Believing in luck was something Harry constantly battled with. One moment he would deny the slightest possibility of any such thing existing, stating it was for the whimsical souls, and in the next he would question if, after all, luck truly did exist. It would not be far from possible for such a thing to exist, miracles occurred every day. Parents lifting a vehicle to save their child, people surviving falls from great heights, a rush of adrenaline pulling one out of a life-or-death situation. It would not be too naïve to say that luck existed.

It was one such moment that Harry sought to thank his luck for not letting him be the first person inside the interrogation room. He watched from the other side of the one-way glass as the man responsible for numerous crimes over the past decade was handcuffed to the table. The man Harry had been chasing after ever since he joined the FBI. There was a hurricane of rage swirling inside him, fighting against his control, urging him to snap. He did agree that the man benefitted more from Harry's luck in that given moment.

The man was battered and bloody after the chase he had given to the FBI, almost deceiving them and escaping again. It might have been luck that had Harry in the right place at the right time, because it definitely had not been his foresight that had him looking in Maryland.

If he had been the first one to interrogate this man, he would have done some irreparable damage to his face for the cocky smirk still plastered on it, goading them despite being at an obvious disadvantage. The man had always been the epitome of smug satisfaction, Harry wanted to bring his ego down a few notches, get him familiarised with the bottom of the barrel.

"Try to keep your cool, Agent Styles. There is a reason we have decided not to lock him in a prison." Rowen Parker, head of Crime Intelligence Division, a prominent face of the FBI, and quite importantly, Harry's boss, reminded him as the interrogation room was vacated. "This is your case, your win, and I'm letting you call the shots, but don't let your past make any decisions for you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Rowen gave a single nod, still standing with his arms crossed, "Go ahead."

The lethal the grin that greeted him upon entering the room had him momentarily forgetting to keep his control in check. He almost let the deep-rooted anger inside him get the better of him, only stopping as the clank of the metal door shutting behind snapped him out of it.

"Agent Styles, after all these years of chasing, you finally caught me, that too by a fluke," the omega gave a derisive snicker, fuelling the embers of anger Harry tried to suppress. "How many years did it take you? Five? Six? Oh right, eight years."

Harry ignored him in favour of pulling a chair and seating it right across from where the omega was chained, folding his leg on top of the other after settling down. Only then did he let his eyes take in the man opposite to him; the busted lip and swollen eye, the scrapped skin of his arms, a gash on his left cheek, all from his nearly successful attempt at fleeing.

"Such a massive waste of resources and intelligence. I heard that you were the brightest of the stock, makes me wonder how bad the others must be, then."

The eyes looking back at him had a storm raging in them, mirroring the hurricane he was containing, commanding to destroy everything. What once was a meadow had now been reduced to wasteland of ashes.

"You got nothing to say to me, Styles? Not gonna brag your victory? How disappointing," the omega clicked his tongue, "Or maybe you're wondering if I let you catch me. I admit, I did start to feel a little sorry for you by the end. I was always so close, wasn't I? Barely out of your grasp. Did you spend your nights thinking of me? Wondering where I was, how you could get a hold of me? Touch me just one more time?"

The muscles in his jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth, wishing more than anything that he had been given free rein to quiet this man however he wanted.

"Have you gone mute in the last ten years?" The omega laughed - a cruelty lacing it, deep blue eyes flickering over his face to catalogue the response to his words. "I perfectly remember you asking me to raise my hands while you pointed your gun at me. Looked quite heroic there, I must say."

"Got it all out?" Harry finally asked, balling his fist as the omega threw his head back laughing.

"Not mute then, I see. Great."

"Do I need to remind you where you are?"

The man clicked his tongue, head tilting as he made a show of looking around, "In the deep bowels of the FBI. You would do well to remember that, too. I haven't been brought up on charges... no lawyer provided. I know the law, Styles, I break it every day. You clearly need something from me, don't you? Can't do that following legal procedures."

"I would applaud you for that astute observation, but sadly you can't turn this to your advantage," he sat back in his chair, folding his arms as the man narrowed his eyes, pinning him with a ferocious glare. "This here might not be legal, but no judge or jury would rule in your favour either way."

"Still finding ways to bend the law, I see. Can't get over your little undercover stints even now."

"Not undercover, Tomlinson," he smirked, "Caught you in broad daylight, didn't I? Badge and all."

"What do you want, Styles? What is it that you and your mightiest and brightest buddies can't do?"

That was the part Harry hated the most, admitting that the FBI needed the help of a criminal. How shameful, truly, but he could not let it show on his face. A slip on his part, and the man in front of him would latch onto it, knowing in an instant that the ball was entirely in his court.

