Chapter Text
Eddie sneaks into the small observation room. There’s already a few other doctors seated and taking notes. This was supposed to be a very special case, after all. Trager is interviewing his newest patient—a twenty-seven year old omega who has been on suppressors for the last ten years and has thus never gone into heat and presented his secondary gender. He had been passing as a beta this whole time, but he was recently discovered as a developing omega. The man who had been illegally procuring his suppressors was facing trail soon, and the whole country was following the proceedings, curious to see to what extent the government would punish the man. Crimes against omegas, especially including aiding and abetting an omega in acquiring and taking suppressors, were considered particularly egregious. Betas were more often than not infertile, so it meant that raising the world’s population back to sustainable numbers was up to the omegas. Anything that might affect an omega’s health and ability to reproduce was punished harshly by the law.
Eddie sits down in one of the remaining fold-out chairs closest to the viewing window. He looks through the two-way mirror and sees Trager lounging in a black leather desk chair, tying his long, grey hair back into a ponytail, looking as though he is getting comfortable for a long interview. Eddie can’t stop himself from staring at and analyzing the other man in the room. He looks very small, folded in on himself in the middle of the couch opposite of Trager. Eddie is a little surprised that someone who clearly has so many characteristics of an omega was able to pass as a beta for so long. The man is petite and small framed, with slightly curly blonde hair. His large eyes are frantic as he looks from Trager to the mirrored glass, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. Eddie’s heart aches at the sight of him. He looks terrified.
Trager clears his throat. “I’m going to start by asking you a few questions, alright Waylon?”
Waylon slowly nods, still biting his lip. “Okay,” Trager begins, “so how old were you when you first started taking suppressors?”
“I was twelve.” Waylon is wringing his hands together and continuing to peek at the one-way window. Eddie jerks slightly as the man’s eyes lock with his. He has to remind himself that there’s no way the omega could be looking at him, as he can’t actually see him through the glass.
“And it was your friend, Miles, who illegal procured and distributed these drugs to you, correct?”
Waylon turns towards Trager, his eyes narrowed. “If you mean he helped me find some and showed me how to properly use them, then yes.”
Trager begins scribbling notes on his note pad. Several of the men in the observation room follow his example. “And he continued to illegally procure these drugs for you for fifteen years? Sometimes resorting to theft or the black market?”
“Well, if he could have acquired them through legal means he wouldn’t have had to steal them, now would he?” Waylon growls. His body is rigid and his hands are clenched tightly by his sides.
Trager simply smiles at him and lifts his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough, buddy.”
“For an omega, he’s not very agreeable.” Another doctor in the observation room mumbles.
“Yeah, I don’t know how he’s going to acclimate to life as an omega after parading around as a beta. What’s the point? What alpha will want him?” Another voice responds. Eddie can’t help but disagree. He likes the man’s spirit. It’s unfortunate that he was misguided for so many years, but he is sure after some therapy the omega will acclimate to his new life.
Trager continues with his questioning. “So who came up with the idea to take suppressors in the first place?”
Waylon eyes him warily. Trager picks up on the distrustful look Waylon is giving him. “This is simply for my files, everything you say in these interviews is simply for our knowledge—only to be used in your treatment. This will in no way be utilized in future court proceedings.”
Waylon huffs and looks at the mirror again, once more looking in Eddie’s direction. Eddie feels a jolt of excitement hit him when Waylon once again finds his eyes through the glass. “It was Mile's idea.” Waylon murmurs. “But I was the one who asked him to get more after the first bottle.” He quickly adds.
Trager nods. “And your parents didn’t know that you were taking suppressors, correct?”
“Nope.” Waylon says, popping the p. “They didn’t have a clue until after I left town.” His lips are upturned in a smug smile.
“Right, and how old were you when you and Miles left together?”
“We were seventeen.”
Trager raises an eyebrow and whistles. “That’s awful young to be leaving home, don’t you think? What made you so desperate to leave so soon?”
Eddie watches as Waylon’s eyes narrow. For an omega, he almost looks dangerous like that. He scoots forward in his seat, trying to take in every aspect of Waylon’s glowering face.
