Chapter 1

Five years later

Kurt Hummel was staring blankly at the whiteboard in the conference room. They had everything planned out. Every single detail. There was no way this operation could go wrong. And yet it did. Sebastian Smythe managed to escape, just like every time before. How? That was the question Kurt had been asking himself far too many times since the moment he started working on the Anderson/Smythe case. Well, now it's only a Smythe case, Kurt thought with a mild satisfaction, which faded away pretty quickly when he remembered that he'd been defeated. Again. He sighed deeply. Kurt hated feeling like a failure and that was exactly how he was feeling right now.

Before he had time to pity himself more, there was a soft knock on the door. Kurt waved, gesturing to come in, he didn't have to turn around to know exactly who it was. There were only two people in the office who dared to talk to him in situations like this.

“You okay, Kurt?”

“Fantastic.”

“Sure.” Santana Lopez said and Kurt could practically hear her eyes rolling. “You always are.”

“Look at him, Tana.” Mike Chang said with amusement. “He's literally glowing with happiness.”

Kurt slowly turned around to look at them, Santana Lopez and Mike Chang, the best people in his team, his most trusted co-workers and best friends since high school.

“Remind me, why did I befriend you?” Kurt asked tiredly but with a small smile in his eyes.

“Shut up, you love us.” Mike said.

He really did. They all grew up in Lima, small town in Ohio. They met in high school and became friends though Kurt still wasn't sure how the hell it happened. Santana was the captain of the cheerleaders, Mike was on a football team and Kurt was just a gay kid, bullied every day for his higher voice, his clothes, for who he was. But somehow they bonded.

“Earth to Lady Hummel!” Suddenly Kurt heard Santana's voice and saw her waving her hand in the front of his face and looking at him expectantly. “You kind of zoned out.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Oh, really? Then what did we just say?” Mike asked looking at him skeptically.

Kurt sighed. “Fine, you've got me. “

“It's not your fault.” Santana repeated. He was about to deny that but she wasn't done. “Don't even start with all this shit, Hummel. You did everything right, you know that.”

“Then why's he gone? Again?” Kurt asked quietly.

“Because he's a sneaky fucking bastard. But one day he's going to screw up and then we're going to catch his sorry ass.” Santana said.

“She's right, you know.” Mike said. “You can't dwell on this, you have to keep going and one day, sooner or later, your time will come, you will face the same evil, and you will defeat it.” He finished dramatically.

Kurt started laughing. “You've been watching The Lord of the Rings again, haven't you, Mike?”

Mike shrugged and smirked knowingly. “Maybe.”

Kurt looked at his friends for a second and then made a move to grab his jacket. “Alright people, it's time to go home, isn't it?” He said cheerfully and if it was anyone else, that would have been it. But one look at their faces and Kurt knew that they hadn't bought it. Thankfully, they didn't push.

They stepped from Kurt's room and then he noticed that the lower part of the office was all dark and that there wasn't a soul in there. “Wait, where's everybody?” He asked confusedly.

Santana looked at him incredulously. “Porcelain, I hate to break it down for you but it's like 10p.m., they all went home few hours ago. Unlike you, people have lives, you know.”

Whoa. Did he really spend last few hours staring at the stupid board in the conference room? And he didn't even notice all of his team leaving. Maybe his friends were right, maybe he should stop thinking about Smythe all the time and focus on the things that were going on around him. Easier said than done, Kurt thought gloomily as he walked downstairs and headed in the direction of the elevators. He could hear Santana and Mike following him quietly, most likely scheming how to cheer him up again.

“So…” Mike started while they were waiting for the elevator but Kurt just raised his hand. “Don't, Mike. I'm fine.” He lifted his eyebrow at Santana's snort. “I am, really. Just drop it.” He finished with a final “I'm the leader of this team” tone, the one he usually used only during working hours. The elevator's door opened with a quiet ding and they all stepped in and went down to the garage level.

“See you tomorrow, guys.” Kurt said.

Santana, usually snarky and rough, showed a little bit of humanity by hugging him briefly and murmuring a quiet “take it easy, Lady” and Mike patted him on the shoulder before they all headed to their respective cars.

