Title: Yesterday's Dreams
Status: WIP Incomplete
Pairings: Brian O'Conner/Mia Toretto, Dominic Toretto/Letty Ortiz
Additional Categories: Alternate Universe,
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Comfort, Drama, Family, Hurt, Violence,
Season/Episodes: Ten years after 'Chasing Tomorrow', prologue circa 2011
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Graphic Violence, Graphic Sexual Scenes, Graphic Language,
Spoilers: N/A
Full Summary: He was older now and no longer the young cop patrolling the streets of LA. The scars on his skin and bleeding wounds in his spirit haunted him just like the memories of exploding bombs and dead eyes did in his dreams. Was there anything left in the world that would be able to wake him up from the nightmare he found himself in or would he just fade away like the countless other soldiers who suffered in silence?
Series/Sequels: Prequel: 'Chasing Tomorrow'
Author's Notes: This story totally went in a different direction than what I anticipated. Ah well. I least I got an ending to this story. It must be noted that the ending maybe somewhat controversial as it will the events in December 2012. It was the only way to 'wake up' Brian but you'll see why. Eventually.


Chapter One: Prologue


"Look at an infantryman's eyes and you can tell how much war he has seen."
~ William Henry


The huge military transport plane came to complete stop on the airfield at Fort Campbell. The whirring hum of the four Allison turboprop engines of the C-130 Hercules faded away as the speed of the blades began to slow down, the individual whapping of the air becoming distinct in the cold Kentucky air. The solders on the flight began to chatter in low tones, a couple of them hollering to each other on what they planned to do now they were back home and safe for the time being. A few were going to hit the bars in search of women while few more were going to head back home to their awaiting families. Others were planning to get back to what they loved doing in their spare time but every single one of them was going to live their lives to the fullest.

Buckles were undone and personal effects were gathered in the ugly green Army duffel bags. The load master of the flight hit the button and with a whirring of machines, the large ramp at the end of the carrier began to lower itself onto the asphalt of the runway.

Once the metal ramp came to a rest on the surface, the soldiers began to disembark, stepping once more onto US soil, the land they had been fighting for half a world away. For some of them, it had been a year since they had seen the familiar sights of Fort Campbell. For others, however, it had been years since they had seen the rise of the army barracks and building that made up the large Army compound.

Staff Sergeant Shawn Ripley stopped at the top of the ramp, watching his ODA unit walk down the ramp, heading for HQ for their debriefing and eventually their temporary freedom until their next tour. He knew he would be heading home to see his wife Eloise who he had not seen in over year once he had been shipped back to Iraq or his three kids who were now growing fast. He could have sworn his youngest child, his only son, had been a rambunctious toddler who had been born the day before. It was one of the many sacrifices he had to make when he had chosen to become a soldier in the US Army fifteen years ago. He stopped himself from swallowing in self-pity. He was almost home and that was all that mattered.

His dark eyes fell on the weary form of one of his weapon sergeants, a young man from the West Coast who had joined the Army within weeks that had changed all of their lives. The man's body was motionless, his darkened blue eyes staring at the arc of the sky above them. Picking up his bag, Ripley walked to the younger man's side.

"Not what you expected?" He knew a number of the younger recruits thought they would be greeted by large crowds of people who would be welcoming the troops back home. That would be true for the normal soldiers but for the quiet professionals, they were ghosts among the normal Army soldiers, blending in their colleagues. Their passing went unnoticed in the larger scheme of things and they preferred it that way.

The sergeant turned around, the tired blue eyes locking with his own. "I don't know what I really expected."

"Hm," Ripley studied the soldier before him, the tone of the voice worrying him deeply. Unlike the voices of his men that were already halfway across, the sergeant's voice was monotone, lifeless. "It'll take a while to getting used to civilian life again. Are you sure you don't want to stay at my house? Eloise won't mind another mouth to feed or baby over." Ripley would be damn sure, however, that she would be mad at the fact that he didn't alert her that he would be bringing a guest over. She would curse him like a sailor as she would scurry around to set up their guest room.

