No matter how shitty he felt, Brian still had a job to do. Still had a purpose tonight. Bakery treats were out, but there was a 24 hour grocery store a couple blocks from the lab. He'd find something. The longer he waited the more chance there was of Tanner cutting off his information. Tipping his head up to look at the smoggy, still streaked with light night sky, he made himself breathe. In and out, three times. Then he started walking.

He kept expecting his phone to ring. Dom demanding an explanation. Vince screaming that he'd known Brian was a cop.

Nothing.

Of course there was nothing. They'd all be in a panic. Brian hoped they didn't do anything stupid. Getting rid of anything that would tie them to the hijackings, but getting seen like with the cars. Considering he was probably losing his badge for them, they could at least not get thrown in jail anyway. Trudging through the smudged and ad-covered doors of the small grocery store, he kept his head down. Found the flickering bakery case in the back of the shop, grabbed a box of pastries that looked fresh and checked out without really noticing anybody else in the store.

He realized he'd forgotten about the coffee and went back in for a six pack of energy drinks. It'd have to do.

The cracked sidewalk and quiet but never actually deserted streets, a path that wasn't familiar, but wasn't unknown, and Brian felt a little more steady by the time he was standing outside the building that housed LAPD's various labs. When you had to get yourself together it got easier. Who knew? Looking tired and stressed, like he needed this information bad-that was normal. Half the badges on payroll only acknowledged the labs existed when they needed something from them. Looking like he was about to start pulling his hair out while regretting his existence? That would be noticed and maybe remembered. He didn't want any more attention than he was going to get if this case burned out.

He rolled his shoulders and tried to make himself act like the cop he was supposed to be. It shouldn't have been hard.

Pushing open the doors to the lobby, he stepped into the quiet, impersonal room and looked around. It wasn't the kind of lobby that had chairs for anyone but the desk clerk. Mostly what it had was smooth off-white and beige everything, along with some hotel art and one actually pretty cool blown up picture he'd been told was from some kind of scanning microscope. A ring for assistance bell was out on the counter and Brian pressed it. Trying not to look too impatient while he waited. Not easy.

"Oh, hey, Officer O'Conner."

Brian suppressed a wince at the title and smiled at Nate, a guy about five years older than him with about twenty piercings on his face. "Hey, Nate. Just Brian, remember? Could you see if Donaldson or Reyes have time to talk to me? Oh, you want a danish? There's a couple kinds in the box." He sat the box on the counter and opened it, letting the clerk pick over them and popping an energy drink out of its case since he knew that would be wanted.

"Sure, I can check. I'll let them know you're bearing gifts, yeah?"

"Thanks." Taking his apple and walnut danish and energy drink with him, which might have weirded Brian out if he didn't know there was a break room and some offices before you ever got to the labs, Nate disappeared. Brian lasted about thirty seconds before he was drumming his fingers on the counter. Not so much impatient as just too full of emotions that he couldn't exactly express right now.

Stomping on the danishes and screaming like a maniac would not get him far.

"Come on back, Reyes says she has time to talk to you." More relieved than he should be at that, Brian thanked him and followed Nate into a grid of small rooms, dumping the food and drinks on the table in the breakroom. It had been long enough since he ate that Brian should've been hungry. But his stomach had disappeared in a wash of acid guilt.

Reyes was working as he walked in, and Brian, knowing the score, stayed quiet while she finished moving the dials and pressing buttons on a machine that cost more than everything he'd owned in his entire life combined. He let himself shift on his feet. Mostly because he needed to move. But also because he knew Reyes might get into a research haze and forget he was there at all if he didn't make himself known in some way. It happened.

Finally, she turned around and looked at him, pulling her glasses down her nose a little. "You're on the hijacking case, right? The FBI collab?"

"Yeah, the one where the cars all got dumped in a canyon. Guess they figured their time was running out."

"Smart. But I suppose they'd have to be to pull something like that and not get caught right away." She walked across the room to a computer station with three giant monitors attached, flicking the main screen on and starting to type. Brian had not a clue what any of the programs that popped up once she'd logged in did, let alone what any of the windows meant.

He bet Jesse-no.

He wasn't thinking about that. Not now.

"Was what you guys found of any use? Tanner said there wasn't much in the first place."

