A/N: This story takes place about a month after the final scene in Fast Five when they open the safe (yet the beach scene at the end with Brian, Mia, and Dom never happened). Rated T for now, but will possibly be upgraded to M due to later content.

Please read and review! :)

Remnants of the Furious

Brian spat the fresh pool of blood from his mouth and watched it splatter on the cement below. His hands raked the pavement as his shoulders shuddered, every ounce of his control slowly dwindling from his soul. As he coughed, the convulsion tightened his bruised abdominal and caused him to inwardly wince against the barrage of accumulating pain. Straining to keep conscious against the unremitting beating, Brian focused on the hairline cracks in the concrete below; he wasn't going to give them the gratification of blacking out again. Each breath tightened his chest, each movement sent stars dancing across his vision. He wasn't sure how long they had held him captive in that damp room, yet by his calculations it was maybe three days. He didn't remember much of how he came to be imprisoned in the cell, but it was clear he had been a target they were looking for. They had relentlessly beaten him, withheld food and water, and kept him isolated for hours at a time. He was sure he had at least three broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and possibly a fractured bone in his wrist, yet despite it all he wasn't willing to allow them the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.

"We can go all day, puta," One of his burly captors snapped with a smirk. It was swiftly followed by another brutal kick to his chest, reeling Brian onto his back.

Grunting against the onslaught of anguish ripping through his core, he pushed a cocky, bloodied grin across his lips, "Good thing my schedule is clear."

Just as he braced himself for another bombardment, Brian's attention turned as the creaky hinges to the metal door screeched open. Braga entered, his entourage following dutifully, fanning in and filling the desolate chamber.

"Mr. O'Conner," he began, crossing his arms as he looked down on Brian distastefully, "I see you've been enjoying your accommodations. I thought it was time we finally had a chat. It is, so good to see you again."

"Yeah?" Brian groaned, pushing himself to his knees, "I wish I could say the same."

"You were quite the catch, mi amigo. I must admit, your friends are not as easy to find," Braga tsked his tongue leisurely as one of his men handed him a crowbar. Brian eyed it with an arched brow. "You tell me what I want to know, eh? Then this goes easy."

"Why the fuck would I tell you anything?" Brian challenged, his voice bolstering the confidence he was deeply lacking. "You're not going to get shit from me."

Braga turned back to his men and chuckled, astounded by Brian's blatant disrespect in such a demoralizing situation. As his laughter dwindled, Braga leaned down and used the crowbar to lift Brian's chin to meet his eyes, "You've cojones, I'll give you that." He held Brian's gaze for a few remaining moments before breaking away and tapping the crowbar in his palm. "I want Toretto."

Brian stiffened.

"Now, I already know your loyalty prevents you from -" he paused as his gaze traveled upward as he considered his words, "- doing what you know you should, even if that means your own ass is on the line, but I'm going to make this easier for you." With a raised brow and nod to his men, Braga signaled for them to grab Brian and restrain his arms behind his back. Grunting against them, the two men twisted his wrists and forcefully held him on his knees. Again, Braga lifted the crowbar in front of Brian, letting the edge ominously tap against the side of his temple. "Don't try anything stupid, O'Conner," he cautioned.

Again the metal door opened.

Two of Braga's men exited for a moment before reentering, this time they held a limp body in their arms. Throwing her to the ground, Mia landed mere inches from Brian.

"MIA!" Brian screamed, his eyes blazing as his vision turned red. Attempted to free himself from the men that held him, he thrashed and tensed against their grip. "Mia!" He shouted again, trying to rouse her, trying to frantically see any sign of life. "Let her go!" He demanded, his eyes darting to Braga, his voice intense.

"You give me Dominic Toretto," Braga grinned, "and I'll let her go."

"I'll tell you whatever you want, Braga," Brian nodded, his eyes pinned to Mia's still form. He tried to ignore the copious amounts of blood staining her clothes. He tried to ignore the numerous bruises along her arms and legs. He tried to ignore the welt slowly forming across her forehead. He tried to ignore the images flooding his mind as he began to imagine what she had undoubtedly been subjected to by Braga's men. He tried to ignore it all because it only incited his rage and infuriated him past coherence. "Whatever you want, it's yours. Let her go."

"Once we have him, I will," Braga nodded as he looked down at her. Bending down, he knelt beside her and brushed a few stray hairs from her cheek and delicately tucked them behind her ear. Brian's blood began to boil as he watched Braga's hand stroke her. "Such a pretty thing," he said quietly, trailing a finger down her jawline.

"Don't you touch her," Brian warned through clenched teeth.

Looking up, Braga's eyes met with Brian's as he sneered. Upon snapping his fingers, his men lifted Mia by her arms and began to crudely drag her from the room. Braga began to follow after one last glance at his prisoner.

"Braga," Brian called out, helplessly watching as Mia was taken from the chamber, internally debating his next statement. "She's pregnant," he informed him, idly hoping it would lessen the inflicting torture she was apparently receiving for withholding information on Dom.

Braga paused and chuckled as he began to shut the door behind him, "Not anymore, mi amigo."