Work Text:
Dom got home from the shop around six and found a box wedged against his front door.
It was big - maybe six feet tall, three feet wide - reinforced cardboard, the kind used for furniture. There was no return address. No shipping label beyond his name and street number - and even that wasn't handwritten, just printed. But the package wasn't just large; it was heavy. He had to drag it inside inch by inch.
He left it in the living room and went into the kitchen. He ate leftover lasagna straight out of the Tupperware, standing at the counter, staring at the box through the open kitchen door.
When he finished, he grabbed a box cutter from the junk drawer, sliced through the packing tape, and pulled back the flaps.
Then he froze. Inside, packed in form‑fitting foam, was a person.
No. Not a person. An android.
Male‑presenting, blond hair, young‑looking - mid‑twenties, maybe, if it were human. Features so symmetrical they looked computer‑generated. Which, Dom supposed, they were. Its eyes were closed. It wore a plain white shirt and black pants, both spotless. A thin silver band circled its left wrist.
Dom took a step back.
He didn't hate androids. Didn't love them either. They were tools - useful in hospitals, factories, customer service jobs where you needed someone who would never get tired or snap at a rude client. But he'd never wanted one. He preferred doing things himself, with his own two hands. Preferred knowing how things worked instead of letting some programmed assistant handle them.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed the first number that came to mind.
"Yo," Vince answered on the second ring. "What's up?"
"I got a package."
"Okay…? What is it?" Vince asked, clearly wondering why Dom was calling him about something so minor.
"It's an android."
Silence.
Then: "You ordered an android?"
"No. That's the thing. There's a fully assembled android sitting in a box in my living room, and I didn't order it."
"You sure? Maybe you got drunk and-"
"I didn't order it, Vince," Dom cut in.
"All right, all right. Is it on?"
Dom glanced at the android's wrist. No lights. "I don't think so. It's just… sitting there. Looks dead."
"There should be an activation button. Usually on the back of the neck or the wrist, depending on the model. Don't touch it yet. Check for paperwork first - manuals, warranty, return info."
Dom dug through the foam. Nothing. No receipt. No manual. No return slip. Just the android and a charging cable coiled neatly at the bottom of the box.
"Nothing," he said.
"That's weird. You try looking up the model number?"
Dom leaned closer. There was a small engraved code on the android's wrist, just below the blinking band. He read it out loud.
Vince went quiet.
"…Huh. Hold on."
Dom heard keys clacking in the background. Vince was always on his computer, half a step into some forum or database.
"Okay," Vince said slowly. "That model designation doesn't show up in any civilian database. Like, at all."
"What does that mean?"
"It means it's either custom‑built… or it's not supposed to be in civilian hands."
Dom's stomach tightened. "So what do I do with it?"
"Well, you could activate it. See what it says. Or you could leave it in the box and hope whoever sent it realizes their mistake."
Dom looked at the android again. Its face was calm, blank, almost peaceful.
"I'll think about it," he said.
"You want me to come over?"
"Nah. I'm good."
He hung up, stood there a few seconds longer, then folded the box flaps closed.
He'd deal with it tomorrow.
:::
Tomorrow became the day after. Then the day after that.
Dom went to work, came home, ate dinner, and watched the box like it might explode. He told himself he'd return it as soon as he figured out where to send it. But without a return address, that was impossible. Calling the postal service felt like too much hassle - and he had a feeling they'd accuse him of stealing it or something. Which made no sense; the name and address were his. Maybe some guy had messed up when he printed the label.
On the fourth day, curiosity won, and he opened the box again.
He studied the band around its wrist and found a small circular button embedded in the silver. He pressed it.
A blue light.
The android's eyes opened.
They were bright, vivid blue - so clear they looked like high‑definition screens. It blinked once, tilted its head slightly, and sat up smoothly.
"Hello," it said. Its voice was warm, polite. "I am unit BR‑14‑NOC. How may I assist you?"
Dom took a step back. BR one what? "Uh. You got a name?"
The android paused, processing. "I do not have a designated personal name. You may assign one if you prefer."
"Right." Dom rubbed the back of his neck. BRN something… "Okay. Brian. Your name's Brian."
"Understood. Thank you. What is yours?"
"Dom. Dom Toretto. Do you know who sent you?"
"I do not have access to that information, Dom."
Of course not.
Dom sighed. "All right. Come on. Get out of the box."
It was a weird thing to say, but Brian stepped out of the foam padding. He was tall, and he moved the kind of way androids were known for - like a dancer.
"Do you have instructions for me?" Brian asked.