She hummed a little, not answering him for what couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, but felt like thirty billion of them. "Not much no. And a yes or no on your first question. There wasn't any DNA evidence-they probably covered themselves head to toe while wiping them, maybe even while stripping them, though if that's true you might want to check the hospitals for heat stroke patients who came in that day. But…" that but was gonna give Brian a heart attack as Reyes trailed off after the word, "we did get a partial fingerprint." Goddammit. God, why'd they have to get seen dumping the cars?

Brian might just develop a grudge against hikers.

"No pings on it, then?" Tanner wouldn't have kept him in the dark about that. He might be pissed at Brian, but he wasn't that big an asshole.

Except, he might just know him well enough to see the way the wind was blowing and expect Brian to tell them to run if there was a match to the team. Except, that Brian totally would have.

"No. Whoever it matches is clean. No fingerprints on file." Which meant it was Jesse. The kid had been picked up a few times, but never for anything more than curfew violations when he'd been younger. It was in his file, but he'd always gotten taken home. Brian knew that was a mixture of him knowing when to get out of dodge and the team keeping him out of it, instead of Jesse never getting into the illegal side of mischief.

And also, you know, street racing and for at least the last few months hijacking trucks.

On the one hand, thank everything that it hadn't been any of the others. Because there'd be a warrant already written if it had. On the other, they had a print that matched Jesse, and the FBI would keep it on record. If he got picked up and had his prints run any time in the next year or two the kid would be screwed. After that it would probably get pushed far enough down their priority list that it wouldn't get pinged on a basic search, but shit. One of his hands squeezed into a fist and he didn't try to stop it. If Reyes noticed she'd just think he was another hothead pissed about no evidence for his case.

Part of Brian was still banking on getting a chance to try and explain himself to the team. This would not help. Somehow, he didn't think the fact that they were the ones who'd involved Jesse in this was gonna get him any leeway. If he'd had an idea how any of this worked he might, he didn't know, try and delete the record or something? But he didn't and attempting anything would just get him locked up.

Part of Brian couldn't really believe he'd had the thought in the first place.

"Nothing else at all?" He had to be sure.

"Not a whisker. Not good news, I know, but we can't find what isn't there."

"Course not. Sorry, I wasn't trying to be a jerk." Noticing for the first time that Reyes looked exhausted, he swallowed and jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. "I'll take off. There's danishes in the breakroom." Then he fled.

Outside. Into another cab. Brian couldn't face going back to the apartment he hadn't been to in months. Hell, he didn't even have his keys. They were in his locker at the precinct. A place he was definitely not going.

So, Harry's it was. A stupid choice, Brian knew. He'd been making a lot of stupid choices lately. What was one more? He needed to sleep. Couldn't really imagine being able to. But he'd only gotten a couple of hours last night, and now this night was nearly over. He swallowed, stomach a rock, and gave the cabbie the address. If he got there and Dom was waiting or something…Brian didn't know. He'd tell him what he knew and hope it didn't make things worse.

If it got rough.

If it got rough he deserved it.

The cab ride ended quicker than he liked and he was standing in an empty parking lot. No one waiting for him. Whether that was the better option he honestly didn't have a clue. The fear and guilt of earlier, the anger and frustration clawing at his gut, had hollowed him out. He was empty in the center now. Brian might just crawl right in that empty space. Let what happened happen. The Team would throw him away. The case would dry up. Belkins would scream to the higher ups for his badge. Tanner wouldn't fight for him the way he would've before.

And Brian would be alone.

Telling himself to suck it up-this was always a possibility and he knew that-Brian scrubbed at his face and started trudging around to the back to let himself in. He'd survive this. He'd survived worse. He was all the way at the back door, key in the lock, when he noticed the car parked in the darkest corner of the parking lot. If he were smart, Brian would've gotten the door open and himself inside fast. He wasn't armed. If word had gotten around that he was a cop it could've been anyone. Yeah, that would be fast. But the only thing that spread faster than rumors was bad news.

Wishing he had a flashlight on him, Brian kept his keys in his hand and walked faster than he should have towards the car.

He was halfway there when he realized whose car it was. "You have got to be fucking kidding me! Seriously?"

The door swung open and his father stepped out. Slow, like he was sore from getting smashed into the ground. Good. "I just want to talk."

