"You are the best thing that has ever been mine."

I T W A S time.

Freya and Falcon stood in front of familiar wrought iron gates. Freya's house could be seen from their position on the sidewalk, and so could the police car that was neatly parked beside her father's car.

Freya cast a worried look towards Falcon, but he simply squeezed her waist in reassurance.

"What-what do you think it's for?" Freya's soft voice wavered slightly as her eyes remained glued to the police car.

Realising what it was she was so afraid of, Falcon's arm around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to his side.

"I'm sure he's just worried about you, love," he winced as guilt washed over him. "He has no idea where you are."

Freya felt panic strike her gut as she imagined what her father must have been feeling the past few days. He must be devastated. And furious.

Her hand moved up to clutch Falcon's wrist that laid on her hip. She prayed to God her father would hear Falcon out before blaming it all on him. Though she wouldn't blame him if he did; he was a panicked father and she knew how it would look from his perspective. He was bound to jump to the worst conclusions.

"Come on," Falcon lightly pushed her forward as they began walking towards the gates.

Freya hesitantly pushed them open, letting out a heavy breath as they continued their trek to the front door. As their footsteps - or more so, Falcon's footsteps - echoed off the stairs, the door swung open to reveal Freya's father.

He was talking to the officer, both of them looking exhausted and lost. Her father had deep, dark circles under his eyes and Freya swore he had aged over the long weekend.

Michael's eyes turned to the couple and for a moment, nothing registered on his face. After a second, shock filled his face before relief followed quickly behind. Before they knew it, he was down the stairs, tripping over his own feet as he wrapped Freya in his arms, letting out a shuddering breath.

"Oh, my girl," he pressed her closer. "Sweetheart. You're okay. You're okay now."

Freya didn't know if he was trying to comfort her or himself. She wrapped her hands around her father's waist, settling into the comfort of his embrace as she closed her eyes and squeezed herself closer. After a moment, she glanced over her father's shoulder and met Falcon's eyes. He looked on with a small smile though it was tinged with a wry sense of sadness.

Her father finally gave her an inch of room, cradling her head in his hands as he looked her over.

"You are okay, aren't you?" he asked in a rush. "You're not hurt. Are you hurt? Are you tired? Of course, you are, what am I thinking? Let's get you inside."

He began shepherding her through the front door, but she struggled slightly in his hold, reaching out a hand for Falcon. Michael paused for a moment, only just registering Falcon's presence.

After a tense moment of silence, Michael spoke.

"You too," he said simply before ushering Freya inside.

He turned to the officer that stood in the house, giving him a grateful nod.

"Thank you for your help," he held out his hand for the man to shake.

The man returned the handshake and nod before exiting the house. As Freya and her father made their way into the living room, Falcon followed behind unsurely. He hadn't been told outright to leave, but he still felt like an unwelcome house guest. Her father's response gave him hope, though. He seemed willing to listen.

Michael sat Freya down on the plush couch while he took a seat on his armchair. Falcon hovered nervously, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans - well, Glenn's jeans - as he bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't know what to do or say - he didn't know what he was allowed to do. But he couldn't mess this up.

Michael watched Falcon for a moment before gesturing for him to take a seat. Falcon, of course, gravitated to the space next to Freya. It wasn't something he really thought about until his ass touched the seat. He realised his probable mistake and stiffened as he sent a worried gaze to Freya's father.

Michael rolled his eyes.

"Just take a seat, boy," he boomed and Falcon's body fell into the back of the couch.

Even though Michael was slightly smaller than Falcon, it was his girlfriend's father. He was absolutely terrified of messing up - being that it was the first time they had ever had a true conversation.

"Sorry, sir," Falcon winced to himself slightly for being such a wuss.

"So," Michael began and Falcon's back straightened again. He knew what was coming. "Would you mind explaining just what exactly happened?"

Falcon felt panic grip his chest for a moment but he pushed it aside. He hated recounting the events of, well, his entire life, but if it was what he needed to do in order to keep his girl, he'd do it a million times over.