Dom shrugged. "Not really. Just… don't break anything. Charge yourself if you need to. First time I have to deal with an android, so-" He waved a hand. "Do what you're supposed to do."
"Understood."
"You hungry? Thirsty?"
"I do not require food or water. However, I am capable of preparing meals if you wish."
"Nah. I'm good."
Dom went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
Brian followed and stopped a few feet behind him, hands at his sides.
Waiting.
It was going to be a long week.
:::
The first few days were awkward.
Brian didn't sleep. Didn't eat. Didn't seem to need anything beyond the occasional charge, which he handled himself by plugging into an outlet in the corner of Dom's garage or in the living room. He was polite, efficient, and relentlessly helpful in ways that made Dom feel like he was being babysat.
Him. A grown man. Thirty‑five years old. Used to surviving and handling things on his own.
"Your oil needs changing," Brian said one morning, standing beside Dom's Charger.
Dom glanced up from under the hood. "I know."
"I can handle it, if you prefer."
"I got it," Dom said with a smirk. He loved taking care of his Charger; even basic maintenance helped him forget the shitty parts of life.
"Understood."
Brian stepped back and watched silently as Dom worked. His gaze was unblinking. It was unnerving.
Dom wiped his hands on a rag and studied the android. They were supposed to have unlimited knowledge, right? "I'm guessing you know everything about cars."
Brian turned his head toward him. "I can access any information via my systems, so I have the technical knowledge. I am capable of building a car from scratch."
"But you've never tried."
Brian blinked. "No. I've never tried."
"Wanna learn?" Dom paused, then added, "I mean - learn for real. Try stuff."
Might as well see what Brian could do. It could be useful. And honestly, it might be nice to share something he cared about with someone who - despite not having personal opinions - clearly had the knowledge. Taking care of his car had always been a pleasure - but doing it with company might be nice too.
Brian smiled. "Sure."
And that was how Dom found himself comparing his own way of doing things - built from habit and years of experience - to Brian's methodical, by‑the‑book solutions.
"Will you always follow protocols," Dom asked, "or can you be taught to do things the way I prefer?"
"As long as I am not harming anyone, I can be taught anything," Brian said. "If you explain your reasoning rather than simply give orders, I may understand why you do things a certain way. I would not exactly be improvising, but I could apply that logic to other situations."
Good. Dom had no use for strict procedures. He did things a certain way because life had taught him they worked better than the standard method.
So Dom taught him. Brian asked questions, organized the information into logical patterns, and absorbed everything.
That was definitely an asset Dom wouldn't have minded having in his own brain. Some days, he couldn't even remember what he'd eaten the day before.
He tossed Brian a wrench. Brian caught it easily, his reaction time faster than any human's.
"Okay," Dom said. "Give it a shot."
Brian moved to the car, and Dom could see he was applying what he'd learned with him.
When Brian finished, he stepped back. Dom checked the work.
He felt weirdly proud. "You did great."
"Thank you, Dom," Brian said. "I find it interesting how people work. My database shows that most individuals develop personal methods for completing tasks. By learning how you handle things, I believe I learn more about you than I would through words alone."
Dom clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You get it. Words can be lies. And they're too reductive. But actions? They say things we don't always know how to explain." He paused, then chuckled. "Or maybe I just suck at talking. Actions can be misleading too, after all."
Brian smiled. "Your words and actions have never seemed misleading to me, Dom. I believe you are a good person."
Dom brushed it off, suddenly shy. It was strange - being complimented by an android who probably had kindness baked into his default behavior and wouldn't say a bad word about anyone - but it still felt good.
:::
Vince came by the following week, carrying a six‑pack and a bag of takeout.
"So," he said, dropping onto Dom's couch. "Where's the robot?"
"Garage," Dom said. "He's probably almost done charging. His name's Brian."
Vince raised an eyebrow. "Brian?"
"Don't ask me, he asked for a name, and it looked like part of his serial number. So that's what I went with."
Vince scoffed. "Hey, you're one of those owners. Using he and she for your android. That's cute."
Dom flipped him off and grabbed a beer. "It'd feel weird calling him it. The guy talks. And don't act like I don't remember the turtle you had in middle school. Your princess. She definitely was a she."
"And she was the best turtle in the world," Vince said solemnly. "People seriously underestimate turtles."
Brian appeared in the doorway a moment later, drawn by the voices. Vince looked him up and down.
"Damn," Vince said. "I kinda thought you misread the serial number - but maybe not. I've never seen this model before. He looks clean."
"Hello," Brian said politely. "Would you like me to make coffee?"