"No, I have a lot of things to do before I head back West." Ripley noticed that he didn't say home, something that troubled him a bit. In fact, Ripley could swear on his mother's grave that he had never even used the home in conjunction with returning back to the US. The sergeant turned away, eying the horizon, the dark forms of the clouds rolling from the east. His breathe billowed out in small puffs of mist.

"If you're sure. Just remember to turn in your M4 and M9 in to the armory along with any other weapons the Army bought for you." As he said that, Ripley promised himself then that he would check on the man every so often to make sure that the sergeant didn't slip into the deep, dark depression that seemed to dog every soldier's step, waiting to drag them down under until they sunk so far, they had to end it with a bullet or drown themselves in alcohol. He knew the man before him had the potential to be one of those men who lost themselves as they had no support from family and friends, distancing themselves to the point they no longer felt part of the society they had sacrificed so much for. The sergeant hadn't signed up for another tour as he had already done four straight and could give no more. Ripley had the feeling his superiors had let him go due to the darkness surrounding the man, worried that he might turn on himself or on others, something the US Special Forces could not afford and had let him go.

The sergeant nodded in acknowledgement. Ripley clapped a hand on his shoulder and left, following the others. He only hoped that someone would be able to save the man from his own demons.


"Yo, Brian, I got your message. The boys at the garage want to know if you're going to be stopping by to see them soon. Looks like you've become a legend around here and people keep on coming, asking about your punk ass, white boy. When you do come over, don't forget to bring some food."

Brian listened to the audio message that he saved to his iTunes library as the airplane cruised through the sky, angling toward the Los Angeles International Airport. It had been over six years since he had last seen Roman Pearce, not since he had gone to Miami while on leave before he had reported for training at Camp Peary, not that Rome knew that last little bit. Rome had just about blown a gasket when Brian had been considering joining the FBI as a federal agent. He didn't think his friend would be enamored with the fact that Brian had joined another federal agency, one that actually dealt in truths, lies, and pretense on a daily basis. He allowed Rome and the others think that the Army required him to go through additional training.

Scrolling down the list of songs on his iPhone, Brian thought back over the last ten years of his life.

When he had left LA after the Toretto debacle, Brian thought the next part of his life would see him as a Federal Agent under the jurisdiction of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It was his every intention to take up Bilkins' offer of supporting him through the Academy at Quantico, Virginia but following the Miami case, he no longer wanted to join the FBI after seeing the tight noose they kept around their agents' necks. Despite the initial reaction of Tej Parker and his friends after they found out that he had been an FBI informant, they had allowed him and Rome to work at the garage to earn a living once the undercover mission was over. It wasn't home but he had a roof over his head and food on the table. Over time, Tej, Suki, and the others had become his friends.

Brian shut down the iPhone and slid back into his pocket, watching the wing of the airplane cut through the slipstream as the flight attendants began preparing the fliers for the final descent.

Weeks later all that changed, along with the lives of the other 300 million Americans, young and old, as they watched the horrifying tragedy of September 11th unfold on television. Even now, Brian could not forget the scenes of smoke billowing from the broken windows, burnt paper flying in the open air, the shocked and ashy faces of New Yorkers fleeing the city on the foot into the surrounding boroughs. Rome who was normally buoyant was silent, solemn as the first tower began to collapse in on itself, sending thousands of tons of cement and steel into the street below, burying an untold number of firefighters, policemen, and civilians in a public grave for the world to see and which would slowly be unburied over the following months as the government tried to recover the bodies. Even Suki, tough as she was, had cried as the news stations had showed parents, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, and friends searching for any news of their loved ones and their emotions once they learned they had never made it out of the burning towers alive.

In the following days, he saw as America quickly mobilized itself for a war in the Middle East. The police on the streets were tense, always constantly on the watch, wondering if that person was carrying a bomb. Talk grew in the streets as soldiers in the Navy, Marines, Army, and Air Force began to say good bye to their family and friends, knowing they would be called upon. Brian watched as they listened to the call and headed off to unknown futures, not knowing if they would die in the sands of a land faraway.

Through the haze of questions that asked what America did to deserve such horrors, Brian could hear the call of duty beckoning him once more. The same call that he heard when his mother had died while he had been in juvie, beaten to death by her boyfriend at the time. The itch that had found him racing on the streets was replaced by the fire of patriotic duty that he couldn't deny.

