It was odd how certain phenomena would take over Bayview when a night of racing was about to go down. Not just any racing. True tests of ultimate skill in the embrace of white-knuckle competition. It would start with the sky changing color, as if it wanted to harmonize itself with the multitude of custom paint jobs emerging from the shadows of hidden garages. When the time came for the stores to shut its lights, racers offered a substitute with their underglow and LED headlamps. Bayview just seemed to breathe it all in, as if it were alive to greet the world of street racing with open arms. Like it was made for it - its sole purpose for being founded and constructed.
In virtually no time into his months of living in Bayview, Brian had fallen in love with the city just like Rachel said he would. And he could look forward to that anxious tickle he'd get at the prospect of an upcoming race. But when the time came to challenge Dom after the first time seeing him in years, Brian felt disconnected from not just Bayview, but reality itself.*
Brian was the first to make it to the location of the race, even beating his other teammates. It helped him to be the first so that he could ease his anxious mind, assisted by the smooth breeze of midnight. Over the course of the night, the crowds trickled in, as well as his teammates. Then came T.K. and the Urban Maulers. Dom and his crew showed up fashionably late. From the chants and reactions of the crowd, Brian had picked up that Dom's crew was now called "Los Bandoleros", given to them by their fans. When Brian asked someone where that name came from, he was told that it was because of the song that either Dom or Letty would bump from their cars when they pulled up.
Their cars rolled by and Brian could spot their crew logo on the window sticker of Han's Nissan Silvia, which was an illustration of a skull and its bones wrapped together with a black bandana. Suki and Kenji perched themselves next to Brian's shoulders, and they watched one by one as the rival crew stepped out of their cars - Sean and his girlfriend, Neela. The long haired Han, never seen without a bag of chips or cookies or whatever they were. Han looked over at them, popped a snack into his mouth and looked away again, as if they were nothing at all - even less important than his calories.
It was an equal type of elevated confidence shared by each of their drivers, like they were truly the elites. Maybe except for the last member, Twinkie, who promptly made it a point to hype the crowd as soon as he hopped out of his "Hulk Smash" Touareg.
A huff came from Kenji, prompting him to elbow Brian in the side. "You can't be serious. Do these idiots actually think they're the better crew? I want you to go wipe those dumbass smirks off their faces."
Brian was too lost in his head to care about anyone else.
One blink and he found Rachel at his side, leaned up against his driver door next to him. One look at her arched eyebrow was enough to realize she knew he was struggling. With her arms crossed, she opened her mouth to speak only to hesitate a bit. She wanted to sound more supportive than stern, but wasn't successful.
"Brian… we can not afford to lose this race. If we bite the bullet and end up losin' to a crew even younger than our own, our vision is done. No one will respect us. Understand?" She uncrossed her arms and leaned closer to him, almost like to whisper in his ear. Too many eyes from the crowds were on them, and she'd prefer not to let her doubts be on display.
"Listen, I need to know a hundred percent that your head's in the game before I send you out there. It'll be bad enough if we lose. I can live with that. But… if somethin' happens to you…-" Rachel paused when he suddenly looked at her with his trademark blank face. Brian could see in her eyes that she was concerned for his safety. She swallowed a lump in her throat and doubled down, despite the silent look he gave her not to worry. "I see it happen all the time. A driver chokes and slips up behind the wheel… I don't want that happening to you."
Brian looked back out into the distance. "I'm good. I don't choke."
Even with his confidence, Rachel still wasn't satisfied. "I can run it."
Once again, his eyes met hers again, but with a much more serious look. "What? Thought we already talked about this? You don't do the racing. You can't risk your own rep if you lose."
"And I didn't make that rule. For some reason, you all just assumed that I can't throw it down even when I need to."
"*Sigh* Look…-"
"-No, Brian, listen to me. I've never seen you this nervous before. I'm worried there's too much bad blood between you and Toretto."
For a second, Brian ignored Rachel and just watched as Dom gave one last kiss to Letty before he climbed in his Chevelle and pulled up to the start alongside T.K.'s RX-8. Now, Brian was the only one that had yet to take his position.
He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at Rachel, "I'm the only one that can take Dom."
"..."
"..."
"He's that good?"
"Yeah."
