It's kind of funny that the metaphorical "semi" hits him just after he crosses a set of train tracks.
Unfortunately, Brian's too busy throwing up on the side of the road to appreciate the humor.
He crossed a line this time. He went too far, and he knows he had to do it, knows if he hadn't, it probably would've gotten a lot uglier. God only knows what he'd have had to do to shake Guillermo up like he needed to.
That doesn't change the fact that he threatened a kid. A fucking kid. It's one thing to rough up some drug dealers and dirty cops and shit – at least he can fool himself into thinking they had it coming.
But that little girl?
Another wave of nausea has him dry heaving into the tall grass. He's pretty sure nothing else's gonna come up, though – he hasn't eaten since…fuck, was that lunch, yesterday? – so he grits his teeth and tries to will spasms in his stomach and chest to stop. This isn't the first time this's happened, and he knows it won't be the last, but that doesn't make it any easier. He's never been afraid of anything in his life, but he thinks…he thinks he might be, now. Of himself. Of what he's going to do, of how far he's gonna go. Because quitting isn't even an option. The thought of them coming down on Mia…the thought of them catching Dom?
Cold, heavy dread settles in the pit of his stomach, and on the plus side, it stops the heaves, but on the downside, it just makes him feel sicker. Shit, if they catch Dom, he doesn't know what he'll do.
I'll die before I go back.
And he knows Dom meant it, and that…maybe that scares him, too. He's realizing there's not a whole hell of a lot he won't do to keep that from happening. Maybe nothing. And that? That scares him, not just because of what might happen, but because of what that might mean.
It's always a Toretto.
He's not ready to think about that, yet. Doesn't know if he ever will be. And there was a time when he thought he wouldn't have to. But now Dom's back in town; he knows he is. He just doesn't know what he's gonna do while he's here. If he knows Dom, though, shit's gonna start going down, and he's got a whole lot of damage control ahead of him.
Assuming Dom doesn't kill him, first.
That thought hurts a little. Fuck it, that thought hurts a lot. He knows he deserves it, pulling all the shit he did on Dom and his team, and he knows that letting him go didn't clear up all the red in his ledger. Shit, part of him kind of hopes Dom does catch up with him, so that maybe they can settle the score, and he can stop feeling like this. Feeling like he's done wrong by him. Feeling like he owes him.
Feeling like he'd do anything for him.
Not 'to make it up to him.' Not 'to make things right.' Just for him. Period. And that's how he knows he's fucked six ways from Sunday.
The buzzing of his phone in his pocket snaps him out of his head, and he spits the muck from his mouth and fishes it out of his pocket. A text. Unknown number. Same old shit. One word.
Status?
Brian's response is just as brief. Done. Stasiak'll probably ask for details later, because he's a controlling dick, but Brian's too tired of seeing his insides for the time being, and he's got shit to do. He'd got to stop by his apartment and get dressed, maybe try to force something down for breakfast, although he's not putting too high a priority on that, and then he's got to get to the damn service and make sure the world doesn't explode.
Clearly, he's got a long fucking day ahead of him.
He's not getting anything done sitting on the side of the road, though, so he wipes his mouth – he might wipe his eyes, too, but there's no one around to prove it – gets in his car, and drives away.
It's five hours later, and Brian's forced to face just how badly he fucked up. He's watching Letty's funeral, and fuck, he wants nothing more than to look away, to avert his eyes and pretend he's somewhere else, but he doesn't let himself. They were friends, once upon a time; he owes her this at least.
He's got his jaws clenched so tight, he can feel his pulse throbbing in his teeth, and he blinks a few times. He's got eyes on Mia, and whatever relief he feels not seeing Dom there is blown to bits by the sight of Mia's tears, because even from where he's standing, he can see them.
He doesn't look away then, either, not even when he hears footsteps approaching and smells the familiar, stomach-turning cologne that he's come to associate with everything he hates in this world.
"Facial Recognition Software matched Toretto about ten minutes after he crossed the border," Stasiak says, but he doesn't sound happy about it. "I don't get it; I thought he'd show." And that'd be why.
Only Brian knows better. Dom's there alright; Brian…he can feel it. He could always feel Dom's eyes. He guesses that should've been a neon-fucking-sign. He always knew when Dom was looking, and he's always kind of wondered what he saw.
