Between Family and Friends

-(_)-

One year.

Three hundred and sixty-five days.

When the number was compared to the amount of years he had served for his country, it didn't seem like much, but it was how long he and his team had been on the run. They had been played for engraving plates, and their commanding officer had betrayed them, turning dark for a cut of the profit that would have been made with the damn things.

Now, he really understood what Brian meant when he had said that he really hated politics: something interestingly different was always bound to happen, the man had said to his conman friend when he had been planning a breakout nearly two years ago.

Turning his attention to the car in front of him, the man known formerly as Lieutenant Templeton Peck, adjusted the nozzle on the spray gun to one of the thicker settings and applied a layer of silver paint onto the hood. Fine detailing sat behind him on a table, in both dark copper and a dark blood red, ready to be applied by brush. His latest car, a late model BMW with heavy modifications, was almost ready for the Conman to go out and take a spin to earn the team more money.

Before Brian had left to free Dom from the prison bus, he had given the former cop-turned street race-turned former federal agent all of the money that he had in L.A. There would be more that he would be able to get, and he still had at least sixty grand in Miami that he could use, if he ever needed it.

But it had dwindled fast with four men over the course of an entire year. Hannibal Smith never accepted payouts from their clients when they were the ones who desperately needed the money. So, Face resigned himself to stealing five grand from the "bank"; really, it was a locked box in the back of the van that they had appropriated from Miami, and he had traded his Impala for more than enough money to buy his current vehicle. He would have four and a half grand for his buy in at the local races, and he trusted Murdock with the other five hundred so the man could lay out his own bets and make a hefty profit.

Peeking into the garage, despite Face's threats to anyone who entered, Murdock whistled at the sight of the car. He entered when Face waved him in, hauling a large box on a trolley. "I got you your party favours, Facey," he said, stopping by the table and admiring the detailed sketches that had been laid out. "Do you think that you'll make a lot Saturday?" Murdock was the only one on the team who knew what Face really did, who he really was.

"It depends on how many there are at the site," Face answered, closing the plastic curtain and switching on the fan to expel the fumes and dry the paint, tossing his mask aside. "We need all the money we can get, Murdock, so I want to get as many as I can in one race, with the highest buy in I can have." Popping the top on a bottle of Corona, he settled on a chair and spread the sheets of paper out so that they could see what was on them. "So, which one do you like better?"

Murdock took his time, perusing every piece of paper. He found himself caught between two designs. One that was simple and beautiful, and the other that was elegant, but it gave off a fierce energy. "Can you put these two together? They just seem right," he answered.

"I'll draw something up," Face said and they left the building, heading up to the main house to catch up on what the other half of the team had learned about their latest job.

Saturday rolled around, and Face was shoving his feet into his sneakers when Bosco Baracus, B.A. to his friends, walked by the open door. "What are you doing?" he asked, his deep voice demanding answers.

"I'm just going out for a quick walk outside," hoping to hell that the large black man did not pick up on the fact that he and Murdock had been as thick as thieves in the last couple of days, Face shifted just enough to hide the small backpack that peeked out from under his bed.

B.A.'s eyes narrowed. "You're planning something, Face-man, I know it. You and the crazy man are planning something," he accused.

"Well, nothing big, B.A. We're going to pick up some surprise essentials that we need," twisting the truth that little bit helped things out a lot, Face found out when the other man grunted and kept on walking. Sighing, Face picked up the backpack that contained all of the money that he had taken, and undoubtedly would hold more before the night was out. He managed to get out the front door without getting questioned by Hannibal and he found Murdock waiting for him in the passenger seat of the finished BMW. Taking a few seconds to check out the bottles of nitrous to make sure that they were attached properly-he didn't want to end up a flaming wreck before he even got to the races-Face grinned as he slipped into the driver's seat. Everything was fine. With a flourish, he opened the garage doors with a remote and shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life and he gunned it, trying to get out of there before B.A. or Hannibal stopped them.

The sound of a modified engine startled B.A., who was just going to get his customary glass of milk. Looking out of the window, he watched as headlights illuminated the yard before the car tore out and onto the main road. It took some serious skill in order to drive a car like he had just seen, especially on dirt roads at night: he knew that loose gravel was harder to drive on due to its tendency to let the vehicle slide around more than on hard packed dirt. His mind quickly made the connection. Either Face or the crazy fool was a street racer, and that it had been a car in the garage that they had been working on over the course of their latest case.

Hannibal, on the other hand, gave a startled shout when the engine growled out its existence. His cigar dropped to the floor and he hurried to pick it up, lest he burn the house down around them. He managed to catch the fading taillights when he looked back up, and a quick check confirmed the fact that B.A. was in the kitchen, so that left Face and Murdock unaccounted for. Puffing, he brought the cigar back to life and decided to wait up until the wayward duo got back from wherever they had gone.