Enough said.
Without another word, Brian dismissed himself from Rachel and got in his car. He let that satisfying *Click* of his seatbelt distract himself from the lingering gazes of his teammates through his windows before turning his car on.
Time to do it./
Brian surveyed Dom as he pulled up next to him on the left. Dom was laid back and relaxed with his dominant hand resting on top of his steering wheel. It was that same trademark pose Brian had seen before, once at that night in Race Wars three years ago, and the last time at the train tracks when Dom crashed his father's car. Now, Dom was in another car that reflected his bold rebellious spirit, the Chevelle and its chrome Torq Thrust IIs, black stripes on Monza Red, and that aggressive low slung stance. It screamed "fast." And Brian could feel the powerful vibrations from the deep echoey exhaust as it idled next to him.
No matter how much Brian gazed at Dom, the latter never returned the stare. Just kept focused on the road that was soon to be tarnished even more with blood, sweat, and tread. One of the ladies from the Urban Maulers, caked head to toe in tattoos and piercings, walked up to the three cars.
"Alright, alright, everyone gimme your ears for a sec!" The rumblings from the crowd lowered to idle chatter. "We got two new crews that blew up overnight that's challenging us on our home turf! Who's town is it?!" The Urban Maulers, their fans, and the bystanders returned the question with the loudest hollers they could muster, stomping the ground, and beating their chests. "That's what I like to hear! Good, good!" The flag girl shot her index at T.K. and winked. He revved that rotary in response. "This is as hardcore and straight-up as it gets. Three-man-drag through the old train graveyard. Nitty-gritty shit right here, people! One wrong move, and your snackin' on steel."
Brian took heed to the flag girl's words. He'd studied the course of the drag earlier, which turned out to be a long abandoned road that led into a derelict train yard that was littered with old locomotives. Drag's were as simple as sprints, minus the occasional turn. But this specific course? Brian realized why Rachel was so concerned for his safety. If his nerves got the best of him, this would be his last street race in his life. Right on cue, the map of the drag race popped up on the GPS modded to his dash.
"Ready?!"
Brian's eyes shot upwards, onto the road ahead.
"Ready?!"
Dom cracked his neck and huffed.
"GOOOO!"
Fire erupted on each side of the start line! Dom blazed through the special effects, and offered the crowd an eruption of smoke as he burned out of first gear. The Chevelle's engine ripped and gnawed at Brian ears. Right away, Brian secured an early lead; the Evo's godlike acceleration took care of that. But Dom was certainly not far behind. Behind him, Rachel, his team, and all the people disappeared in his rearview. Even T.K., struggling to keep up with his underpowered car, became just a shadow. It was just Dom - the only person that stood between Brian and his mental freedom. The racers descended further down the abandoned road, deeper into Coal Harbor's decrepit roads. Brian and Dom stayed neck and neck with each other.
Brian eyeballed Dom more than the road itself. "C'mon, Dom," Brian spat out to himself, stomping on the clutch and shooting up a gear.
The Evo thundered forward even more, and Brian's competitive side began to take over. All the rage, regret, and pure bullshit that he thought about on a daily basis - all the thoughts about Dom and that family he grew to love so much, motivated Brian to just keep going. Screw the debris and obstacles that littered the concrete path.
Keep going.
Screw the green RX-8 that begged for a chance to keep up.
Keep going.
No one else. Nothing else. Just Dom and Brian, two of the world's fastest reunited, yet, at each other's necks. As Brian reached the Evo's limits in speed, it became apparent that Dom had the faster car. Brian was topping out somewhere around the 150mph mark, and Dom was pushing forward just a bit more!
"C'mon, Dom!"
Brian took whatever patience remained and threw it out the window when he hit the NOS button on his steering wheel. All he could think about was the here and now, and right now, he just wanted to stay in front of Dom more than anything. That Monza Red dissipated in Brian's peripheral, and just to rub it in, Brian swerved directly in front of the Chevelle's nose.
"Now stay in second where you belong," Brian's voice was darker than their empty surroundings.
Brian kept flicking his eyes between his rearview and the road ahead. His eyes went wide when he saw that aforementioned train yard, and just what they had to do to get into the yard. There was a massive slab of concrete that jutted up from the ground at an angle. From there, Brian could only assume -
"-Oh, shit!"