They would be at a loss. Tomlinson was one of the main wheels in a giant clock. If they hoped to stop the other pieces, both small and large, they would need him to cooperate. It was, admittedly, an easy way out - having Tomlinson lead them to others who saw the justice system as dirt on their shoe, but it would prevent multiple casualties and financial loses.

"We have a list of names and faces. You're going to disclose their identity and location," he informed calmly.

"Oh, that's it? Let me just grab my address book, and I'll give them a ring, invite them for a dinner party!" Tomlinson widened his eyes in mock enthusiasm, "And you, you can come blazing in with your SWAT team, and we'll call it a day!"

"What here makes you think you have room for your little jokes?"

"I'm just helping you out, as you said," Tomlinson shrugged, "Because for some reason, you clearly think I've got intel on some of the most wanted criminals."

"Am I wrong?"

The man shrugged again, pulling a sympathetic face, "Do you think you're right?"

Harry sighed, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. This man was a handful, knowing exactly when and where to push to get on his nerves. Rowen was listening in on the conversation, a front seat view to how irritable this man was, and yet did not seem to be anywhere close to interfering. For once Harry wished his boss would butt in on the interrogation, just so he would have a solid reason to leave the room.

Being within the four walls with Tomlinson after years was starting to suffocate him, a hand wrapping around his throat and pulling him deep under the water, trying to evoke memories from the best and the worst parts of his life.

"Did I lose you there, Styles? You are not too attentive for such a high-ranking agent," the man remarked, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Handling you doesn't ask for much attention," he said. What Tomlinson seemed to forget was that Harry knew him just as intimately. Or rather, used to know. Still, there were things that never changed. The omega shone under attention, and in its absence, tended to wither away. "But you already know that. So, let's talk openly, shall we? What do you want in exchange for the info you will be giving?"

"You're so sure that I'm gonna help," Tomlinson scoffed, derisive. "Hate to break it to you, but you're not my favourite person. You can forget about getting anything out of me. I would prefer getting locked up."

"Ah," Harry smiled sweetly, "You see, that's where you are wrong. You either help us, or you disappear," he snapped his fingers, "like that."

"What do you mean?"

Harry smirked at the first real hint of fear in the man's voice. He leaned in, folding his hands over the table, "You are just a way to get to these criminals a little quicker, but trust me, you wouldn't be missed if you were to somehow disappear." His smile turned cruel, "As you said, your capture hasn't been documented, no lawyers, no case, nothing in the media. There will be no prison cell awaiting you. You will just be one of those criminals who abruptly stopped. A mystery. What an awful end."

Tomlinson gritted his teeth, "You entitled prick."

"Oh, how you flatter me," Harry stood from the chair, circling around the table to lean over Tomlinson's shoulder, "So, go on, make your little demands in exchange for intel."

The man met his gaze for a glare of his own, his unhindered anger directed at Harry. "It might be above your jurisdiction, Agent. You should call your boss."

His patience was running thin the longer this went on. Normally, he could sit through whatever nuisance a suspect spouted. But Tomlinson was not a suspect, and Harry had no particular will to amend to his games. He let his hand splay beside the man's, tone light as he spoke, "The profile we built on you identified you as intelligent, but I'm starting to think that was a fluke. You're just a petty omega, aren't you?"

Tomlinson growled at being reduced to merely his gender, fists clenching around the chain of his cuffs. Harry harboured no doubt that the man would have attacked him if he could. He had his own bruises, however mild, to support his belief.

Harry straightened and smoothed his tie, "You want to speak to my boss, alright then." He looked towards the mirror, tilting his head in question and not having to wait long for an answer.

Rowen walked in with a pleased glint directed at him. They had predicted this - Tomlinson making demands that he thought the FBI would refuse, but they were in for the long game. They would handle whatever he asked for, the names on the list were worth more than that.

Rowen took his vacated seat, nodding to the man, "I'm Agent Parker, head of the Crime Division."

Tomlinson switched gears in an instant, leaning forward and dropping all of his anger, "Louis Tomlinson, but I'm sure you know that. Did you like the interrogation your Agent conducted?"

"I am satisfied."

Tomlinson grinned, "He does tend to leave people satisfied, I can agree on that."

Harry did roll his eyes then. If his strategy was to embarrass either him or Rowen, he would be disappointed. Being in the field for years had effectively chipped away any shame they might have once had. Having seen all kinds of nuances and antics had stripped them of any residual shame.

"You know what we want. Tell us what you want in return."

"Immunity." Tomlinson's expression was serious, a definitive hardness in his eyes. "You drop all the charges against me. I help you with this, and at the end, I walk out a free man."

Harry scoffed, entirely unamused, "You must be fucking kidding me."

