"Mom?"

"Brian, oh thank God." His mom sounded like she was crying a little, and his heart leapt into his throat.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Can-"

"I'm okay, are you? I got a phone call from Tawny, and it's going around Barstow that your dad tried to kill you," Jesus, that must've been Ricky, somehow, "and I know you said you were going to be out of touch for work, but I lost the paper where I wrote down your boss's number, and-"

"I'm gonna be fine. Earl found out I wasn't using his last name and flipped his shit. We got in a fight and I tried to go inside where I was staying and he jumped me, but I'm gonna be fine." His mom's long ramble would've just kept going if he hadn't cut her off.

"But you aren't right now?"

"I…no. I've got a concussion and I'm pretty banged up. But," he stressed the word, "it's nothing serious. No hospital." That he probably should've gone to the hospital and hadn't didn't need to be said. It wasn't like he was lying. There had been no hospital visit. He could hear her moving around, getting a coffee maybe. The sound of a cup on the counter.

Deciding how to tell him he was full of shit, and Brian wanted to grin and groan all at once. "Baby…one of the rumors is that he tried to sell you to the highest bidder," he was literally going to kill Ricky, "and I know how that town can take a fact and turn it into something crazy, but…"

There was too much truth to this one. "I mean…that's not what happened."

"What did happen?"

"Uh." Brian turned and leaned his back against the wall, sliding down. Shoulda sprung for a cordless. "He did try and sell me, but it was to people I'm friends with, so, it went worse for him than me at that point."

"He tried to sell you to cops?" She sounded completely baffled-also, relieved-and he didn't blame her.

Honestly, if Earl were a little stupider he could almost see that happening.

"Nah, sorry, should've said my undercover persona's friends. He got roughed up a little and told to get out of town. There's a warrant out for him, but no arrest yet."

"God, baby…I'm just so sorry." Brian thought she was gonna start really crying for a second and he hated that, always had, hated when she hurt and he couldn't fix it. Had to suck in a deep breath. Her crying, bruises from his dad, it was too much. Too much like before.

"S'not your fault. I just…" he heard himself burst out, "God, it shouldn't be possible for him to be a worse person than he used to be, right? His rock bottom should've been decades ago, but it never ends. He's just a…blackhole of asshole failure. It never ends and he pulls everybody else in with him and it's kinda fucking terrifying that he found me so easy."

And now his mom was crying, just enough he could hear it, and he felt like a dick. Even more of one since part of his mind was stuck on how Earl had figured out he was staying at Harry's. That couldn't have been Ricky. "I should've taken you and ran. I should've-"

"Mom, stop." He didn't mean to sound so tired. But they'd had this conversation before. It didn't help anything. "It's over. It's just…it's over. I shouldn't have freaked out. He'll get picked up soon."

"You shouldn't have had to deal with any of this. I can deal with hearing about it. And if you get to freak out talking to anybody, it's me, okay?"

It felt like lately he was freaking out on everyone. He told her that. She told him it sounded like he had reason to and if people couldn't understand he should tell them to kiss his ass. He told her he loved her.

"I love you too, baby." Brian was sitting on the ground now, and he should get off the phone. His bruises didn't like it. But he let his head slide back against the bumpy paint instead. "Are you resting now?"

"Yeah. Tanner was here earlier, checking on me." Again, that was totally not a lie and the way his chest twisted didn't mean it was.

"Good. Have you eaten?"

Brian had to swallow down some annoyance, because it'd kind of been a long time that he'd been responsible for feeding himself, you know? Kind of a long time since it'd been her job. He ran a hand up and down the leg of his jeans and scolded himself for being an ass. It wasn't weird for her to ask. She was just worried and he was just tense, and dammit that wasn't fair. "Yeah," it felt like Mom was still waiting for more, so he went on, "spaghettios out of the can."

The noise she made implied that he was an adorable handful or something. Also, secretly still 8 years old. "You always did like that. And cold ravioli, which-"

"'Is just gross', I remember." Some of the tension went out of him and he laughed. Relieved as hell for a subject change to leap on. "I mean, there aren't many foods I don't like cold. Mac and cheese with hotdogs is bomb cold, so's Chinese food and pizza."

