Harry felt himself getting stuck in the moment. A loop of should haves running through his mind. Should have checked before opening the door. Should have gone to work. Should have told them about Louis. Should have told Louis about his episode.

While his inner monologue ran over the same course on a repeat, the people around him went ahead. He registered the confused looks on their faces and wondered if the confusion was in regard to his strangeness, or had they heard the question directed to him. He did not get the opportunity to piece together an answer. A hand curled around his forearm, body sliding next to his; warm and relaxed one second, tense and unmoving the next.

He could predict a hundred different ways this should have gone – would have – if he had not hidden the recent developments in his life from his family.

It was his mother who first recovered from the shock, a tight, forced smile on her face as she said, “Won’t you invite us in, Harry?”

He nodded in quick succession, stepping aside to let them through, “This is a surprise.”

“You tell me,” Gemma said, eyes flicking between him and Louis, “Though, surprise is a mild way to put it.”

Louis stood stock still beside him, hands firmly back to his own sides while Harry collected their coats.

“Let’s give them a minute, mum,” Gemma said in a low murmur to Anne, inclining her head to the kitchen and shooting Harry a pointed look before following after their mother. He knew what that look meant; to get himself straightened out and not upset their mother.

Louis’ gaze met his for a single moment of panic before dropping to the ground, “I should go back to bed.” No sooner had Louis said the words that he fled for the stairs, stopping only when Harry curled his hand around the omega’s wrist.

“Stay, please.”

“They hate me,” Louis whispered, eyes still downcast but not protesting when Harry pulled him back.

“They don’t hate you, darling,” Harry said, cupping Louis’ cheeks, wishing the omega would look at him.

“You’re a really bad liar, Harry.”

“They don’t hate you,” he repeated, “Upset, yes. Disappointed, definitely. But there’s no hatred.”

“It’s not as comforting to hear as you think,” Louis gave a smile, reluctant as it was.

“Please stay,” he requested.

“Wouldn’t it be better if I just stay up in the room?” Louis asked, but Harry heard the unasked question. Wouldn’t it be better if he stayed hidden?

“I don’t ever want to hide you, baby.”

The omega stalled, not entirely convinced, eyeing the stairs to his right before relenting. “If this turns into a shit-show, which it will, I’m blaming you,” Louis threatened, parting his eyes from the staircase to meet Harry’s.

Conceding the point, Harry nodded fondly, dropping his voice as he asked, “How did you sleep?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about right now?”

“Yes.”

Louis softened, “I slept fine, and you were right, I’m not currently fit to be in the field.” Louis let his shoulders drop, chewing the frayed skin from the corner of his lip, “I know you’re trying to distract me, but we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“They won’t mind, well, not too much,” he shrugged, braving himself as he offered, “I can tell them not to question you.”

“I don’t need you to save me, H,” the omega smiled as he reminded him, “I’m man enough to own my mistakes.”

Louis followed after Harry, the stiffness returning to his posture even as he tried to wave off Harry’s concern. The whispering between the two women came to an abrupt halt, heads turning towards them as they appeared in the doorway.

Harry felt as if he was out on a limb; he did not know how to break the tension, how to address the massive elephant in the room, or even where to start the conversation.

“You didn’t call,” his tongue eventually settled on a bland remark, almost accusatory despite not having that as his intention.

“It’s been a while since you visited,” Gemma said, “We thought it would be a nice surprise when you came home. Didn’t know you hadn’t gone to work.”

Of course, they had a spare key.

He moved to pour water for them, aware of how Louis slowly gathered the courage to peel himself away from the doorway and to the kitchen island. He settled on the stool beside the omega’s, pressing their knees together under the table – a single contact point for comfort.

“It’s nice to see you two,” Louis said, fists clenched over his thighs.

“Wish I felt the same,” Gemma muttered.

“Gemma,” Harry warned, his eyes flashing to his sister.

“You got something to say?” Gemma countered, her own eyes turning red at Harry’s threat.

Louis’ hand curled over his under the table, “It’s fine, Harry.”

He reeled himself back, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath before looking back up at Gemma, “Sorry.”