The sight of scantily dressed women and cars made Face think of Brian. The other man was a good racer in his own right, having earned the nickname Bullet in record time. He missed his racing buddy, but he didn't regret helping him become a fugitive, or helping to plan the best way to get Dom free. Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Face parked his car and got out. He had his four and a half grand in his pocket, and Murdock had the other five hundred with him so that he could make his own bets.

Face sidled up to the man holding the most money, knowing that this was the man who was organizing the race. "What's the buy in?" he asked.

The man turned to him, surprise coloring his face when he realized that there was fresh meat in the crowd. "It's held at three and a half. Why? Are you interested?" he returned.

"I got four and a half that says that I can hold out on however many who wants to race against me, if they cough up another dime," Face replied, waving his wad of cash in front of the organiser's face. The amount he held was enticing to anyone, he knew. Besides, if no one knew who he was yet, well, the temptation to make a whole four and a half grand more would make things even better.

"Let's see who wants to make more than usual," nodding, the man left to make his rounds, asking who wanted to throw in another grand to take on the challenger, an out of towner. It didn't take long before there were four other drivers lined up at the starting line. "And your name is…"

Face let a shark-like grin appear on his face. "They call me the Conman," he replied.

Gasps arose from the crowd. Even on these back road races, they knew who he was. Suddenly nervous, the other racers who were sitting at the line began to bleat like scared sheep.

"Yo, man, you didn't tell us who we were racing!" one exclaimed.

"Hey, chicken shit. Are you too scared to race me? If you are, I'm sure that these nice people would let you leave, if that's what you wanted," Face shouted to be heard over the din, his tone mocking.

Suitably reminded as to who and where he was, the man settled down, ready to race despite his nervous disposition, something that was reflected by everyone at the line. But there was no time to think about it anymore as the flag was dropped and the drivers took off down the road, jockeying for the best of positions. The cars snarled and roared as they were pushed faster, their engines whining as nitrous buttons were pressed.

Face's BMW was no match for the others, and he zoomed across the finish line three car lengths ahead of the rest of the pack. Getting out and pocketing the keys, he headed straight for the organiser and collected his four and a half buy in, and his eighteen thousand dollar profit. The money would help the team out, and he was certain that he would need it to appease the two other men waiting for him and Murdock. Just as he was collecting the eccentric pilot, flashes of red and blue began to appear on the nearby trees.

"Cops!" a woman shouted, increasing the panic in the crowd.

Face just shook his head and started his BMW, tossing the wad of cash at his passenger so that he could concentrate on his driving. Sadly for the local sheriff's department, he managed to escape and not get caught, unlike some of the others, including one of his opponents.

"How much did we get?" Face asked.

It took the pilot a bit of time to count all of the money. "I've got twenty one thousand here, and I didn't count the five grand you stole," Murdock whooped.

Face let out his own loud laugh as he drove back to the house where the rest of the team was staying. He was planning on sneaking in and putting the money in the bank and taking off again to spend some more time away from the memories he knew would haunt him in his dreams. He managed to sneak by Bosco as he was watching out the front window and decided on holding off on putting all of the money in the van, grabbing a full twelve pack of Corona before sneaking back to his car instead. He drove off to a small outlook just off of the main dirt road and passed a can to his pilot friend while they sat on the hood and stared at the night sky, watching as the world turned until near the crack of dawn.

-(_)-

Hannibal was waiting for them when they pulled into the driveway, arms crossed and looking like a disappointed father who had learned that his son had snuck out of the house for an all-night party.

Face sighed. He knew that his little secret would be revealed sooner or later, but he had secretly hoped that it would have been later. By the time the two men made it up to the porch, the other half of the team was waiting for them, waiting for an explanation. "Inside?" he asked hopefully, wanting to sit down if he was going to tell the other two everything.

A minute later, Face found himself opening his mouth and letting the entire story pour forth, from the time that he and Murdock were on leave in Miami months after saving Brian from his torturers to when he had left for Letty's funeral and what had happened after the prison break. He answered further questions, including some about why he had helped Brian in the first place when he was in Los Angeles.

Hannibal and B.A. accepted the story and the facts that they had been presented with without a word. They knew that their conman had been hiding something, and though they never thought that this is what the answer would have been, they easily embraced the information.

"So, what did you do last night?" Hannibal asked, puffing on his cigar to make the embers flare and come back to life.

"I went to the local races. I took five thousand from the bank and gave five hundred to Murdock to use as he saw fit. The other four thousand five hundred I used as my buy in, and raced against four other drivers," Face answered vaguely. "Murdock?"

The pilot withdrew the bundle of cash from his pockets with his own flourish and handed it over to the team leader. "Twenty six thousand and change, boss, five thousand included," he replied, a large grin stretching over his face.

B.A. whistled, impressed with the amount of money that the crazy pilot had produced. As he mentally calculated the amount that Face would have won, a sudden thought hit him. "That's why I found a half full can of nitrous attached to my engine!" he yelped.