Mom played along. "That's not a whole lot of options. What about soup? Cold split pea. Corn chowder."

"You chose the two worst soups as examples, on purpose, so that doesn't count. Cold tomato soup is good, and ramen. Leftover fancy take out ramen is great for a hangover. Have you had fancy ramen?"

"Like in a restaurant with all the veggies and an egg? I've seen it on TV, that's it."

"You gotta try it with pork belly. Sounds weird, but it's good." Good enough his stomach gurgled around the spaghettios like 'where is the protein? it's back to fake tomato pasta?'

"We'll have to do what we did on Thanksgiving last year, where we both get the same thing and eat it while we're on the phone. Watch a movie."

Brian grinned into the receiver. It'd probably sound depressing to anybody else, but he'd splurged on a bunch of shit from a deli, and sitting on the couch with his phone on speaker, both of them laughing, had been the best Thanksgiving he'd had since he used to go to Rome's house. "Yeah. Of course." He shifted again. Uncomfortable, but not wanting to end the call. They didn't talk enough. Mostly his fault. "Anything on your watch list I won't hate?" She liked lifetime movies and the really cheesy comedies. Like, they'd owned a copy of Howard the Duck on VHS and she'd watched it once a month loved them. Spaceballs too, but Brian couldn't exactly complain about Spaceballs. That one was worth watching once a month.

"Brat. And probably not. You pick."

"Cool." A huge yawn escaped him right into the phone and he knew what he was gonna hear next. Relaxed a little more at that. Maybe they didn't talk half as much as they should. But he knew his mom.

"You should rest. I can always call back." But she worked a lot and he work-well, he wouldn't be working much for awhile, and since he was planning to switch careers and would soon have a boss who talked about the importance of family a ton for someone who was not in the cast of an after school special, maybe it wouldn't be much of a worry on his end. Huh. Nice.

"Tomorrow?" And he hated how needy that had come out, but he couldn't take it back now. And also he just wasn't gonna think about the why, because screw that.

"Of course, baby. When I get off work."

His path wasn't straight to bed after that, a stop to throw the spaghettios can in the sink and fill it with water, because the third time he'd gotten ants had been enough to cement that lesson, then a trip into the bathroom that he maybe hadn't cleaned as good as he remembered. Clothes got tossed towards his hamper and Brian collapsed on the covers. Shoved his face in his pillow. There'd been lights blinking on the answering machine. Probably messages from Mom. Either way, he wasn't moving 'til morning.

A morning that came way too soon. His stupid blinds were up. Why were his stupid blinds up?

They were up. And the sun was being all glowy and shit and not caring at all that he wanted it to go away. Brian smacked his weirdly sticky lips and shoved his face deeper into his pillow.

It only worked for a minute. He groaned to let the world/sun/life know how unfair and sucky it was being. This didn't do anything. But he did feel maybe 2% better than he had. Rolling over with another groan, he blinked at the ceiling and then let his eyes shut. Not asleep, but definitely not awake either.

His neck was aching like a bitch. Like he'd slept so good he hadn't moved it at all. The rest of his body did not feel like he'd slept that good. He should get up. Shower, shit, shave. Instead he rolled over onto his side and just lay there for a good ten minutes. Opening his eyes and then letting them drift closed.

But he couldn't do that forever. Too boring.

He managed to shower without having a mental breakdown or otherwise ending up a mess on the floor. Today, that counted as a win.

Later, he sat at his kitchen table, eating the last of the freezer burned hot pockets that had been getting old before he went under, and trying to force his mind to think. It kept circling back around to that fucking fingerprint and he wondered whether Leon and Jesse were already gone. He hoped so. Tricking somebody into leaving a fingerprint behind on a glass or a bottle was an old, easy ruse. The kid taking his girl out shouldn't be risky, but right now it might be. Any of them doing just about anything now was kind of risky, with Belkins and his hard on for locking the team up.