Three weeks after the events in New York and Pennsylvania, Brian found himself signing up for the United States Army. By December, he found himself being shipped to Fort Benning, Georgia to report for Basic Training.

From the small window, Los Angeles looked the same; the grey skyscrapers reaching into the blue sky, the glittering ocean reaching into the west. To former Sergeant Brian O'Conner, it felt untouched by the ravages of war half a world away. None of the inhabitants had to wonder if they would die the next day while trying to find food for their starving families. The girls did not have to wonder if they would be killed for attending a one room class that passed for a school. The boys would not have to wonder if they'd be forced into joining deranged motherfuckers that were intent on spreading their jihad across the world.

The wheels of the plane touched down, jolting him from his morbid thoughts.

The cabin was noisy as the civilians disembarked section by section along with the military personnel. He waited until his section was fully empty before leaving his seat in the secluded corner. He pulled his rucksack from the overhead compartment, slinging it across his shoulders. As he entered the terminal, he saw the other returning soldiers being greeted by their families, signs welcoming them home, wives crying after seeing their husbands after so many months, children hugging their sorely missed parents, gripping tightly at their necks.

He turned away, heading for the exit, knowing that no one would be there.

"Brian."

Immediately, Brian tensed, his hand instinctively dropping to where his absent M-4 would have been. Standing before him, leaning against a column, a man was gazing at him steadily. "Tanner." His drill sergeant at Fort Bragg would have buried his ass in an unmarked grave had he known that Brian had not recognized the threat the moment he had entered the terminal. In Iraq, it would have meant the death of him and potentially the rest of his ODA.

"You've looked better." Brian knew that was true. Fighting in Iraq for close to seven years had taken its toll. When he had left the Los Angeles Police Department way back when life had been good, he weighed a healthy 190 pounds, tanned from surfboarding in the surf of the Pacific Ocean and fit from his daily exercise routine but the days out in the unforgiving desert, monitoring the movement of the enemy forces and living on the local sheep, had seen him dropping in weight until he was toeing 160 at times. The hollowness of his cheeks was accented by the beard he was still sporting, his hair cropped close to his skull and dark.

"What are you doing here, Tanner?" The older officer raised an eyebrow at the question Brian posed; in his time at the LAPD, Brian had never been this blunt and if he was, he was a spitfire, fiery and alive.

"I got a call from Townsend in Personnel. He saw your application to the Academy for retraining. Wanted to know more about why you left the first time. He heard some persistent rumors."

Brian showed none of the expected fire-spitting he would have done ten years ago. Instead, there was no outside change at all; no tightening of the lips, narrowing of the eyes, nothing. "If you're going to tell me that I've been denied, a phone call would have been just fine."

"Actually, Brian, you've been accepted for the next class. Your commanding officer gave a glowing report of your service in Iraq. They decided to give you another chance." Tanner motioned toward the doors. "Come on, I'll give you a ride."

Brian hesitated, eying the older man as his mind went through the benefits and the risks just as he had been trained to do at Fort Bragg. He remembered how the officer had helped him navigate the department and bureaucratic bullshit that centered on and around current police procedures. It was also the same man that had recommended him for the Toretto operation and didn't step in to protect him when his neck had been placed on the chopping block when it went to fucking hell. There was no reason for him to burn bridges now even before he stepped foot into the academy.

He followed Tanner out of the terminal and across the parking lot, his eyes continuously scanning the crowd for potential threats; so many places for the enemy to hide, so many areas that could conceal a bomb. Yet, there was no threat here. This was America, the same yet different country with its own set of problems, its own dangers. How his fingers itched for his M4.

Tanner neared a black SUV, not the Caprice that Brian expected. "I'm a captain now at the department. Did you think that I would stay a sergeant forever?" Brian chose not to reply, deciding instead to place his sack in the back. As Tanner started the SUV, he glanced over at Brian. "So, where to, O'Conner?"

Brian recited the address of the apartment he had rented, not needing to glance at the piece of paper he had scribbled the address on just in case. Special Forces training had drilled into his head that everything had to be memorized in the first reading, to recall every single letter in case the smallest detail was needed.