There wasn't even enough time to think! They were going too fast, and before Brian knew it, they were already in the air. Brian's breath caught in his throat, and he eyeballed the railroads that beckoned their cars from the ground.
"Ungh!"
Just as quickly as they caught air, gravity commanded them right back down. Brian's headlights flickered on and off from the impact, and to his right, T.K. barely recovered from the landing, clumsily swerving to get traction back but retain speed. Then came Dom. Dom soared in the air over both of them, landing well ahead in front of both Brian and T.K.. A spark of fire came from the Chevelle's exhaust. It was probably NOS. Brian could feel Dom rubbing it in, probably muttering "too early." But the race wasn't quite over just yet. They still had to make it through the train yard. Each car had dropped a bit of speed from the landing, and everyone scrambled to climb back up to top speed again.
Brian was out of NOS, but he clung to Dom's draft as if his life depended on it. The layout of the trainyard forced the vehicles into a single file line, lest one of them collide head-on with a rotting train. Right away, Brian smirked when he realized he was getting closer and closer by the second to Dom. The stiffer springs and AWD kept the Evo in the game as it bolted over the uneven pathways of the railroad. Being a RWD car with not as much of an advanced setup, Dom's Chevelle was at a disadvantage. So, it looked like Dom had the speed, while Brian had the control. They evened each other out.
Now, it was down to pure skill.
Second by second, breath by breath, the cars rocketed back to their limits again. Everything, the sky above, and the steel around them, became a shaky blurry mess. They couldn't even afford to blink. And even if they wanted to, adrenaline kept their eyes barred wide open.
*Chnkkk*
A god-awful sound screamed behind Brian! One look in his rearview, and Brian saw T.K. spinning out, accompanied with a funnel of smoke! He'd blown his engine!
"Damn!" Brian shrugged it off and didn't give a second thought to it.
There was no way T.K. was winning anyway. Now it was just Dom and Brian for certain. The keys to Coal Harbor was going home with either one of them tonight. Time for the final push. Dom did the unexpected, and swerved out of the single file line, and over to another lane in the trainyard. Back and forth, in and out, the two drivers swerved all over the grounds, breaking their arms, trying to maintain as much speed without crashing into one of these trains or into each other. It was the end of the race. And neither of them still one-upped the other.
A huge parking lot at the end of the yard awaited them, and people were already pulling up their cars to see who would win. Brian and Dom both launched off another concrete slab that sprung them out of the trainyard, and back onto asphalt.
They landed, neck and neck, and poured on the speed. As much of it as possible! They were greedy for it, hungry for it! Desperate to prove who was the best among each other, who had more demons to purge than the other, who deserved redemption more than the other - who had suffered more than the other since that fateful day!
"C'MON, DOM! I'M RIGHT HERE!" Brian's eyes were strained, slicked with tears and adrenaline.
Forget the crowd.
Forget the flares that signaled the finish line.
Nothing else mattered.
Dom finally gave Brian what he wanted, and looked at him through the windows. Both of them held onto each other's fierce glare towards the end - could practically hear them shouting at one another!
"THINK YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES, O'CONNER?!"
"YOU GOTTA WANT IT, DOM, C'MON!"
Faster. And faster! And even faster!
Until reality itself seemed to shatter for the both of them...*
*Inhale*
*Exhale*
Heartbeat.
Once the smoke cleared from around his Mitsubishi, Brian blinked away the tension from his eyes. He took his hands off the steering wheel, studied them, and saw the blood rush back to his flesh.
Heartbeat.
He opened his car, and nearly stumbled out, his right leg numb from putting so much consistent pressure on the gas. Right away, he was showered with praise from a sea of people to his side.
Heartbeat.
There were so many people, in his face, shouting his praises. This is exactly what he always dreamed of.
Had he won? Of course, right?
But then he looked over his car's hood and searched for Dom.
There he was, parked off to the side, standing up out of his car. Just like Brian, Dom was bombarded with people chanting his name, claiming that he won.
What was going on?
