Chapter Text
"Good morning. How are you?"
The security guard at Quantico gave him a brief once-over, as though judging him for speaking to him during a silent procedure. He could feel the impatient gazes of other FBI agents on him.
He smiles awkwardly at the beta and picks up his badge and briefcase from the tray hastily.
Holden has always, unfortunately, stuck out.
In kindergarten, he refused to play the part of a simpering omega for the alpha knight to claim after defeating a horrible monster. The children in his class originally put it down to the weird betas he had as mothers, who instilled their son with more progressive values. They stopped playing with him after a while.
When both his parents died, he was placed in the care of an alpha and beta couple. They ran a large group home in Massachusetts and were far too preoccupied with making ends meet to make sure a young omega went to school dressed in something other than hand-me-downs and was fed something other than instant meals. He was certain that his foster mom loved him, in her own distant way. Holden tells himself that it could have been worse.
He walks down the austere hallway quickly after exiting the elevator. Head up, back straight, and hand clenching the handle of his briefcase so tightly that his knuckles were white.
Holden had worked for this.
Ever since his graduation, he had wanted to join the Behavioural Sciences Unit. It was a relatively small department of the FBI that was set up three years ago. They specialised in the analysis of Holden's main interest- serial killers.
He had pushed aside suggestions that a job at the BSU was "not fit for a young omega" and knocked his interview out of the park. At least he thought he did- otherwise, how would he have made it here?
"Good morning," he says politely to a standing alpha at the door to the offices.
The slender blonde flicks her eyes at him lazily. Holden thinks the image she presented in a sleek wrap dress and heels would have been completed if she had a cigarette in one hand and a martini in another.
"Agent Ford?"
"Yes, that's me." Suddenly, Holden recognises her. "And you're Doctor Wendy Carr! The consultant who helped find the Green Killer. I read your paper, The Criminal Profiling of Serial-Killing Alphas, and found it so insightful. The link between masculinity and homicidal tendencies was really-"
He comes to a stop when he realises that he was rambling.
"Hmm," the woman smirks at him. She looks amused. "You're a strange one, aren't you."
Holden looks away, slightly embarrassed.
"No need to be ashamed of it, Agent Ford. Only the strange ones succeed in this place."
"Maybe."
She holds out her hand and he shakes it. "Doctor Carr. Don't call me Wendy. Or M'am."
The inside of the office is spartan, like most of the FBI rooms he has been in. Boxes of files were scattered on the ground and there was a large map hanging on a board in the centre of the room. The room smelled like cigarette smoke. There couldn't have been more than ten people working at the desks.
"My office is over there. Bill Tench's- he's the Head of the BSU, but you probably knew that already- is in the corner, but he's on a case in California at the moment. He'll be back by the afternoon."
She leads him to where Holden presumes is his desk.
"This is Agent Ford, he'll be joining us for a six-month trial."
The beta, a moderately handsome man with greying hair, gives him a weak smile, which was friendlier than anything else Holden had gotten so far.
"I'm Holden."
"Agent Gregg Smith."
"Nice to meet you."
"Welcome to the BSU."
"Alright, Agent," Holden puts his briefcase on his desk and follows Doctor Carr to her office with the large glass walls, feeling a little like a lost puppy. He takes a few breaths to stabilise himself.
"I read your file."
He sits down into a leather chair. The glass walls made him feel vulnerable, although he was sure no one in the office was watching them.
"Excellent credentials. Graduated third in your academy class. One year with the hostage negotiation division. Bill and I handpick our agents, and we would have rejected someone with your mental issues, but the AD seems to have taken a special interest in you."
"I may be an omega, but that shouldn't have to set me apart from the rest."
"Do you know how many omegas work in law enforcement in America?"
"Around eighty-thousand."
"Do you know the proportion of omegas there are in the employment of the FBI?"
"Less than seven percent."
"When they make up around fifteen percent of the population," she leans forward, elbows on her desk. "Hope you aren't one of those New Age omegas who take up difficult jobs because they have something to prove. All bark and no bite."
"I won't make any trouble."
"You don't seem like the trouble-making sort," she meets his eyes. "But something did happen in Pennsylvania. Appearances can be deceiving."
Holden tries to look as guileless as possible in front of the alpha.
"Those eyes won't work on me, Agent," again with that amused look. "Try Bill."
"It's an honour to work here, Doctor."
The woman gives him a look. It's not one Holden is used to. It is not the doubtful glances from his professors ("are you absolutely sure you want to continue next semester, Mr. Ford?"), nor is it the mocking stares of his academy classmates ("go and play house, omega"). She just seems curious to him.
"I'll introduce you to everyone once Bill is back," she continues. "Anyone harasses you or treats you inappropriately in this place, you come straight to me and I'll bring it to HR."
He stands, smoothing out the creases on his suit jacket.