He was supposed to be resting, so he made his way back to the couch, but snagged a notebook and a pen on the way. Flipped the TV on to some random show and turned it down. Just wanting the background noise. Started writing down all the people who knew he stayed at Harry's-sure they might not've known they were screwing him as hard as they had, but he didn't like the idea of anybody just passing out that information. For good measure he wrote down what his dad had said that first time, about a cousin telling him Brian wasn't using his name and what had happened later at Ricky's. Most of it was a weird, adrenaline and drug fueled blur. But he was pretty sure Ricky had yelled at Earl for coming back.

By the time he was done making notes-not writing anything potentially incriminating for him or others-he had two pages and no concrete ideas. He could ask everyone who knew he stayed at Harry's if there'd been a dirty old white guy asking about him. But that info could've spread more than he realized. And people might not be willing to 'fess up. Not knowing they'd gotten one of Toretto's people attacked.

Tapping his pencil on the paper, he had to admit that really, it didn't matter. But he wanted to know. Wanted to know if it had been malicious or just careless.

Frustrated, the notebook got tossed on the coffee table while he sucked in a couple deep breaths.

This wasn't helping. What was even the point?

He needed to talk to Ricky. Find out if Earl had been bugging him for awhile. Why he'd been at his house before.

Let him know he wasn't dead or being forced to suck dick somewhere.

Who would have Ricky's number that he was willing to talk to? Last Brian had heard he didn't talk to his mom anymore. She'd thrown a tantrum at his wedding, got drunk and fucked up the cake on purpose and you didn't really get over that easy. Brian didn't have her number anyway. He didn't think he had current numbers for anybody but his grandma and that was only because he was pretty sure her number hadn't changed in like thirty years.

Grandma might have Ricky's number. She was kind of awful most of the time-you didn't raise Earl and Becky the Cake Ruiner and win any prizes for your big heart-but Ricky was the baby and her favorite.

He needed to find his cell phone.

The blinking light on his answering machine pulled him over before he'd searched more than the living room.

They were mostly from his mom and Brian cringed when he realized she'd spent four days wondering if he was okay. He knew it wasn't his fault. But that didn't stop the guilty feeling creeping into his throat.

He swallowed it and listened to the last one.

Jackpot.

Ricky's voice, sketched out, like he wasn't sure leaving a message was a good idea, spilled out of the machine. "Hey, Brian, it's me, uh, Ricky. So, that was fucked up. Are you okay? I called the cops and they said they'd look into it, but nobody ever even came and took a statement and my girl said I should go down to the station, but, uh, I don't do that," Brian choked back a laugh at that, not wanting to miss anything, "I called a bunch of people to get your number, and I just…let me know you're okay. Please, man." He rattled off his number and it sounded like he would've kept going if the answering machine hadn't cut him off.

It'd been like a week since he left it. Brian couldn't be certain he hadn't actually gone down to the station since. Maybe Ricky knew he was fine.

Maybe he was sniffing around the racing scene, trying to find out if anybody knew anything about Brian. He must've been connected somehow. To have seen Brian, let alone known what last name he was using. The more questions people asked, the more people knew about his 'name change', the more likely that someone would stumble onto him being a cop. Doing undercover work in the same city you worked plainclothes in was risky anyway. If LA weren't so big he never would've gotten assigned the case.

And he was gonna call him anyway to find out what had happened with Earl so why was he thinking about it instead of just finding out?

Brian called, feeling hyper and weird. Tense. How did you talk about your dad kidnapping you with the cousin he'd maybe been harassing? He needed, like, Dear Abby for the Severely Fucked Up. "Lewis Residence."

Fancy greeting. "Ricky, it's me, Brian."

"Brian? Oh, shit, man, thank God, 'cause I was starting to think you were dead." Now, that sounded more like his cousin.

"Nah, though the old man basically tried. He's dumb though, and I got away and now the cops are looking for him. I've been staying at my girlfriend's, I just got your message today. " Could he tell Ricky he was a cop? Did he already know? Could he keep his mouth shut, either way?

There was a pause. Brian rocked on his heels a little. "How bad are you off? Did you get checked out?"