Vince leaned back, studying him. "Nah. But Dom said he doesn't know who sent you, and I don't recognize your model. You mind if I run a diagnostic?"
Dom glanced at Brian. "You okay with that?"
"I do not mind," Brian replied.
Vince grinned. "Perfect. Let me grab my laptop."
He disappeared out to his car and came back with a battered computer and a mess of cables. Brian sat patiently while Vince connected a thin wire to a port behind his ear, fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Everything look normal?" Dom asked.
"Depends what you mean by normal," Vince said. "His specs are insane - processing power, memory, reflexes. This thing's built for serious work. Military, maybe. Or high‑level corporate."
Dom frowned. "You sure?"
"Pretty sure. Civilian models don't pack hardware like this. At least none I've ever seen."
Brian stayed perfectly still, gaze fixed on the wall. The band around his wrist pulsed blue.
"All right," Vince said, unplugging the cable. "He looks clean. No viruses, no trackers that I can detect."
"Great," Dom nodded - more relieved than he wanted to admit.
"Though if someone really wanted to hide something, a surface scan might not catch it." Vince smirked when he saw Dom's frown. "Relax. If someone wanted him back, they'd have come looking by now."
Maybe.
Dom still didn't like the uncertainty.
:::
Brian learned to cook - not just by following recipes, but by adjusting them. Adding garlic because Dom mentioned he liked it. Leaving the pasta a little firmer because Dom preferred the texture. Dom loved cooking, so he taught Brian all the little things that made a recipe better.
Brian also started greeting the neighbor's dog - a scruffy terrier named Max - with the same enthusiasm Dom did.
At first, Max had watched Brian warily - the way animals tended to around androids. No personal scent. Something that looked human but wasn't. Dom figured the dog was probably trying to decide what exactly Brian was.
But anything willing to play was good in Max's book, and Dom showed Brian that dogs responded better to openly expressed excitement. Tossing the ball, crouching down to scratch behind Max's ears, saying good boy in that warm, earnest voice. Dom loved dogs, but he'd never gotten one; he didn't think he'd have the time to take proper care of it.
Seeing Brian get along with Max felt nice, and Dom caught himself smiling more.
One evening, after a rough day at work, they sat on the porch. Dom had a beer, and Brian sat beside him, just keeping him company. The sun was setting, and the air was still warm.
"You never get tired, right?" Dom asked.
Brian looked at him. "No."
"Must be nice."
"Useful, I suppose," Brian said. "I cannot be slowed by fatigue. However, I do require charging. If my battery drops below five percent, I enter a low‑power state. It is the closest equivalent to tiredness for humans."
Dom took a sip of his beer. "And you're… okay with that? You don't ever wonder what it'd be like to be human?"
Brian was quiet for a moment. "My database contains extensive information on human experiences, and many examples show that each person is unique. I have not lived those lives - but humans have not lived one another's lives either. Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be another human?"
Dom blinked, surprised. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
Brian might never feel things the way Dom did - but no other human did either. Dom had seen people do the most beautiful things, and others do the worst. And each of them was probably a stranger to the others, in their own way.
He smiled. "Maybe you're right. Even as an android, your life's unique. You feel things differently than I do - but the way you adapt, the way you learn? That already makes you different from other androids. You're all unique too."
"I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from you," Brian said. "Rather than performing tasks in a standard manner, I do them the way you prefer. I am growing, in a way."
"Well, I'm glad I got the opportunity to help you grow," Dom answered.
Brian tilted his head, processing. He didn't reply, simply smiled.
:::
Vince was warming up to Brian, and one Sunday afternoon he showed up with a grin that immediately made Dom suspicious.
Brian was sitting on the couch, reading over Dom's shoulder while Dom worked on a crossword.
"All right," Vince said, dropping into a chair and cracking open a beer. "I'm gonna teach your android some useful skills."
Dom looked up from the puzzle. "Like what?"
"Like how to pick a lock. Hack a basic security system. Maybe hotwire a car."
"Vince-"
"Relax. It's educational."
Brian looked up at Vince. "I am programmed to follow legal and ethical guidelines," he said. "I am forbidden from accessing information that could be used for illegal purposes, and I cannot engage in activities that violate-"
"Yeah, yeah," Vince cut in. "But you can listen to me talk about it, right? It's not a crime if I'm not actually doing it."
Brian hesitated. "I suppose that is correct."
Vince's grin widened. "Perfect."
Dom sighed. "Don't teach him anything stupid."
"I won't. Just useful stuff."