Rowen spared him a glance, a single look to relay his thoughts, before shifting it back to the third party, "I will see what I can do."

"It's either that," Tomlinson said, smirking as he met Harry's eyes in challenge, calling out his bluff, "Or I'll gladly take you up on that other option."

"I'm sure we will find something we can agree on."

"Oh, don't rush on my account, please," Tomlinson said sweetly, "Take your time. Surely, you'd rather not be spending it learning about these names and faces."

Harry had a newfound respect for his boss. Ten years in the field, and Harry still didn't have as much patience as Rowen. Or maybe it was just him that Tomlinson managed to get a rise out of.

He followed Rowen out of the room, ready to argue but his boss silenced him before he found the chance.

"It is not entirely impossible to grant him immunity in exchange," Rowen said, "His crimes are targeted at the government, at their finances. He hasn't harmed the public."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" He asked in disbelief, "Public or government, those are still crimes. Millions of dollars that our state alone has lost."

"Look at the bigger picture here. His crimes are nothing compared to these other felons. The government can bear the brunt of lost finances if in return we get to put these monsters in prison."

"And how have these finances been recovered over the years? By raising taxes, hiking prices," he stressed, trying to make Rowen see reason, "The public is suffering the consequences of our failures."

Rowen nodded in agreement with a sigh, silent for a moment as he seemed to measure his words, "Everyone has to sacrifice for something better."

"You-" his laugh was humourless, "You would let a felon go and name it a sacrifice."

"I can't possibly try to trick him. He would ask for a legal procedure to solidify his immunity before helping us. Despite what you said, Tomlinson in there is highly intelligent."

"I know that," Harry muttered under his breath. "Do you even have the authority to grant him immunity?"

"No," Rowen shrugged, "But I have means to ensure he gets it."

"You're making a mistake."

"I might very well be," Rowen sighed, "but I need you to go along with it, Harry. I need you in complete agreement."

He knew that desperation in his boss's eyes, had lived the past decade harbouring it within himself. While his pursuit had been after the man currently detained, his boss had been after a dozen more. The bigger picture, Harry reminded himself, was more important.

He relented with a nod, "What do you need me to do?"

"Right now? See to it that he gets proper medical attention, and update your team of the situation."

-

Harry shifted in the uncomfortable hospital chair, trying and failing to find a more comfortable position, and ultimately giving up entirely. The two officers stationed outside the room were in a more uncomfortable position though, but that came with the job he supposed.

Getting Tomlinson to the hospital had been a headache of its own. He had been accommodating and silent up until the building came into view, calculating the events silently, and then had proceeded to punch an officer, scratching down the arm of a nurse when they were finally able to get him inside.

He looked at the man now, sleeping on the hospital bed, his bones sticking out from under his skin. He dismissed the concern starting to bubble at the back of his head, suppressing it with a firm hand. It was not his responsibility to be concerned about this man, Harry reminded himself.

They had had to administer a rapid tranquilizer when Tomlinson had not calmed down, and due to his apparently low nourishment, he had been asleep for the past few hours. Harry had updated his team during that time, had watched as another nurse had come in to take the omega's blood sample and hook him up on various machines and tubes.

"Wha-?"

The croaking voice had him looking away from the protruding bones, and towards the man's face.

"You're in the hospital, still a bit under the effects of the sedative," he answered the unspoken question, pressing the button to call a nurse.

"Oh," Tomlinson sighed, extending his arm towards the ceiling, "I'm a superhero. It's a secret, shhhhh. Don' tell an'one."

Clearly under the influence of the tranquilizer. Harry couldn't help but smile at the man's antics, not that he would remember once the dose wore off.

"What kind?" He asked, indulgent, leaning forward in his chair to look at the man who, in that moment, resembled the person from his memories.

"Hmm... the clever kind," Tomlinson mused, entirely serious.

"You have always been quite clever," he agreed, unable to contain his smile.

"I know," Tomlinson turned his hazy, blue eyes to him, mirroring his smile, "I am Iron Man."

"Yes, you are."

"Why am I here?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "You had some injuries, and we needed a full medical examination."

"I must have been quite heroic if I got injured," the omega said, turning on his side and letting his eyes slip shut.

"Sure."

"If I'm Iron Man... that makes you Pepper Potts," Tomlinson muttered, completely unaware of what he was saying.

It had Harry's eyes widening a fraction, but surely it was nothing. Neither of them had directly addressed their past, although both of them had made subtle digs about it. He wondered what went on in this man's head, what made him say something only Harry would remember out of either of them.

His thoughts were still reeling when a nurse came by. He smiled politely and let him do his work, checking the omega's vitals and awareness of his surroundings.