“Care to explain what’s going on here?” She asked. “Because as far as I remember, he had effectively cut us out of his life.”

Harry had to keep his ire in check, because Gemma was correct to harbour anger against Louis. He too had, for a long time his emotions had battled against one another, his anger and love for the omega used to burn deep within his chest.

It was Louis who explained everything while accepting responsibility for his actions, voice defeated when he apologised for all the pain he had caused. Harry wanted to pull him close and assure him that all was forgiven, but he could not do that for Gemma and Anne, their forgiveness would come in increments. It would take time for them to completely forgive Louis, but Harry could live with that. Forgiveness took time after all.

Their faces softened, sympathy bleeding into their eyes, edging them to acceptance.

His mother stayed quiet during the whole exchange, had not spoken a word since entering the house. It did worry him. Their acceptance mattered to him because it mattered to Louis. Family had always mattered to Louis. One learned to care for things they had lost.

When the silence stretched, Harry offered to cook, “An early lunch if all are amenable?”

“Louis and I will be having a quick talk in the living room,” Anne finally said, her tone suggesting no room for discussion, “We will be back shortly.”

He tapped the back of the omega’s hand three times before letting go with a nod, “I hope we can all be civil, mum.”

“It’s just a conversation,” Anne said, “It will be over by the time you’re done cooking.”

“All right,” his heart still twisted when Louis walked away. He had to remind himself that despite the current situation his mother had once loved Louis like her own son, that Louis could hold his ground, that he had nothing to worry for. Still, the part of him that called Louis his mate urged him follow after them.

“How can I help?” Gemma’s voice pulled him away from his rapidly building concern. Harry turned to her, a grateful smile on his face, knowing that the help offered was also a form of distraction.

“You can start with chopping vegetables,” he collected the array of vegetables from the refrigerator and handed it to her with a bowl, taking a knife from the block and placing it on the cutting board. While she busied herself, Harry pulled out the chicken breasts to cut them into thin slices.

“You know I don’t hate him, right?” Gemma asked, a softness to her that opposed to the rigidness still lurking in her shoulders. “Neither does mum.”

“I know,” he met her eyes, smiling briefly.

“I don’t care that I lost my job back then, I mean, I was angry at the time, but it did go away. I’m in a better place now,” she said, “But I care about you. I care what all of it did to you. You’re my baby brother, you will always be, and I don’t want to see you that hurt ever again.”

He nudged his foot against hers, “Thank you, Gems.”

“So, is it still some weird FBI requirement for him to stay with you, or are you two back together?”

“We are together,” he nodded, unable to help the smile that quirked at his lips, “With the added weird requirement.”

“All right,” she smiled back, “I’m still going to give him a hard time. It is my right, and you won’t take it away from me.”

“Don’t be too harsh.”

She sighed, “I can’t be even if I tried. He’s too cute for a man in his thirties.”

“And I’m not?”

“You are a goblin, Harry, you don’t deserve to live amongst us unsuspecting humans.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” he chuckled, “It’s certainly better than booger boy.”

“I will never let you forget that you sneezed on my prom date’s boutonniere,” Gemma flicked a carrot peel at him, “Little booger boy.”

“I had hay fever!”

“Sure,” she conceded with an exaggerated eye roll. “I have to ask; does it not pose the question of morals and ethics for him to be under your care?”

“It does,” he moved to wash the meat, “And it’s something all involved parties are aware of.”

“I never doubted Rowen to be someone to gamble with morals as long as the ends justify the means.”

“Then you know him better than most people.”

“And what did your psychiatrist say to this arrangement?”

“That falls under doctor-patient confidentiality,” he pointedly reminded her.

“Fine. Are all parties truly aware of the situation?” She chose a different approach.

Harry knew what Gemma was asking, but if she chose indirect approach, he would opt for deflection.

“As far as I know.”

“So, you’re not worried mum might bring up those four months? Warn him as a precaution?” Closer, yet still not direct. But it was enough to give him a pause, the good mood evaporating from his body and leaving behind the feeling of dread. “Harry?”

“Rowen knows about that.”

“It’s not Rowen who mum is talking to, and it’s not Rowen who this is concerned to,” her tone was careful, as if afraid to back him into a corner, afraid to spook him. “Harry, does Louis know?”

