Brian finishes off another cup of coffee at the diner, but he still hasn't worked up much of an appetite, so he heads back to the office. He's on a time limit here; he's got to get this shit with Braga worked out.

"Brian!"

Trinh's voice greets him as he comes off the elevator, and he intentionally slows his walking pace a little so the shorter woman doesn't have to run quite so quick in those heels of hers to catch up. He tells himself that, next year, for Christmas, he's buying her some damn Chucks before she falls and breaks her neck.

He turns as she catches up to him. "I got the cross-checks on David Park back and have a list of possibles."

"Right," Brian says, "what do you got?" And he's glad Trinh dresses pretty modest, because to the outside observer, it'd probably look like he's trying to see down her shirt, the way he's looking at the folder she's holding up for him. Which he isn't. He really, really isn't.

Trinh immediately launches into the list. "A forty-five year old male in an '06 Sion with three reckless driving tickets."

"No." Too old.

"An '01 Chevy Tahoe—"

"No." He would pay to see someone race one of those. Take a turn over a hundred mph in one of those tanks, that shit'd flip like a coin.

Trinh's not discouraged, though. "Two Mini Coopers, an '06 and an '07," she tries, and when he doesn't bite, she tries another. "A Toyota hybrid.

"Hell no." He'd pay to see someone race one of those, too, but for a whole different reason. Anything that whistles when it drives is right the fuck out.

Apparently it's time for the speed round, now, 'cause Trinh starts firing them off. "A '98 Saturn, a '95 Sebring, a '98 Nissan 240 with an illegal mod."

Oh, and there's the magic words. "Wait," he says. "That's it."

"What?"

"The 240 with the illegal mod" They've stopped, and Brian flips back to the sheet she just passed, scanning over the page.

Trinh looks up at him, confusion written all over her face. "How do you know?" she says.

"Because that's something I'd drive."

Seems like that's good enough for Trinh – seriously, for the new kid on the block, she's not nearly as annoying as he expected – because she runs off and gets him the address, and just like that, he's back in the car and headed for Park's.

It's a run-down apartment building across from a discount store that he thinks he remembers doing a bust on for receiving stolen property, but he doesn't really mind. He's feeling pretty good right now. He's thinking he might be able to get the "inroad" Penning's looking for and put the dogs off their heels for a few more days at least. Buy himself a little more time. This whole thing can't be a total loss. Maybe if they can work out the Braga thing, he can find a way to make Letty's deal work out posthumously.

He gets out of his car, and he's about to start walking to the building, but he gets a little sidetracked checking out the Nissan parked in front of his. It's some pretty sweet wrench work, even if it does belong to a crooked little shit.

It almost makes him a little sad knowing it's probably gonna join hundreds of other sweet rides in an FBI impound lot before this is all said and done.

The sound of shattering glass above him snaps his eyes and his attention away from admiring Park's 240, and he looks up to see—

Holy shit.

David Park is hanging out the fucking window, and Brian doesn't have to look more than a blink to know exactly who it is holding him.

He takes off like a bat out of hell. He can hear Park screaming as he runs around the corner, and he throws the door open and sprints inside. He takes the steps two, sometimes even three at a time, and he's got his gun at the ready when he hits the fourth floor.

There's an open door a little down the hallway, and Brian runs for it—

And stops dead just inside the doorway. Because his eyes have found the window, or more importantly, what's standing in front of the window, and even though he knew, it's one thing to catch a glimpse. This is different, though. This is…fuck, he's there. In the room. In the flesh. Same white shirt, same broad shoulders, same inexplicable presence that fills the whole damn room, and for a second, Brian can't move.

But then he hears David's voice again. "Come on, man. I know shit, just let me up! I told you I gotta talk to Braga!" he hears him saying, and that snaps him out of his daze. He's here because Park can get him in the race, can get him closer to Braga, and he can't do that if it's fucking pancaked on the sidewalk.

"Bring him up, Dom," he says, and his feet are working again, which is good. "Bring him up." But the second one doesn't sound as forceful. He's kind of distracted, to be honest; Dom's turning his head slowly, and Brian knows this isn't gonna be easy.

"You here to take me in, O'Conner?" Dom's voice is low, and he doesn't know how the fuck he hears it over Park's screaming and the traffic noises outside, but he does. Shit, he feels it, deep and rumbling in his chest, and even if it's a challenge, Brian can't help thinking it's good to hear it again.

Park's voice, on the other hand. "Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" he's shouting over and over again, and Christ, he's going with that for his last words? Because he knows Dom doesn't bluff, and he thinks Park probably knows it too, the way he's freaking out; Dom will drop him, and they're on the fourth floor. A fall like that, especially head first….

Park's not looking at a happy landing.

"Shut up!" Dom shouts, and it cuts through all the noises like the roar of an engine cuts through the night. And shit, now he knows he's in trouble, because he's getting metaphorical, and this needs to stop.

"Letty was my friend, too," he tells him. He honestly has no clue how to get through to Dom; Letty's the first and best thing he can think of.

Dom doesn't even look at him. "You weren't anyone's friend."

That…that hurts. It hurts a lot. Facing the seething fury of two Torettos in that many hours – he'll be lucky if he gets out of this with his psyche intact.

On the plus side, at least he's not the only one having a bad day.

"Yo, can you guys talk about this later? And pull my ass up!" Park shouts.