"Well, it's a long story, sir," his hand found Freya's on instinct as his heart began beating faster. "A very long story."

Falcon told him everything. Every little detail, beginning from the moment his mother died, up until Marius' will. Every wrongdoing of his own and the people around him. How he had killed four people out of panic. His years in juvie. Things he hadn't even told Freya.

By the end of it, there was silence. Freya was slightly stunned at just how bad Falcon had had it, and Michael simply sat there, a hard look in his eyes as he leaned forward in his chair, his chin resting on the tips of his fingers.

Falcon drew in a sharp breath as he suddenly remembered his suspicion from the day before.

"I think I know who tipped my brother off," Falcon said carefully.

He knew Penn was a favourite of Freya's father, so he didn't want to seem like he was doing this just to get Penn out of Michael's good graces.

Michael raised an eyebrow in interest and Falcon shot Freya a nervous look. She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue.

"Obviously, I have no evidence of it," he said unsurely. "It's more of a hunch than anything. Just something he once said to me kind of stood out and it makes sense-"

"Just spit it out," Michael said calmly.

Falcon let out a breath through his nose as he stared at his and Freya's intertwined hands that laid in his lap.

"I think it was Penn," Falcon bit the inside of his cheek again, risking a glance at Michael's face.

It was emotionless, which could be a very good or very bad thing.

"Why do you think that?" Michael asked without any bite to his words.

It calmed Falcon slightly and he explained himself.

"I know my brother," he began. "He likes to know everything about his targets. Where they live, their family, their pets, their job. Even what they eat every day."

He paused for a moment to gauge Michael's reaction. Nothing yet.

"When my brother got to me," Falcon's brow furrowed as he grimaced. "He didn't know anything. All he knew was the school I went to. He didn't know anything about Freya or our father - so, whoever told him about me was trying to keep something under wraps."

Falcon rubbed the back of his neck as a nervous tick.

"I have a feeling that something was Freya," he said, bringing his hand down to cup his chin. "It makes sense that Penn would want to keep her out of harm's way. And then there's what he said to me-"

"What did he say?" Michael interrupted, having sat up in his chair now as a hard look came over his face.

Falcon swallowed before wetting his lips.

"He said there were a lot of secrets around," Falcon said. "Not just our relationship. And he made it quite obvious he didn't care about her, but he wanted her because marrying her meant getting the family business. It just makes sense."

Michael's eyes wandered from Falcon as he mulled over the information in his thoughts.

"It does seem logical," he murmured to himself before returning his gaze to Falcon. "I'll confront him and his father. I'm sure his father will grant me access to any call records he has from his son."

Falcon nodded in thanks, shaking off the shock that Michael was actually willing to believe him.

"Until then," Michael's eyes narrowed in on the couple's hands before looking back up at Falcon. "What are you going to do about this?"

He waved his hand between Freya and Falcon. With a jolt, Falcon realised he was being given a chance.

"Uh-With your permission, sir," his grip of Freya's hand tightened in fear. "I'd like your permission to date her."

He swallowed thickly as an awkward silence began filtering through the air.

"Officially," He amended.

He felt like an idiot. He sounded like an idiot. But what on earth was he expected to say?

Michael eyed him for a few more moments before sighing.

"Don't mess this up for yourself, Anders," he began pushing himself up from his chair as the words began registering in Falcon's mind.

A grin spread across his face as his heart spluttered.

"Thank you, sir," he felt like he'd won first prize - which in a way, he had. "Thank you."

He couldn't really control his mouth at this point, so he kept saying thank you until the man had turned the corner and left the room. He felt like fist-pumping in the air but settled for tackling Freya into the couch and pressing a hard kiss to her lips.

Freya giggled as he pressed kisses all over her face. He squeezed her close, nestling his face into her chest and sighing in content. Freya's fingers combed through his hair as they laid in silence.

For the first time in Falcon's memory, he felt like nothing could go wrong. Like everything was finally falling into place.

He could practically see his life with Freya unfolding before his eyes and a megawatt grin stretched his face even further.

His impossible future with the love of his life suddenly didn't seem so impossible.