Waylon chews his lip for a moment, glaring at his hands gripping his pants. Eddie thinks that Waylon is going to start stonewalling Trager here, but his ears perk up when he hears Waylon grumble back a reply.
“They didn’t understand anything. They still don’t.” Waylon furiously scrubs his sleeve across his face in an attempt to dry his misty eyes.
“Must be a sensitive subject for him.” A doctor in the observation room speaks up while scribbling down some notes.
“Well I don't blame him. The guy’s parents are the ones who turned him in to the authorities after they finally tracked him down.” Another doctor responds. Eddie shakes his head. He’s not sure what he finds more heartbreaking—the family’s obviously dysfunctional dynamics, or the omega’s tears.
Trager’s lips twist into an empathetic frown. “What exactly do they not understand?”
Waylon’s heated stare meets Trager. “Me. Everything. This whole dystopian omega bullshit. They never cared for any rules concerning omega-alpha dynamics—they’re both betas for Christ’s sake, but as soon as they start to have an inkling that their son is an omega, then they decide to actually give a fuck.”
Some of the doctors in observation room audibly gasp. Eddie has to keep himself from chuckling. It has always been extremely uncommon for omegas to be so outspoken and crass. Typically, omegas are docile and gentle by nature, or at least socialized to be. This guy had some spunk, and Eddie found himself appreciating the breath of fresh air.
Trager barks out a laugh in the other room. “Dystopian omega bullshit—I’ve never heard it referred to by that before. Please, explain what you mean by that.”
Waylon glares at Trager for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Where do I even begin? Perhaps with the fact that omegas are now second class citizens? That we’ve now made it illegal for omegas to pursue secondary education? To have fucking careers?”
Trager hums before interjecting. “Not all careers, just some of the ones that society deems omegas to be unfit to pursue due to health or safety reasons.”
Waylon actually snarls. “Great, so they can either decide to teach preschoolers or stay at home all day. Fucking amazing options.”
Trager chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying they’re great options for every omega, just that those are the options that society has dictated for them.” Waylon sits back on the couch and crosses his arms. “Look,” Trager starts, “I don’t necessarily agree with all the limitations that are forced upon omegas, but it’s what society decided. I can’t argue with that, but I can help you acclimate and find happiness within the parameters delineated by society.”
Waylon sinks further into his seat. “I don’t need to acclimate. I just need you people to leave me alone.” Eddie thinks that he looks like a grumpy teenager in this moment—sulking and pouting over some imagined injustice. While Eddie does agree that omegas should be granted more liberties and freedom in society, he's still a firm believer that omegas need to be taken care of and kept safe first and foremost. The population has been in a steady decline for the last few decades; further complicating matters is the fact that omegas were becoming more and more rare, resulting in betas and alphas often acting unpredictably around them. The government had quickly stepped in to pass harsher legislation for physical and sexual violence towards omegas.
“Sorry buddy, but I can’t do that. An omega masquerading as a beta is a federal crime. However, your circumstance is rare since you’ve never actually had a heat, and thus never had the opportunity to exhibit your secondary gender. You’re lucky that the government sentenced you to psychiatric care rather than prison time.”
Waylon scoffs. “I would prefer prison to this…”
“And what makes you say that?” Trager’s head tips to the side as he gives Waylon a curious glance.
Waylon throws his arms in the air. “Because living like an omega is worse than fucking prison! You don’t get to decide anything for yourself—you’re locked away and bred like livestock! You’re essentially someone else’s property! I’d rather go to prison and retain some sense of autonomy.”
Trager taps his pen to his chin thoughtfully. “You know, most omegas that leave our clinic report that their well-being has increased substantially after ending therapy with us. They find comfort and a deep sense of security within a loving alpha, and fulfillment in having and raising children. Across the board, omegas that are able to acclimate to society lead extremely happy lives.”
Waylon shakes his head. “Are they actually happy, or they just accepting that that’s the best deal that they’re going to get out of life? There’s a big fucking difference between living the life you want to lead and accepting that you’ve been dealt a shitty hand at birth.”
“Do you feel like you’ve been dealt a shitty hand, Waylon?”
