Vince sat for a few seconds with his foot on the break watching the cop speed out of there in his convertible. He didn't know where it came from…they didn't have anything planned for the night, but he'd blurted out, "If you're done before nine tonight…come by the house. Something's starting there around six, but it's okay to be late. Or early…"

He was accommodating. Casual. It was awkward so sue him for floundering around a bit.

It was seeing him make everyone laugh all day and for the past week straight that made Vince do it. Not like the guy was a joker, just that he was intense and into cars and that enthusiasm was infectious. Seeing the Supra come together was a nice sight, got the whole crew involved and Vince didn't mean to make it a big deal about filling it up with oil but the rest of them made that happen. They'd been waiting for him to offer his help on the ride. Show an interest. He made like he was ticked off about it…but he just wasn't use to joining in.

And how insistent Dom was that he cut his attitude down a notch. Cornering him at the garage and at home. He still felt his heckles go up when the new guy made Dom laugh, laugh like before Lompoc. It was almost a surprise that Dom hadn't lost that part of himself, because Vince hadn't seen it in years.

He should probably turn his car around and drive back for Toretto's Market where the rest of them were getting served up some nice sandwiches or nuking some of the frozen stuff from the freezers. He'd only driven the buster back to his car; but he could feign traffic held him up and sit another second. He pulled off to the side and pulled the break handle.

Just needed a second to think.

"You remember where it is?" Vince had asked.

He looked like he wanted to ask why Vince was offering, but he was in a rush to get to work. Maybe that was part of the reason Vince had offered just then? No questions asked, just come if he could or don't. There was no saying if Brian could be there as he'd made it clear his work could go on halfway into the night. But Vince offered anyway even knowing that.

They'd had barbecues before. Not in a long time, mind. But some meat, some bread, some beer… Happened a few times after Dom came back, but usually it wasn't just the group of them. Vince remembered those days, back when they were enough for Dom. Before his dad bit it into the wall.

Vince was making the list up, stressing suddenly about creating this impromptu do that maybe the other guys already had plans and they'd not make it either for. Was he really going to arrange all this and have more food left over than eaten?

"Don't get any ideas, gay cop, just show up to eat some food if you can. Can't? Fine."

And Brian had smiled at that jab. Leon and Jesse played with him like this, made fun of him here and there for appearing to have the hots for guys like…yeah, car guys. Dom-like guys. Letty especially played that game, laughing, hugging on Dom closely because, yeah, Dom wasn't a fag but Brian was pretty. Vince could play like the others, like Leon and Jesse. Could join in. Late as usual. Better late than never.

It had been fun to watch the guy begging to know the color of the Supra. Vince was there in the shop on the days Mia had come around for Jesse and poured over ideas. Brian was kept out of the loop by Dom's request, because he liked how Brian was being so casual about it asking for updates. Dom had forbidden it as a joke. Not like, let's look at the cop run around solving the case joke. More like Brian was a dog with silky fur and floppy ears and it was just fun to watch him sniff around for all the treats the owners had hidden.

Honestly, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Brian being casual was a blaring sign that he was really interested to know something. They'd come to learn that about him, that he kept the things he really wanted deep inside. Friends, family, a relationship…don't worry about him. Yeah, right. Like they couldn't see how much he enjoyed being with them.

The primer was going on tomorrow. Paint the day after. Brian was begging the others to know the color because he'd be at work by the time it was all on.

"Neon orange. Platinum from the rear arch panel back. Black and neon green decals on the doors."

Again, Brian wasn't keeping up with Vince's newfound attempt at making acquaintances with him. The guy looked a little lost. Vince messed with him just a little, then, because Vince wasn't not funny, so he said, "Now, go get 'em, cowboy."

And he broke. It felt good - like the others already knew - to break him so his mouth dropped and his eyes lost focus for a second.

"What?! Cowboy?" Brian repeated, moving into his car but still freaking out. "Cowboy?"

And that's when Vince let go and laughed. It was an old joke. Back when it was just him and Letty and Mia, they'd watch these old westerns Mia's dad liked and make fun of them. Now and again they'd make references, and they were inside jokes, but good ones. Good memories.