"Dismissed."
He stubs out a cigarette with the heel of his shoe.
The flight back from California had been a fucking nightmare. There were two pregnant omegas onboard who were sick the entire time, as though they had planned this before the plane took off. Their mates made such a huge fuss around them you would have thought the world was ending. Bill thinks he could still smell the vile scent of sick in his car.
Fucking omegas.
That was precisely why he never bothered to marry.
He could have, once, to a lovely beta woman, but the violence of an FBI career proved to be too much for her. They would have had children and a reasonably-priced suburban house. He didn't regret letting go of Nancy. She wouldn't've been happy with him.
A few agents nod at Bill when he passes, giving off a moody air. Most scurry out of his way.
He opens the door to the office and stops, inhaling deeply.
Bill was born with an acute sense of smell that was better than the other alphas he knew. And that sweet smell was unmistakable.
A fucking omega.
This was someone new to the BSU. Bill knows it had to be Holden Ford- a strange name if you asked him. He had no idea that the newbie was an omega. The important detail had likely passed his mind when she told him.
The Bureau had been all about diversity in its recruits recently. Bill didn't mind having more omegas in the office, just to balance things out a little, but he thought they would be working as a secretary or an instructor. This man had been cleared to go out in the field.
He makes his way to his corner office and catches a glimpse of the unfamiliar omega chatting with Vera, the beta assistant he shared with Wendy.
Neatly-parted brown hair. Large eyes. Sharp features.
Agent Ford looks up and directly into Bill's eyes without the classic omegean shyness.
The other man looks away and shifts his body to face Vera again.
Bill sighs.
"Alright," he hears Wendy say after he settles down, files just opened and lukewarm coffee on the table, courtesy of Vera. That woman had the worst timing. "It's time to introduce the newest member of the BSU."
He enters the bullpen, moving to stand next to Wendy and the sweet-smelling omega.
"Nice of you to join us, Bill."
Agent Ford looks gentle up close. There is a softness in his face but his features are hard and angular. His black suit is well-cut and his haircut frankly reminds Bill of a boy scout. The whole outfit, paired with a skinny tie and loafers, screams G-man at him.
The man is slightly shorter than him and has to look up to meet his eyes. His are the odd, unplaceable colour between blue and green.
"This is Special Agent Holden Ford from our New York office. He will be working as an analyst. Please make him feel welcome."
Bill feels a twinge of something for this young man, who ducks his head and offers a bright smile to his new colleagues. This was someone who thought he was doing good for society, an intrepid omega who had the balls to become a Fed.
Wait a few months, kid. You won't be smiling then.
"Hi. It's great to be here."
He spoke in dulcet tones. So far, Bill's impression of Holden Ford was one of an inexperienced omega with unconscious charm. He never thought of himself as one of those alphas, who were instantly enamoured with a pretty omega, but he could understand why a few of the department's alphas and betas were eyeing the new agent with interest.
"Alright let's get back to work," he claps his hands together. "Agent Ford."
The man shakes his hand firmly with wide eyes. "Agent Tench. Your essay on recognising killers and forensic techniques was inspiring. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
Wendy appears to hide a smirk.
"Likewise."
"He's working the new Iowa rape and murder case," Wendy adds.
"Really?" Bill tries to keep the edge of disbelief out of his voice. "One hell of a first day for you, Agent."
"I haven't found many leads yet, but I believe that the suspect may be white and in his mid-thirties. Most likely a beta with a history of family abuse."
"Based on?"
"Working on it, sir."
Bill shares a look with Wendy. Can you believe this kid?
The woman shrugs imperceptibly.
"I'll talk to you if I uncover anything." Holden offers him another small smile and steps away in the direction of the records room, taking his cinnamony smell with him. Bill didn't even remember to tell the omega to bother someone else with his findings.
Wendy has a calculating glint in her eye. "A boy with potential, don't you think? Would you consider going with him to Iowa for the case?"
Bill huffs.
"In my office, Doctor Carr."
Holden hopes he hadn't come across as weird to his boss.
"Don't mind Agent Tench," one of six agents who worked in the department, a plain-looking beta, says when he hands a box full of research files to Holden. "He's gruff with everyone."
"Especially with how Shepard's been breathing down his neck," another one- Agent Jay- chimes in. His deskmate, Gregg, looks up at that. "Thinks the Behavioural Sciences department should be focusing on Road School and not solving crimes."
"But what we're doing can change the way we uncover criminals in the world. Doesn't he recognise the need for a fresh perspective?"
"It's Shepard we're talking about."
"Actual relic."
"Don't say that," Gregg says.
"Alright," Agent Jay raises his hands above his head in surrender. "I gotta check out these presentation slides. Want me to get you some coffee, Holden?"
"Sure," he replies, going back to the Iowa case. "Thanks."
The plain-looking agent snorts.