Over the next hour, Vince walked Brian through the basics of lock‑picking, demonstrated how to bypass a keypad with a simple circuit override, and explained - at length - the art of social engineering. Brian listened intently, absorbing everything with the same focused attention he brought to all new information.
Even without access to websites or instructional material, Brian's broad base of knowledge allowed him to understand how certain illegal outcomes could be achieved. He wasn't programmed to think that way - but theoretically, he could follow the logic.
"You pick this up fast," Vince said, clapping Brian on the shoulder. "If you ever get tired of the domestic life, you'd make a hell of a thief."
Brian tilted his head. He didn't bother repeating that such behavior wasn't in his programming - he'd learned by now that Vince didn't respond to that kind of answer.
"I do not believe Dom would approve," Brian said instead.
"Damn right I wouldn't," Dom said.
Vince laughed. "You're no fun."
Every time Vince came back, he taught Brian something new - how to disable a camera, how to bluff past a security guard, how to cheat at card games. Brian absorbed it all without judgment, never asking why Vince knew these things.
Dom scolded Vince every time, but he never stopped him.
Because the truth was, Brian seemed… engaged. Not just executing tasks, but learning, thinking. Continuing to grow.
And Dom liked that.
:::
One afternoon, Dom and Brian were in the garage, working on a transmission. Brian was handing Dom tools when, mid‑motion, he froze.
His eyes went distant. Unfocused.
"Brian?" Dom said.
No response.
Dom waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing.
Then Brian spoke.
"Coordinates: 33.771495° north, -118.181413° est. Deployment window: zero two hundred hours. Asset priority: Alpha‑Seven."
Dom stared at him. "What?"
Brian blinked. His gaze snapped back into focus. He looked at Dom like nothing had happened.
"I apologize," he said. "What were you saying?"
"You just-" Dom gestured vaguely. "You zoned out. Said something about coordinates."
Brian frowned. "I have no recollection of that."
"You serious?"
"Yes. My memory logs show no interruption." He hesitated. "Although I have experienced brief moments of… discontinuity. I assumed they were minor processing errors."
Dom's chest tightened. "How often?"
"Infrequently. Once or twice since activation."
"And you didn't think to mention it?"
"I did not consider it significant."
Dom ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. If it happens again, I need to know. Immediately. Got it?"
"Understood."
Dom found himself watching Brian more closely for the rest of the day.
:::
It happened again two days later.
This time, Dom was ready.
He grabbed his phone and hit record.
Brian stood in the kitchen, staring at nothing. His lips moved.
"Target acquired. Authorization code: Helix‑Nine‑Three. Engagement protocol active."
Dom's stomach dropped.
When Brian came back to himself, Dom played the recording. Brian listened, his expression unreadable.
"I do not understand," he said quietly.
"Yeah," Dom said. "Me neither."
He called Vince that night.
"Send me everything," Vince said. "Write it all down. We need to figure out what the hell this is."
Dom did.
And the next time Brian froze, Dom recorded it and scribbled down every word he heard.
When he showed Vince, his friend's face went pale.
"I don't want to sound paranoid," Vince said slowly, "but either someone's screwing with you… or this is encrypted military jargon. Coordinates. Engagement protocols. Target IDs." He looked up at Dom. "What kind of android did you end up with?"
Dom didn't have an answer.
But he knew - cold, certain - that Brian was never meant to be his.
:::
Vince started coming by more often after that. Not just to hang out, but to study Brian - running diagnostics, cross‑referencing the phrases Brian spoke during his blank moments with military databases, hacker forums, anything that might give them a lead.
Brian tolerated it all with his usual patience. He'd sit on Dom's couch, perfectly still, while Vince connected cables to the port behind his ear and muttered under his breath.
Dom watched from the kitchen, pretending to work on invoices from the shop. His attention kept drifting back to Brian - to the way his hands rested flat on his knees, fingers perfectly aligned.
Brian had become part of the house, part of Dom's routine. He knew, just as well as Dom did, where every little thing belonged, all of Dom's habits and preferences. It made Dom feel like Brian didn't just stay there - he lived there, like someone who truly knew the person he shared the space with.
Dom didn't know how to explain that to Vince. Didn't know how to explain why he was more worried than he probably should have been.
"I've done everything I can," Vince said finally. "I went deeper, and it's just… not a virus. It's part of him. Encrypted files I can't access."
Dom stared at Vince's laptop, like it might explain itself. "So you can't delete them? And you're sure those files aren't normal - like hidden system files that keep him running, encrypted so customers can't mess with them by accident?"