"Yeah, Brian was the one who fix her up, Bosco. He also designed all of those hidden compartments that he and Rome installed," Face said, idly wondering if the man had some sort of extra sensory perception or what. Because, really, who would have known that all of those compartments would have been in full use years after the van had been commissioned?

"He does good work," the black man nodded his appreciation, though he was a little upset that he was the one to find all of those little heart attacks. When he had first found the extra line leading away from the engine, he had freaked out, only to stop and wonder why there was a bottle of nitrous rigged to his baby. Now that he knew that a street racer had put it there, he felt a little comforted that there was something that they could use if they needed to get away from the lawmen who were chasing them in order to put them all back in jail-or in Murdock's case, an asylum.

"Is Brian a racer, too?" Hannibal asked.

"He is. His street name is Bullet, and he is a good racer in his own right. The story is, before I went to Miami that he would race like a zombie-no emotions and a cool stare. Bastard can do a hell of a lot of things that I can't yet like that drive and stare thing that Rome told me about," Face answered.

"'Drive and stare'?" B.A. inquired.

"He would drive up some street and while he was steering, he would stare at his passenger and hit the brakes perfectly at a stop sign. Rome claims that he was the one to have taught his 'white boy' that particular trick and he even claimed it in front of a deep cover Customs agent months after we rescued him," the explanation slipped from his tongue easily, and he found himself glad that he was able to share something that he loved with the team in its entirety, and, luckily, it was something that could help them out later when they were in a tight bind, whether financially or with the law.

The rest of the morning was spent outside, with B.A. checking out the BMWs engine with her driver while Murdock tried his best to make a design that he would love to see on a car in the future, but he was failing miserably if one could judge by the amount of crumpled paper strewn around him. Hannibal was busy working his way through another cigar while thumbing through the pages of the state newspaper, occasionally clicking on a nearby laptop so that he could compare each of the cases that the public was asking them for.

The roar of an engine had the older man looking up from his research, and he smiled when he saw B.A. sitting in the driver's seat of the customized BMW. Face was leaning in through the window and speaking to the big man before he pulled out and patted the roof of the vehicle. Almost cautiously, Bosco drove out onto the dirt road, gathering up enough courage to press harder on the gas so that he could test the modified engine. When he returned, he had his own smile on his face. It was clear that he liked the car and the power that thrummed under her hood.

"Okay, boys. I got our next case lined up," Hannibal called out from across the yard, passing out beers to each of his boys as they arrived.

They were heading to Colorado. A small community had posted online that they needed help to save their town from some greedy corporate man who was using a bunch of scare tactics to clear people out so that he could build a luxurious gated community. The local sheriff had been bought off, and even the deputies were doing nothing to stop the happenings. Face would follow the van, carrying all of the non-essentials so that there would be more room in the van if they needed to get something as they were driving up to the town.

Grabbing an energy drink, Face downed it in a couple of swallows before helping to load up the van and his car. Besides, he reasoned, if Murdock annoyed B.A. too much, he would be able to put some space between them by shipping the pilot over to the conman. Just as they were pulling onto the highway, Face's current burn phone rang out a hip-hop tune that told him who was calling before he even answered. "Hey, Brian. How are you?" he asked, activating the Bluetooth system so that he could keep both hands on the steering wheel so that he wouldn't be pulled over for endangering the other drivers on the road. "Did you find Dom?" The trio of fugitives had split into two groups so as not to be tracked as easily, but Dominic Toretto was one of the hardest men in the world to find.

"Not yet. We've managed to track him down to Rio; that's where we're heading now," the other man replied.

Face frowned at how tired the former federal agent sounded over the line. "Christ, man. Have you been getting any sleep lately?" he asked, shifting in his seat as he checked the gas level.

"I can't sleep, Face. The nightmares are really hitting me now," Brian said, yawning.

Forehead wrinkling in thought, Face suddenly realized what the date was. It was around this time of the year, nearly nine years ago now, that Brian had headed out with other Rangers and the like to calm down a dispute at one of the farthest tribes from their home base. It was nearing nine years ago that he had been captured and tortured cruelly, leaving him scarred for life, both physically and mentally. Nine long years since Face had entered that tent and had lost himself to the dark rage that lurked within him and killed all but one Afghani man who was responsible for what the squad had gone through.

"Are you going to be okay?" Face's voice was quiet when he asked the question. He had to remember to buy a case of beer-any kind would do-and get seriously hammered either before or after their current case, sensing his own dark feelings rise to the surface and threaten to spill over.

Brian knew that the conman was referring to the fact that he was on the run from authorities and could suffer from hazardous flashbacks and nightmares and possibly even depression, like he had in Miami when the two had met up for the first time since the rescue operation in Afghanistan. "I hope so, Face. I hope so," he murmured in response. A slight shifting beside him told him that he had to go. "Sorry, man, but I'm going to have to let you go."

"Okay, man. Don't forget to try and get some more sleep, okay? I don't want Mia or Dom or anyone else to end up calling me because you got killed or caught and thrown behind bars. You hear me?" Face demanded.