Why did everyone, including his baby cousin, think he was looking to get himself killed? Brian bit back a very sarcastic, 'nah, I chugged a twelve pack and passed out for a few days, figured I'd either wake up feeling better or not wake up', on the grounds that Ricky didn't deserve that. And also, might not pick up on the sarcasm.

"Yeah, man, by a couple different people. I just have to take it easy for a while," realizing this was gonna be a long conversation and kicking himself for not dragging a chair over, he wound up on the ground in basically the same position he'd been in talking to his mom, "I'm trying to figure out how Earl knew where I was staying." Hesitating, Brian wondered if bringing up the whole Ricky totally telling his dad he wasn't using his last name and technically starting all this shit was even worth it.

"I didn't tell him, I mean, I don't know where you stay. And I wouldn't do that." Considering Ricky already sounded confused and a little defensive, only if he was careful.

"I didn't figure you did. I'm just trying to cover all the angles and figure out what happened. Showing up at your house like that, has he been bugging you?" The idea may have made Brian want to strangle the phone cord. Earl didn't get to do that. Nobody owed him anything.

"First time I saw him was maybe two weeks ago, he showed up playing all nice, asking if he could stay just one night. I kind of thought, one night would be worth it if it got him leaving without freaking out?" Which was dumb as hell, but it sounded like Ricky already knew that.

"What'd he do?"

A long, nervous sigh in his ear was the first response he got to that. "You gonna do something stupid if I tell you?"

"Okay, you have to tell me now. What the hell did he do?" He wound up on his feet again, not pacing exactly, but not able to just stand there, let alone sit.

"...I mean, he dropped the nice act steadily and was being a dick by dinner time, but I kicked his ass out because he started yelling at my kid and made her cry, asshole was looming over her like a giant too." So, Brian was going to kill him. He told Ricky that. "Dude, don't be dumb. Let the cops get him."

"I hope they shoot him," he grumbled, really, really meaning it, "fucking with your baby."

"Lara's three now, but yeah."

"I-" "An-" They both started talking and then stopped, and after a too long pause, Ricky said, sounding guilty, which felt wrong after what he'd just told him, Brian's dad screwing with his family, "the asshole tried to tell me I was a shit parent, that I was raising a spoiled brat, and I went off on him about how you hated him so much you don't even use his last name, and then he beat the shit out of you and you said he was gonna sell you, and I never thought-"

"Hey, of course you didn't, hey, I'm not blaming you, we're cool."

"I should've kept my mouth shut."

"You're not responsible for his ass. Or anything he does." He spared half a thought to what Letty's opinion of his paraphrasing her advice would be, before focusing back on his cousin. Who wasn't saying anything. "I'm serious."

"That was what pissed him off, though, right?" It was Brian's turn to stay stubbornly quiet. "It was."

"Yeah, but it's insane that he'd react like that. Tracking me down to bitch would be weird enough, even without him deciding to add like a half dozen felonies to his list," slumping against the wall and shoving one foot back against it, he made himself ask the next question, feeling like an ass, "I'm not complaining, just wanting the facts-did you tell him I was in LA or did he already know?"

"I told him you were making a name for yourself here, racing, but it wasn't with his name, something like that anyway, I didn't-"

"Not your fault, I just needed to know. Okay?" He'd only raced twice, the second time only because Miguel had wanted to so bad he'd talked Hector into finding him a car to borrow. He'd won, but he'd also wobbled off the starting line worse than the first time and Vince had given him shit about it for days.

Not what Brian would call making a name, but whatever.

"...I guess. Do you need anything? Groceries or something?" Ricky was a good guy. Brian was maybe an asshole for never looking him up when he'd known they were both in the city.

And honestly, his freezer was empty except for an ice encrusted pot pie and he may have overestimated his stock of canned and boxed shit. And yeah, you could sort of make mac and cheese with water instead of butter and milk. But only sorta.

There was a corner store not too far away. He'd have to take a cab. They were way more expensive than the grocery store he hit up a couple times a month, too. It would be dumb to turn Ricky down-but it felt dumb and weird to say yes. Brian hated his brain for that.