When Kurt stumbled into his apartment an hour later, he was even more exhausted than he'd been before he left the Bureau . How on Earth was it possible to be stuck in traffic between 10 p.m. and 11 p.m.?! Apparently everything was possible in New York.

Kurt dropped his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter, and moved to the living room area only to collapse on the couch. He was lying there for a few minutes, face down, his right arm hanging loosely from the couch, when he felt something rubbing against his hand. He peeked one eye open and saw two huge green eyes staring at him. He rolled on his back and immediately there was a black ball of fur settling itself on his chest. Satine. Kurt adopted her three years ago even though having a pet and being an FBI agent didn't seem like such a good idea. But when he saw that little black kitten miserably curled up in the cage in the pet shop he was passing by, he instantly fell in love. Satine quickly became Kurt's source of joy during quiet evenings. It was nice not to be the only breathing creature in the apartment.

Even though Kurt wanted nothing more than just lie on the couch forever, he knew that if he let himself fall asleep in the suit, he'd be incredibly pissed in the morning, plus his neck would hurt like hell. Reluctantly, he forced himself to get up, sending Satine straight to the floor. The cat gave him her best bitch glare and slowly strutted in the direction of her basket. Kurt rolled his eyes at Satine's diva-ness and stood up, stretching his arms until he heard something cracking in his neck. Wincing, he went to his bedroom to hang his slightly wrinkled suit in the closet. Usually he would do something about that but this time the state of his clothes was the last thing on his mind. It didn't happen very often, he was Kurt Hummel after all, he liked to take care of his clothes. He smiled, thinking about this young, teenage Kurt who would rather starve to dead than let anything happen to his clothes, let alone put the wrinkled ones in the closet. Well, people change. Everything changes.

Walking in the bathroom, Kurt sighed. He wasn't a teenager anymore, he hadn't been for a long time. He was an adult, an FBI agent. As he started the shower, the dark thoughts started to creep into his head again. Maybe if he'd decided to run this operation differently, maybe if he'd spent more time on figuring Smythe out… No. No, he did what he could. There was no way he could have predicted Smythe simply vanishing without any explanation. But maybe if he had double, no, triple checked everything few more times… Stop it, Hummel. Fuck, just stop it, Kurt scolded himself, shaking his head, and leaning his forehead to rest against the cold tiles. He should have known it would happen, the shower had always been a place where his mind started wandering and coming up with different scenarios of what he should have or could have said or done. But there was no point in doing this, Smythe was gone.

For now.

With that thought Kurt turned off the shower and headed back to his bedroom. He eyed his queen sized bed skeptically, wondering what was he thinking when he was buying it, it was way too big for him. He flipped off the light, climbed into his oversized bed and curled up under the covers, Satine joining him instantly, settling herself on the second pillow. Kurt sighed quietly, and not for the first time he wished there was another warm human body in his bed, someone who would hold him after days like this. Someone who would make everything better simply by being beside him. But with his work having someone like that seemed almost impossible.

Sometimes being an FBI agent really sucked.

When Kurt stepped of the elevator in the Bureau next morning, he was better. Not perfectly fine but definitely better. He walked across the lower floor of the office, nodding to his teammates. He smiled to Mike as he passed his desk and was about to climb the stairs leading to the upper level and his room when his friend gestured him to come closer.

“Johnson wants to see you.” He said quietly.

Kurt raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Do you know why?”

He shrugged in response and shook his head. Kurt nodded and headed upstairs, trying to ignore the anxiety building up in his chest. Special Agent in Charge Richard Johnson was Kurt's direct superior, he almost didn't work in the field anymore, and usually didn't involve himself in the current cases. He trusted Kurt and all his decisions and Kurt had never given him any reason not to. That's why the request to see him seemed a little weird, maybe even suspicious. Well, he probably wanted to ask few questions about what happened the day before. No big deal. Right?

Kurt entered his room to take few deep breaths and then headed to Johnson's office. The door was partially opened so he knocked softly and peeked his head inside. He saw Johnson looking up from the files he was reading behind his desk.

“Good morning, sir. You wanted to see me?” Kurt asked tentatively.