Waylon stares at Trager like he’s just asked the dumbest question possible. “What do you think? I’m only twenty seven years old, and I’m about to be forced to learn how to roll over and let someone dictate the rest of my life for me.”
Trager sighs. Eddie bites his lip. This isn’t going to be an easy case at all. Waylon is obviously harboring a broad misunderstanding of the life of an omega. Sure, omegas might not have all the same rights as alphas and betas, but they are the most cherished and celebrated members of society. As an alpha, Eddie views omegas to be the most wonderful creatures to ever bless the earth. Clearly, Waylon has internalized a lot of the anti-omega-alpha propaganda that was popular fifteen years ago, before the government snuffed it out. The kind of stuff that protested the coupling of alphas and omegas due to the idea that alphas were over-controlling, and at times, abusive. Trager certainly has his work cut out for him.
“What if I told you,” Trager starts thoughtfully, “that you won’t be taught to mindlessly submit to your alpha? I think it’s a huge misconception that most people hold concerning alphas. In reality, most omegas are actually the ones with the real power in the relationship.” Trager chuckles at this as Waylon stares at him incredulously. Trager continues. “I’m serious. Most alphas would do anything for their omegas—their lives revolve around them. Don’t you think that entitles omegas certain advantages? Here at Mount Massive we don’t teach omegas to “roll over and let someone dictate the rest of their life” as you so eloquently put it, but rather how to enter into a loving and caring relationship with an alpha.”
Waylon raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “So, you’re telling me that nobody is ever going to tell me to submit to my alpha here? Not once?”
Trager shrugs sheepishly. “Well, maybe a little.” Trager chuckles as Waylon throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “Calm down, buddy. Let me explain. Since submitting to one’s alpha is innate in omegas, we simply work on skills concerning this trait—coping skills if you will. Expanding your mind. Omegas are meant to submit to alphas because alphas are meant to take care of their omegas. Simple as that. With cases like yours, we simply work towards gaining an understanding of this concept. I know it seems farfetched, or maybe even impossible, but one day when you’re living happily with your assigned alpha we’ve given you, you’ll be so thankful that you were forced into this program.”
Waylon’s eyes widen and his body goes rigid. He instantly looks alarmed and on edge. “What? What do you mean assigned alpha? I thought this was just some fucked up form of conversion therapy or whatever.”
Trager winces. “We like to think of it as omega rehabilitation. But anyway, you’re well aware of the fact that you’re over the age limit in which omegas develop their bond marks with their alpha. After an omega reaches twenty-five years of age without acquiring a bond mark, it’s typically assumed that their bond-mate is dead, or that they simply don’t have a natural bond-mate. This is when they’re typically matched with a suitable alpha. Since our program is government funded, we work on that process here in conjunction with therapy.”
Waylon goes white. And then green. Several of the doctors gasp as they watch Waylon jump up from the couch, stumble over to the trash can next to the door, and empty the contents of his stomach into it. Eddie’s feels a deep pain in his chest for the poor omega. He must be under so much stress right now, and the poor boy is terrified due to all the falsehoods he’s been forced to swallow concerning being an omega.
Trager stands next to Waylon and rubs soothing circles onto his back. He looks to the two-way mirror and slides a hand in front of his throat, indicating that they should cut the interview short.
Waylon continues to retch into the garbage can as the rest of the doctors get up. “Well, this ought to be interesting. That kid seems hopeless.” A doctor chuckles as he rises out of his seat and collects his papers.
“Yeah, but if anyone can help him, it’s Trager. Guy’s a miracle worker. I bet he’ll have this guy happily bonded with his alpha in three months.”
“I don’t know about that. This kid has been pretending to be a beta for the last ten years. He’s got a lot of work ahead of himself if he’s ever going to acclimate to life as an omega. And did you hear the mouth he had? Good luck finding an alpha that’s going to want such a lippy omega.”
The rest of the doctors begin clearing out of the room. Eddie stays in his seat, eyes fixed on Waylon, who is sitting on the couch once more. He’s sitting with his face in his hands, sobbing as Trager mutters calming words to him.
