heart attack when Rome 'jacked his car. Said they could stitch him up for murder one…unless I helped them out…" Brian shrugged awkwardly. "At the time I thought it was going to be just the one job, undercover until I could get enough for them to bust a drug cartel. But one job led to another led to another…I haven't been out for more than a day or two at a time since."

Mia grimaced, hating to think of a nineteen year old Brian working his way into a drug cartel. "And your friend? Rome? Did they let him off like they said they would?"

Brian nodded slowly. "Kind of…they put him under house arrest. Not sure how long he has left, he hasn't talked to me in years." He saw Mia's confusion and his smile turned self-depreciating. "You get done for grand theft and less than a week later your best friend is obviously working for the cops – what conclusions would you draw Mia?"

Dom shook his head, his glare coming back in full force. "It shouldn't fucking matter, he should have talked to you, found out what was going on. Come on, you're coming home to have a shower and let me see how much damage those assholes did." He stalked out of the diner without making sure Brian followed.

Brian glanced at Mia who offered him a gentle smile, he handed the peas back to her before following her brother. He'd never seen Dom quite this mad, but as far as he could tell he wasn't mad at Brian. When he made a move toward his own car, Dom caught his elbow and guided him to his instead. "You're not driving when you've had the shit beat out of you. For all we know you've got a concussion."

Brian shook his head. "No man, no concussion; I don't have any of the symptoms. I won't argue about the driving, but I am fine." He got into the passenger seat, surprised when Dom waited until he settled before shutting his door for him. He'd seen some of the others just as banged up and Dom never seemed to hover so much.

Dom scowled at him when he sat behind the steering wheel. "You are not fine." He ground out. He drove in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. "You've been continuously put in danger by dirty cops for their own gain, which you accepted for a friend who cut you off. And now that you've put an end to it after making sure the crew, my family, is safe they beat the ever-loving-shit out of you for your troubles. That is not fine Spilner."

Brian blinked, shocked that Dom was more pissed off about how he'd been treated than the fact he'd been undercover. "O'Connor…my name is Brian O'Connor. Everything else I told you is pretty much true though."

Dom smirked. "That's obvious; no upstanding white kid would get pulled into undercover work by the cops. It was the only option you had, and you couldn't afford to argue or they'd stitch you up too." He shook his head. "Besides, a straight up white kid would not have survived what you've obviously gone through."

Much to Brian's surprise, Dom helped him out of the car once they were parked at the house, kept him in his line of sight as they made their way inside, and insisted on helping him upstairs. All under the gruff pretence of "I don't want you more damaged than you already are, that just means more work to fix you up."

After Brian showered, Dom insisted on checking his wounds; wrapping his broken ribs, cleaning his busted knuckled with antiseptic and getting a new pack of frozen peas for his face. "Glad to see you didn't take this lying down." He murmured while he cleaned the busted knuckles.