rhianon76 | fic: Where Are You Going [6.2/?] (Reply)

And... a quickie half-chapter. This is Dom, just two pages. A bridge between Brian's previous portion, and the two chapters that follow, that bridge the two movies together in the story's plot. So I'm throwing this out there. It's rough, and after a fashion it's intended to be. Dom's more than just a little frayed, and this day stands out in his mind, as gets explained later, for a lot of bad reasons.

So.... here we go....

Dom’s Reflections

Brian did what I couldn’t. Saved Vince’s life, pulling him off that semi. Without a line. No regard to his own safety. Then… that call he made. God. He took a risk, exposing the truth that way. I could see it in his eyes, the apprehension giving way to outright fear as he read the betrayal and rage surging through me like a torrent. But he never hesitated, never faltered.

There wasn’t much love lost between him and Vince.

Lifeline takes off, and I stare at him across the span of desert scrub. Standing all alone. There’s a million things rolling through my mind as I slide into the passenger seat. Questions I want to ask him, mostly. It’s all churning around, confusing me, and right then isn’t the time. I’m so angry at that point; I figure if I never see him again, it would be too soon.

“No more running!” His voice pleads with me to see reason, I can hear it. He thinks he can make this mess all better.

Jesse pulls up in a screech of rubber, crying, begging me to help him.

I hold that intense blue gaze and throw the shotgun on the lawn, walk past him. He doesn’t drop his aim, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the last thing he’d do is pull that trigger. It’s like the gun is nothing more than a reminder to himself that he’s not one of us. That he has a job to do. A badge. That he’s not a Toretto.

As if one man’s blood on my hands isn’t enough, now I’ve Jesse’s too. Warm and sticky on my palms and fingers. God help me, but that’s never going to go away.

I feel his gaze on me. Turn to look at him over my shoulder. His damned eyes darken at whatever he sees on my face. And just like that, Brian takes off after Tran and Lance. Without any backup. Fuck him and his impulsive stupidity, no way I’m letting him go alone.

Jesse was my responsibility.

And the truth doesn’t change the fact that Brian is too. No matter how ugly that truth is.

Does Brian know how vicious those two can be? He’s a cop, I remind myself yet again. Like pouring salt in an open wound.

He did it for me, taking out Johnny Tran. I didn’t hear the gunshots over the roar of the Charger’s engine. Didn’t know how exactly it went down until much later. But I saw him, down the length of the boulevard. Crouched over the remains of the bike. And I knew.

When he pulls up beside me at the light, he doesn’t say a word. I can see the unspoken apology in his eyes, but it hurts even more to see it there. And I don’t understand any of it. I can feel the ghosts in the car with me. My father. Jesse. Vince.

It’s ironic, when the piston goes. Echoes the ache in my chest. Everything has gone wrong, fallen apart. When we make it across the tracks, I think maybe I broke the jinx. I look over at him, and for just that one moment I feel complete.

And then the fear is back in his face as he looks past me.