He clenched his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the counter. Admitting that one word, speaking it out loud, proved too difficult. “No.”

He felt Gemma’s arms around him as the chasm of his past threatened to swallow him, holding him so he wouldn’t plummet into the bottomless pit. The reassurance of the safety of her arms eased the tension from his body.

“You can’t keep this from him, Harry. You can’t rebuild what you had by hiding away the truth.”

“He already has so much on his plate, I don’t want to be a burden to him.”

“Shouldn’t you give him enough credit to not doubt that he can shoulder that burden? That he might not even see it as a burden?” She asked, a voice of reason in between the chaos in his mind.

But who would want a broken alpha? He wanted to ask. He had asked his psychiatrist the same question numerous times. Her reasoning had never stuck, he doubted Gemma’s would. He did not know how to answer her questions without showing his hand, his vulnerability that he had hidden so well. He did not know how to answer without feeling he was about lose Louis again. So, he stayed quiet. Being held in her arms, he felt as if he was ten again, building forts with her and sneaking snacks from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Ten-year-old him did not have to worry about anything other than what shenanigans he would get up to the next day.

“You’re not a burden, Harry,” she whispered, “Not to me, not to mum, and definitely not to Louis.”

A few beats of silence where he soaked her warmth before nodding. A few more before Gemma let him out of her embrace.

“Now, you promised us a lunch.”

They worked together in silence. Gemma did not bring up his past again, and Harry held himself back from stalking to the living room.

When Louis and Anne returned, they stuck to lighter topics—jobs were a significantly safer topic, they collectively decided.

Despite the apparent ease in the air, Harry still felt chill dredge up his spine when Louis refused to meet his inquisitive gaze.

-

His mother and sister left when the sun began to set. They had shown their acceptance and given their warnings in little words, for now it was enough. An invitation for Christmas had followed that had been readily accepted.

Gemma had hugged Louis while leaving, telling him to not be a stranger, and Louis had melted right in her arms. There was something about his sister’s hugs that no one could rival.

Now, Harry watched as Louis dried the plates and stacked them one on top of the other, back turned to Harry, asking for his space without having to voice it, and Harry did not dare to encroach on that space. Still, he had his own words. “You’re angry,” he noted.

Louis did not deem it with a response, continuing to dry the plates and letting Harry stew within his thoughts for a short while. Only when all the dishes were put away, the omega turned to him, arms crossed over his middle, “It would be justified, right?”

“It would,” he agreed.

“Earlier this day I said you’re a terrible liar,” Louis spoke, a tightness around his eyes, “I take it back. You’re quite proficient.”

“I never lied to you, Louis.”

“No, you chose to be a hypocrite.”

“Lou...”

“Not keeping secrets, trusting each other, it goes both ways, Harry,” Louis stepped closer, palms cradling Harry’s face, “So does caring for each other.”

“You have so much to worry about, Lou. How could I bring up something that was in the past, that no longer matters?”

“It matters,” Louis insisted sharply, “You matter to me, Harry. Don’t ever question that.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Louis’. The comfort of those words effectively soothing him.

Their bond had never been broken, but it might as well have been. When Louis had left, the stress of the work, the longing for his mate, the isolation he had imposed on himself, it had broken him. It had him starving for Louis’ touch, had sent him right into the clutches of deprivation. It had taken him four months to be functional again, four months that he spent in a care facility, four months where he had to acclimate to the idea of losing the connection to his mate.

Four months where he had to learn to live without Louis.

Touch starved and deprived, Harry had yearned for him in silence, had shut everyone out of his life, had dedicated his entire days to work, hoping something might lead him to Louis. Ultimately, it had broken him down at a crime scene, had landed him in the hospital, and then a facility. The memory alone was able to evoke a shudder from him.

Louis made him sit on the kitchen stool and stood between his legs. For the second time that day, Harry found himself cradled in an embrace, making him feel safer than he ever had. He clutched back at the omega, holding onto him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, H,” Louis whispered against his hair, petting his hand through them, “I’ve hurt you so much, darling. I’m so sorry.”

He tilted his head up, gaze imploring as he met the clear blues, “Louis...”