"Yeah, I hear you. I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises." Brian replied and he hung up.

Tossing the phone into the center console, Face did his best to keep his attention purely on the road. The talk had stirred up some seriously bad memories, and he wasn't too keen on reliving them as he drove, especially the more gore based ones that lurked silently in his subconscious mind. Heaving a great sigh, he called the burn phone that was in Hannibal's possession. He told the man that wherever they stopped, they would have to stay as far away from other people as possible, explaining that he had just spoken with Brian and that he was thinking about the tent.

Hannibal got the message loud and clear, knowing what his lieutenant meant. Even though had hadn't been the first one to go inside that tent, he could clearly remember the horrors of the blood splattered fabric, the stained tools of torture that lay carelessly on a simple wooden table, and the living marionette that had been strung up in the middle of the area. He could see the odd bulging on the man's body from his dislocated limbs, and the way that they were kept in such positions to ensure the most pain. Blocking the memory from fully forming in his mind's eye, he told Face that he would find them a secluded place to stay that night before completing the drive to Colorado to help the community free themselves from a corporate business man who cared for nothing more than making money.

-(_)-

Grimacing from the stinging wound in his side, Templeton Peck turned in his seat and reached for his bag. They hadn't accepted payment for the job in Colorado and for the two other small jobs after that, and so he had to go find a race in order to get some money in the bank. This time though, the entire team was going with him, and as tired as he was, he couldn't wait to see that reactions from the other half of his team when they experienced their first street race and the excitement of the race fans.

So, he got changed, checking his dressing to make sure that it was clean and dry, which it was. Shoving his feet into his shoes, he made his way down the stairs of the condo he had conned and out the door to make final checks on his BMW. A whoop informed him that Murdock was ready and making his own way out the door.

"Facey, we're ready!" the pilot sang out from the landing. The pilot was dressed in casual clothes; something that they had decided wouldn't attract attention to them in any way.

Nodding, Face stepped away from his car and waited for the last half of the team to arrive, sitting on the hood of the car. Not a minute later, the door opened and disgorged the two men they were waiting for. The team had rented a car for the night, so that they wouldn't have to drive around in the van; it would be instantly recognizable, and they wanted to remain incognito for as long as possible as Face secretly worked towards getting their pardon.

The drive to the gathering wasn't long, and seeing as he was the first on scene, he got to see the reaction of the two older men as they were finally exposed to the culture. Stepping out of the cars, they were assaulted by the sounds of multiple sound systems as they showed off which one was the loudest among them. Scantily clad women giggled at the men, some hanging off of their boyfriends' arms, or even a couple bent over an engine as they made final tune ups before their race.

Leaving Murdock to take charge of the rest of the team, Face wandered off with a large bundle of five thousand in his pocket as he went to find the organiser. He easily wrangled a spot in two different races. He knew that he would win, as he was accustomed to some of the tougher crowds of the big cities, and from what he could tell about these racers was that they weren't up to that level, and hadn't modified their engines a lot.

As expected, Face won his races, earning a nice profit of twenty five thousand dollars, almost twenty six when Murdock's pile was added in. B.A. was buzzing with excitement, the energy of the crowds getting to him and addicting him. Hannibal himself had enjoyed the experience, but he knew that he wouldn't be heading off to every race that they sent Face to when they were low on cash.

A cell phone ringing brought the team out of their celebratory mood after they arrived at the condo. A quick glance at the number didn't reveal who it was calling, but he soon had his answer when he accepted the call.

"Face, how do you feel about a high paying job?" Brian's voice asked him over the line.

-(_)-

With Mia's eyes staring knowingly at his, Brian ducked his head. He knew that she knew that he wasn't getting enough sleep, especially lately. He had only just managed to keep silent at Vince's place after waking up from a particularly bad nightmare that showcased him being tortured with the dead bodies of his soul family lying around him. He hated hiding behind a mask, but he felt like he needed to hide until he got himself under control without feeling the need to take to the bottle.

A movement at the back of the car alerted Brian to the presence of the man they were waiting for. "Showtime," he murmured to his girl, letting her get up first to deliberately bump into the man while he swiped the access card and copied the information on an electronic reader, passing the information onto a blank card. Passing the last rows in the car, he took note of two men wearing suits and the badges hanging on chains. Great, there were federal agents on the train with them. The difficulty level of their job just went up a bit with their presence.

Searching the compartments took a little time, but they eventually found the cargo that they were looking for. So far, the information that Vince had given them was holding water; he had told the duo that there were at least three cars being transported by train, and that the job was to get on the train and get the cars off before they got to their destination. After calling Vince and letting the man know which car they were to target, Brian and Mia got to work taking tarps and security harnesses off of the vehicles and tossing the keys on the front seat in order to accelerate the process. While they were doing this, acetylene torches were being used to cut an opening in the compartment's side.