Tanner guided the SUV onto the highway, the silence tense.

"Are there reservations about me joining?" Brian asked, staring the window to study the cars passing by. He wondered if the old superiors were still around. He remembered Tanner's words from before, of how his chances of getting promoted where slim to none.

"There are some officers who were there that do remember you at Rampart but most have forgotten or don't care. Most likely, you will be assigned to another division. As for Ramirez and the others, they were sacked after the investigation into the Rampart Scandal was completed. The department just barely came off federal oversight." Tanner paused for a moment. "Once you graduate the academy, you'll have to go through the probation like everyone else so your FTO can make sure you haven't lost any of your skills. Unlike the other graduates, however, you'll be able to get your old pay grade back which means you don't have to wait as long for the promotion to POIII."

Brian didn't say anything as the streets swept by. He could see the subtle differences in the look of the city. It was still grimy in some places but the small details were different. A store had closed down here and there, replaced by something new.

"Once you sign in, you might want to check out the Military Liaison Program. It was started back in 2003 after you left to help the war veterans before, during, and after their deployments reintegrate back into the department. You might to take advantage of what they can offer." Tanner mentioned after the silence had gone for a couple of minutes. They had turned into the neighborhood where Brian was now living.

"I don't need to see a shrink." Brian answered automatically, not turning his head to look at Tanner who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Tanner pulled the SUV over and stopped, turning around to face the younger man. "Admit it, Brian. Since you've left the LAPD back in 2001, you've changed and I don't know if it was for the better." He had seen the new updates on Brian's profile. When he had left the LAPD in 2001, he had been the best shooter of his class. Now after ten years in the Army and seven in Special Forces, Brian was an highly trained SF sniper and other skills that were too numerous for him to remember.

Brian looked at Tanner, locking eyes with him. "If you have any reservations about me coming back on the force, you might as well call Townsend." The voice was hard, daring Tanner to pick up his phone to call Personnel.

The tension between them was thick. "I'll see you at the academy, Brian." Tanner finally said, unlocking the doors. The former soldier didn't even reply as he collected his things and left, disappearing into the apartment office. Tanner stared after him, his mind buzzing with the changed man he had seen.

The eyes that had stared back at him were lifeless, cold, and uncaring. The look had chilled him to the bone as they were completely opposite of the lively young man that walked into the Rampart police station thirteen years ago, brimming with the determination to prove himself to his superiors. This man, this broken soldier, was uncaring of himself and the world around him.

Someone like that on the force was a danger to his fellow officers and the civilians that they were sworn to protect to the best of their abilities.

Tanner pulled the SUV onto the streets, heading back to the precinct, his mind going through different choices and outcomes. Ten years ago, when it had come down to it, Tanner had turned his back on Brian, something that had weighed heavily on his conscience ever since. From the moment Tanner had taken the young officer under his wing, he had seen him as a surrogate son as his own flesh and blood was estranged from him due to his lifestyle. When the Toretto case had blown up, he had the thought to teach Brian a lesson by allowing him to get punished by the chief of police.

The outcome from the decision had only served to separate them further until it was evident that it had isolated Brian completely, not only from Tanner but also from his peers. Being out in the streets was dangerous and made even more so when your colleagues refused to back you up, even if you asked for it. He had thought a fresh start with Bilkins and the FBI would have allowed Brian to move on. A few weeks later, he had called Bilkins under the pretense of tying up a few loose ends on the Toretto case and learned to his shock that Brian had joined the Army instead. Seeing Brian now made Tanner wonder if it was too late to help him.

A thought wormed itself way into Tanner's head and took up residence.

Maybe there was someone or rather a family who would be able to work their way past the defenses Brian had erected, a family who had already done so despite Brian's attempts to stop it. Maybe it would bring back the fire Brian had carried within him.

In Tanner's mind, it was worth the risk. He made a note to look up their files to see if they still lived in the same house.


"Leadership is solving problems. The day soldiers stop bringing you problems is the day you have stopped leading them. They have either lost confidence that you can help or concluded you do not care. Either case is a failure of leadership."
~ General Colin Powell, former Secretary of State