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Stupid. They'd sunk before because of other pirates' attacks, because of storms. Here, it was just water, and a miscalculation. The ship was listing, dragging to starboard. The tilt had crept up on them, and now Brian knew it wasn’t fatigue playing tricks on him.
Jesse came back white‑faced and dripping.
"Captain, we’re taking water. Fast."
Brian didn't ask how fast. He could feel it in the way the deck responded under his boots - sluggish, like the ship was already half-asleep. He barked orders, Roman took the wheel, Rico and Tego went below with buckets. Tej scrambled up the mainmast to scan for land.
There wasn't any.
Brian had known that already. They were two days out from Nassau, running a smuggling route that kept them far from shipping lanes and farther from anything resembling help. The sky was flat gray, the sea the same, and his ship was sinking.
He didn't panic. Panic was a luxury captains couldn't afford. He moved through the ship checking damage, counting supplies, doing the math in his head. They had maybe thirty minutes before the waterline reached critical. The longboats could hold fifteen men if they packed tight and left everything behind. He had eighteen crew.
Tej called down from the crow's nest. "Sail! Southeast, maybe two miles!"
Brian's stomach dropped.
Not because rescue had arrived. Because he recognized the colors.
Black and red. A serpent coiled around a cutlass.
Dom Toretto.
:::
Dom saw the flag before he saw the ship, and his first thought was good. His second thought was wait.
His boat cut fast through the water like she always did, and Dom stood at the rail with his arms crossed, watching Brian O'Conner's pathetic excuse for a frigate wallow in the swells. O'Conner's ship was listing hard, her sails limp, and even from this distance Dom could see men moving across her deck in the frantic, disorganized way that meant something had gone very, very wrong.
"Captain?" Vince, his first mate, stepped up beside him. "You want us to load the guns?"
Dom should have said yes. He'd been trading potshots with Brian O'Conner for three years - ever since the smug bastard had outbid him on a Dutch merchant contract. They'd sunk each other's cargo, stolen each other's crew, and once, memorably, Dom had left Brian stranded on a sandbar for six hours just to watch him sunburn.
But sinking ships was supposed to be satisfying. This just looked sad.
"Hold fire," Dom said. "Get us closer. I want to see what's going on."
Vince gave him a look that said you're going soft, but he didn't argue. They closed the gap, and Dom could see it clearly now - O'Conner's ship was sinking, and not because of anything Dom had done. A plank near the waterline had split, maybe from rot, maybe from a bad repair job, and the sea was pouring in.
O'Conner stood at the rail, sun-bleached hair plastered to his forehead, watching Dom approach with the kind of expression you'd give a guillotine.
Dom couldn't help it. He grinned.
"Well, well," Dom called across the water, his voice carrying easy over the wind. "What happened here, O'Conner? Forget to plug the holes?"
Brian's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. That was new. Usually Brian had a mouth on him, quick and sharp and designed to get under Dom's skin. Now he just stood there, hands braced on the rail, looking like he was doing complicated math in his head and didn't like the answer.
"We're sinking," Brian said flatly.
"I can see that."
"You here to watch, or you here to help?"
Dom laughed. It came out rougher than he meant, almost a bark. "Help? You think I sailed all this way to help you?"
Brian's expression didn't change. "Then why haven't you fired yet?"
That was a good question. Dom didn’t have a good answer. He could lie - stealing goods was easier with a ship still afloat - but the truth was, he hadn’t thought about stealing anything at all. He looked at the ship, at the crew scrambling across her deck, at the way her bow was already dipping low. She’d be under in maybe twenty minutes. Less, if the hull gave out.
And Dom realized, with a clarity that annoyed him, that he didn't want to watch Brian O'Conner drown.
Not because he liked the guy. But because if anyone was going to kill Brian O'Conner, it was going to be Dom, on his terms, when it meant something. Not the ocean. Not some rotted plank and bad luck.
"I'm not letting the sea take credit for this," Dom murmured, knowing Brian couldn't hear him. He leaned over the rail, grinning down at Brian like this was all some grand joke.