“I’m never leaving you again, I promise. I will never take you for granted.”

He buried his face back against the omega’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent of him, “I wanted to be someone you could always rely on.”

“You are, Harry,” Louis kissed his temple, “And I do rely on you. Will it be so bad for you to rely on me as well?”

“No,” he answered honestly.

“You don’t have to shoulder everything, my love. This is a relationship, isn’t it? We are partners. And if you can bear my antics and my nightmares, trust me, I’m more than happy to comfort you.”

“I had no reason to tell you about that, you never deny me your touch, your proximity, but I know I should have still told you.”

“You should have,” Louis agreed, “It’s not something you hide from your mate. Especially when I was responsible for it.”

“I don’t blame you, Lou,” Harry whispered against the juncture of Louis’ neck, laying a small kiss over a fading bruise, “I pushed myself too hard. I should have stopped before it got too bad.”

Louis ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, untangling every knot with a careful tug, “No more secrets, promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Even if I’m asleep and all you want is a kiss, you will wake me up,” Louis ordered.

Harry could not help his smile, he tilted his head back and kissed his mate, “Okay.”

“Good,” Louis deepened the kiss, whispering against his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

-

Sarah’s call came through while they were on their way to the FBI, voice ringing through the car’s speaker after the call connected.

“There was blood under the latest victim’s toe nails,” she rushed, “We found a DNA match—a man named Javier Garcia. He was involved in a hit-and-run three years back, and was taken to the ER where they drew his blood. We got lucky. The address is of a run-down house. I’m sending you the location now.”

It was as if a metaphorical switch had flipped inside Harry’s mind, sending him on auto-pilot as his procedural side took over. He took one look at the address before saying, “I’m twenty minutes out from there. Issue a warrant and send for backup. Have Niall monitor for any movement around a five-hundred metre radius.”

He made a sharp turn, eyes only flicking away once from the road to look at Louis before directing his attention back at Sarah.

“ETA for any first responder is forty minutes,” frustration bled through her voice.

“Paramedics too?”

“Yes.”

“How long will it take you?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“I want you, Mitch, and Niji there at the earliest. And keep Niall on line with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned his attention again to Louis after the call disconnected, “Open the glove box and pick up the gun.” He noted the tense pull on the omega’s face, but carried through, “The clips, too.”

Louis loaded one set of clips and turned on the safety before taking out the other two as well.

“You will keep the gun on you at all times,” Harry instructed, “And you will keep the car locked from the inside. Any moment you feel that there is some kind of danger, you will turn the car around and leave.”

“Harry—”

“No, this is not a suggestion, this is an order.”

“You’re not going in there alone, I’m coming with you,” Louis argued.

“The only reason I haven’t turned the car around to drop you off at the bureau is because I’m a first responder,” Harry reminded the omega, “You will stay in the car. Am I clear?”

“What if it’s more than one person? Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

“We agreed to you not being in the field, didn’t we? I don’t see any other option.”

“Don’t avoid my question.”

Harry sighed, “If it’s more than one person then I’ll handle it as I’ve been trained to.”

“You could wait for backup to arrive!” Louis turned to him, an urgency in his voice, “Don’t go in there alone, Harry.”

“We don’t have the warrant yet, so, I’m just going to scout the place,” he said. “Ask a few questions if he is home, assuming it’s just one person.”

“What if he is violent?”

“Then you take the car and leave.”

“You can’t ask that of me. I am not going to fucking abandon you, Harry!”

Harry contemplated using his Voice in that moment, command Louis to prioritise his own safety, but the repercussions of it was not something he was willing to take. It was difficult for Louis to realise that this was a routine for Harry, that this was how investigations went. Harry understood that, but understanding did not mean he was willing to bend to the omega’s plea and let him enter a potentially dangerous situation.

The GPS instructed to get off the main highway and onto a dirt road. He winced when the tyre skidded over a rock. The dirt road continued for the next seven miles, hindering the speed at which they had been going due to the snow still accumulated over it.

“The team will be here soon,” Harry spoke at length when the house came into view, falling apart at the edges, its banisters hanging loose, “I’m just going to get a sense of the place until then.”