Suddenly, the panel flew away from the car, causing four men to duck out of the way if they didn't want to get swept away and killed. The bright sunlight that flooded the car blinded the two inside, but when Vince spoke up about one man's long absence, Mia couldn't help but run at the familiar figure and hug him.

"God, I was so worried!" she exclaimed.

Dom's eyes lifted to meet Brian's. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I had to make a call. We weren't going to make it any further with what we had," Brian replied, shrugging.

"Hey, we only have this two minute window. Let's go!" one of the locals ordered, heading over to stand beside the two American racers. "I'm taking the GT40."

Brian mentally translated the Portuguese, subtly gesturing to Dom that Mia should take the car as the car that Vince was taking was yanked sideways out of the compartment and lowered down to the desert floor.

Mia slid into the GT40 while her brother and boyfriend caused a small distraction. "Hey, this car suits me better," she said in Spanish, waiting so that the pulley system was hooked up to the vehicle. The door opening alerted her to Dom's presence.

"Wait for my signal," he whispered to her. "Something's up."

She nodded and when the car was yanked out and lowered down, she executed a perfect turn and was heading away from the main highway, and instead driving for the harder packed dirt that would eventually lead back into the favela and to the storeroom that they were using.

"What is she doing?" the local to have claimed the GT40 in the first place demanded. When he got no answer, he turned back to the others on the buggy that was keeping pace with the train. "Go get her!"

Head jerking up at the command, Brian tossed a look at Dom before jumping onto the buggy and throwing the pulley operator off before turning to the driver. As they drove over the bumpy ground, and with Brian trying to avoid being burned by one of the acetylene torches, he wasn't aware that they were heading back to the train until they crashed into it, nearly derailing the baggage car in front of the one he had just come out of. Shaking away the cobwebs that littered his mind, Brian noted that the driver was dead. A sudden whoosh drew his attention to the canister of compressed gas, horrified to see that it was on fire. Scrambling away from the growing blaze, he just managed to get to the other side of the vehicle before it blew. The flames pushed him out and he found himself hanging by one hand above the desert floor speeding below. Something flashed in his line of sight, and his stomach churned.

"There's a bridge ahead!" he shouted when Dom poked his head out of the hole in the compartment, hoping to hell that the man would have something to get him out of this mess. Dimly, he heard the sound of gunshots echoing inside the car, and then silver flashed out of the corner of his eyes. Dom was driving the remaining car out of the hole and struggling to get it under control after the sudden landing. Clambering up to a part of the buggy that wasn't on fire, he waited for the right moment and leapt onto the back of the silver vehicle as it drove up in front of him moments before the buggy crashed against the bridge.

Speeding up to avoid the flaming wreckage that tumbled behind him, Dom worried that this would be one of the times in his life if he ever got to see Mia again, or if he was going to see Letty in the afterlife. As the car drove over the cliff and plunged down to the blue waters below, he levered himself out of the driver's seat, glad that this car was a convertible and pushed off before the frame hit the water. Surfacing, he cleared his throat and nose of any excess water, and turned to Brian as the blonde broke through the water not five feet away.

"You had to make a call, O'Conner?" he sputtered in a growl. "Shitty ass call."

Brian nodded at the words. The two men became aware of what sounded like jeeps pulling up to the water's edge and the firearms that were aimed and cocked in their direction. Understanding the message, they made their way to the shoreline and didn't make a move as they were bound at the wrist and forced to sit in separate vehicles with guns aimed at their bodies.

A drive that lasted an hour later, they were being shoved into a warehouse by their captors. Stumbling into one of the rooms, Brian went pale and unconsciously started begging desperately in a foreign language, but that didn't stop the thugs as they strung up the former federal agent up by his bound wrists, high enough so that his feet weren't touching the floor. Dom was lucky, on the other hand. If he stretched just enough, his toes could graze the ground, giving him a false sense of security. Minutes later, another man showed up, dressed in a pale beige suit.

"You two caused quite a bit of trouble today," the stranger started. "I do not know how you Americans do business, but here in Rio, I prefer it if everybody was on the same page."

"Yeah? It works both ways, you know," hiding the tremble in his voice was hard, but Brian seemed to manage it just fine, calling upon a condition he had been forced to learn when he was a young boy. He hated the sound of rattling chain links, and he absolutely hated the way that he felt like a coward, but he had no control over such mental reflexes, as past experiences had taught him.

"Perhaps, but you weren't allowed to know everything that my men knew," the man said. "Now, where is your sister? I've heard that she is a beautiful woman. It would be such a shame for something to happen to her. No one needs to get hurt." He directed his inquiry to Dom, trying to invoke a reaction that he could use.

Brian jerked in his bindings before stilling. This was exactly what the suit wanted. Taking a deep breath, he spoke out loud, beating Dom from saying anything. "This roofing plastic says that you're full of shit," he said with a slight snarl to his voice, his tone driving home the fact that the rest of this conversation was a moot point and that it wasn't worth continuing.