"Alright, I'll pull your men out of the water."
Vince stared at him. "Captain-"
Dom raised his hand, and Vince stayed quiet. "But… that's a lot of mouths to feed." He tilted his head, considering. "So what's in it for me?"
Brian blinked. He had known this was coming. Of course Dom wouldn't just help. That wasn't how Dom Toretto operated. Everything was a transaction, a trade, a chance to come out on top. Brian hated that about him. Hated that Dom could look at eighteen drowning men and see leverage.
But he also knew Dom wasn't lying. If Dom said he'd pull them out, he would. The bastard had a weird code - he'd cheat, steal, and humiliate you six ways to Sunday, but he didn't break his word. Not when it mattered.
"We've got gold," Brian said. "In the hold. It's yours. All of it."
Dom's grin widened. "Now we're talking. Vince, get below and start hauling."
The crew moved, because Dom’s crew always moved when he gave an order. Gold was appealing, but he could feel their confusion hanging in the air at his promise to save Brian’s men.
Dom's crew moved fast, swarming over Brian's ship like ants, pulling up crates of gold while Brian's men watched in grim silence. Brian counted the crates as they went across. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.
Enough to buy a new ship, if he'd had the chance. Enough to keep his crew fed for months.
Gone.
Dom was watching him, and Brian forced himself not to react. He kept his face blank, his hands loose, his breathing steady. He would not give Dom the satisfaction.
When the last crate came up, Dom leaned back against the mast, arms crossed, looking pleased with himself. "All right, O'Conner. That's a good haul. I'd say it's worth..." He paused, like he was doing math. "Half your crew."
Brian's blood went cold.
"What?"
"You heard me. Fourteen crates of gold gets you nine men. Maybe ten, if I'm feeling generous."
"That's-" Brian bit down on the word bullshit before it could leave his mouth. Dom was baiting him. Wanted him to lose his temper, to shout, to make this entertaining. Brian wouldn't give him that either.
He took a breath. Let it out slow.
"What do you want for the rest?"
Dom's grin faded, just a little. He looked genuinely surprised. "You're serious."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Dom studied him for a long moment, and Brian had the uncomfortable feeling of being seen - not as a rival, not as a target, but as something harder to define. Another human being, maybe. Another captain, willing to swallow his pride to save his men. Dom’s dark eyes were sharp and calculating, unreadable.
"You, as a prisoner," Dom said finally. "You come with me, do what I say, and I'll take all your men. Deal?"
Brian's crew erupted.
"Captain, no-"
"We'll figure something else out-"
"I'd rather die than let you-"
"Quiet." Brian's voice cut through the noise like a blade, and his men went silent. He looked at them - at Jesse, barely seventeen and still scared of thunder; at Tej, who had his wife Suki and two daughters in Port Royal; at Roman, who'd saved Brian's life once in a bar fight and never let him forget it. Good men. His men.
He looked back at Dom and nodded, once, sharp and final.
"Deal."
Dom hadn't expected him to say yes.
That was the problem. Dom had thrown out the offer half as a joke, half as a test, fully expecting Brian to tell him to go to hell. But Brian had just stood there, calm and solid, and agreed, like it was the easiest decision in the world.
And now Dom was stuck with him.
Dom's crew hauled Brian's men aboard, and Brian's ship went under minutes later, slow and sad, while Brian stood at the rail and watched his ship disappear. He didn't say anything. Didn't cry, didn't rage, didn't do anything dramatic. Just watched.
Dom found himself standing next to him, not sure why.
"You all right?" Dom asked, and immediately regretted it. Since when did he care if Brian O'Conner was all right?
Brian glanced at him, and for a second Dom thought he might actually answer. Then Brian's expression shuttered, and he just nodded.
"Fine."
He wasn't fine. Dom could see it in the way his shoulders were locked, the way his hands gripped the rail a little too tight. But Dom didn't push. He just stood there, watching the water, until Brian finally turned away.