He brought the car to a stop a few yards away, parking it at a relatively safe distance so that if needed, Louis could drive away before anyone caught up to him.

Louis gripped his forearm, tips of his fingers digging into the skin, “Please be safe.”

“I will be,” he promised, leaning over to kiss the omega’s forehead, “Stay here.” He grabbed his vest from the backseat and fastened it after getting out of the car.

Moving closer to the house Harry found a car parked on the side, the tyre tracks looked fresh. The man must have returned only a few hours ago at most, but going around the house he could not see anyone inside through the windows. It looked almost normal, if a bit weary from the inside. Old furniture, and outdated pipelines, but working nonetheless.

Back at the front porch, Harry knocked at the door, one hand on the gun-holster as he waited for a response. When none came, not that he had expected, he tried opening the door and found it locked. Scaling through the sides again, he returned to the window. The glass slid away with little work.

He climbed in through the open space, taking his gun out as he scanned for any movement. The place was too still, too unmoving for it to not be suspicious, but despite that Harry could not find a single trace of life. There was dust collecting on the furniture, a leaking faucet over the sink, days old food rotting in the trash can.

Maybe there was a cabin or warehouse where the man hid away his crimes.

He called Sarah, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, “How far out are you?”

“Still twenty minutes, the weather is getting worse.”

“Is there any cabin, or warehouse, or any other address under Javier Garcia’s name?”

“None that is registered.”

“Where does he work?”

“Handcrafts wood furniture and sells it at cheap prices.”

An inkling inside him said they would find their answers here, but the plain truth seemed as if there was nothing to find.

“I can’t find anything here,” he admitted, “The forensics will search the whole place, tear it down if they have to.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pocketing his phone, Harry trudged down the stairs. He unlocked the front door and was about to leave when he heard a dull thud behind himself. Turning on his feet, he propped up his gun, eyes scanning over every inch of space. The carpet in front of the couch looked too clean and out of place even with dust mottled into it. The floorboards creaked under his feet as he moved closer to the carpet, the tap of his heel rebounded from the hollow space underneath.

He grabbed the carpet and flung it aside. There, nestled between floorboards was a trap door with no handle on the outside. The only thing distinguishing it from the other wood panels was its chipped edges.

Harry slotted his fingers under the chipped side and pulled the door open, propping his gun again as he descended down the narrow stairs. He clicked on the LED torch, holding it over his gun and flashed it in a slow sweep, coming to a stop when the light reflected over a small door knob. Taking careful steps to the unassuming door, he pressed his ear to it and waited for what felt like an eternity but no sound travelled through.

He rapped his knuckles against the door in a harsh knock, “FBI! Open up!”

A minute passed.

Another ticked by.

Another loud knock went unanswered.

When none yielded a result, Harry jammed his shoulder against the door, probably bruising it. The strength of the door shocked him. While the rest of the house stood on weak foundations, the basement door opposed it—a sturdy piece separating it from the rest of the house. He twisted the knob and slammed his body against the door two more times before it gave way and the lock broke.

Harry realised why the door had been difficult to open; it was thick and padded to be sound-proofed—a scream of pain reached him as soon as he stepped inside. The harsh fluorescent lights blinded him for a moment before his sight adjusted to the sudden contrast. He counted three children huddled in the corner, chained to the floor; two being ushered towards another door at the back by a man. They all seemed unaware of their whereabouts, drugged up to their eyeballs.

“Javier Garcia, you are under arrest—”

His words died in his throat when he felt the press of a barrel against the back of his head.

“Drop your gun,” a grave voice said.

In his haste Harry had not accounted to check for the possibility of another person being involved. They had theorised there could be more than one person behind this, yet he had overlooked the notion.

He lowered his gun, hands away from his body, “The FBI is on its way with a SWAT team. You do not want to do anything untoward.”

“That is for us to decide,” the man behind him spoke, “Call and say whatever you have to, or I put a bullet in your head.”

The other man had dragged the two children to the door. There was that car outside, possibly for a quick getaway, now that he thought about it.

Louis.