Brian ignores him. "She was running for this guy Braga, and things went bad," he tells Dom, even though he's thinking Dom probably already knows a little of it. Why else would he be here? "I'm gonna get these guys, Dom." He'll get them if it's the last fucking thing he does, because even if Dom doesn't think so, they were all his friends, and he still cares about them. He's going to avenge Letty's death, and he's going to keep Dom and Mia safe. But the only way of doing that he has right now is about one muscle spasm away from falling to his death, and that would kind of throw a wrench in Brian's plans. "Now let me do my job and bring him up."

Dom doesn't do it just yet, though. "I'm gonna kill this Braga," Dom says, and Brian knows he means it. Shit, he'd do it, too, if he wasn't…what he is. "And anyone else that gets in my way."

And then he lets him go, and before Brian can even think of cursing, he's leaping forward to try to grab the guy. There's no way he could make it in time, and for a single crushing second, he thinks he's lost his lead.

When he reaches the window, though, he sees Park holding onto a curtain. He's still there. Still alive. Still a viable lead. And as he's hauling Park back into the building, Brian kind of wonders if this is what Dom had planned all along.

Shit, Dom.

He looks over his shoulder, but he pretty much knows he's not gonna see anything. He's right. Dom's long gone.

He doesn't go looking for him. He wants to; shit, but he wants to. But on the other hand, the less he knows, the better. With Mia safely out of Stasiak's hands for now – he just wishes he could've seen the look on that lying bastard's face when he came back to find Mia gone – he just needs to focus on getting to Braga.

He brings Park back to the office, and he happens to know the interrogation room is open, so he makes a bee line for it.

At least, he tries to.

"O'Conner!"

Brian deliberately ignores Stasiak, no matter how pissed he is. Or maybe because of how pissed he is, because shit, he's pissed too. Stasiak broke their deal; Stasiak went behind his back and brought Mia in, and she's off-fucking-limits, and he doesn't mind Stasiak knowing so.

He's trying to be the bigger man, ignoring him. It doesn't quite work out that way, though.

"O'Conner!" Stasiak shouts again. He's getting closer, walking as fast as his short legs'll carry him. "If you ever release a witness of mine again—"

The rest is lost, because Stasiak grabs Brian by the arm, and that shit's not gonna fly. Stasiak whips him around, and he's already waiting, grabbing him by the back of his blazer and slamming his face straight into the marble wall. And it's probably going a little overboard, kneeing him in the gut, too, but what can he say? He's only human, and Stasiak deserves it. He can't let the guy walk all over him, can't let him cross him like that. He'll take following orders, but he won't take that kind of bullshit, because the second he does, it's over. The second he lets Stasiak get by with it, he'll open the doors for a whole ass-load of this shit, and he's come too far, done too much to let that happen.

Not to mention, it just feels really fucking good to knock him on his ass. That's four months of pent-up anger and frustration right there; Stasiak deserves every ounce of it.

"That's enough!" Penning says. He's pushing through the crowd of people that have already gathered in the, what, two seconds since he put Stasiak down? And Brian thinks it's pretty unnecessary, because he wasn't actually planning on hitting him anymore. He's made his point.

A couple of Stasiak's buddies help him up, and Brain thinks he hears him tell them he's fine, but it's kind of hard to tell with all the blood on his face. It looks like he got his nose the worse, and Brian's okay with that. A little bit of swelling'll make it a lot harder for him to look down it at people. Hell, this could be a good thing for the guy. A learning experience.

Stasiak clearly doesn't see it that way. "You're through, O'Conner," he says, and Brian can't tell if he's not looking at him because he's that mad, or because he's still a little dazed from eating the wall like that.

Stasiak's threat really should scare him; he knows this. It'll probably catch up with him, like everything else does, but right now, the adrenaline and the satisfaction's keeping him nice and above it all. Stasiak needs to understand that, just because he's got Brian backed into a corner, doesn't mean he's got him tamed. And if that bastard ever pulls any shit on Mia again, Brian'll do a hell of a lot worse than bust his nose.

Penning acts about as impressed with the display as Brian is. "I said that's enough." And around here, his word is law. The show's clearly over, and everyone starts dispersing and going back to what they were doing. "Stasiak, go get yourself cleaned up."

"What? He hit me first! You—"

"This isn't the cub scouts," Penning interrupts. "Now, go on! You're bleeding on my floor."

Brian ain't gonna lie: it's good to see Stasiak put in his place every once in a while. He acts like he's the shit, but he isn't the biggest fish in this particular pond, and when Penning turns on him, even though he knows he's about to get chewed out, Brian's got the overwhelming urge to thank his boss for knocking Stasiak down a peg.

He wisely keeps it to himself.

As Stasiak leaves, Penning walks a little closer to Brian, and Brian steels himself for the inevitable coal-hauling he's about to get.

Instead, Penning just sighs. "O'Conner, do you know the difference between a cop and a criminal?"

Brian can actually think of a few answers to that, but most of them are a little too personal, so he plays dumb. "What?"

"One bad judgment call." And doesn't Brian know that? "Keep your shit in line, son." And that's the end of it, he guesses, because Penning turns to Park. "Have a good time," he says, and claps him on the shoulder.

Brian takes that as his cue to get this thing going again, so he steers Park inside. "Take a seat."