Wasn't laughing now, not parked alone here in his Maxima in the hazy front of DT's, with all this shit coming up in his mind.

The buster had this 1998 Mustang GT convertible bought at a police auction. Vince had overheard the story. It wasn't modified nearly at all except it was kept in working order. He'd nabbed it up with a blue metallic paint just a shade off from the Maxima Vince had tricked out. All in all, what Vince was coming to the conclusion of was that the guy liked nice cars but was hard-pressed to really push it to the next level like Vince could with the decals. That Mustang could have used them. A shade of blue like that begged for it.

The car was always parked in about the same spot, and Vince always worked in about the same spot in DT's that gave him just the perfect view of the thing when it was out front. At first it raised Vince's blood pressure to see it there and know Brian was working nearby somewhere. And he could space it and just keep working, letting the hours pass as he did his job, but the bothersome thing was shiny and would come back into view and there he'd be again, all angry. If the damn thing looked better he probably wouldn't be so bothered.

Dom told him to chill about it. Dom was looking at the buster, though, not the stupid car like Vince was. Vince hated new guys. At school, in the first days of each new year anyway, he was hell on the guys sitting around him. Hell especially for the kids who floated and didn't just pick a desk and stay there. Out of high school, Vince couldn't really see going to college and putting up with shit like that again. He always had a place under Dom's dad's wing, working on cars at their garage and picking up skills that he'd never waste, so mechanic it was going to be for him. When Dom's dad died it was like losing his left arm. No offence to his own dad, but the relationship just wasn't there.

Cried, too, when Dom's mom passed. That felt like a right arm. Vince knew he had a brother that also ached deep down because of the losses, and no amount of machoism would stop Vince from lending his support to Dom when he needed it - in prison or out - knowing as Vince did the tragedy in his past.

To say Vince had to put up with some extra shit after Dom came out of prison was an understatement. He went in a good guy but came out looking to scratch an itch.

Vince had moved into the basement at the house. Hadn't moved out yet. Vince felt it was on himself to watch Mia, Letty, the house and the garage; be the stand-in man. The three of them grew tight, accustomed to each other. Waiting for the same thing. But Dom came out changed. He came out of those concrete walls and iron bars with a bit of it inside of him.

Dom wanted - not to live the years he'd missed - but to see how far he could go. He raced without the fear factor. He partied and drank without remorse for his liver. The hangovers he'd have would lay him out hours too long to be acceptable, but he'd do it again soon enough. And he would go out with Vince but without Letty and find some skin whether that meant paying or not.

Whatever.

Dom was just living it up. Vince could take it. And from something Brian had said, he could have taken it, too.

"I'd put up with you forever if it meant making a friend as good as her! As good as Dom, too! As good as the rest of them! I'd put up with the drugs and the concealed weapons, strangers paying for sex even if it does go against every part of me that says how wrong that is!"

God, but those words of Brian's didn't sink in until days later. It didn't occur to him that there was any other way than Dom's way. He'd put up with Dom's utter bullshit after Lompoc. Let the guy bring strangers and drugs into the house, guns, piles of cash won in races, and he'd covered for him and did everything he could to keep the cops away, knowing what Dom was doing was wrong and would bring trouble. He thought he was managing it but Brian was right, it did bleed into their nice little house in Echo Park and it didn't leave because no one was asking it to.

It stuck to Dom and then it started sticking to all of them. Mia just stayed upstairs, not fighting it, and Vince and Letty stayed downstairs getting comfortable with it. One day Dom had been gone for a day and a half without any word and then there was Jesse, high as a kite, driving him home in that little white speedster of his - not as tricked out as it was today. He was just a kid all those years ago, but he'd spent two hours talking Dom out of jumping off a balcony in a manic high he'd got from some shady drug dealer. Jesse didn't need Vince's skepticism; Jesse was just a doped up teenager passing through but had brought Dom back in one piece. Dom was sorry for that bullshit and he never did it again.

Jesse stayed, though. Stayed to keep Dom clean, maybe. Fuck. Even Jesse set more limits on Dom than Vince ever did after Lompoc.

Everything the buster said bounced around Vince's head like a ping-pong ball hitting those bright lights and bells and just banging off the springs so fast and loud that he couldn't do anything but let it happen. Brian talked about family, talked about order, talked about right and wrong…like Vince's dad use to do.