Okay, also he was a little reluctant to give him his address. But that was the part of Brian that was both kind of a jerk and kind of a pussy. He mostly didn't pay attention to it, so why start now?

"I'd pay you back, and I don't need much. Just milk and butter, bread, maybe like hot dogs," and because he'd gotten used to eating a lot healthier lately than he ever had before, "and bananas?"

"Yeah, of course, don't worry about it," he heard him move, like he was covering the phone, and call out, "Lara, want to go to the store with Daddy?" A veritable shriek of excitement and a chant of 'yes, yes, yes!' getting louder as the kid ran to him had Brian swallowing, hard. Stupidly happy for his cousin.

After they hung up he almost called Tanner right then and there. But the floor was a bitch. Or maybe he was. Either way he couldn't sit on it anymore. Hunting for his cellphone, he found it on his dresser. Plugged into the nearest outlet and charged. And it was probably time for some deep thoughts about how thoughtful Tanner was when he should've been wanting to kick Brian's ass, but he was mostly just wishing his phone would power on faster.

"This is Tanner."

"There a reason nobody went out and took my cousin's statement when he called to report my dad holding me against my will?" That had come out sharper and more hyper sounding than he'd meant it to, but the idea that they hadn't been looking as hard as Tanner said for him…

It hurt okay?

"Brian, what the hell are you talking about? How is your cousin involved?"

Brian explained, forcing the words to come out steady and cool. Focused. Tanner stayed quiet except for what sounded like him chewing on his lip. "And if no one let you know about the call, that sure sounds like someone didn't much care if I was found." Bitter. The words came out bitter. He could almost taste them. It wasn't the first time backup had dropped the ball for him. But he thought he'd left that behind in Barstow.

A too long pause told Brian that Tanner was hunting for the right words. "I'll find out who dispatch forwarded the call too and figure out whose ass I need to kick. No jumping to conclusions. Someone being too dumb to do their job is a lot more likely than sabotage." Sure, but when had the easy answer ever been true for him?

"Yeah, okay. It's just freaking me out." Besides, Ricky probably paid his taxes, if he called the police asking for help he should get it.

"Breathe, O'Conner. If anyone tried anything I'll nail them to the wall. And your father was just spotted in Boron, I'd put money on him getting picked up in the next couple of days." Brian did breathe. More because he had to than because of Tanner's order.

"I could come in and put together a list of people, places, that he might head to. There-"

"No. You're on medical leave. I got the paperwork finished this morning. The only thing you need to be doing is sitting tight."

"Okay, but sitting tight sucks. If-"

"No."

"Sergeant-"

"Brian." It was a good thing Tanner couldn't see his face, because the one Brian was making right now could definitely be classed as insubordinate. "Stay home. That's an order."

"Fine." Tanner made a noise that told him he thought that 'fine' should've been a 'yes sir', but Brian was wired now. Couldn't bring himself to care. Not as much as he should, anyway.

He did a couple laps of the apartment to try and calm down, but that just made him pissed and worn out. His stamina was shot.

The TV did not distract him. The TV sucked.

He grabbed the notebook again, flipped to a clean page, and started making that list of places …he'd spent a lot of time in the back of cars outside various bars and crackhouses when Earl was supposed to be bonding with him or some shit. Back then, the old man had been smart enough to stay a town or two away. To keep his increasingly erratic and violent downward spiral hidden from as many people as possible.

There was a decent chance most of these places were gone.

He wondered how many of his dad's 'friends' had overdosed by now. Why the universe hadn't done him the favor of taking Earl out that way.

Places, done. Next, people.

He took a bunch of pictures with his shitty cell phone camera, getting close to make up for the lack of zoom, and sent them right over to Tanner. Got back, 'O'Conner, I told you to rest.' And okay, yeah, but he was helping! Who else was gonna know any of this? Brian didn't respond to it. Not if Tanner was gonna be like that. He flipped through the TV channels again, kind of wishing he hadn't canceled his cable before he went under. It was gonna be such a pain in the ass to get set back up. He got another text about five minutes later. Tanner saying thank you. Whatever.

Texting back a quick 'you're welcome', Brian tossed the phone down next to him. He wanted something to do.