Not long after, the opposing masses of people began chanting either the name of the Nightburners or the Bandoleros, claiming that either side had won. It wouldn't be long before the crowds began beefing with each other, pushing, shoving, and getting to the very edge of a riot. Brian followed his ears to the distance behind him, where he could hear and see the cars from both crews getting close to the parking lot.
Brian felt a tug on his t-shirt from someone random fan, "Tell this fool you won, Bullitt!"
"That race was bogus, man! Y'all know Dom locked it in!"
With no other real choice, Brian moved in pace with his crowd that merged with Dom's. Everything was chaos until Dom whistled, waved his arms, and shouted for everyone to pipe down.
"Hey, hey, let's cool it for a second!" Dom's booming voice was enough to tower above the crowd with pure authority and hush everyone up.
Now that Dom had everyone's attention, he looked over the crowds with a smirk and began his speech.
"Some of you have been keeping up with us since Race Wars all the way back in L.A.. Some of you are even here from Tokyo. And for that, you have my appreciation for being the loyal fans that you are. For those of you who've known me for a while, you probably already know what I'm about to say. But let me speak up for anybody that doesn't know my philosophy. It doesn't matter if it's by an inch or a mile. Winning is winning."
Dom's eyes cut across the crowd, over to Brian. Dom didn't look particularly happy or disappointed. Just stoic and emotionless as he followed up with, "In this case, it seems we're at a draw."
That's not what Brian wanted to hear. At all.
"What?! We tied?!" Brian asked his nearby fans. When the consensus was that it was indeed a possible tie, Brian had a fit. "Man, that's BULLSHIT, man! Ties don't happen!"
"Nah, bro, Dom won!"
"I'm telling you, it was Bullitt!"
"I was right there when they crossed, it was a tie, dog!"
Everyone seemed as confused as Brian, until one of his fans provided him some clarification. "Yo, I got it on video! Peep the tape!"
Brian looked into a fuzzy recording of the end of the race, and sure enough...
"...Damn... you can't tell who won…" Brian murmured, looking far past disappointed.
Interrupting his thoughts was the sounds of both the Bandoleros and the Nightburners finally pulling up. Dom welcomed his crew who congratulated him, regardless of the outcome. Brian heard a door slam, heels clicking up behind him, followed by Rachel's voice.
"Brian!" She paused, took her hands to feel over his arms and make sure he was okay. Right away afterwards, she threw her arms around him and hugged. "I'm glad you made it!" He didn't need any further clarification to know what she meant by that. She pulled away and pointed to her walkie talkie. "Folks on the radio are sayin' that you and Toretto made a draw?!"
She looked just as dumbfounded as Brian. It wasn't that a tie never happened in street racing, as rare as it was. It was just the fact that everyone was sure either one of them had to win. Their egos were too big. There wasn't enough room on the streets, even in Bayview, for there to be a draw between two street racing juggernauts like Dominic Toretto and Brian O'Conner. But as Brian eyeballed Dom again, it was clear that it didn't bother the man as much. Soon, Rome, Suki, and the others pulled up to Brian's side of the crowd and joined them in celebration.
After a few minutes of speculation and video sharing from both sides of the crowd, it became clear that Brian and Dom had, quite literally, crossed the line at the exact same time. Different angles from different video cameras proved it. It wasn't long before everyone just went with the verdict and celebrated anyway. It was mostly a celebration of the fact that there was new talent in the city to dethrone the crews that overstayed their welcome; the Urban Maulers were a perfect example.
T.K. and his blown RX-8 were shooed/dismissed away, and the new topic among the crowds was who got the claim territory of Coal Harbor. Both teams decided to split the winnings, money and territory, down the middle.
"Aye, shout out to our homeboy Dom!" Twinkie hollered with his arm around Dom's neck. "We ain't goin' nowhere no time soon, ya heard! And Rachel, we just might be comin' for your spot next! Nobody's safe with our boys rollin' these streets! We came to rule, y'all!"
Rachel cocked her head, almost in disbelief that she was getting directly called out. It didn't help that the crowd shifted in favor of Twinkie and his crew. It was too much of that competitive itch that was never satisfied, and her proud ego that made her strut up to the center, just a couple of paces or so away from Dom to speak for herself after being put on blast. She played into the hype and would use it in her favor. A wave of applause was given to her putting herself in her own spotlight.