Brian had crossed to about ten feet from the car before he realized and stopped himself. "I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to talk to you ever again. I don't need you, and if you need me that's too damn bad." He sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I need you to understand that. And then I need you to go."

"Please, son. I was drunk-"

"Yeah, I figured that out." His voice caught against his will. Not because of Earl. Because of everything else. God, he wanted that to be true. "Look if you need gas money to get home I'll get you some. Tomorrow. Now, I'm gonna go sleep." Earl looked a little guilty, sure. But he was already getting frustrated at Brian's no. Giving him money wasn't good enough. Nothing had ever been good enough.

"Is your momma still alive?" What? That caught Brian so off guard his mouth dropped open and his heart started thumping a mile a minute in his chest.

"What are you talking about? Did you hear something about Mom?" He closed the distance between them, hands in fists, terrified. Earl blinked at him and shook his head. Surprised. Like Brian was the one being weird. This close he could see he wasn't lying about being sober, or at least not drunk, but he looked…broken down. Sick, maybe.

He still kinda wanted to punch him in the face.

"No, no, she made damn sure I couldn't find out nothing. I just figured you'd know. It's…it's been a long time. I got to wondering." Brian stared. Still shocked. He'd thought, he hadn't been to his apartment in months, he'd thought he might not have heard. "It wasn't a good marriage, but I still miss her."

What?

"Maybe if you hadn't knocked her around every couple of weeks she would have stayed, asshole." Earl opened his mouth and Brian plowed over him, "No, shut-up. You miss her? You miss her? Maybe you should have talked to her like she was a human being and not your servant. Maybe you should have helped pay the bills instead of doing shit like taking the rent money out of her purse the night before it was due! Maybe you shouldn't have cheated on her with every bitch crazy enough to touch your dried up ass! Maybe you shouldn't have hit your fucking wife you absolute piece of shit! You miss her? Good! I miss her too, she's-I'm not telling you where she is, but she's gone, and I'm not the one who chased her away! She left me too and I didn't do anything!" Brian had to stop then, panting, all out of air, but if he hadn't more would've spilled out of him.

Earl was offended now, getting angry. But still in control. No red face. No biting his lip. Disappointing. And not a drop of real guilt to be seen.

It seemed Brian never was gonna forget how to read him. It was ground in. Beaten in. "Like you never hurt her. She cried for weeks after you got locked up."

"I was a kid! I was acting out because I had a shitty homelife! And I just bet you were real sympathetic while she was crying, huh?" There was a splash of guilt on Earl's face at that and Brian felt sick. For him to feel guilty about it…it had been bad. "I'm done. With you and this conversation." Wheeling around, Brian stalked towards the door and his bed. He'd take whatever came in the morning if he got to sleep. At least lay down and close his eyes. Pretend none of this had ever happened.

"Dammit! Don't you walk away from me!" Loud footsteps, almost stomps, told him that Earl wasn't done with his bullshit. Bullshit that Brian could not handle. Would not handle. He sped up, pretty sure that if he turned around he was going to tackle Earl again and this time there was no one to pull him off.

Not fast enough. Earl's hand went around the back of his neck, but they were the same height now and he didn't have the leverage he was used to-Brian jerked forward, hard, and came around swinging.

His fist hit air. Before he could recover an elbow to his kidney had him clutching at his side and something heavy hit him above the ear. He looked up in time to see his Dad's fist coming for his temple and he tried to pull back, but it was like everything was happening in slow motion. It connected and a sharp jolt of pain shot through his head, Brian biting his lip to keep from crying out. He sagged towards the ground. Earl grabbed him and started pulling him towards the car. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard…but you always did have a hard head…you'll be fine…"

Brian had enough sense left to know Earl was really talking to himself, reassuring himself, and to get pissed about it. "Lemme go. Lemme go and leave me alone!" He could hear himself slurring, and that was bad, bad in a not good way, but he was more worried about why Earl was dragging him towards his car. "Let go! Fuck off!"

"Hush up. You always have to push me." He shoved Brian up against the car while he opened the back door. Should've been a good chance to get away. Hit Earl in the balls maybe. But his vision was swimming, getting worse. Everything was wobbly and his head ached really, really bad. Brian blinked and realized there were two reasons he couldn't see.

Tears in his eyes in front of this asshole. Fucking great. He'd had worse, though. Brian pushed himself away from the car and took a step.

He fell right to his knees. Hard. It hurt.