Now, though, he's not so sure he wants to know. After everything he's done…he doesn't think he wants to know whether or not Dom sees it. Whether or not he knows. He doesn't think he could handle disappointing him like that, and isn't that kind of a bitch? He's doing all this for him – and Mia, he thinks, and that's true, so he doesn't know why he feels kind of like he's lying to himself – and yet he feels his skin crawl with anxiously at the thought of them finding out. At the thought of them knowing what he's done these last four months.
But no, he feels him. He's there. He's definitely there, and Brian doesn't ever think he's felt so conflicted in his life. Because for every part of him that's disgusted with himself, every part of him that wants Dom to be as far away from Los Angeles as geographically possible, there's an equal, maybe even stronger part that would give anything to see him again. To feel grounded again, because he's only ever felt that way when he was running with the crew. And he knows it's Dom that did it, that pulled him in and held him there, because he was…fuck, he was just solid.
The service is over not long after, and it's time to head back to the office. Just before he's about to leave, though, he can't help it; he glances back. It's stupid, because he knows he's not gonna see anything, but he still looks up at the hill, at the oil drills.
And then he gets in his car, because the real world's calling, and it's time to go to work.
Nine hours later, he's still there. Pennings called them all into the conference room, and that's where Brian's sitting now, waiting for the NOS he chugged a half hour ago to kick in, because he's worn the fuck out.
When Penning comes in, Brian sits up a little straighter, because he wasn't just about to fall asleep in the desk chair. Seriously. That'd be unprofessional.
"I just got off the phone with Deputy Director Larson," Penning says as he walks in, and Brian tries to track him across the room with his eyes. "If we don't make serious inroads into the Braga case in the next seventy-two hours, they're gonna shut us down."
If Brian had any more energy than he does right now, he'd probably get really worked up and irritated. As it is, he just glances around the room, and lets Trinh do the talking.
"I know I'm the newbie here, but why the clock now?" she asks.
"Because it's been two years, and the last three agents we sent to infiltrate his organization have come back in body bags."
That one stings, and Brian catches Stasiak giving him a look out of the corner of his eye. He knows that's a sore spot for Brian.
Penning, on the other hand, either doesn't realize, or he just doesn't care, because he keeps right on going. "He's moved more heroine across the border than Escabar did in ten years. This guy's becoming one of our biggest..."
Brian zones out for a second as pictures come up on the screen, and Brian can't help looking down that the fifth picture on the bottom. Ortiz, Letty, with a big orange fucking deceased plastered across the picture.
Fuck.
He drops his eyes to the table, and he's just so tired. Of all of this. He wants to crawl into a dark hole somewhere and pretend the world doesn't exist for a little while, because right now, it just kind of sucks.
"—on David Park?"
The name gets Brian's attention, and he looks up again to see Penning looking dead at him.
"Isn't he our ticket into the organization?"
Luckily, Trinh fits her eager-newbie role to a tee and jumps in before Brian has to try to string together an answer. "We're running the name through city and county databases, sorting the possibilities. We've got over five-hundred already."
"Park's insignificant," Stasiak says blandly. "Sounds like another jerk-off to me."
And finally, Brian's head's caught up enough to make coherent sentences. "It's not. Without Park, Braga wouldn't have drivers to move his shipments." It's amazing what a whole lot of hate for someone can accomplish; he's pretty sure he's only conscious right now to spite Stasiak. "Cross check traffic. Illegal modifications, street racing – this guy'll definitely have a record. We'll find him."
Penning studies him for a second, and then Brian sees it: a miniscule little nod that means he's at least scored one point today. "We better."
It's not a big win, but it's got Brian smiling as he leaves the conference room. He and Trinh are going to get to work sorting those names, and even though that's gonna be another few hours, Brian doesn't really mind. Trinh's actually kind of fun to work with. What she lacks in experience, she makes up for with energy, and Brian can appreciate that. He remembers a time when he was kind of like her. Granted, his field of interest was a little less…lawful, but he remembers diving into it with that same grinning gusto. He can respect it.
"Well, what do you know?" Stasiak's voice, as per usual, precedes him. Brian doesn't even have to look to know he's coming up behind them. "Your boy Toretto's red Chevelle was spotted in his old neighborhood. We're gonna bring his ass in."
Brian can hear the sulk, though, and he can see it, too, when Stasiak keeps walking past him. He knows he ain't got shit, so he keeps smiling. "Not in your car, you're not," he mutters, and it's mostly for his own benefit – because seriously, the idea of Stasiak trying to catch Dom, even in something other than his gramps-mobile, is actually fucking hilarious – but he catches Trinh smiling, too.
Yeah, she's definitely alright.