"It will likely take another hour for the effects to wear off," the nurse told him, seeing as Tomlinson was out like a light again. "I will let the doctor know so she can come by to check on him later."

"Alright, thanks," he nodded.

-

Tomlinson woke up with a clear head a little under an hour later. Gone were his musings and whimsy, instead Harry was faced with vitriol and sharp barbs thrown around.

"Try and keep me here, I'll chop off your hands," the omega warned.

Harry merely raised his eyebrows, hands folded over his chest as he stood blocking the door.

"You can't keep me here!" The omega tried again, eyes seeking a gap he could slip through.

"Can't I?" He asked. "We have you detained; we can keep you here as long as we need to."

"I am fine, I don't need to be in a hospital," Tomlinson muttered under his breath, reluctantly dragging himself back to the bed when Harry refused to budge.

"Are you?" Harry tilted his head, purposefully dragging his eyes over the man's thin frame.

"I'm a little underweight. So, what? Does not mean I need to be admitted."

"Sure," he sighed, dropping into his seat again. Even before, the omega had certainly lacked the ability to care for himself, but that was something Harry hated dwelling upon. "All that stolen money and you couldn't spend it to care for yourself."

"You can ease your conscious. None of this is on you-"

"Oh, I have never once blamed myself for your state," Harry interrupted, "You made those choices."

"I did, and I've never regretted them," the vitriol came pouring back, "And why do you care about my well-being all of a sudden?"

"I don't," he pursed his lips, standing and effectively ending the conversation on his part. He nodded to the officers as he left the room, telling them to keep an eye on the omega until he returned.

The vending machines were subpar for such a renowned hospital, but he was not complaining. He was about to return after purchasing a granola bar when his gaze fell on something. Harry bought the bar of Snickers on a whim, shoving it in his pocket so as to not ponder on the thought behind it.

"Agent Styles," A voice called behind him when he reached the room.

He smiled at the doctor and nodded his head in greeting, "Doctor Payne."

"I was coming to see you. Doctor Palmer had to leave for an emergency and transferred the case to me. Shall we head in?"

Harry entered after the doctor, standing back as Liam addressed the omega eyeing them with scepticism.

"Hello, Mr. Tomlinson. How are you feeling?"

"Dandy," Tomlinson answered with a bored face, "And just Louis is fine."

"Alright, Louis, we ran a few tests while you were under sedation. The blood screening came back normal, there are no infections, but there is an elevation in your hormone levels," Liam explained. "Have you been experiencing any problems?"

Tomlinson shrugged dismissively, "Some fainting spells, nausea, nothing much."

Harry felt the foreign worry creeping back at the omega's easy dismissal of his health. He gritted his teeth; it was no wonder the man was in that state if he treated his health with such negligence.

"What suppressants are you on?"

"I don't know," Tomlinson huffed, rolling his eyes for good measure, "Blue pills in a bottle, they are not regulated, but I couldn't actually walk up to a pharmacy and get the legal kind, could I?"

Harry was amazed at how the omega could make it seem as if he was the one who had been wronged. The man had always aced at manipulation, and he wasn't even trying in that moment.

"We will get you started on the right kind, then. It is a shot administered every six months, foregoes the hassle of taking a pill every day. You will experience your heat a little under the completion of the sixth month, after which you can come back for the next shot."

"What if I forget?"

"We send reminders."

Tomlinson pursed his lips and shrugged, "The thought of going through a heat only twice a year does sound great. Plus, the FBI is footing the bill, so I might as well get the expensive shit."

"It's not that expensive," Liam smiled at the omega's wording, "It is quite easily affordable."

"Great." The distinctive lack of cheer in Tomlinson's voice was indication enough that he had wished the shot was expensive, just so the FBI would regret getting him inside the hospital. So that Harry would regret keeping him in there.

"I would like for you to stay here overnight," Liam said, scribbling something down in the file, "In case there are any side-effects of the sedative-"

"You mean the tranquilizer," Tomlinson reminded, accusing.

"Yes, that. A nurse will come in shortly to explain everything about the suppressants. And I will send for a nutritionist in the morning."

"Thank you, Doctor," Harry smiled at Liam, turning an unimpressed stare at the omega when the doctor left. "You could have been a little nicer."

"Why? I'm here against my wishes."

"He is doing his job."

Tomlinson smiled, saccharine sweet and all too taunting, "Fine, I'll keep my dagger pointed solely at you, Styles."

He didn't deem it with a response, pointedly picking up a magazine and shutting down the omega's attempts at riling him up.

-

Harry stared up at the hospital building, an uneasy feeling birthing behind his ribs every time he thought of the omega admitted inside. If only the man had not been so lackadaisical in regard to his own preservation.