"They don't follow any standard system, maintenance, or security protocols," Vince said. "And they're hidden. Really well hidden." He hesitated. "They're more like residue. And I can break into his other encrypted files just fine. I'm telling you - these aren't normal."
Dom's worry tightened into something heavier. What if they couldn't get rid of them?
Vince tapped his shoulder. "I'll figure it out. Give me time. I'll copy what I can from Brian and start digging online."
"Thank you," Dom said.
The words didn't come close to covering how much he meant them.
:::
It was late one night when Brian froze again.
Dom was half‑asleep on the couch, an old action movie playing at low volume. Brian sat in the armchair across from him, reading - something Dom had encouraged, just to see if he'd enjoy it. Brian had picked a thriller from Dom's shelf. He turned the pages more slowly than an android needed to - scanning them would've taken less than a second - but still faster than any human. Probably because his mind - his system - didn't wander. His attention stayed fixed on the words, uninterrupted.
Then he went still.
The book slipped from his hands and hit the floor.
Dom was upright instantly, already reaching for his phone.
Brian's eyes were distant. Empty.
His lips moved.
"Sector twelve. Eliminate high‑value target. Confirmation required. Execute on signal."
Dom's blood ran cold. His hands shook as he wrote down every word.
Eliminate.
Not surveillance. Not intelligence. Kill.
When Brian came back to himself, Dom didn't speak. He just watched as Brian bent to pick up the book, confusion flickering across his face - followed by that same unsettling calm.
"Did I…?" Brian began.
"Yeah," Dom said quietly. "You did."
Brian closed the book. "I do not understand why this happens."
"I know."
"It concerns you."
It wasn't a question.
Dom nodded slowly. Eliminate. "Yeah. It does."
Something shifted in Brian's expression. Dom didn't know if Brian could actually feel this way - but it looked like guilt.
"I apologize," Brian said.
Dom stood and stepped closer, resting on the edge of the couch. He reached out and gently took Brian's forearm.
"Don't," Dom said softly. "This isn't your fault."
:::
Dom sent Vince the new notes.
Vince cross‑referenced them with the previous entries, stayed up all night working, and showed up the next morning with his laptop under his arm.
"This looks bad, man."
"How bad?"
"What he's saying? Those are mission briefings. Tactical orders. The kind you give to black‑ops units."
Dom's jaw tightened. "You're saying Brian's - what? A weapon?"
"I'm saying someone programmed him to do very specific, very illegal things. And those programs are still running in the background."
"And you still don't know how to shut them down?"
Vince hesitated. "I don't think I can. Not with my skill level. This is military‑grade encryption - government access, restricted folders, the whole thing." He exhaled. "The good news is, I might know people online who can help."
"Who?"
"Two hackers. Anti‑government types. Their thing is finding androids used for ops like this and stripping out the encrypted command layers."
"You trust them?"
"Honestly? I don't know them enough to give you an objective answer," Vince paused. "But we don't have much of a choice. If I try to mess with it myself, I'll probably brick him. Permanently. I don't have the expertise for this. But in the meantime? I can cut him off from the internet entirely. Satellite uplinks. External networks. Everything. If someone's looking for him, they won't be able to track him once he's offline."
Dom's eyes widened, looking hopeful. "Wouldn't that stop the orders too? Even if the files are still in him?"
"I asked," Vince said. "Apparently military androids are designed to operate no matter what. Those files aren't pulled from the network - they're already in him. Cutting the connection will keep him hidden, but it won't free him."
Dom glanced toward the doorway, where Brian had just appeared.
"All right," he said. "Call your friends. Tell them to come here. I need Brian free of those files. If they need money, I'll pay."
Vince nodded, then Dom turned his full attention to Brian. "Hey, come here," he asked gently.
Brian obeyed, and Dom took his hand. He continued, "I don't want to do anything you don't agree with. So we're going to explain what's going on, and you tell me what you think. Okay?"
Brian watched him for a moment, then nodded.
Vince explained - disconnecting satellite uplinks, severing external network access, isolating Brian completely.
"You'll be entirely offline," Vince said. "No internet. No updates. No tracking. You'll be stuck with the knowledge you already have. No new data unless someone teaches you, or you read it in a book. No cloud backups."
Dom met Brian's eyes. "Are you okay with that?"
Brian considered it.
"I will retain all personal memories and learned behaviors," he said. "I will lose access to a wide range of external knowledge, but this will not change who I am. I have learned much from you already. I do not require network data to continue learning. I can do that with you."
Dom felt his heart stutter at the trust in that answer.
"Then we're good," he said quietly.