Brian wasn't playing any games with his words and Vince knew that now. Vince was convinced that Brian would have fought that shit even from the beginning, but would Dom have run from that like Vince ran from his dad? Would Brian and his moral code shit about walking the line been okay?

A bank manager raising a punk kid who preferred hard streets and fast cars and not a speck of the dream for a college education was not what Mr. Standford wanted when the stork dropped the bundle that was Vince on his porch. He probably hated Dom most out of any of Vince's friends, too, but Dom's parents were the saving grace of their bond. Mrs. Toretto would keep an eye on him, Mr. Toretto would channel his anger. It was everything Vince's father couldn't or wouldn't do on his own. But without them, without any one to help Vince out, he was just pedal to the metal without a steering wheel.

Dom and him were best friends, and so he put up with the things Dom liked. Officer Brian O'Conner, MAPD, was probably bottom of the list. He was putting up with it…but maybe it was something not as bad as first thought? It looked like the things Dom liked most Vince had the biggest problems with and for the most part Dom knew that. Dom was playing the long game with Vince, knowing he'd always come around, knowing he'd just have to be poked enough to finally give in and do the things Dom asked.

Shit, but coming around to Dom's ways this time meant Vince was having to look straight into the face of a dude trying to pick Dom up. Was he supposed to compare how good Brian looked compared to how Letty was? Because considering Dom's level of happiness and willingness to change the rules, Dom had Letty beat. Fuck him. Most people already had done a little self evaluation by age twenty-four, and Vince knew he lived on the edge, on chrome and exhaust, on thrill. He didn't want to grow up - for lack of a better term. What made following Dom easy was that he was the same way. But the buster was changing the rules and it was making Vince remember what his family use to be like. Still tight, but just…happier.

Vince wanted the good side of Dom to come back in full. Wanted a fucking barbecue, too!

"Do you think he's going to kill the cop?" Letty asked as Vince and Brian peeled out of there, Vince's music blaring over the sound of his engine. The car was only so much dust in the wind.

Dom was still coming down from something, something he had to admit was troubling.

It was Brian, yes. For a second there he'd been close. Real, real close. They'd been messing with him for days and it lead to this. It was sweet and then it was intense. He'd been looking at Jesse this way moments ago, making a plea to learn the color of the Supra Mia had made a final choice on. It was funny when he was looking at it from across the lunch bar.

"Details!" Brian had a warning in his tone of voice, not smiling, serious. That cop side of him had come out in full force. Intense maybe was too simple a word to place on the key desire in his eyes to get what he wanted.

So far, Brian had kept his cool about it. For a week he would just toss out the question, "had Mia found a color yet?" But from there he'd act too cool about it. Brush it off like there was more time. Whatever, Brian. The color was the topping on the cake. No one believed him that he wasn't worried under all that stoic calm he projected.

"This is starting to not be so funny, Dom! Did you bring the printout with you?"

That's when Dom got the full force of it. Brian came so close, ready to press his face right up to Dom's in a dominance play to get that paper. The urgency was overshadowed with pure demand and Dom couldn't take his eyes away. His heart thundered in his chest, he became hyperaware. And yeah it was fun so he was grinning, but he was being lured under Brian's spell, too. It made it easy to dodge Brian's grabs for the paper, because he was this tuned into him, his body. He saw every twitch this close, that bead of sweat that dripped down his temple and every other speck that glittered, set there by the hot sun that thankfully they could leave outside.

Polite. "Can I see that?"

"Hand it over, Dom," Mia said.

"But you have no idea how much I like this."

Begging. "Dom, please?"

And that did it. Dom leaned in. That skin, those eyes, that voice…

Dom saw the soft lips, the slightly parted way of them. Leaning in further…

A cell ringing may have saved his life, because what was he going to do? How far forward would he have gone?

And now Dom took himself over to grab a beer to go with the lunch Mia was putting together for him, because that cop was under his skin again. The fridge in the back opened and closed with a suction sound that was good and familiar. He took the bottle cap off - another familiar hiss as the pressure within the drink was released - and took a deep sip right away.