He allowed a considering look to the bag in his hands, not knowing how it would be received. It had clothes suiting the cold weather, better food than whatever the hospital intended to feed the omega. A part of him knew that it would be viewed with ill-concealed contempt, attempting to dissect his intentions behind such offerings.

He loathed that part of himself, one that was concerned over what Tomlinson thought, over what he felt, how he perceived Harry's actions, what went on in his head when he looked at Harry.

The distance from the elevator to the room seemed too short. In the aftermath of the previous day's events, Harry had fallen into a distinctive numbness when he had been alone inside the walls of his home, unable to pull apart his own thoughts, let alone make any sense of them. For so long he had chased after Tomlinson, caring only about seeing him behind bars, about having a hand in doling out his brand of justice. But now that the plan had been abruptly changed and he had had time to dwell on it, Harry was almost grateful. Seeing Tomlinson incarcerated would have been sorrowful.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the room was the vacant bed, but the patter of shower stopped his mind from racing. The next thing was the empty wrapper left on the small table beside the bed, he couldn't help the smile reluctantly pulling at his lips. Some things never changed.

The smile fell as quickly as it had come. He straightened himself when the door to the en-suite opened, Tomlinson stepping out in a fresh hospital gown, rolling his eyes at Harry.

"Oh, great, you're back already."

"I'm not too thrilled to be your chauffer either," he handed the container to the omega, an unimpressed look on his face when it was met with impolite dismissal. "Eat," his eyes moved once to the barely touched breakfast that the hospital had provided, "It is much better than that sorry excuse of oatmeal."

Tomlinson let out a laugh, and then looked mortified the very next second. The container was snatched from his hand, as was the fork, without any show of gratitude.

"You're welcome," Harry resumed his previous day's position in the uncomfortable chair, pulling out his laptop to type in the case report from the previous day.

"I looked at the tests they did," Tomlinson spoke, gesturing to the clipboard at the end of the bed with his fork, "You had me screened for STIs. What's your intention, Styles?"

"It's protocol."

"Of course," the omega plucked the bite with his teeth pulling against the tines. Harry kept his focus on the screen as the omega continued. "I was under the impression that you were heading a unit. How come you got stuck with babysitting a criminal?"

"I'm not ashamed of having to do babysitting once in a while."

"Always so proud, aren't you, Agent?" Tomlinson scoffed, agitated at his failing attempts to rankle Harry. "What did your omega think when you left home so early to come see me? Assuming you married an omega, that is. Were they angry to see you leave, or saddened? Suspicious why you were cooking for someone else, or did you have them cook for me? What would your kids think when they wake up for school and see their daddy's already gone?"

Harry had a fleeting thought to do away with all of his control, to forget he was a keeper of law, and simply let the years of his anger and betrayal take hold of him. Ultimately, the years of therapy that had followed had him calming down.

"My personal life is none of your concern," he replied, typing another page for the report.

"Hmm, maybe not," Tomlinson shrugged, "I bet your omega hates you can't ever truly bond with them, can't ever really be mates, no matter how much you play-pretend. So, it might be my concern, just a little."

His jaw ached with how hard he had his teeth clenched; vision resolutely fixed on the screen. He refused to let the omega see the effect of his words, of how deep they cut him.

"Eat your breakfast," he spoke after a while, noticing how the container had been pushed to the side, "I'll have you stay here until at least half of that is finished."

The omega huffed but uncovered the lid again, stabbing viciously at the scrambled eggs.

-

The documents seemed inconspicuous for all their damning content; signed and approved by the attorney general. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since Tomlinson's capture and Rowen had already procured the key to his freedom.

"Are you sure this is how we want to proceed?" Harry asked one final time before he broke the news to his unit.

"Don't back out on me now," Rowen pushed the papers towards him, "This has been in play for months. Getting the Director, the Senator, and the Attorney General on board does not happen in a single night. If you refuse, I'll be forced to hand it to the other unit, and we both don't want that."

"I'm not backing out. I just wish you had kept me in the loop all along."

"You would have been against the idea."

"I'm still not entirely in favour of it," he signed under his name even as he reminded Rowen of his standing. "Should I even be working this case? Don't ethics play a role in it? Conflict of interest?"

"About that," Rowen sighed, a guilty look in his eyes, "You are one of my best agents, Harry, and your unit has the highest capture rate that is true, but we especially need you on this case to keep Tomlinson in line."

"What are you saying?"

The other man sighed, tapping his fingers on the table, a nervous gesture he rarely showed, "Tomlinson would demand suitable living quarters if he is to help us, so we can't keep him in a cell, nor can we provide an apartment, he could trick us even with an officer tailing him at all times. The best course of action would be for him to stay with you-"

"No-"

"He won't deceive you, not if you use your Voice."