"Let's hype it up, c'mon!" The crowd cheered at her request. "You see this? You feelin' it? This is what Bayview's all about. Each and every one of you should be honored to be here, because a race like this is the reason why Bayview is the place to be. And, it's races like this that we need more of. Strong, but healthy competition. Look around. No one got their ride sabotaged, and no one's throwin' hands." Finally, she gave her full attention to the Bandoleros with her crossed arms and attitude. "Tonight is the first time ever that two crews have agreed to split holds on a turf. We should use this as an opportunity to remind people of what real racing is all about. And if you enjoyed tonight, then you better stay tuned." She looked at Twinkie, then toward Dom and Letty. "Let me remind you that you're still in my city. And under my belt are the most talented drivers you've ever seen. You say 'winning is winning', but my crew is here to dominate. Not just win. There's no room for inches or miles in that game."
Rachel let the crowd take in her mic drop moment with their "oohs" "aahs" and chants from both sides, each sides of the fanbases ready to go at it. "We'll see you on the streets," came Rachel's final remark before she turned on her heels and started toward her car, calling her crew to follow her out of the vicinity.
Brian was the last to pull out, giving one last glance to Dom before ducking back into his car.
=Thirty Minutes Later, House of Pain Rock Club=
With new territory came new bells and whistles, and one of them happened to be a night club frequented by the Urban Maulers. T.K. and his crew were more respectful of their loss than anyone thought, and invited both crews to encore it out at their club. There was a plethora of hard hitting riffs from nu-metal and hard rock, and even a moshpit that thrashed to it.
Somehow, Angie convinced Rome to join her in the moshpit, and he had enough after only half a minute. Brian was off to the side, lounged on a tattered, poor excuse for a sofa when Roman came up drenched in sweat.
"That girl's crazy, homie. That's the last time I throw myself into a damn mosh pit."
Brian said nothing, just faked a laugh and ran his hands together, looking off to the side.
Rome smacked his teeth and saw right into Brian's thoughts. "Say, bruh. The race is over. Ol' boy is gone. That Toretto dude ain't some type of boogey man that's gonna sneak up on you. Relax a little. Grab a beer. Hell, I'll scoop one up for you."
"Nah, that's cool. I'm straight, bro."
"No, you ain't."
Brian shrugged off Roman's concern with a smirk, and nodded towards the circle of bodies in the middle of the club. "Go give Angie a hand in the mosh again. Looks like she's about to break some guy's jaw."
Sure enough, she was!
"Shit. You ain't lyin'." Before Rome sped off, he gave Brian a glare and repeated himself. "Relax. Loosen' up them shoulders," he teased, wiggling his own shoulders.
Brian chuckled as he watched Rome jump in before they all got kicked out. A couple of more songs later and the music finally transitioned to something more tame, mellowing out the hyperactive audience. Rachel soon came and parked herself next to Brian on the sofa. A cloud of old dust erupted from the sofa as she sat down. Both of them coughed away the cloud and spared a humorous look at one another. Rachel gave a second glance at the furniture, and then to the club itself, and tried not to scrunch up her nose.
"S'not what I had in mind when someone told me we're going to a club. But you've got my word, you can look forward to better clubs than this once we move deeper in the city."
"Say, thanks for looking out for me earlier. It's nice to know you put our safety first. You're a good leader."
"I appreciate it. I'm tryin' the best I can here. But can I be for real for a sec?"
"What's up?"
She let a hesitant chuckle slip through before she continued. "I could've taken him, y'know. Toretto, I mean."
All Brian gave was an innocent smile that said more than words could.
Rachel deciphered them. "What? You really think I can't beat him?"
"Well, for starters, he's never lost a race. Far as I know."
"Neither have I."
"You serious?"
"Brian, I'm twenty-seven. I've been racin' since I was sixteen. Lost my first race a few days after I got my license. Haven't lost since then. Ever. And I don't tell tales."
"Damn. A decade old win streak, huh?"
Rachel paused with a wince. "Don't say it like that. Makes me feel older than I am. But yeah, give or take."
Brian met her with the same teasing smile, almost as if he was unimpressed. "Dom's still faster."
Rachel rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Dammit, Brian, gimme a break here."
"You really wanna race him, huh?"