He'd have done it. He'd wanted to do it. The desire was there, wasn't it? …to lean in and take that mouth that spilled over with shiny plump lips and a thick tongue…

Another drink.

Letty's hands coming around his middle and her body pressing against his back was the last thing in the world Dom wanted right now. He needed to think. He needed space for that. He was already sensitive and her being this close drew out a reaction in his stomach that numbed his mind further. It was sexy the way she touched him and it was sexy the way Brian looked…no difference in the reactions within him, just differences in the people who made them.

"Grab one out for me?" She asked, voice husky.

Dom did so right away.

"Too bad he left before knowing the color," Leon said loudly from out there, drawing Dom's gaze. Maybe he needed the distraction more than he needed to think over his strange desire, Dom came to realize. He moved himself and Letty back in. "Think Vince will tell him?"

That last bit was a joke. Jesse and Mia laughed. Dom's mouth was anesthetized with shameful thoughts, unable to even twitch.

"And spoil all the fun?" Letty asked, taking a seat and opening her drink.

Dom had to compress his thoughts back down into the little dark hole they belonged.

Leon went on, "That sounded like an urgent call. Like, maybe our boy is dressing up for some of that undercover SWAT stuff? Getting all that padding on and an automatic weapon?" and with that, he pointed his fingers into weapons and made like he was shooting up the ceiling.

Padding and automatic weapons…

Dom nodded, liking the sound of it. Liking the look.

Shit for brains, he thought of himself.

It was a well-timed phone call, too. Whatever fucker fucked up with the cops to need to have the off duty ones brought in was in deep. Dom couldn't bring himself to really string multiple thoughts together, too busy keeping his ear out for Vince, wondering what was taking him so long to just run up to the garage and back again.

Rome wasn't MAPD like Brian was. That was a new thing Brian picked up since coming here from San Francisco. This meant that Rome was stuck sitting at the safe house with FBI agent Bilkins watching the bust on Tran while Brian, Tanner, and Muse got to be a part of it.

"Could use some popcorn and a beer!" Rome laughed, looking at the sour face on Bilkins.

And never mind trying to lighten up the three new guys!

Rome hadn't seen them before but they were just too weird. They acted like supervisors on Bilkins except one of them was in a baggy shirt with a picture of a blue elephant on it, one in a suit, and the other was had a leather jacket on - in this heat! Rome sized the suit guy with the goatee being the leader but nope, they were just a bunch of office workers; government watchdogs and computer nuts. They hadn't spoken much. Just showed up that morning and started going through the work everyone had compiled. Everyone. They even made Bilkins look touchy. Rome had a go on them and they listened well enough, but they were dead set on making things awkward.

The whitest of them all, the t-shit guy, asked out of the blue, "Your contact, the fence Ted Gassner, how convincing again was he that he saw a truck's worth of boxes of illegal DVDs in that garage?"

His voice was dry and laced with contemplation. Receding hair line, wasting away without a day in the gym, the guy was everything Rome knew he'd never be. Had to stay in the field, Rome knew.

Rome was tight with Ted. For a fat white guy the dude held a solid place in the world of crime. Not every day Rome met a fence as good as to obtain several SRT20 engines for Johnny Tran to outfit in his Honda's. Today was the day Ted said he'd have them delivered by. Hence the raid today.

"Come on!" Rome waved him off, hardly phased by the skepticism. "He was covered head to toe in gasoline and hacking that shit up all over my shoes when he came to talk to me! They'll light him on fire next time he couldn't make shipment! Guy was freaking out, spilling his guts literally!"

Now the man in the suit laid out his question, "And Ted said he'd deliver…what was it again?"

Rome grinned at the thought. "Three SRT20 engines. This morning was his drop time. Solid evidence on the way! Lock, stock, and - " Rome shot the screen with an invisible shotgun, breaking into an uproarious laugh, ready to see the look on Johnny Tran's face when they caught him with the stolen engines and the stolen DVDs.

Still, Rome hadn't heard a word from the guy in the leather suit, but he had a skeptical eye trained on Rome half the time. Made Rome jittery, but he only rolled his eyes. What didn't kill him…and all that.

"Hector and his guys are still looking promising," weighed in blondie, who it seemed now had made it over to Hector's files and caught the work he was doing on his Honda Civics.

