He may as well forget it happened, because he'd never see Dominic again. Never meet his dark brown eyes. Never touch his smooth skin over hard muscle, hear the sound of his voice, get a taste of his mouth. History. He was sure there'd be no court hearing. His guilt wasn't an open debate. Getting caught red-handed and then confessing to the crime did that sort of thing. But he had kept that flesh clean, those eyes sparkling, that muscle free…

Worth it was an understatement. Somehow, he felt it was what he was put on this planet for.

The concrete and glass room around him was central FBI headquarters in LA. More downtown than any office Brian had ever worked. It was brightly lit with white light and clean, full of suits and shiny black shoes, and disgusted-with-him faces. The handcuffs were cold and tight and clinked against the metal table he was bound to. His legs were in irons also, pinned to the floor but his foot was cocked sideways without thought. The theory he was going to run was a stupid notion, but then again they didn't know he needed to do this to save Dom. They didn't know he had the upper hand over all of them and wanted it this way.

By now it must have grown dark on this Saturday night. Hours passed since he was hauled into this interrogation room and left to rot alone under the cameras and silence. Forget a bathroom break. Forget water. And fucking forget food. He was their bitch now.

Honestly, though, how they looked for taking him on as their undercover officer when he turned out to be the one orchestrating the truck heists really made them their boss's bitches. Bilkins hadn't even shown his face outside of the corner office he walked into five hours ago. Since then, half a dozen new people had shown up and also went to that same office. When a half hour ago a tall white bald man with an entourage of eight peons showed up, escorted by Hobbs and his two men, that's when Brian knew the biggest name had shown.

He watched from this room alone but…not. There was a camera in the upper corner of the room with a blinking red light. He was sure he was being watched and gave a defiant glare to the camera now and again to make sure they knew he wasn't wearing down. It wasn't to say Brian didn't believe himself totally fucked. He just didn't intend to let just anyone feel like they got the better of him.

Tanner wasn't invited to the building. That he did feel an ounce of sorrow for. Since moving to LA a year ago, Tanner was the closest person he'd ever come into contact with, and if they didn't have him in an interrogation room of his own and were questioning him to high heaven about anything and everything Brian had done during his time with LAPD and MAPD here in Los Angeles, then they just really were scooting this whole case under the rug and were going to toss him into prison and wipe their hands without a backward look. He was sure Tanner was making a fuss no matter where he was…for what good it did.

He couldn't blame them if they wanted to quicken him into a dark cell and turn his name into a number. He was a dirty cop traitor in their eyes, which he could see clearly from this little room with this big bulletproof glass window.

The most movement Brian even made was just to tilt his head here and there as his eyes found other specks to dust to examine. He couldn't say juvenile hall ever left his subconscious mind, so the void of this room was not at all something he felt uncomfortable in. The cuffs now were just physical reminders of what he always felt surprised to find missing in his day-to-day life these past years. He could practically taste the echo of the metal as Hobbs' cuffs clicked closed tightly around him all those hours ago. The desert dust had hardly settled, the sweat soaked his back, and Hobbs had no mercy as his body was slammed onto the hot hood of the black Civic and his arms jerked behind him to receive those cuffs. He was caked in a pattern of dirt that had dried as he did.

He knew it was coming after that bald man had gone into the room half an hour ago, but finally that door in the farthest corner from Brian opened and a horde of men and women in starched suits came out, four broke off and came straight Brian's way. There was Bilkins, there was Hobbs, there was also two he hadn't ever seen before including the bald man. They all held paperwork. Their gazes zeroed in on Brian and only grew more intense as they drew closer to him.

A keypad was what opened the metal framed glass door that had so far kept him alone in here. The man with the code was named Penning. He ran the show on this level of the building. He held the door open for Bilkins and Hobbs, with the bald man coming in just ahead of him as he closed the door behind him. It automatically locked.

The tiny space was filled up now, the carbon monoxide level rising. The glass window to the outside showed faces looking in.

Bilkins tossed the file on the table and leaned over the metal surface, glaring down at Brian who didn't back away an inch. His voice turned hissy and low.

"You've embarrassed me, O'Conner. I'm going to see you put in San Quintin! You'll never see the light of day!"

"You call that a threat?" said Agent Penning, arms crossed and his suit and tie holding perfect form. He had a gleam in his eyes and a toothy mouth that looked ready to start gnawing on Brian's flesh. In terms of first impressions, he left one. "Fuck that! I can set him up in the lowest security wing of Lompoc. Those animals will tear a cop like him apart!"

Cold steel had nothing on Brian's face as he turned to the next person with something to say. Agent Hobbs was past threat and murder. He was right at the truth. He had bulked up since last Brian had seen him, he was sure.

"I can get him transferred to Guantanamo Bay."

Was a fact.

There was no way they were going to let him off easy for what he pled guilty to doing. And the evidence against him was high. There wasn't great witnesses…Johnny took a bullet bath when he drew his automatic weapon against the cops who chased him off the highway. And his henchmen in the other Civic spun out and flipped, breaking his neck.

Their pursuit of the three Civics down the asphalt sprinkled with pedestrian vehicles and commercial semi truck drivers lasted ten minutes…one arrest. It was all Brian's game now. They wanted more names, that's why they were all playing bad-cop.

Well, all but one.

The Assistant Director's drawl was level and his eyes were steady. He was the good-cop.