"For sure. Seems like that man needs a serious ego check."
"Look who's talking. Rachel, you're one of the cockiest drivers I've ever met, I swear."
She gave him a playful shove with her elbow. "I know I can be a bit… much sometimes, but that's just how I roll. You gotta have big game to make it out here."
"Look, you never have to worry about racing Dom. I got him."
"I know you do. Just want you to keep in mind that it's not somethin' you gotta do alone." Rachel scanned over Brian and could tell there was more that he wanted to say. For whatever reason, he kept his tongue pushed to the roof of his mouth. "C'mon, Brian, what's up?"
Brian massaged his chin with his thumb and index. "I know we tied. We took out T.K. and his crew, and split the win. So why does it feel like I still lost?"
"Maybe because you did?"
"Huh?"
"Whatever conflict you've got goin' on in here," she gently poked her finger to his chest, "The race didn't fix that. Brian, by the looks of it, this little tussle with Toretto's crew might span out longer than we think. We need to be strapped down for the long haul. I am. And I know they are," Rachel said, flicking her head up at Angie, Rome, and the rest of the team. "Now, I need to know that you will be. And you need to do whatever you need to do. You should probably start with winnin' this fight in your heart with Toretto. One of you needs to man up and break the ice."
"Dom's not gonna do it. It's not his style."
"Then you do it."
Brian paused. That's not what he wanted to hear. But something told her that she might've been right.
"Not saying it has to be tonight. Or even tomorrow. But it should definitely be sooner than later. Or you'll never stop feelin' like you're runnin' in dead last. And you and I both know that that's the worst feeling in the world."
Brian wiped a tired hand across his face and watched Rachel walk away./
=A Few Nights Later=
A traffic stop light danced in the midnight breeze, dangled by a thin line.
Every so often, it painted the asphalt yellow with its standby light. Underneath it sat Dom in a metallic green '67 Mustang. Dom let his wrist sit comfortably on top of the grooves of the steering wheel. He idled in the middle of the street, listening closely to an all familiar sound pulling up behind him. That infamous electric yellow paint came into his peripheral, leaving Dom no choice but to look at Brian. Eternity and then some seemed to pass on with the two staring at each other through their windows. Brian was the first to speak, glancing down at the car which was certainly not Dom's style.
"An RB26 in a Mustang? You've changed, Dom."
Dom let his mouth hang agape just a bit, realizing that this was the first time the two of them talked proper/hostile-free ever since Brian let him go on that fateful day.
"It's a little side-project for my protege, Sean Boswell. I'm tuning it for him. You'll meet him soon." Dom paused and assessed Brian's car for himself. "How'd you know I was out here?"
"...Something in the air."
A smirk almost found its way to Dom.
Almost.
Dom shook his head and rolled his eyes, looking anywhere and everywhere but Brian - opting to just get the difficult discussion that needed to be had for years now, out of the way.
"Let's go for a little ride."*
Brian followed Dom to a safehouse just shy of the border of the City Center. No need to incur the wrath of the almighty Eastsiders by venturing too far with the sound of their turbocharged engines. From the looks of it, it appeared to be a mostly empty safehouse, perhaps reserved for Dom and his crew for the most covert operations. Brian pulled into the backlot of the garage right on Dom's tail. He unbuckled his seatbelt as Dom got out of his car, and wasted no time waiting for Brian - walking right into the backdoor of the garage, knowing that Brian would follow. Brian took a deep breath, prepping himself for anything, and stepped out of his Evo.
He found Dom leaning up against a workbench. The weak domelight of the garage cast a gloomy haze in the interior.
"You've been a busy man, O'Conner. Tucked tail and ran to Miami. Next thing you know, you've got drug lords choking on that snake oil. Lying must be second nature to you."
Brian looked at him, surprised that he knew so much.
"Don't think we haven't been keeping tabs on you. And now, you got that poor woman thinking you're her golden ticket to win some kind of civil war between street racers. How long you gonna wait until you pull the rug from under her ass too?"
Brian quickly shut down Dom's train of thought. "I'm not a cop anymore, Dom. Not really sure if I ever was."
"You seemed pretty sure a few years ago."
"..."