Heaving a sigh, the suit turned and left, leaving instructions with his minions to do whatever they could to get the location of the car, or the girl.

Dom breathed steadily through his nose, taking in the sight of the thugs approaching both him and Brian and the sounds of the slight whimpers that were coming from his friend, his brother, were tearing at him. A small voice in his mind told him that whatever Brian had suffered through during his short tour in Afghanistan still haunted the man and that he had to get him down soon or he would suffer through a panic attack of epic proportions. As soon as one of the two men was close enough, he swung a leg in front of him, sweeping the man over to Brain, who didn't waste the opportunity to wrap his legs around the exposed throat and break the fragile bones of the man's neck. Snapping the bindings that held his wrists immobile, Dom quickly put down the other man, hard.

Harsh panting made Dom turn to see Brian squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to curl in on himself, putting more pressure on his wrists. "Take it easy, man," he soothed, finding a chair to stand on so that he could free the former soldier.

Brian felt the ground beneath his feet and then he was off to the nearest corner, no longer holding back as his body started to rebel against him. It was hard to empty his stomach contents with his hands bound in front of him, but he somehow managed. Spitting the fowl tasting bile out, Brian felt the cool edge of a glass tipping its contents over his lips. "Thanks," he rasped, rubbing his wrists once they were freed.

"Whatever you went through, it never left, did it?" Dom asked.

"No, it didn't," Brain answered. "Like I told Rome when we opened our garage in Miami, there are things that will set me off, like chains and darker skin tones, and my rational self just takes a back seat."

Dom nodded, wondering if the man had ever been told that he suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. Of course, if he had been told, it probably would have been brushed away because it didn't rule the entirety of his life. "Let's go. We have to find out why they wanted that car in particular," he said, getting up from the hard packed ground he had been kneeling on beside Brian and holding a hand out for him to take. His fingers curled gently around the shaking hand as it was placed in his and he hauled the smaller man to his feet. It surprised him when the shorter man leaned fully on him for a moment, savoring the trust that was being placed on him, because he knew that it was hard enough for him to admit that he often needed help from those closest to him.

He wouldn't let Brian down; especially with the fragile burden he had been given.

-(_)-

Mia listened silently to the radio as a woman reported on the train incident, telling the entire country that three American were responsible for the deaths of the federal agents that were on the train. Resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands, she immediately turned the radio off and grabbed a nearby tire iron when she heard something clatter to the ground just outside the door. Hiding behind a pillar, she waited, ready to strike out if the incoming person meant her harm.

"Mia?" Brian's voice called out.

Hiding the frown at the sound of the slight tremble in her boyfriend's voice, she smiled at him and rushed to hug him close, kissing him on the cheek as her brother wandered in. Giving him a hug of his own, she allowed him to take the bar out of her hands so that he could admire her weapon of opportunity.

"Just like a Toretto," he commented, dropping it back on the table from where she had grabbed it from.

"They're blaming us for the deaths of the agents," she reported, gesturing at the silent radio as she sat down on a stool.

"But we didn't do it," Brain said, taking a mental step back and continuing his thoughts. "But we'll be hunted and set as an example so that everyone knows no one tolerates it when federal agents are killed, especially in a foreign country."

Dom nodded. "Right now, we have to find out why they wanted this car," he told the other two. They agreed on just taking the entire vehicle apart, despite the fact that it was a beautiful piece of art.

Hours later, and only half of the car had been disassembled when Vince ambled in through the side door. "I was wondering where you had gotten to," he said, leaning up against the same post that Mia had used previously.

It was all Brian could do to stop himself from strangling the man. "You know that they double-crossed us, right?" he asked.

"All I know is that they wanted the cars, but they didn't tell what they wanted them for. All I was told was to deliver them to a warehouse and leave with the money that they were paying us. Now that this car was taken and those federales killed, no one's getting paid and there are men out on the streets trying to find you," Vince explained, a hand running idly over the scars on his arm; a memory of a time when he thought that he was going to die, and when he found out that the new guy was actually a cop.

Dom shrugged and waved Vince away, sending him to get something to eat. As much as it pained him to admit it, there was something off about Vince when he compared his actions to what he knew and what he had witnessed that morning. He would have to keep a close eye on the other man over the next little while.

-(_)-

It was hard trying to sneak around all of the pieces of the GT40 that lay on the floor, but he managed quite beautifully. Reaching for the GPS unit that had been mounted in the car before it was extracted; Vince had his hand on the chip when a voice stopped him cold in his tracks.

"I almost wish I hadn't seen that," Dom rumbled from the darkness.

"Look, man…" Vince tried to explain, but he flinched when Dom backed him into a support column.

"Mia was on that train, Vince. My sister!" Dom growled, his dark eyes flashing with barely restrained anger.

"They promised me that no one would get hurt! Damn it, Dom, you know that I wouldn't put her in harms' way," Vince returned. "All they wanted was the chip. I don't know why; I wasn't paid to ask questions."