"I am not going to use my Voice," he gritted, frustrated that Rowen would even bring it up. It was crude. He hadn't used his Voice in a decade, had hardly ever used it before. It was a sick practice; to command an omega against their wishes.

"You will have to if he tries something. And he is to be your charge until this is all wrapped up."

"This is a violation of my life, his too."

"We are all sacrificing things, Harry," Rowen stood up, "Focusing on the big picture. You should do that, too. Come with me."

Harry knew when to take a hint, to drop a subject without being told to. Despite feeling wrongfooted, he followed after Rowen, anxious for the first time in a while as to what Tomlinson's reaction would be to the conditions of his freedom.

The man sat at leisure in the interrogation room, head tilted to gaze at the ceiling. The bruising around his eye had lessened significantly, but his lip seemed worse than before. Probably from all those biting remarks, he mused.

"Ah, there you are, Agents," the omega grinned, waving his fingers without lifting his hand from the table, "So, what can you offer me?"

Rowen placed the file in front of the omega, "We want confirmation whether you actually have something on them."

Tomlinson huffed, leaning forward to flip to the first page, "Night Bomber. That is such an unoriginal name. Where do you even come up with these? He hates it, just so you know, prefers 'Fission', not that that's any better."

"You've met him?"

"Skylar? Not really," he shrugged, "I've heard of him, and know of him. He needed some financial aid last year, who better to contact than me. But I refused, I do not mix with his kind."

"His kind?"

"Cause property damage, danger to civilians, his work is too risky, and he can get caught any time. It's a wonder he is not sitting in this chair prattling about me instead."

"What else?"

Tomlinson smirked, "I'll give you what else after I've signed for my immunity."

Rowen exchanged a look with him, and Harry placed the documents beside the file.

"Thank you," Tomlinson offered a sweet smile, "I'll go over these and let you know my decision."

Harry rolled his eyes, "We'll be waiting with baited breath."

"I'm sure you would."

-

Tomlinson agreed to the terms - he would be granted immunity after the capture of the four fugitives. It was a risk on his part as well, if the FBI failed to capture them, then he would remain under their custody, supervised for the rest of his life; every action, every move counted for even if he were to be provided his own lodgings.

"And where would I be staying in the meantime? I refuse to spend a moment in the cells."

"You will be staying with me," Harry said.

Whatever retort the man had died on his lips in the wake of Harry's answer - eyes hardening, anguish pouring through them as he dropped the pen, a harsh twist to his mouth, "No."

"You're not a guest, you have no jurisdiction over anything, and you know what your other option is." It was one thing to voice his protest to Rowen, it was an entirely different thing to let Tomlinson know he could still evoke any emotions from Harry. Some weaknesses refused to be overcome, and Tomlinson had always been at the top of the list. He could reflect his pain and anger, could take his wounds and use them to sharpen his words, but the truth remained unchanged - what he felt remained unchanged.

"The other option won't work now," Tomlinson said, playing along, "You got the higher ups involved. My disappearance won't go unnoticed."

A wry smirk pulled at his lips, the momentary fragility succumbing to harsh words, "They would be more than happy to be rid of you. Things can be hushed so easily sometimes."

"You, Styles, are an entitled prick," the omega gritted.

"Yes, I've heard that one before. So, are you signing?"

"You have an ulterior motive behind all of this, don't you? Orchestrated this whole charade so you could come look at me. Came to get that old scent again," the omega shot a sardonic smile, "Why don't you just smell yourself?"

"Desperation does not suit you. I expected better from you."

Rowen chose that moment to intervene, "Enough with this pissing contest. Tomlinson, if you sign, you will be staying with Agent Styles for the course of the investigation. Whatever transpired between you two would not be disclosed to other agents. This is a precautionary measure so you don't escape us."

"I've managed to escape from his grasp multiple times. If need arises, I'll do it again," Tomlinson spoke, a challenge in his voice as he picked up the pen and signed above his name, "However this plays out, I'll surely laugh in your face when I walk away again, Styles."

Words. So often were they wielded as weapons.

-

Harry pondered the consequences of throttling the man next to him; surely Rowen would understand if he provided an acceptable excuse, because currently he was extremely close to carrying through the unsaid threat. Tomlinson's incessant prattling was grating at his nerves, raising an itch under his skin.

"Come on, there is no harm in going there!" Tomlinson was loud. When did he get so loud? "Obviously you all are going through my things, you can take me there, no one will care."

"You are not allowed there," he said, "And whatever you need, can be bought. We have ceased your accounts; they should be enough to make purchases."

Tomlinson smirked, a mischievous tilt to his lips, "You have ceased my domestic accounts, you've got no idea how many I have overseas."