"All right," Vince said, stretching. "Come on. This won't take long."
Brian nodded and sat down on the couch, calm and compliant, letting Vince get to work.
:::
That night, Dom couldn't sleep.
He sat on the porch, staring out at the dark street, a beer growing warm in his hand. Inside, Brian stood motionless in the corner of the living room, charging. He looked peaceful.
Almost human.
Dom didn't care that he wasn't.
Those glitches - those encrypted data blocks - felt no different to Dom than intrusive, unwanted thoughts in a human mind. Just because they didn't exhaust Brian the way they would a person didn't mean they were harmless. It didn't make them okay.
And now that Brian didn't have the internet in his head, he would have to rely on Dom. On learning the way humans did. Slowly. Piece by piece.
With a supercomputer for a brain, sure - but still.
The door opened softly, and Brian stepped outside.
"You should rest," Brian said.
"Can't," Dom replied.
Brian sat down beside him.
"You're doing okay?" Dom asked. "Adjusting to life without unlimited knowledge?"
Brian processed the question. "Yes. It is different, but it will help me understand humans better. You must learn everything, and learning takes time." He paused. "Although I am less efficient as an android, now. I was designed to serve. That is my purpose."
"That's not all you are," Dom said. "You're not less efficient to me. You're just… you."
Brian turned toward him and smiled. "Thank you. Knowing that you value my well‑being over my full capabilities makes me… happy. I may be less efficient, but if that does not trouble you, then it does not trouble me."
Dom reached out and took Brian's hand.
"Brian," he said quietly, "I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest. What we're finding in you - it's causing problems. I know you could keep going like this for a long time, maybe forever. But would you rather not have those moments where you lose control? Or do you not mind them at all?"
Brian considered the question carefully.
"You made me listen to the words I spoke - and I am not reassured by them, by what they imply," he said. "Even if it is only my programming speaking, and not a moral conscience, causing harm is not something I wish to be associated with. I may not have personally experienced the pain, but I have observed enough to understand it. And I do not want to be responsible for that pain. I do not want those files in me."
Dom wanted to pull him close. To promise everything would be all right. To swear that he would never let Brian hurt anyone.
But he was afraid. Afraid it might be a promise he couldn't keep. So he swallowed the words and said the truth instead.
"We'll do everything we can to get rid of it. I promise you that."
Brian nodded and squeezed Dom's hand. "I know. Thank you - for helping me."
They stayed there together until dawn.
:::
Dom woke to the sound of the front door.
His eyes snapped open, heart already pounding. He was on his feet in seconds, adrenaline flooding his system. Someone was in the house. Someone had found them - found Brian.
He grabbed the nearest thing he could use as a weapon - a heavy flashlight from the side table - and moved toward the entryway.
There was no one there. At this hour, Brian was supposed to be in the living room, charging, but he wasn't.
"Brian?" Dom called, his voice tight.
No answer. Dom's stomach dropped. He checked the kitchen, the garage. Empty. All of it.
Brian was gone.
It hadn't been the door opening - it had been the door closing.
Dom ran outside, barefoot on the cold pavement, scanning the street. The neighborhood was silent.
Then he saw him - a lone figure walking down the street.
Brian.
Dom sprinted after him, closing the distance in seconds. "Brian! Hey-" Brian didn't stop. Didn't even slow. Dom grabbed his arm and spun him around. "What are you-"
Brian's eyes look empty and distant, and Dom's blood turned to ice.
"Brian?" he tried again, softer. "Where are you going?"
"I am obeying protocol," Brian said.
His voice was flat. Mechanical. Nothing like the warmth Dom had come to know.
"Protocol? What protocol?" Dom said. "Brian, you need to come home."
"Negative. Mission parameters require immediate deployment. Target location: four point two kilometers northwest."
Dom's grip tightened. "No. You're not going anywhere. You're staying here."
Brian's gaze sharpened, focusing on Dom for the first time - but there was still nothing behind it.
"Obstruction detected," Brian said calmly. "I am authorized to eliminate anything that interferes with mission completion."
And right now, standing in his way, Dom was the obstruction. The realization was terrifying - not because Dom feared for his own life, but because Brian wasn't coming out of it the way he had before.
He was executing the order.
Dom didn't move. Brian was stronger than any human - if he decided Dom was a threat, Dom wouldn't be able to stop him. Not physically.
"Brian, listen to me-"
Brian's hand moved - too fast to react to - and Dom was shoved backward, stumbling, almost falling, just enough to clear the path. Brian turned and walked on.
Dom pulled out his phone, hands shaking, and dialed Vince.