Wanted to stop feeling so frustrated.

Wanted to see the team.

Mia.

He couldn't. Couldn't do anything. Couldn't surf or run. Couldn't go work on the Supra. Couldn't help catch Earl. Couldn't poke around and find out just how closely the FBI was watching.

And again, the TV sucked. Didn't do a thing for the buzzing under his skin. Or the increasingly long list of 'what ifs' running through his head. He almost wanted that constant tug of sleep that he'd been feeling for days back, because at least then he wouldn't be sitting here feeling like this. Unconsciousness had its benefits. He actually started considering calling Mia on his cellphone…it was pretty unlikely that either of their call records would be subpoenaed, and on the off chance they were; passing it off as him solidifying his cover persona leaving town wouldn't be hard. That if he hadn't they'd have had the Toretto team tearing up the city looking for him.

They would've too. If somehow he'd kept his cover through all this shit with Earl and then just disappeared. They'd've been thinking he got grabbed again or that his concussed ass had wandered off and fallen into a hole. It'd have gotten messy.

And that reassured the shit out of him. Thinking that. Maybe he'd been starting to worry about shit he shouldn't worry about. That they'd be happy he was gone. Would rethink forgiving him now that he wasn't right there. Pathetic looking.

But, nah. You didn't show up like that for someone you were gonna get rid of.

He flipped through the stations and finally settled on some game show rerun, everybody running around with shopping carts and shouting. Stupid. But watchable.

Him and Rome used to watch this after school sometimes. Begging two carts to collide and shit to go flying. It never had. There'd been one summer, they'd been pretty little still, eight or nine, that they'd found an old shopping cart with all the wheels still working, and man they'd crashed it into everything.

Everything but another shopping cart, since they couldn't find one.

Brian realized he was thinking about Rome and still smiling, not getting angry or guilty or depressed. That changed the second he realized it. But. Progress.

He started flipping through the channels again, not really watching anything. Settling for a couple minutes on a cartoon or a talk show then changing it when the commercials started. It wasn't too long before he found himself grabbing his cellphone where it was disappearing into the couch cushions and starting to dial a familiar number.

His fingers paused halfway through. His excuse would probably work. It probably wouldn't be needed. But that was a pretty big probably.

With a long, drawn out groan, he tossed it back down.

Then picked it up again.

Not calling was as likely to lead to problems as calling was. And he'd freaked Mia out yesterday. He should talk to her. There was no reason for there to be a tap on her phone. They'd barely been able to get a judge to approve one for the garage. But the FBI worked quick.

Maybe, when his mom called he could explain just enough of what was going on that she'd call Mia, let her know he was okay. It wouldn't be the same. But it was better than letting her worry. His mom's reaction to his explanation and whether she actually believed him…that was hard to say. It might take some fast talking. Something like telling her the FBI was trying to frame them at his most convincing. He was kind of out of practice at that with her.

Probably, even if Mom thought he was majorly full of shit she'd do it anyway.

A glance at his phone told him it wasn't even noon. He had a grip to wait either way.

Well. Ricky was gonna show up at some point. Soon even, if he'd headed to the store right after they'd hung up. Maybe he'd be able to hang for a while. Make the day go faster. Looking around the living room, hoping for something to catch his eye, he realized it was kinda empty. A couple car posters he'd put in those holder things. No pictures. There were a couple in his bedroom, but not out here. Not any real decorations. Some random crap he'd picked up. That was it, except for a stack of mostly car magazines on the bottom part of the TV stand.

It was kind of crap.

It wasn't like he'd just moved in. But it kind of looked like it.

Brian was never here much. Working nearly 24/7, going surfing or driving most of the rest. He was pretty much only around to crash or to recover if something went wrong. It wasn't his home. Wasn't even supposed to be his home, anymore. He had one of those now. For the first time in an absolute grip. But that didn't change how incredibly depressing this was. Standing up, he headed for his bedroom. Not really sure what he was looking for-the photo of him and his mom and Rome was staying where it was-but needing to find something.