"Gotta be from another planet to think this isn't going to go as planned," warned Rome, setting his feet on the desk and leaning back to watch the action, aware of everyone in the room getting ready for the same thing.

They moved fast. Three cameras. Three groups. They would hit Johnny's house his dad bought him, Johnny's garage, and the third group was headed into Little Saigon to catch Lance, Johnny's right-hand.

The men back at base weren't privy to which group Brian was in, just that he was part of the Special Weapons and Tactics team going in hard and fast. Brian's mask and headwear hid any way he might have been singled out from the rest. Like all SWAT members, he was heavily outfitted in a number of precautionary methods. Fire retardant material, a tactical vest, belt, leg carriers, heavy knee pads, and leather tie-up boots. He had six pairs of cuffs in various pockets, his taser, three small firearms with six refill cases, and a shotgun with a swath of reloadable shells. That was enough weight to make a sprint difficult, but a takedown more than manageable. Of the various weapons he carried, in his hands was only the shotgun.

The calls came through one after the other.

First was Lance. He was getting food with a number of others, all of whom would head downtown.

The next was the residence, where Johnny Tran was eating a four course meal at home with his parents, sister, and extended family. The gorgeous home was in a cookie cut neighborhood where nothing loud ever happened. Needless to say, neighbors starting looking out the windows when the door was busted through. The black uniformed SWAT officers exploded into their lives and shoved the barrels of their guns into the family's faces. It was boggling, frightening, and…semi expected once the team focused on Johnny. A son with access to dad's credit card, LA streets, and enough pals with weapons and motorcycles to almost be called a gang boss was what Johnny's family found out that day.

The third and final escapade hit was the garage. It was bought for Johnny to start his own shop on motorcycles and specialty street cars. After a few years, his father figured he would buy Johnny into the Pro Circuit and have him start touring with a team. It was a nice future. The SWAT team found the DVDs, found three Honda 2000s devoid of engines and in all actuality found even to Johnny's surprise some unregistered weapons disassembled in the back with blueprints dissecting the weapons like some frog in science class; there were no bullets on the premises for the weapons at all. It just looked like one of Johnny's boys was a hobbyist.

When the all clear was announced for this place, Brian inspected the Hondas and the paperwork laying around a surface nearby. Sales documents, over $40,000 put into the cars so far and they hadn't even bought engines yet.

Johnny was arrested pending the final verdict, which came back as minor weapon possession charges that didn't even stick throughout the night. There was a truck load of DVD players as Roman's contact had said, but they were from a fallen business adventure that Johnny was working on cleaning up, but it was all aboveboard.

Yeah, it didn't take a conspiracy theorist let alone those three new guys to tell Rome that Ted fed him false information and that more than likely his cover was blown.

Once back at the precinct, Brian had gone straight to the lockers with the others to get cleaned up. He'd been able to get the message to Tanner that he was asked back to Toretto's house if he found the time, and he would at this rate. Everyone was clearing out, all having the feeling the whole thing was a waste of time and money even though it was over within two hours. It happened that way sometimes; intel not so hot. Now dressed and his gear packed, he hauled them up on his shoulders but barely made it to the front door of the building.

Tanner caught him in the lobby, nabbing his backpack and tossing it over his own shoulder. The relief of those thirty pounds naturally made the other bags of gear fall into place more easily.

"It's funny how you think you're going home," Tanner quipped.

Brian's beat slowed behind Tanner, who held the door open to the hot LA world outside. He caught up and they made for the parking lot.

"So, you get the feeling that was fucked up, too?"

"And then some…not to mention you're being called in for an interview," he replied gravely, like he'd met the devil and it wanted names.

Brian's intense gaze took in every tell of his sergeant and Brian knew Tanner wasn't feeling anything good. Tanner helped load his gear into the Mustang, but took his own vehicle to the place of Brian's interview. The familiar safe house was easy to get to without letting anyone follow. It was in a gated community, atop a hill by the water with a long drive. Parking was in this roundabout fountain area, or under cover, but that only fit three cars and was usually full like it was now. Brian parked his car in the hot sun knowing the steering wheel would feel like fire when he got back.