Earl yanked him back up, not gentle at all, but the fact that he didn't smack Brian again, or at least cuss at him, for trying to get away told him he must look as pathetic as he felt. "Enough of that. Get in the car, don't make me make you…" Brian didn't move and Earl manhandled him in, pushing and shoving. He should've kept trying to fight, shoulda screamed and fussed and made himself not worth the trouble. But 'don't make me make you' was an old threat. A threat that came with pain. He wound up sprawled across the backseat. Panting. Crying a little to his own disgust. He didn't know why his dad was doing this, didn't have a damn clue, except that it was going to suck for him. Was he taking him back to Barstow? Why?

Nightmare scenarios from cases he'd read about, some he'd worked on, played on a loop in his head. Was he about to get sold to some pimp or something to pay for his dad's gas money home? Tossed in a river to drown? Fuck. Fuck.

This wasn't fair. He'd gotten away. He had.

Ran towards a badge that was supposed to mean no one got to hurt him anymore.

It didn't mean shit.

They drove for a long while. Or maybe it was ten minutes. Brian tried to keep track, tried to count the minutes, but the numbers kept running together. Getting mixed up. His head felt heavy. Maybe his skull was filling up with blood…no, he'd be unconscious if it was that bad. The movement was making his stomach lurch, but he couldn't throw up. Didn't want to lay in it. Eventually he realized that Earl was stopping at red lights. He could use that. It hurt and he had to swallow down the noises that wanted to come out, but Brian started pushing himself up. Quiet. Had to be quiet. It took forever just to get upright. He still had to slide over to the door. He didn't know if he could do it.

It was really just the head injury, though. Injuries. His kidney hurt, but not like he'd be pissing blood later. Legs were sore, especially the knee that had already been scraped up, but it was nothing. If his head quit spinning…it kinda felt…detached? Now that he'd sat up. Like, it was floating…and about to fall. Brian was closer to the right side of the car. He shifted a little over and swallowed hard when his stomach turned. Hell, it was doing fucking loop de loops. Breathing slowly in and out helped a little. He tried again. And again. Earl didn't seem to notice. He might not be drunk, but Brian was certain he was on something. Maybe coming off of something. He slid again.

And Earl slammed on the brakes. Chuckling when Brian flew forward, smacking into the back of the passenger seat and falling half on the floor half back where he had been. "Child safety locks are on anyway. If it makes you feel better." Bastard. The absolute fucking bastard.

Laughing at him. His whole life. Nothing but Dad laughing at him.

For a long time Brian didn't move. He was just gonna hurt worse lying all tangled up the way he was. But all the breath had been knocked out of him. His head kept spinning worse and worse. He just couldn't. Just couldn't.

Where were they even going? Did Earl have a plan or had he just gotten pissed and decided to take Brian with him to 'teach him a lesson' or something? Which option was worse?

What did he do now? Brian needed a next step. If he tried to fight Earl for control of the car, to knock him out maybe, it would be too easy for it to crash. He might be able to do it, even all fucked up, since Earl wouldn't be able to do much to fight back while he was driving. But the hospital was not where he wanted to be.

Wouldn't mind putting Earl there. Maybe if he jumped on him at a red light.

Just getting himself back up on the seat took forever. He had to close his eyes after each shift. Breathe. Shallow and careful. Then Earl slammed on the brakes again. Laughed again. Brian hurt. He'd fallen so he hit the door this time, first his shoulder and then his head. Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed and swallowed, needing it to pass. The car stopped. No slam this time, like Earl was parking. Blinking, praying for his head to clear, Brian tried to push himself up as he heard the car turn off. He needed to know what was happening. Needed to be ready to move if either of the back doors opened.

Would it be likely to work? Nope. Was he still gonna try as hard as he could if he got the chance? Yep.

By the time he got himself up onto the seat enough to see out the windows, Earl was out of the car, locking and slamming his door with a growled, 'stay' to Brian. They were in a parking lot. A corner store or drugstore. Something like that. Brian looked around for people, thinking he could get someone's attention, shout. But he didn't see anyone. It had to be at least three in the morning by now. Maybe four. Even LA slept eventually. Wait-someone was coming out of the store. Looked like a tweaker, but fuck, even most tweakers would think this was real messed up. He banged on the window and shouted. The guy looked over at him. Brian realized with a lurch that he knew him-'cause he'd arrested him. Twice. Still, he had to try, and he banged on the window again and shouted for help, that he'd been kidnapped, to call the police, to please help.

