Contact Part 4/4b TFATF
Title: Contact Part 4(a)
Author: blackberry belle
Rating: 13 UP
Pairing: Brian/Dom
Warnings: mild violence, language, angst
Feedback: absolutely.
Disclaimer: See Part 1
Summary: It all comes together, sort of
A/N: Hey, turns out I’m a big fat liar, sort of. This section was originally the end of Part 3, but three seemed to have it’s own stopping point, so I stopped. And then the bleed over from three meant that, I had to divide four into two parts. Whew. And were it not for the pesky demands of the people that pay me for a living both parts of four probably could have been posted today. Alas that is not the case. Thanks for hanging in.
Crouched in semi-cover, Brian let his eyes close for just an instant to pull himself together. Set-up or legitimate invitation, his need had not abated. The truth of it washed over the cop. The immediate sense of loss he'd felt the moment the semi impacted with the Charger was the same immediate sense of loss he felt when Dom hung up on him that last time. He hadn't had to live with it the first time and he now knew that he wouldn't be able to live with the loss now. This close to Dominic Toretto again, he would do what he needed to see the man.
Brian opened his eyes and allowed his training to work. Big heavily tinted glass windows covered most of the facade providing easy concealment of anyone surveilling his movements. The windows appeared tightly shut. The Detective figured that no one was pointing a gun at his head. At least, not yet. That knowledge allowed O ’Conner to relax just a fraction. Other than the banana tree leaves that partially hid him, not much cover existed between the gate and the front door. Cocking his head slightly, he realized that since the snick of the gate closing, he hadn’t detected any man made sound coming from the property.
Focusing on the detached four car garage adjacent to the house, the Detective’s tension eased just that little bit more. Bringing with them quick wash of comfort, memories of time spent at the Toretto garage, of time spent working with Dom on the Supra assailed him.
A full grin split his features. It would be interesting to see what Dom was driving down here. Maybe the Supra managed to survive.
Moving in a kind of crouch run, Brian quickly crossed the distance from his hiding place to the medium width terra cotta path separating the house from the garage. Six small windows ran along the upper side of the of the garage. Brian stretched himself out of his crouch, to his full height, so that he could get a good look.
The contents of the space so stunned him that his duffle bag slipped to the ground out of a suddenly nerveless hand. His body soon followed.
The contents put an idea on the table that he hadn’t considered. A different kind of setup. A mouse playing with its prey kind of set-up. Blinking rapidly, Brian stretched once again to look through the window and confirm that the injury on the side of his head wasn’t causing him to hallucinate.
Unless his hallucination was on a continuous reel, Brian had to accept the truth of what he saw. There was nothing in the garage. Not one car, which he could have attributed to no one being home, were it not for the lack of anything in the garage to suggest that cars had ever been there. There were no oil stains, no tools, no boxes for parts. The garage was completely clean. The full realization of that hit the man harder than the possibility that Dom was leading him into some sort of trap.
In considering the possibility of a setup, Brian hadn’t allowed for a setup that would put him on a cold trail. Son of a bitch.
The previous anticipation of being face to face with Toretto drained from him, leaving Brian battling the flickerings of the same despair he’d felt when Dom hung up on him. It was the same despair he’d felt right before taking the first slug of Jack Daniels.
If Dom was gone, and the garage was a good indicator of that truth, the investigator in him suggested there might be some vital clue or evidence on the rest of the property that could point him in the right direction. That investigative instinct, however, was in a dogfight with the more potent grief. Brian didn’t know if he could face further evidence of Dom’s absence.
****************************
For the second instance in a frighteningly short span of time, Brian O’Conner wondered if maybe the gash in his temple was a more serious injury than it originally appeared. The over the counter painkillers he’d taken on the plane were wearing off. He wondered if the dull ache that was now trying to insinuate itself into his consciousness might be the cause of the current tropical mirage.
Shaking slightly, Brian squeezed his eyes tightly shut and opened them again. In the same way it had with the empty garage, the image before him did not change upon second sight. Dominic Toretto lay on one of six midnight blue chaises about twenty feet away from him beside a kidney shaped pool. The other five lounges were empty.