"Who's in there?" Brian asked Tanner, keeping his voice down.

Tanner shivered. Literally, Brian had never seen anything like it.

"Bilkins called. Said he'd gotten word from base. Some Deputy Director is merging this case with an ongoing investigation two other FBI agents are working on somewhere in Arizona."

"The hijackings spread down there?" Brian had to know more, stopping Tanner before they made it to the front door. Brian moved so he could stand in front of his boss, see him straight and get the real truth. "What do you know?"

Tanner wiped a hand over his face, taking a layer of sweat and worry with it.

"All I know, Brian, is that the raid today felt like a setup. I was there in Tran's house…he had a whole family meal set up, right smack in the middle of the day!" He shook his head, looking away in a genuine moment of doubt. "We pointed our guns on civilians and worst of all I think Johnny was using them as shields."

"Shit." Brian had seen worse.

Tanner had, too.

"It all felt like a set up. I don't know how long we'll even keep him in custody. Nothing was found."

"The guns in the back of the garage?" Brian was almost hopeful.

Tanner shook his head. "It's circumstantial. Almost a joke Tran is playing on us. I think Roman Pierce's cover is blown."

And just right then the front door opened up and there stood Roman looking pissed off to see them.

Both Tanner and Brian looked over at him in surprise, not knowing he was there and not knowing he'd overheard them. Tanner didn't let that glower phase him. He stared Roman right in the eyes as he moved in, patting his shoulder and making room for himself to pass. Brian was left outside with Roman right there.

But was Brian not feeling just a little satisfaction that Roman had blown it.

"I know what you're thinking!" Roman shot his way.

Brian lifted his chin. Roman always knew what he was thinking. He painted his face neutral, firmed up and let Rome try to make out what he was thinking now.

His old friend only got worse.

"Stop it, Brian! Alright? Fuck! I know what I did! I got played by Ted, man. Fucking Ted!"

Brian pursed his lips to keep his smile from showing, but that in and of itself was showing it, he knew. Rome knew, too. Brian willed himself to keep composure.

"Ted didn't make you," Brian said with certainty, like he knew the answer.

Rome digested that, but had only acid reflux for his trouble.

"Who else?! I'm the perfect fit around there!"

Brian shook his head, pushing past Rome as Tanner did and heading into the large entryway. Rome wasn't going to be brushed off. The door closed behind him and he grabbed Brian's arm, stopping him and facing him again.

"Don't walk away from me again, Bri!"

Rome didn't see it coming but he should have. Brian was a panther sitting in a tree all blended in with the scenery and looking like so much fuzzy shadow, but the moment his pray was near then wham! Rome took it in the chest and found himself splat against the heavy wooden door. His instincts kicked in and he tossed his arms up, blocked that kick Brian had coming already, dodged the left punch but was taken down in the gut by a ghost right hook. Then Brian had him again by the scruff of his shirt when Rome had bent over to fork out his breakfast.

Hot white boy breath right on his face. Brian loomed over him, gripping him so hard and pressing him so tight against the door that Rome would have to actually work at getting free.

In the meantime, Brian had cold words, told to Rome with pure emotion pouring out.

"I didn't walk away! I never walked away! I tell you to stop and think, Rome, but do you ever?! I don't walk away from your shit even when you set me up!"

"When'd I do that?!" Rome snarled.

He should know, though. His defiance drew blue flames from Brian's eyes.

"Those guys back then! You know the ones! You let them fucking do that shit to me and then you come in snapping that it was just a prank! I didn't walk away then; I stayed until the job was over! And I'm not walking away now! Your part of the job was to get intel on the people, but you went in, didn't you?! You went sneaking around and I bet Ted didn't tell you shit, I bet you saw what happened while you were hiding behind one of those cars - !"

Rome got out of the hold with a twist and kick. Seven punches flew, six were blocked. Then it was Brian against the next wall, Rome's hip jammed into his ass as his face was planted on the wall. Rome had him in a tight press, seething with cold rage himself now.

"Repressed white boy," Rome stated like it was obvious. "I wanted you to realize what you were doing! You were taking lines of coke and getting on stage, stripping and kissing those faggot johns!"

