"Why not?" Burr asks, and his thumbs smooth over eyelids, wiping away tears. "Whose rule is it, and since when have you lived by them? An orphan immigrant, with no familial connections, born on an island in the middle of nowhere, and twice you have fought your way to New York. You are no different from who you were before, for being an Omega. The only difference may be in experience gained, in wisdom. You still have the power to sweep the world off its feet, as you've swept me off mine."

A small little kiss, to the top of his head. Tender, slow. Closing his eyes. Not sentiment. Not, and yet--it is. Burr should like to hold on, until the bitter end. As they have always done.