After the discovery of the empty garage, Brian had remained crouched and in battle with himself. Briefly the idea of grabbing his bag and not stopping until he reached the airport crossed his mind. He was tired, hungover, and emotionally wrung out. He needed to go home and get a handle on his life. He needed to get his career out of the toilet. And still it was there with everything else. He needed to see Dominic Toretto, to talk to him, but he couldn’t make himself look for clues. Not yet.
He’d decided to make his way to the beach. To see the white sand and blue water that had gotten him to Costa Rica in the first place. The terra cotta path had dead-ended at the concrete which surrounded the pool behind the house.
In order to get to the to beach, Brian would have had to cross the quite well appointed pool and patio area. The sand and the water lost its appeal as soon as he saw mirage Dom. Only maybe it wasn’t a mirage or a hallucination.
His first steps forward were shaky, but his stride became more sure as he got closer. Two feet away he hesitated and waited for a reaction, but there was none. Dom had one arm thrown over his face obscuring all, but a part of one closed eyelid, his nose and mouth. The fingers of his other hand were hidden just under the waistband of his low rise board shorts.
Less than a foot away from the prone, apparently sleeping man, Brian peered into what he could see of Dom’s face. Careful not to bend too far over and create a tell tale shade, careful not to kick over the empty bottles of Corona on the ground beside the chaise.
Watching for a change in the other man=s breathing. the cop lowered himself to an adjacent lounge. Nothing in Toretto’s demeanor changed. Brian allowed for the possibility that Dom was playing. But it didn’t matter. The despair of only a few minutes ago had already begun to dissipate.
The last time he’d seen the racer, the other man had been battered and bleeding. Blue eyes swept down Dom’s naked, sweat beaded torso. A couple of scars on the upper part of his chest appeared recent, but for the most part, the body before him was unblemished. The board shorts rode low enough to expose the cut of his pelvis.
There had always been a kind of figurative stillness about Dom, but in the face of his literal stillness, the word touchable slid through Brian’s consciousness. There was a part of him that wanted to reach out and -
"I...." Brian ran the trembling hand he’d almost touched Dom with through his hair as he tried to distract himself with words.
"You’ll be happy to know that Mia still hates me. Really hates me." He blurted and waited to see if there was any reaction. He thought Dom’s lips might have twitched slightly, but he couldn’t be sure. And it didn’t matter.
And as if he’d simply answered the phone and not traveled for hours, the Detective let the words continue quietly.
"I...I think I’m losing that cool man. I...I beat a perp, but that...before that there was a thing with a kid. Domestic, that went down bad, really bad. And my partner and I..and we didn’t stop it. And this asshole starts in with all this noise. And I remember the first punch, but not the rest. The paramedics had to be called. There was a lot of blood, I think. I know I should have stayed frosty, but I don’t think I even know where the frosty button is anymore. And I’m probably hallucinating right now so - "
Nothing but Dom’s shallow breathing and the ebb and flow of the Pacific Ocean greeted the Detective’s confession. The blues eyes swept along the body again. And as if from away, Brian watched as his fingers ghosted across Dom’s steadily beating heart, hesitating for just an instant There was no reaction.
And because Dom couldn’t hang up on him, as was their custom, Brian stood and made his way around the pool toward the beach. He didn’t look back.
*********************
He stood at the ocean’s edge letting the white noise of the water blank his mind. He stood at the ocean’s edge until the heat at his back from the sun changed to the heat of a more earthbound source.
Powerful fingers pressed against Brian’s adam’s apple. For several minutes the touch alternated between a deadly pressure and a kind of caress. The touch was the only point of contact between the two men.
"You ruined my life Detective. I think I owe you a broken neck," gruffed the familiar voice.
And then there was the choking pressure again. Brian’s heart threatened to trip hammer out of his chest, yet he made no move to stop what was happening. A quick flare of self-knowledge blazed in his consciousness. If this is what Dom needed to do -. Suddenly both the pressure and the warmth disappeared.
Smoothing his fingers over his throat to ease the ache, Brian turned in time to see Dom’s naked back disappearing toward the house. After swallowing a couple of times to make sure that he was still able, Brian did the only thing he could. He followed Dom.
End Part 4(a)
Part 4(b) - Brian and Dom try to make sense of it all.
(really, really the end :-)