Harry frowned, turning to the man and bringing them both to a halt in the corridor, aware of the curious looks he got from the agents passing by but not entirely concerned about them. "Right now, I need to meet up with my team, which unfortunately means you have to be there as well. You are to stay quiet, not a single unnecessary word out of your mouth, no sarcasm or that damned humour, no undermining my authority, or looking down on my peers. And sooner or later, you are going to reveal those accounts of yours, unless we find them first, of course."

"You are not my boss," the omega said, a neutrality to his voice.

Harry clicked his tongue and smiled, a false show of sympathy, "But I am."

"I'm only asking for five minutes."

"And I'm saying no."

"All my things are there, come on, be reasonable."

"Your clothes will be brought over, and whatever else is deemed necessary," he shrugged, about to turn away when a single word stopped him.

"Please," Tomlinson whispered, not meeting his eye, "Just take me there for five minutes, that's all I'm asking."

Harry should refuse, it was blatant manipulation, playing on his weak spots - ones which Harry thought he no longer had. Apparently, he was wrong, the omega could still bend him according to his whims. He should decline, so that the man wouldn't resort to such methods again in the future. Tomlinson's residence - where they had made the capture - was not far, though. A little over half-an-hour and they would be in Maryland.

"I'll be polite to your team, I promise."

And Harry, he was a weak man.

-

He had left Tomlinson with his team after the initial, awkward introductions. Despite the issues regarding trust, he firmly believed his subordinates to act professionally in his absence, and Tomlinson had given his word to not cross the line. His briefing with the other units had taken over an hour; there had been a few leads but nothing concrete, no substantial ground to act upon.

If all went according to plan, they would be able to arrest Diablo, an infamous military-grade weapon smuggler, and his whole ring of cronies within the next few weeks.

His feet came to sudden stop at the sight of the empty Focus-Area, the noises leading him to the break room; Tomlinson sat in the middle, flagged on either side by his agents, a laptop open in front of him as they all laughed at whatever was playing on the screen.

"Must be quite important if it has all of you abandoning your desks."

Niall's head shot up at his voice, others following slowly after him. "Hey, boss, how was the meeting?" The man should be a bit more responsible seeing as he was an Intelligence Analyst.

"Just fine, Agent Horan," he walked to the coffee machine, pouring a cup of barely average, filtered down coffee, cursing his luck when it wasn't even hot, "The cybercrime division is not particularly jumping from joy at the moment."

"Rowen really fucked them over by handing the case to you," Mitch said with a wince.

"I did make the arrest," he shrugged, eyes falling over Tomlinson who lounged happily on the sofa, tapping away at the laptop. "And who gave you access to a laptop?"

"Sarah was more than happy to lend me hers for a few minutes," Tomlinson turned to him, "I tapped into the HRs office line, they are about to lay off some agent and we are waiting to see his reaction."

"Fucking hell," Harry cursed under his breath, placing the cup down before stalking over to the omega, "Hand it over."

"Fine," Tomlinson rolled his eyes, shutting the lid.

Harry turned his glare to his agents, "When I said behave, this is not what I meant."

"I was just breaking the ice," Tomlinson huffed, "Talk about overreacting."

"We wouldn't have actually heard him get fired," Niall said.

"It was better when you were against the idea of working with him."

"That was before we knew he was such a charmer," Sarah spoke as she walked in behind him, handing over the file she was carrying, "Louis isn't so bad, and he is gonna be a free citizen after all of this shit gets wrapped up."

He chose to ignore that statement, "What is this for?"

"The data on Diablo, his men were sighted entering the country through the Canadian border. He might try to reach his contacts to sell whatever they have brought."

"All right, briefing room, five minutes," he met Tomlinson's gaze, "You too."

-

The Diablo front was looking clearer, but the window to catch him would be short. He would make contact with his men, then with his contractor, and if they failed to catch him in that time-frame, the window would close. He had one of his agents tailing the contractor; Agent Adeleye had been on undercover duty for the past five months, working in close quarters with the contractor. With the intel they had, the shipment was going to be delivered within a fortnight.

"You are looking in the wrong places," Tomlinson broke the silence in the car. They were on their way to Maryland; the omega had kept his word and Harry was going to follow through with his own.

"Sorry?"

"Diablo might be a brutish alpha with a thick head, but he is not entirely dense," the omega said, shifting to angle his body toward Harry, "If his men were sighted at the Canadian border, it was deliberate. He knows the FBI is after him, might even know there's a mole. He conducts his business at the Mexican border and then flees the country for a few months."

"Why didn't you say this earlier?"

Tomlinson looked away, shrugging one shoulder, "Would you have heard me?"