"Placebos, Rome. Fuck! You weren't part of Vice! I'd bring my own fucking powder to snort and act the part! Psychological effect of snorting harmless white dust in front of cagy drug dealers and proving I wasn't afraid of being out in the open, led to them being friendly and careless and giving me the leads I needed to find who the organizers were!"

Rome shoved off Brian, taking three steps back. Brian turned now, shaking his head in disappointment at the sight he saw of Rome looking like he was finally starting to realize.

Brian scrutinized him in spite of knowing Rome hated that.

"You followed me to those clubs. I always thought you might have. You finally shut that part of your hetero brain off that was so disgusted with being around faggots and you went to that place they set me up and stood around it all. You watched me and because you didn't understand what I was doing you fucked with me in the office when you could. You made your mind up without knowing the truth and look what it did to me! Look what it did to this case, too! Fuck!"

"Fuck!" Rome mimicked.

Together as one their fists clenched and they both shook like the tail of a rattlesnake. Two steps to the right in synch. Heads tossed back for a moment, then down, eyes screwed shut. Four shakes of the head.

Perfect. Identical.

Brian didn't know it, but the interview was over. The three consultants for the FBI, one with a camcorder, one with a mike, and the third holding more equipment and observing, were satisfied that they'd found the answer to the question: which came first?

Brian.

A knock on the door of her rented room she'd been staying in for three days and nights already. She only knew one person that it could be. She got up from the high propped four-poster bed, bare feet hitting a warm floor. She'd been finishing a report on her laptop, locking the screen by habit as she walked away to answer the door.

There he was, sunglasses, already a tan starting to form from under a sunburn, holding up a gift bag from the lobby of this touristy inn they found.

"I bought you something," he said.

She frowned. "Not another one?"

He pulled it out. It was a one-piece, dark blue, emblazed with a thorny black rose along the side.

She had no words. Only the right to slam the door and she exercised that right.

She heard him chuckling and almost went back to her comfortable place on the bed, but rolled her eyes and opened the door again.

It was sweltering outside and beautiful. This wasn't some motel hole they usually found in the wetter, colder parts of the US. This was all orange adobe, vertical sun bleached wood paneling, trellises and weft overhead, and so far she'd only learned the names for the saguaros and ocotillos, but someone had shoved all manner of cacti into view. White rocks lined up behind her partner, with some tough little purple flowers growing between them, and behind that an iron fenced in pool that glittered light blue in a perfect reflection of the unbelievable blue sky overhead.

"The pool is open twenty-four seven," he reminded her, setting the bag down just by the front entry where she had put her shoes and the three other bags of one-piece and two-piece swimsuits he'd been giving her. A joke, she knew. How awkward would it be if she took this more seriously than that?

"Finished your report yet?" He wondered.

"We've got another meeting at the juvenile detention center this afternoon. I want to have that last interview before I submit a final draft."

He smirked and at least he closed the door instead of just standing there gloating while all her cool air escaped.

"You really need to hear more? Brian O'Conner and Roman Pierce are confirmed bunkmates the night of the earthquake. And now we've met six other sets of resident correctional 'members' still living in the city, owning businesses together, best friends, identical dreams shared between each set. How can you not believe - ?"

"I need to know more," she interrupted him calmly, firmly. "People are invariably social creatures needing a pack that can help them survive. Put them as children through a stressful situation like juvenile detention and if they find a friend there who they trust and who trusts them, they would hold onto that relationship long into their adult years."

She was drolly stubborn.

He was the speechless one now.

"What?" She demanded. "You still have no conclusive evidence that there is more to this than circumstantial, anyway."

His interest in the case didn't wane even with her pessimism.

"I thought you'd say something like this."

"You did?"

He nodded

"That's why called in some backup. They'll be interviewing the subjects sometime today. I also found five more sets of youth who are now inmates at adult correctional facility. The warden is arranging interviews with all ten people. It'll take another few days to interview them all. And I want to explore the desert in the vicinity of the earthquake…look for marks on the earth or other signs of disturbance."

"It's been nine years." She reminded him wearily.

"I know that. But I'd still like to see. We've got the time on this one."

They'd been on this case for nearly two weeks if they included the days it took to drive up here. Very little progress had been made. Then again, how much really could be made on a case this cold?