:::
Dom made good on his word.
He didn't throw Brian in the brig. Didn't chain him up, didn't lock him in a cabin. But he also didn't let him forget, for one second, that he was a prisoner.
"O'Conner. My quarters need cleaning."
"O'Conner. The deck's filthy. Scrub it."
"O'Conner. Galley duty. Burn the stew, you eat it. All of it. Until you throw up."
Brian's men hated it. Every time Dom barked an order, they'd step forward, trying to take the task instead. "Captain, let me-" "I'll do it-" "You shouldn't have to-"
But Dom shut them down every time, grinning, and Brian would just shake his head and get to work.
It should have been satisfying, watching the proud Brian O'Conner scrubbing his floor. Watching him haul water, mend sails, peel potatoes in the galley like some cabin boy.
It was satisfying.
But it was also... weird.
Because Brian didn't complain. Didn't argue. Didn't even look particularly bothered. He just did it like it was nothing. Dom had expected resentment, maybe some passive-aggressive footdragging. Instead, Brian worked like he had a gun to his head - which, Dom supposed, he kind of did.
The island appeared on the fifth day, a small speck of green on the horizon. It wasn't much - a trading post, a couple of taverns, maybe fifty permanent residents - but it was inhabited, and that was what mattered.
Dom's crew dropped anchor, and Brian's men gathered at the rail, looking uncertain. They kept glancing at Brian, like they were waiting for him to give the order, and Brian just nodded.
"Go on. You're safe now."
Roman hesitated. "Captain, what about you?"
"I'll be fine."
"But-"
"That's an order, Rome."
The men filed off one by one, some of them muttering promises to come back, to find him, to make this right. Brian watched them go with the same blank expression he'd worn when his ship sank, and Dom found himself standing next to him again.
The last man left, and it was just the two of them on deck. Brian turned to face Dom, and for the first time in five days, he looked tired. Not broken, not defeated, just... worn.
"So," Brian said. "What now? You gonna kill me?"
Dom raised an eyebrow. "If I wanted you dead, O'Conner, I'd have let you drown."
Brian's jaw tightened. He looked away, out at the island, and Dom saw his throat work as he swallowed.
The question was why didn't he want O'Conner dead. He'd been asking himself that same question for five days now, and he still didn't have an answer. Maybe it was about proving a point. Maybe it was about the gold. Maybe it was about the look on Brian's face when he'd agreed to trade himself for his crew - like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like there was no other choice.
"You're free to go," Dom said.
Brian blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Get off my ship."
Brian stared at him, and Dom stared back, and it felt like the end of something, or maybe the start. He wasn't sure which.
Finally, Brian nodded. "All right."
He moved toward the gangplank, and Dom should have let him go. Should have just stood there and watched him walk away and gotten on with his life. But as Brian passed him, Dom reached out and caught his wrist.
Brian stopped.
"Next time you want to spend time with me," Dom said, grinning despite himself, "no need to sink your boat. Just ask."
Brian's mouth twitched - not quite a smile, but close. "Maybe next time I'll ask."
Almost without thinking, Dom added, "I could even help you steal a new ship. I took your gold, after all. Least I can do."
Brian looked surprised. "Thank you," he said quietly. And before Dom could process what was happening, Brian stepped in, arms coming up around his shoulders.
It was brief, almost awkward. Dom froze, his brain short-circuiting, and then his hands moved on their own, gripping Brian's back.
It felt-
It felt like-
He pulling away before he could figure out how to finish that thought. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "It's nothing."
But it wasn't nothing. When Brian stepped back, Dom could still feel the ghost of his weight against him, his warmth, and he saw gratitude in Brian's eyes.
"Goodbye, Toretto," Brian said.
"Goodbye, O'Conner."
Brian turned and walked down the gangplank, and Dom stood at the rail and watched him go, the blond hair disappearing into the crowd.
Dom stayed there long after Brian was gone, one hand pressed to the rail, feeling the echo of the hug still humming through his chest.
:::
END