He pulled open drawers and pulled things out. Looked under the bed and in the closet, because what the fuck had he been doing? His surfboard was on its stand in his closet, all the maintenance shit in its tub. Brian stared at it. Then he grabbed the board, too fast, the stand rattling, and laid it on the bed. Turned around and tackled the stand, dragging it out of the room. The base was heavy and he pinched his toe with it, hardly feeling it. It didn't matter.

Ten minutes later the stand was in the living room and the surfboard was back in it.

It looked more like the apartment belonged to a person instead of some kind of empty shell.

Less like even the little room in the back of Harry's fit him better than his own place.

Collapsing on the couch, still more sore than he wanted to admit, Brian stared at the ceiling for a while. Not sure why that had been such a big deal now that it was done.

It looked good, though. Better.

He purposefully relaxed his shoulders, rolling them a little. Got up enough to snag one of the magazines, even if he'd read most anything that interested him already, and collapsed back on the couch. Opened it to a random page. Paged through until he came to an engine diagram he only mostly understood. Let himself get sucked in. Enough that he jumped when the knock came.

Brian almost called out that he was coming. Almost went with the thought that it would just be Ricky with the groceries.

His mouth clamped shut around the words. Remembering the phone call that had gone unreported. He stood up as quiet as he could, wishing he had socks on to pad his steps a little more. Eased his way to the door. Looked through, hardly breathing. And then laughed at himself. 'Cause of course it was just Ricky. Not a teenager anymore, but definitely him. And he was balancing two grocery bags in one arm and a squirming toddler in the other, so Brian moved to unlock the door quick. He hadn't expected him to bring the kid.

"Hey, come on in. Thanks, man." Brian took one of the bags of groceries and then watched as the little one-Lara?-slithered down and looked around his apartment like it was the site of an alien crash landing or something. Fascinating and also very, very weird.

"Hi, princess." She stared at him for a second and then hid behind Ricky, who shrugged and reached around to stroke her hair.

"Some days she's shy, some days everybody's her best friend." They headed into the kitchen, Lara trailing after, and once everything was put down Ricky went in for a hug, Brian freezing just long enough to make it awkward, but not long enough he couldn't unfreeze and fix it. "Are you really okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm healing up," he shrugged, not really sure what else to say about it, "getting bored even." Starting to pull groceries out of the bags, Brian paused when he saw there was a lot more than he'd asked for. Apples, tomatoes, cups of soup, a frozen pizza, lunch meat, plus everything he'd listed off. Fruit snacks, for some reason. He held them up with a grin and Ricky chuckled.

"Those are from Lara. Fruit snacks make her feel better when she's sick." He shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't, really. Probably Ricky had told her he wasn't feeling good and that was her solution. Okay, get him fruit snacks so we can go home and I can play with My Little Ponies or whatever little girls were into these days. But it had Brian grinning wider and softer, opening the box and snagging a packet.

"I think that'll totally make me feel better, I'll have some right now." He pitched his voice louder than he would've ordinarily, wanting the kid playing with his spatula to hear, then shoved a couple in his mouth.

"See, Lara? Your idea helped cousin Brian." That got him a shy smile, and then Ricky realized his kid was investigating the contents of kitchen drawers and went to wrangle her. Brian should've said something when he noticed. Oops. He sat down the fruit snacks and finished pulling everything out of the bags while they walked back over. "I don't know, sweets, you'll have to ask him."

Brian looked up, doing his best to look not scary. "What's up?"

"Can I have some?" She pointed at the fruit snacks box with a slightly less shy smile.

"Sure, you're the reason I have them. Here you go."

Ricky took the pack he gave her and she whined even though he just opened it and gave it back. "No Dad Tax," Lara told him, little voice strangely stern.

"Aw…not even one? But they're so good!" Ricky pouted and Lara gravely considered the contents of the pouch, before selecting a single fruit snack to hand to him. "Thank you, sweets. What do you say to cousin Brian?"

Lara looked at him carefully, then pointed at the bruises on his cheeks. "Do your owies feel better?" Ricky winced, but Brian waved him off when his mouth opened for what was sure to be an apology.

"Definitely. The fruit snacks totally helped."