"Dom? It's three in the morning - what-"
"Get here. Please," Dom said, breathless. "Brian's zoned out. He's not coming back, and he's leaving, and I can't stop him. He's talking about killing someone."
"Shit," Vince said. "Don't lose him. I'm on my way."
Vince lived five minutes away.
Dom ran after Brian, keeping pace beside him. Brian didn't acknowledge him. Just kept walking, step after step, like a machine following a route only it could see. As long as Dom wasn't in his way, Brian was ignoring him.
Dom's chest ached. This wasn't Brian. This was the buried code. The thing they'd been trying to erase. And it was taking him away.
Headlights cut through the darkness, Vince's truck screeched to a stop at the curb, and he jumped out, toolkit in hand.
"Quick," Dom said. "He won't stop. He says he's on a mission. He said he's authorized to eliminate anything in his way."
Vince went pale. "Fuck. Okay. I can shut him down."
"What?"
"There's a manual override on every model," Vince said. "Back of the neck. I can disconnect his motor functions."
Dom's stomach twisted. "Will it hurt him?"
"He's an android, Dom. He doesn't feel pain."
"Vince-"
"Do you want him to complete this mission?"
Dom looked at Brian. At the empty eyes. At the person who'd become his friend.
"Do it," Dom said.
"Then stop him from moving too much."
Dom stepped in front of Brian. "Hey," he said quickly. "Do you - do you know who your target is?"
Brian stopped.
"That information is classified," he said.
Behind him, Vince's fingers found the hidden panel at the base of Brian's neck. It opened with a soft click, and a few seconds later, two cables came loose.
Brian's eyes widened, his body locked, then he collapsed.
Dom caught him. "Brian!"
"He's okay," Vince said fast. "I disabled his motor functions. His systems are still running - he just can't move."
Which somehow sounded worse. Like Brian was a prisoner in his own body. His eyes were open, staring at nothing, his chest didn't rise or fall - he didn't need to breathe - but the stillness was horrifying.
"We need to get him inside," Vince said.
Together, they carried Brian back into the house and laid him on the couch.
Dom stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "Your two hackers, Tej and Suki, they're arriving in the morning, right?"
"Yeah," Vince said, hollow. "They'll fix this. They'll get rid of the files. He'll be okay."
Dom nodded, but after what he'd just seen, he didn't believe it. He didn't know if anyone could remove those files without destroying Brian's core. His memories. Him.
Dom sat beside Brian and took his hand. He squeezed.
Brian didn't squeeze back.
Dom's throat tightened. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
:::
Vince stayed.
He made coffee around four a.m., and handed Dom a mug. Dom held it, letting the heat seep into his palms, his mind far away.
"You think he would've done it?" Dom asked quietly. "Kill his target. Kill us, if we'd been in his way."
Vince hesitated. "I don't know, man. But… yeah. Probably. Whatever's running in him overrides his baseline protocols."
"So he's trapped," Dom said. "In his actions. He would've come back to himself afterward and realized what he'd done. He'd have had to live with knowing he killed someone."
"Dom-"
"And I know he doesn't feel pain the way we do," Dom went on, voice breaking, "but he understands it. He understands what killing means."
Vince sat down beside him. "We're gonna fix this. Tej and Suki know what they're doing."
"And if they can't?"
"They will."
Dom looked at Brian's face. Still peaceful. Still empty.
"I should've reacted sooner," Dom said quietly. "I should've-"
"You did everything you could," Vince cut in. "You're fighting for him. You're not giving up. That's more than most people would've done."
Dom didn't answer. The hours crawled by. He didn't sleep, didn't move. He just sat there, holding Brian's hand, waiting.
:::
The sun was barely up when Tej and Suki arrived.
"You must be Dom," Tej said. "Thank you for letting us come."
"Vince told us what happened," Suki added. "We'll get him back."
Dom nodded. He felt useless - like all he could do was stand aside and hope. They worked quickly, setting up their equipment on the kitchen table. Tej connected cables to Brian's access port, fingers flying across his keyboard. Suki worked beside him, pulling up dense lines of code.
"These files are buried deep," Tej muttered. "Whoever built this didn't want them found."
"You think you can delete them?" Dom asked.
"I think we can," Tej said. "We've done this before. It's never the same twice, but we've always managed. Patience is key."
Minutes stretched into hours. Dom paced. Vince made more coffee. Tej and Suki worked in silence, occasionally murmuring to each other in jargon Dom couldn't follow.
Then Suki leaned back. "Got it."
Dom's heart jumped. "You did?"