"Let's get one thing straight, Mr. O'Conner. This isn't an interrogation. In fact, it can't be. With time, we are going to rip you open for expending so much agency time and money. Corruption charges and a litany of other offenses will pile higher than your head so you won't even be able to breathe…but not yet."

"Why's that?" Brian asked.

"Because you've only got one fleeting hope on this planet left. It might just get you out of this unscathed."

Unscathed?

One fleeting hope…?

Brian wouldn't risk feeling like he could, though. It piqued Bilkins' attention, too. He was looking aghast at this man now. Penning was too busy eyeing which part of Brian he was going to have for breakfast to warrant even a twitch.

"What are you talking about, sir?" Hobbs was probably the only one with clearance to even ask this question to the Assistant Director.

The calm man allowed another moment to pass before he turned his head to Hobbs.

"Tell me what you were assigned to do here in LA, Agent Hobbs," the bald man said this clearly enough, but it was as if Hobbs couldn't make the words out.

"Sir?"

"Tell us," he said again, sweeping his hand out to Brian and the others in the room.

Hobbs took a breath.

"Sir. You called me to come in and sort out the trouble with Johnny Tran."

"And?"

Like he might have misheard, Hobbs held his tongue.

"Tell us about the X-file," the Assistant Director said calmly.

He now took a seat, pulled his briefcase up and set it on the table. Two clicks of the silver latches, but he didn't open it. He was waiting. They were all waiting.

"What's an X-file?" Penning asked.

"You haven't heard of it?" Bilkins asked incredulously. He was awed, really. Something new was happening in the room.

Brian was on the level with the Assistant Director now and kept his face neutral. Both of them stared off, just waiting for Hobbs to get his act together and speak. At long last, he did.

"X-file," he started hesitantly. "An investigation is going on in Tucson, Arizona right now. An investigation into a strange seismic earthquake that happened around ten years ago. Two agents were deployed weeks ago to interview subjects known to be experiencing…anomalies in their personalities."

The Assistant Director nodded. "That's pretty good. Want to tell us your part in this?"

Hobbs cleared his throat. "Assess two of the subjects discovered to be working for the FBI."

That was when the briefcase opened and a single sheet of paper was pulled out. It was mostly blank except for a glossy rendering of the Department of Justice, Federal Bureau of Investigation logo on the front, and below it a paragraph.

He rested the page cleanly center in front of Brian, who read to himself.

Case #: X 771563256

Official Status: OPEN

By decree, no examination of subject Brian O'Conner allowed by any law enforcement or agency other than the official FBI Special Agent profiler overseeing the unsolved case to which subject Brian O'Conner holds sensitive knowledge. Report subject Brian O'Conner to FBI Special Agent profiler immediately regarding this X-File.

Brian looked up and ground out, "Me?"

Now the Assistant Director pulled out a rather thick set of papers within a manila folder and set them down. The others in the room leaned forward and looked closer.

There was that same case number beginning with third letter from the last on the alphabet. The file looked old. He flipped open to the first page and there was a stack of old Polaroid pictures of Brian as a teenager from juvenile detention. The Assistant Director pressed his hand to the pile and swept it across, spreading evenly seven photos of Brian, the first of which was his mug shot taken when he was fifteen years old.

Brian looked back up at the bald man.

"I don't think you have to think really hard about where you were ten years ago."

The silence was abbreviated by the sound of the men in the room breathing. At last, Brian shook his head slowly. Negative.

"Haven't you ever suspected you were…different? Is it wholly strange you are the subject of my agency's attention?"

Brian lowered his eyes back to the pages. They were close to him, so though his hands were bound and could hardly move, if he reached out his pinky finger he would be able to touched one of the photos. He did so now, scooting it fully off another photo. Now exposed, the photo that had at first just shown Brian now showed another boy. They were standing together in what Brian knew to be the medical room but for all the photo showed was just a white wall. Brian had blood smeared across his face and dripping onto his shirt, and the dark-skinned teenager next to him had a shiner and a busted lip.

The sight of this photo made Bilkins stagger. "Is that Pierce?"

Brian's eyes flashed up to the agent, then over to the Assistant Director who cocked his head to the side and wasn't smiling but…was, too. He had an oddly expressive face for someone who didn't flex a single facial muscle. Smug, like a man getting what he wanted.

"You're starting to get it now, aren't you?" He asked.

Brian made sure he didn't react. Inside, he had no idea he could feel this hollow. He was being shown images that consumed him minute by minute. His childhood he couldn't run from, but he always figured that was just guilt. This heavy, hollow life he'd lived up to this moment was all just his own guilt at what he had to go through in the detention halls of Tucson. No matter how hard he tried, he never could wash them from his mind even if they were washed from his record.

"Are you telling me there's someone out there who can explain this?"

The Assistant Director nodded.

"Explain what's in my head?" he clarified.

Another nod.

The others in the room all shared a look amongst themselves.

"Who's this profiler?" Brian asked.

Instead of answering, the photos were retrieved and the file was shut and locked away again in the briefcase.

"You're going to find out. You, me, and Agent Hobbs are going there now. Per the United State's government, you are hereby detained by the FBI pending further examination."

"Where are we going?" He had to ask.

"Tucson, O'Conner. The profiler awaits you there. In fact, I'm sure he's very eager for your speedy arrival."

The man produced a key that unlocked him from the table. Hobbs was right there to guard him.

"Why after all these years?" Brian asked. At last reaching the end of his immediate questions.

"Because you're working for us, now. You've been flagged. Let's go, Agent Hobbs," the man said, making for the door that Penning was now opening. "We have a plane to catch."