He prayed the omega had taken heed of his instructions and left already, but even he knew Louis would decide to stay. In that moment Harry truly wished the omega would leave, he would rather not see Louis ever again than see him dragged into this mess.

“Call now!” The man growled, pushing the barrel harder.

“I would rather not,” he replied calmly. His team should be here in less than ten minutes, he had to somehow stall until then.

He had two sets of cuffs attached to his belt, and he spied a length of rope in one corner. If he could disarm the man behind him, he would have a moment of leverage where he could grab his gun again and shoot the other person.

He jammed his elbow in the man’s ribs when he heard him click off the safety. Turning on his feet, Harry brought his knee up as the man doubled over, hitting him in his face. But before he could get the cuffs out, the other man reached for him, leaving the children by the door and tugging him back by a fistful of hair, another connecting to his jaw.

Blood filled his mouth before another blow landed under his eye.

The first man stood back up, picking his gun and shouting, “I’m going to blow your fucking head off!”

Harry grinned, spitting blood at his feet, “They’re still gonna catch you.” He received another hit to his face for his troubles. Apparently, they had a vendetta against his face. “Scared to shoot me?” He challenged, anything to keep them here, anything so they would not flee their grasp. Anything so they would not find Louis outside.

What followed was something that would play behind his closed eyelids for months and months.

The gunshot rang loud and clear in the confines of the basement, sound echoing off the walls. Another loud bang followed its wake in quick succession.

His body jump started as the man in front of him dropped the gun and clutched at his right arm. Harry kicked away the weapon, bringing the man down on his knees and cuffing his hands behind his back. The other man was in a similar state, clutching at his stomach as blood seeped through his fingers. He recited their rights as he bound them with ropes, ignoring the pain in his jaw for the time being, he would account for his own injuries later.

He stood and turned to the door, expecting the SWAT team to filter in, or at least to find his own team, but what he saw would keep him awake for endless nights.

Louis stood there leaning against the doorframe, eyes wide and body trembling, drenched in blood, and gripping tightly at the handgun. Harry was beside him before the omega could fall to the ground, cradling him close.

“Louis? Louis? What happened?” He asked on the verge of panic, hands assessing the damage; a bullet wound to the omega’s side from which blood was gushing out. He undid the scarf wound around Louis’ neck and pressed it to the wound, watching as the fabric darkened under his hands. “Lou, listen to me, baby, please,” he begged, noting how wide the omega’s pupils had blown; shock.

“Head…” Louis mumbled, “…hurts…”

Harry turned the omega’s face, finding a gash at the side of his head—blunt force trauma; there would be swelling, disorientation, concussion, possible haemorrhage, double vision.

“It’s gonna be alright, love, it’s gonna be alright,” he tried to assure, finding it lacking when he could hardly bring himself to believe it. He dialled Sarah’s number, whispering his assurances until the call connected. “Where the fuck are you?” He growled, uncaring of his unprofessionalism, he did not care for anything or anyone else. He should probably spare a thought to the children, but he could not bring himself to part from Louis. He did not know what that said about him as a person, only that nothing else mattered to him but Louis.

“Two minutes out.”

“Send in the EMTs first!” He disconnected the call.

“Harry…” Louis whispered, eyes drooping one moment and widening the next, unable to focus, “The car… in the trunk, there was a little girl… he was going to hurt her… I killed him… keep her safe, please…”

“I will, I will. Louis, look at me.”

Louis’ eyes drifted low, breath coming out in short gasps, “I—I killed—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he spoke, eyes watering as Louis’ skin started to turn cold under his fingers; colder than he usually was. His own breath came out short when Louis’ eyes slipped close, “No, no, no, no, no, baby, look at me!” He tapped the side of Louis’ face, forcing him to keep his eyes open, “Please, look at me!”

Harry could hardly hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears. The world around him seemed too dull; the curses of the two perpetrators were far away. His entire world was focused on the omega. He should have used his Voice. He should have made Louis leave.

Louis’ head lolled to the side, resting over Harry’s chest, a pained groan left the omega’s lips, his breaths slowing down until Harry could hardly detect any movement of his chest.

A loud sound broke through the haze he had been stuck under. Later, Harry would realise it was his own anguished scream that had pierced through his lungs.