It took more effort than he thought he would have needed, but Dom was nearly panting in anger when he slammed his palms against that concrete on either side of Vince's head, instead of planting his fists in the man's face. "Get out," he whispered, struggling to contain his emotions so that he wouldn't do something drastic, like killing the man in front of him.

"What?" Vince demanded, incredulous that he was being asked to leave.

"Get out!" Dom roared, not even bothering with lowering his tone or volume as he started to lose control.

Mia stumbled out of the room that they had converted into a bedroom. She had gone to sleep with Brian hours ago, but mostly because it was because she wanted to keep an eye on Brian's sleeping habits. "What's going on out here?" she sleepily asked.

"You never trusted me!" Vince accused. He was about to say more when a piercing scream echoed around them. "What the fuck?"

Now completely awake, Mia bolted for the bedroom, her brother following closely behind her. Brian's naked torso was twisted into what seemed like the most uncomfortable of positions, scars shining dully against bronzed skin that was now pale from nightmares. He pleaded with unseen tormentors, begging to be left alone, to not hurt him, to not touch him. As Vince entered the room, another bloodcurdling scream was wrenched forth, the body convulsing violently against the worn mattress as the blanket was twisted further over tense legs, constricting their movement and causing even more fear to emanate from Brian's figure. A dull pop told the trio that his shoulder had dislocated and would need to soon be fixed.

"What's happening?" Vince asked, staring at the disturbing image of the former cop twisting to escape an invisible torment, struggling to free himself as if his limbs had been tied to something.

"He was arrested and jailed in Lompoc after he let me go, Vince, and then he signed up for a tour in Afghanistan as a translator when the position was offered to him, and that clearly didn't go well," Dom quietly answered, running a hand through sweat soaked blond hair, trying to calm the man down enough so that he could fix his shoulder and let him sleep peacefully for the rest of the night. "Just leave, Vince."

He needed no other prodding. Vince left his former family, and the chip, behind as he contemplated what he had just seen, trying to understand what could cause another human being to hurt another in such a manner.

The following morning, Brian was seated by the table, trying to ignore the fact that he had woken up with both Torettos in the same room as he was. Vague memories had assaulted him, and with it, the dull pain that spoke of a limb that had been dislocated during a nightmare. Ashamed, he hid in the bathroom until he felt composed enough to make an appearance with the outside world, setting up primitive alarms with broken glass bottles just meters from the main points of entry. It was reassuring to him to know that they had an early warning system.

Inserting the GPS chip back into the device, he turned it on and navigated his way through the contents. The fact that the chip was a list of all the cash houses in Rio was a big surprise. As he finished explaining to both brother and sister about how most dealers weighed their money instead of counting it, there came the sound of glass crashing to the ground outside-the sound told them that there were unwanted people waiting for a signal to crash inside. Slipping the chip into his pocket, Brian gestured to the siblings to leave via an open window, feeling splinters hit his skin as slugs slammed into the wall, being the last one to leave. They split up, Brian taking Mia with him to protect her from their pursuers.

The soldier deep inside Brian's mind screamed at him to move it, before he or Mia was captured. He also knew that they were being hunted by another group, and then his suspicions were confirmed when he could vaguely hear gunshots from various weapons in the distance. Ducking into a vacant doorway, he hid Mia behind him, searching desperately for their pursuers: he was glad to see that no one followed them. Then they were off again, meeting up with Dom at a predetermined spot near a sewer line.

Silently, in a single file, they wove their way through the manmade tunnel, slowing to a creep when their paranoia got the better of them until they finally came to the end of the proverbial road. Dom took the lead, leading the others out.

"We have to split up," he rumbled.

"No!" Mia vehemently protested.

"He's right. What happens next time and they corner us with no way to go? I won't have you behind bars. We need to split up," he said, hoping to emphasize that this was the best thing to do at the moment.

"I'm pregnant," the words spilled from her mouth before her brain could catch up and stop them, trying to hide something that her heart wanted so desperately to share. Mia stared at the two most important men in her life as they processed the information, the reality of the two words hitting them hard.

"Really?" Brain gasped, the fact that he was going to be a father not quite settling home just yet.

"Yes," Mia confirmed, kissing him gently on the lips. Turning to her brother, she sighed at his partially blank expression. "I lost my family, Dom, and then I got them back. I don't want to through that again."

Those words drilled through his frozen consciousness. Dom stepped forward and hugged Mia and Brian to his broad chest. "Our family just got bigger," he murmured, feeling the rough, calloused hand that belonged to Brian rub him on his head. He allowed the action, instinctively knowing that the more that he allowed Brain to do, the more that he would trust him.

-(_)-

Later that night, when Mia was sleeping on an old rattan chair and covered by a blanket, the men stood guard outside on the balcony, drinking the local beer. The full moon nearly overpowered the few streetlights that worked in this part of town and stars twinkled above them as they steadily turned, following the motion that their ancestors had.