And that was around the time the guy turned tail and ran.

Brian kept banging on the window and shouting anyway. Too desperate not to.

Oh, shit. Why wasn't he trying to get into the front seat, get out one of the doors that wouldn't have a child safety lock?

Because he was a moron.

Also, the concussion. Gritting his teeth, wishing adrenaline was something you could release on command, Brian maneuvered himself into the gap between the seats, crawling forward. Probably should've gone legs first, but he was doing it, he was getting somewhere. A banging on the windshield startled him, a split-second hope that tweaker guy had come back with like a rock or something.

But it was just Earl's hand, flat and splayed where he'd slapped it as a warning. Brian jerked, half of him still heading towards the front passenger door, the rest flinching away from his dad and the annoyance on his face. Earl climbed into the front seat, shaking his head. "You need to calm yourself down. You're not going nowhere unless I let you."

Desperate and angry and still so confused about what was happening, Brian snapped back, "I'm a fucking cop now. You kill a cop, you're screwed." Unless the Team got the blame for him disappearing-no, not something he could think about now. That would not happen.

"I figured that out. And I ain't gonna kill you."

"Wha-" Brian got cut off by Earl planting his palm in his face and shoving him into the backseat.

"Got you some pain pills. Well, my prescription, but you're banged up worse than me now." He pulled two different bottles out of a white paper bag, Brian's eyes widening as he put several from each bottle in his hand. Too many.

"No, don't need them." His head ached and spun enough that he knew he had a concussion, shouldn't be taking pills right now, and that was too many anyway. He didn't pop them like candy like his dad did. Hell, if Earl was giving him two types of pain pills it was probably because he knew you shouldn't mix them.

"You do. They'll keep you nice and quiet until I'm done with some business."

Oh God. Earl said it so matter of fact and all Brian could think was that he was getting sold to some freak who bought people. What other business could Earl have that involved him? He turned around in his seat leaning over and pressing the hand that wasn't full of pills that were probably gonna make him overdose to Brian's shoulder, holding him down. He jerked, swatted at Earl's arm, but all it got him was the poison hand curling into a fist and sideswiping him in the mouth. Brian sank his nails into Earl's wrist, but he couldn't stop him from moving his grip to his chin, holding him still while he tried to cram the pills in his mouth.

One of Earl's fingers, stinking of god knew what, pushed between his lips. Brian's instinct was to bite him, but he clamped his teeth tight together instead. Earl pulled back and popped him again, and Brian gritted his teeth even tighter. "You aren't gonna outstubborn me, boy." The hand holding his chin shifted so the fingers on it were pressing into the sides of his cheek where the rows of his teeth met. Jamming into him as his dad's thumb pressed on his teeth from the front.

But Brian was stubborn. Earl was too, but Brian's stubbornness had been forged in fire. In self defense. The only way to keep himself. His mouth stayed closed.

Until Earl released the grip he had on his cheeks, Brian trying to twist away, only to have the back of a hand smash into the bottom of his chin. His teeth crashed into each other, hard. He couldn't stop his mouth from opening on reflex, to get away from the pain, and Earl shoved the entire handful in his mouth and clamped his hand over it so Brian couldn't spit them out. He tried anyway, trying to push them through his lips with his tongue, but it didn't work. Earl shook him, and it was swallow or choke.

So Brian did, gagging and spluttering, and telling himself he'd just puke them up the second Earl was driving again. Puke them up on Earl. No matter how pissed he got. What he did.

It felt very, very worth it.

Earl kept his grip on him for at least a minute before he let go. Maybe thinking he was hiding some under his tongue. "Good. Now shut-up and go to sleep."

Brian spluttered and choked as Earl shoved his face away, managing to mutter out another, "fuck off," as he fell back against the seat. He immediately bent over, going to shove a finger down his throat, but he left himself open to his hair getting yanked on and Earl used his grip to throw him sideways into the door. He bounced off it and something in Brian gave up.

He wasn't getting away. Dad would never let him.

And maybe he wasn't going to kill him. But right now Brian was pretty sure he wasn't making it out of this alive.

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A/N: I'd love to know what people think! Reviews are gold.