“Oh yes, agent Hummel. Come in, sit down.” Johnson said, putting the files aside. “Close the door.”

Kurt did as he was told gulping slightly, grateful that he turned around to close the door so Johnson couldn't see the distress on his face. When he walked closer to his superior's desk, his face was already composed again, no sign of worry. Years of practice as an agent come in handy in situations like this, he thought as he sat down and waited for Johnson to start talking.

“I've heard what happened yesterday.”

“I know, sir. I really am sorry for…” Kurt started to explain but Johnson raised his hand to stop him.

“I didn't call you here to blame you, agent Hummel. I've read the reports. There was nothing else you could have done, I would have done it in the same way.”

Kurt released the breath he didn't even realize he was holding. So he's wasn't getting fired, that was good.

“But.” The older agent continued. “I've noticed that it's not the first and not the second time. I have to admit, this Smythe is quite a scoundrel, isn't he?”

Kurt smiled inwardly at his boss' expression but managed to keep the straight face. “Yes, sir. He really is.”

“That's why he needs to be locked up as soon as possible and I think we have to change the way we've been working on this.” Johnson said. Kurt frowned a little but kept listening. “I'm not saying you're doing a wrong job, agent Hummel. I just think that maybe you could use some help from a person that is… a little more familiar with Smythe's methods.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Kurt asked.

“I assume you remember Blaine Anderson.” Kurt nodded. Of course he remembered that little bastard whom he caught five years ago. “He's in prison right now.” He said.

“Yes.” Johnson confirmed. “He has three years of his sentence left. But here's what you're going to do. You're going to offer Mr. Anderson a deal. In exchange for his help with capturing Smythe, we'll see what we can do about the remaining part of his sentence. During our cooperation, he'll be wearing an anklet monitor and be supervised by an agent for twenty-four hours. It means living with him and basically being joined by hip.”

Kurt was staring at his boss with his eyes widened and mouth opened. “Sir… With all due respect, you… You can't be serious…” He stuttered after few minutes of dead silence. He took one calming breath and continued. “I've spend… We've spend so much time to get him. You can't just let him out! What if he flees before we catch Smythe? What if he hurts the supervising agent? What if…”

“Kurt.” Johnson interrupted softly. It was so unusual for him to call the agents by their first names so it instantly shut Kurt up. “I know you've been working really hard on this case. It's been your case since the beginning. But let's face the facts. I'd much rather have Smythe locked up and Anderson's sentence commuted than have Anderson in prison and Smythe running free and killing people for fun. And to answer your question, I don't think Anderson would try anything to break the deal and run away. It would be nearly impossible with the anklet and the constant supervision. Besides, something tells me that he'd love to see Sebastian Smythe behind the bars even more than we do.”

Kurt closed his eyes. Apparently Johnson had already made up his mind and even though Kurt didn't like it, he had to admit that his boss had a point. He sighed. “Can we actually do something like that?” He asked.

“I've already discussed it with the superiors and we have a permission.” Johnson replied.

“Okay.” Kurt said and rubbed his eyes. “Though I really feel sorry for the agent that will be responsible for Anderson, it will be like babysitting a grown-up baby.”

When Johnson didn't say anything, Kurt looked up to see his boss staring at him with an amused expression on his face. Then something clicked in Kurt's head. His eyes widened in panic.

“No, no, sir, you can't, I don't have…” He started but again, he was interrupted.

“Yes, and I already talked to agent Lopez and I know that you have a very nice, empty guest room and that's really a shame that it's being wasted.”

“I… I…” Kurt was speechless. Santana Isabella Lopez, you're a dead woman.

“I'm sure you'll manage, agent Hummel. Now, you're expected at prison tomorrow morning to talk to Mr. Anderson and present him our deal. Do whatever you need to do to make him accept it. That's all, you can go back to your work now.” Johnson said and Kurt could swear that he saw the old man smirking before he returned to the files he'd been reading before. Kurt nodded and got up, stiffly walked out of Johnson's office and headed to his own. After closing the door and pulling the curtains he sat by his desk and dropped his head to his hands.

He was about to make a pact with the devil.