"What do you remember about your father?" Brian's voice was quiet as it asked the question.

Turning to look at the other man, noting that he was still staring up at the stars, Dom took a sip of his beer and cleared his throat, images of the inquired being flashing before his mental eye. "He was a good man. Every Sunday, we would go to church, and then invite people back home for a barbeque; of course if you didn't go to church, you didn't get any barbeque. He'd work hard all day long, and when we got home from school, he would sit and help us with our homework. He would even stay up late in order to read the next chapter in Mia's book just so that he could help her the next day," he answered.

Brian hummed, idly processing what he had just been told. "I don't remember much about my father. I mean, yeah, he was around, but he was always so wound up. He'd started to drink heavily and he'd bring prostitutes home when mom was at work, and when she finally found out what was going on, he just beat her until she couldn't get up any more. She lost herself to depression, especially after he hit my little sister so hard that her skull fractured and she died," Brian whispered, draining the rest of his beer in one gulp, toying with the label. "I don't know what to do anymore."

Dom internally cringed at the information that he had just been given. Yes, he had known about the youngest O'Conner, but he hadn't known what had happened to her. Shaking his head, he laid a large hand on the other man's shoulder. "You're going to be a good father, Brian. And that kid is going to have the best uncle around, especially when their father needs a little reminder," he told Brian. "Come, on, it's time that you went to bed. We have a plan to coordinate tomorrow."

The night passed without incident, and the rising sun found the trio assessing their priorities. Leaning up against a railing that tourists sometimes frequented, they tossed around ideas, hoping to find something that would solve everything.

"We know that Reyes has cash houses all around town. We need to get a crew together and show him that we don't take threats lying down," Dom said. "We need someone who can bullshit their way into or out of anything, someone who can see what kind of walls this jackass has for security and someone to knock them down when the time comes."

Brian nodded. He knew some people back in Miami who wouldn't turn down the job, if only for the thrill of the chase. "We need someone who can provide us with protection and someone who can blend into the crowd and gather some of the information that we need," he added

"And, lastly, we need two precision drivers," Dom finished with a large grin on his face.

"Oh, you know that we got that," Brian gave his own grin, fishing his phone out of his pocket, planning on calling the three people that he knew who were the best in their fields.

Rome and Tej were easy to convince, especially when the total sum of money was mentioned. They both said that they would be heading out as soon as possible.

Brian heaved a sigh as he punched in the latest phone number that Face had given him. He waited while it rung on the other end before it was picked up.

"Hello?" Peck's voice answered the phone.

"Face, how do you feel about a high paying job?" Brian asked.

"Why do I have a feeling that you stepped into some kind of deep shit in the south, Bullet?" Face asked.

"Maybe because we have, brah. We somehow managed to piss of the most powerful man in Rio, some dude name Hernan Reyes, and now we're planning to steal all of his money. The guy has millions in cash houses, and we're getting a crew together. Are you in?" Brian questioned the other former soldier. Although, he knew that there was no such thing as a former soldier, he considered the team as such because they were being hunted by the authorities.

Muffled voices echoed faintly over the open line and then Face was back, speaking over Murdock's excited whoop and B.A.'s grumbling. "We'll scam our way down in a while. When do you need us to be there?"

"Let's call it on in two weeks from now, so that we can give enough time for the others to get here as well," Brian offered.

"Sounds good to us," Face agreed, and with a quick promise to update the team on the plan, Brian hung up, taking a deep breath in order to calm shaking nerves. He could already feel the adrenaline flooding his system whenever he thought about their upcoming heist, but right now, he had to start making plans and backups. He knew that if the team managed to get down in time, their plan A wouldn't hold water well to what Hannibal would concoct, so a single plan was out of the question.

Still, he thought as he sat down with the siblings to toss around ideas, it would be interesting to see how the crews of the racing world would react to the only team made famous by their daring escapes from military prison.

-(_)-

Okay, so here's the first half of the third chapter. Once I chase down my muse once again, I will post the other half and it will be the last one for Between Family and Friends, until the sixth movie come out in 2013. So, I planned this chapter to be played in such a way that we were with the A-team at first until Face gets the call, and then I would switch POVs.

To clarify any confusion that may occur when reading these chapters, and the following, I am NOT following the movies to the exact dialogue or actions. I am using them as a baseline and working my way from there. I never meant for anyone to think that I was completely merging the two franchises together, but I am creating my own universe by combining the two. It's called FAN FICTION and I using a writer's creativity to get the results that I want, which is what I write. Sorry for any type of confusion that was created.

Thank you for those who have reviewed, or placed this story on alert, and for those who will do so in the future. I appreciated the words I have received, and hope that you like what I write in the future. This journey was the product of a brain wave that hit me out of the blue back in November, I believe, of 2011, after I had bought Fast Five. I want to hear what you think of this idea, so hit that review button, if you so please!