"Spilner, O'Conner, whatever you feel like calling yourself for the day… I'm gonna be as clear as I can. You kept my ass outta prison. Twice. No one's saying you don't have my respect for that…" Dom huffed and set his jaw. "...But that doesn't mean I have to like you."
"..."
Dom used the silence as an opportunity to put the pieces together. Obviously, Brian's not a cop anymore. That was a given, running with a gang of notorious street racers/criminals who had flipped the bird to every traffic violation under the sun. Here he was. Brian was a criminal just like Dom. Same street. Still in different lanes.
"I don't think I'm in the position to ask that from you anyway. But what I would like to ask for is a second chance. I'm not the same guy who was hustling over pink slips in exchange for respect."
Dom arched an eyebrow, like he caught Brian slipping up. "So you admit that the 'Brian' my sister fell in love with was a phony."
"Nah. Everything," Brian repeated himself, taking a step closer as he did so, "ev-ery-thing about me was real. The difference between me now and then, is that now, I'm not afraid to be who I want to be. For real. No cops. No responsibilities. Just me and the road, and the people I give a shit about right next to me. You, Letty, Leon, and Jesse…, Mia," he could only manage to whisper her name, "all of you taught me how it feels to have that. But I was too scared to really take it in," Brian balled his fists and beat his chest, "and take it to heart. But now I'm ready. This thing I got going on with Rachel? It's the closest feeling I've got to that since I was in Cali with all of you. I know who I am now, Dom. And, I may have never found myself if it wasn't for you, man."
He stepped forward even more, his Chucks just centimeters away from Dom's boots.
"This is me, the real deal Brian O'Conner asking you for a second chance to be brothers again."
"'Brothers?'" Dom's chuckle severed whatever hope Brian had on his face in half. "I ain't the good Lord, Brian, I don't have to forgive nobody. I live by my own set of rules. My own philosophy."
"Quarter mile at a time. Right?"
Dom looked surprised Brian remembered. It was so long ago that the both of them stood over that Charger, and poured out their hearts about what life meant to them, and the things that held them back from embracing it.
So, having enough of being shackled by the past, Dom got ready to bury it for good. Dom's boots echoed in the still garage as he motioned over to an object hidden behind a tarp. Deep in anticipation, Brian watched Dom take a handful of the tarp and yank it off, so that the garage could be showered in wild orange. A specific shade of paint that Brian remembered like the back of his hand. After all, he was the one that built most of it.
It was the Supra. The Supra.
The same one that Brian gave to Dom to escape. Here it was, sitting before him in perfect condition. It was perfectly maintained and looked good as the day Brian and Dom finished it in Los Angeles.
Brian opened his mouth again and again, shaking his head in confusion. "Dom, what the hell? Why do you still have this car?"
"It's something I held onto for too long. Last piece of my past I still haven't let go."
Dom wanted to move on. Brian could see it in his eyes.
"In regards to me, it served its purpose."
A set of keys flew in the air, and Brian caught it with no trouble. He turned the key fob over in his palm, and narrowed his eyes back up to Dom.
"This doesn't make us straight. There's a lot of words we both probably want to say, that's better left unsaid. We can speak with our rides. And you can start with those keys."
What Dom really meant, was that this was the ultimate form of letting go. And it was also Brian's responsibility to take those keys, and let go as well. Both of them concluded that they were different people compared to their pasts. And it was time to leave that past in the dust in order to pursue their futures.
There was so much more that needed to be clarified. About how Brian never intended to insult or harm Mia. That he never intended to break up the family all those years ago. That he never intended for Jesse to pass away. And that he still blames himself for all of the above every night. To be so close to having everything you truly wanted, a family, snatched away from you right at the last second in the most brutal way. Life was just a twisted game like that. If anything, the Supra just reminded Brian of that fact. Perhaps it did so for Dom too, which is the reason why he was handing over the burden. The car was too beautiful to let go. But at the same time, it carried too many ugly scars to hang on to. It was a paradox on wheels.
Brian listened to the crunch of Dom's boots on the back alley gravel. Next second, the sound of the RB26 swapped Mustang faded into the ambience of midnight Bayview. Brian was left alone behind the garage, swaddled in the shadows of the alley as well as his own dark thoughts, with only the empty embrace of his Supra to offer a reprieve.*