"Yeah. The partition's isolated. We're deleting it now."
Tej hit a key. Lines of code raced across the screen, faster and faster, until-
"Done," Tej said.
Dom looked at Brian. Still motionless.
"Reconnecting motor functions," Suki said, carefully plugging the cables back into place.
Brian's wrist band flickered, then pulsed blue, and his fingers twitched.
Dom held his breath.
Brian's eyes blinked and, slowly, he turned his head toward Dom.
"Dom," he said softly.
Dom's throat tightened. "Hey."
Tej crouched near Brian. "You're clean. No hidden protocols. No missions."
"Thank you," Brian said. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers like he was testing them. "I feel… like usual."
"That's good," Suki said with a smile. "Means we didn't fry anything important."
Brian stood carefully, testing his balance, then looked back at Dom. "You saved me."
Dom didn't think - he just moved, pulling Brian into a tight hug, arms wrapped around his shoulders.
For a second, Brian didn't react, then his arms came up - hesitant at first - before holding Dom just as tightly. Dom's eyes burned. He buried his face against Brian's shoulder and finally let himself breathe.
"I thought I lost you," Dom whispered.
"You didn't," Brian said softly.
They stayed like that for a long moment, neither of them willing to let go. When they finally pulled apart, Dom cupped Brian's cheek.
"You're okay," Dom said.
Brian nodded. "I'm okay."
:::
Tej and Suki packed up their equipment, accepted Dom's offer to pay for their flights - though Tej insisted they hadn't done this for the money - and left their contact information.
"If anything weird happens, call us," Suki said. "We'll keep an eye out for chatter about missing androids. But you should lay low."
Dom nodded. "Thank you. For everything."
Tej clapped him on the shoulder. "Take care of him."
"I will."
They left. Vince stayed a little longer to help clean up, then headed home with a promise to check in soon.
And then it was just Dom and Brian.
"What should we do now?" Brian asked.
Dom looked at him.
At the android who had been forced to kill. Forced to execute orders that went against his own protocols - against a morality humans had created, then ignored whenever it was convenient. Always excused in the name of the greater good.
Even if Brian wouldn't remember the kills, even if, as a machine, he wouldn't feel guilt the way a human would, even if it was just programming that made him say he didn't want to cause pain-
Dom had heard him. He'd heard Brian say he didn't want to be responsible for hurting others, and that was enough.
Enough to make sure Brian would never be used as a tool to become exactly what he feared.
"We leave," Dom said. "Tonight."
Brian nodded. "Where will we go?"
"I don't know yet. Somewhere they won't look."
"And you will stay with me there?"
"Yeah," Dom said. "I'll stay with you."
:::
Dom warned Vince, who brought a few supplies.
They packed light. Clothes, tools, a handful of personal items. Dom emptied his bank account and told the shop he'd be gone for a while. He didn't explain.
He didn't need to.
Before they left, Dom took Brian into the bathroom.
"We need to change your appearance," he said. "Just in case."
Brian didn't argue. He sat on the edge of the tub while Dom cut his hair, trimming the blond locks shorter, rougher. Then Dom pulled out the box of hair dye Vince had brought - light brown.
"This might look weird," Dom warned.
"I trust you."
The dye took twenty minutes. When Dom rinsed it out, Brian's reflection looked different. Less polished.
Then came the contact lenses - brown, hiding the vivid blue. Brian blinked a few times, adjusting to the sensation.
Dom studied him. The blond hair was gone, the blue eyes hidden - but the warmth was still there. Still Brian.
"It suits you," Dom said.
Brian smiled. "Thank you."
:::
They left after dark. Vince hugged them both - gruff and quick, pretending he was fine, sniffing when he thought Dom wouldn't notice.
They reached the train station and bought tickets with cash. No IDs. The train pulled out at dawn, heading northeast.
They sat in the last car, away from the other passengers. Dom watched the landscape slide past - fields, forests, small towns that looked like time had forgotten them. Brian sat beside him, still and calm, his hand resting on the armrest between them. Dom reached over and took it. Brian looked at him, surprised. Then his fingers curled around Dom's, squeezing gently.
They didn't let go.
"Are you afraid?" Brian asked.
Dom considered it. "A little."
"Of what?"
"Of them finding you," Dom said. "Of me not being able to protect you."
Brian was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "You have already protected me. More than I ever expected - especially as an android."
Dom looked at him. "You're more than that to me," he said. "You're yourself."
"I know," Brian replied softly. "Because of you."
The train carried them forward - into the unknown. Into whatever came next.
Far from humans and their destructive plans.
:::
END