"Yes," Harry was shocked at the conviction of his own affirmation, "You know more about them than any of us. Of course, we would hear you."

"Well, if Diablo thinks there is a mole, he will confront his contractor because all the men that work for him are his relatives, 'keep it in the family' sort of guy. The contractor is the only outsider, but he has been working with Diablo for years, so before questioning his loyalty Diablo will suspect whoever has started working recently."

Harry sighed, his grip tightening on the steering, "Adeleye is capable enough to protect himself but I'll still get him out, we will work on a different approach."

"I know where he conducts his business at the Mexican border," Tomlinson said after some hesitation.

"But?"

"But there is a chance he might have changed the location after suspecting a mole. What if he truly is doing it at the Canadian border and I lead you all to the Mexican one?"

"We can have SWAT ready at both, and increase the border patrol. We can't miss this opportunity." They fell silent again, Harry's mind reeling with his next moves, already forming a new plan. He needed to contact his team and get Adeleye out as soon as possible. He looked over to find Tomlinson silent beside him again, gazing out the window. "Thank you."

The man shrugged, "I am getting something out of this as well."

-

Tomlinson's place in Maryland had been devoid of any and all communication devices, taken into custody for examination. The agents were wrapping up their work when Harry stepped inside the house. He had to give it to Tomlinson for decorating the place as lavishly as he had, but Harry could see the true intent underneath the grandiose, a mechanism of defence for everything the omega had never had. It was cold and detached, a clinical sort of artistry to it, no personal attachments to the place. He wondered if Tomlinson had some place to truly call it home.

He picked the bag of the man's belongings himself, no point in having it delivered to his place and add more to the forensic agents' work. "How do you know this much about Diablo?" Harry asked upon noticing Tomlinson's increasing anxiousness. He would have chalked it up to the presence of unfamiliar faces if he did not know how well the man could hold up on his own.

I don't want a knight in shining armour, H. I need an equal.

The memory shot up from the depth of his mind, plummeting his insides with the suddenness of it.

Tomlinson turned to him, coming to a stop outside what Harry assumed was his bedroom. "He incessantly pursued me for months, revealing his methods for business conduction and what-not in hopes of impressing me. Then tried to belittle me for my gender and age when I rejected his unwanted courtship. Needless to say, I left him with a reminder," the omega smirked.

"And what might that reminder be?" Going by the latest blurry photographs of Diablo, Harry could suspect what it was.

Tomlinson shrugged, faux innocence and a shy smile, "I gouged his left eye with his favourite knife."

Harry should not have felt a burst of pride at the revelation. It was a crime, and a gruesome act, but the alpha in him rejoiced for it all the same.

"You can stay out here, it'll only take me a minute." Tomlinson was already moving towards the room, not waiting for a reply.

"I would be a fool to leave you alone."

"Attached to me already, Styles?" It lacked the usual bite Harry had grown to expect, rather was laced with insecurity.

"Can't have you running out the window."

"I won't," the omega stopped to face him, holding up his palms, "Seriously, I just need a minute."

"Your insistence makes it more suspicious."

Tomlinson closed his eyes, running a hand over his face as if exhausted. If anyone had the right to expression exhaustion, it was Harry - he had been operating on coffee alone for the past forty-eight hours and had still agreed to drive all the way to Maryland for this apparently ungrateful man.

"I just need a moment where you're not breathing down my neck. Just... stay by the door."

"I'm not happy to be following you around either," he muttered under his breath as the omega walked further into the room. Harry followed nonetheless; God only knew what the man had hidden in there. It could not be a weapon, he reasoned, the forensics unit would have removed it already.

In hindsight, it would have been much better for both of them if Harry had stayed by the door. He could have easily kept an eye on Tomlinson from the threshold, then why didn't he? He could have looked away when the omega had opened the drawer, could have pretended to check his phone so his eyes wouldn't track whatever the omega was reaching for. Or better yet, he could have refused to bring the man here. Why did he follow?

"Why... why do you... have it?" He pushed the words past his throat, feeling as if they had scarred his innards on their way out, leaving him bleeding on the inside. A knife wedging from the outside to complete the wound, twisting in his guts.

Tomlinson tensed at his voice, having not expecting him to be standing so close, expecting him to have stayed by the door, "I told you I needed a moment alone."

"Why do you still have it?" He asked again, finding it difficult to take in the next breath. His heart ached with a long-lost pain; a susurrus of what ifs and what could've been.

"Because it's mine," the omega whispered - a reflecting ache he had lost all right to - as he clutched the chain close to his chest.

The chain, for its sake, was not the culprit, rather an innocent bystander caught up in the malevolent storm of their past. It was the glinting ring dangling from it that had catapulted him back into the memories of a night from over a decade ago.