“Eddie, you coming? Don’t think there’s going to be much more to see here. The patient’s a mess.” A doctor asks, taking one last measured look at Waylon through the glass.
“Oh. Yes.” Eddie is pulled out of his trance. He gathers up his notes and papers and stands up. He gives one more glance at the omega in the other room before deciding that he’d do anything in his power to help Trager with this case. It is a very unique situation, and it wasn’t fair to the omega, or the omega’s alpha for that matter, that the omega’s mind had been poisoned with such horrible fictions concerning alphas. Waylon would be rehabilitated, Eddie would make sure of it.
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It’s a full week later until Eddie sees Waylon again. Eddie is speeding through the hallways attempting to get his rounds completed as quickly as he can so he can swing by Trager’s office before he leaves town for a business trip. Eddie wants to know where the new omega has gone, as Eddie hasn’t seen his name signed up for any group therapy sessions or activities in the recreation room.
Eddie turns the corner and bumps into Waylon, sending him flying to the ground and landing squarely on his behind. Eddie’s eyes widen and he quickly scrambles to apologize and help Waylon up. “I am so sorry! I should have been paying more attention to where I was going—I shouldn’t be racing through the hallways like this.”
Waylon allows Eddie to haul him to his feet. Once he is standing on solid ground again he takes a moment to really look at Eddie. The man is tall—at least three heads taller than Waylon, and the man looks like he’s nothing but solid muscle. His raven-black hair is lightly gelled back, and his suit and lab coat look like they’ve been neatly pressed with an iron, sporting crisp lines. The man looks like the modern day definition of an alpha. Waylon unconsciously sniffs the air. His legs begin to wobble as he is instantly overcome with the smell and oak, cedar wood, and a slight hint of smoke. He doesn’t even realize he is falling again until strong arms reach out and firmly grab his waist.
Waylon gives Eddie a sheepish smile as Eddie holds Waylon steady. “My turn to apologize. I’ve been off my suppressors for a week now, and I’m not taking the change very well. This is my first time smelling an alpha’s scent without them.”
Eddie smiles slightly, nodding as he releases his hands from Waylon once he’s confident that Waylon can stand up on his own. “Not a problem. I’m sure it will take some time to get used to.”
Waylon scratches at his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, I didn’t really expect to run into any alphas in the omega ward. So far all my doctors have been betas.”
“Yeah, I think I might be the only alpha omega-specialist. I’m sorry if I surprised you.” Eddie gives Waylon a bemused smirk as he notices Waylon sniffing the air one more time, as if he’s testing the waters to see if he’ll have the same reaction again.
Waylon continues to sniff the air and blushes when he notices Eddie watching him. “Is this weird? I’m being weird right now, aren’t I?” Waylon cringes. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Something about how you smell just seems so… Familiar. But I never noticed people’s scents before when I was on my blockers, so I don’t know why you’d be…” Waylon trails off, cheeks red in embarrassment.
“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie chuckles. “It’s the first time you’re noticing scents—you’re basically discovering a sense that you’ve gone without for your whole life. It’s no wonder that you’re intrigued. And it’s not like your typical beta doctors have distinct scents.”
Waylon nods as he absorbs the information. “Yeah.” Waylon bites his lip before asking, “Not sure if this is rude to ask, but how did an alpha end up in this line of work anyway?”
Eddie’s grin grows. “You mean working with omegas?” Waylon nods. “I was originally studying to be an alpha specialist, but the more I learned about omegas along the way, the more intrigued I became. I think there is still much to learn about omegas, and I believe additional research concerning the innate nature of omegas outside of how they’ve been socialized to behave could greatly benefit society. I know that that’s not a widely held opinion, but I think it’s important to integrate different approaches in therapy. Besides, being the only alpha in the field, I never let a little adversity stop me.”
Waylon’s face brightens. “No shit? Really? That’s actually really cool. I didn’t think that there’d be any doctors here that are interested in anything outside of changing omegas’ behavior.”
“Eddie! Waylon!” The pair glances towards the end of the hallway to see Trager waving at them as he approaches them. “Just the two people I was looking for. Good, I see you two have already met.”
“Yes and no.” Eddie says as he looks back to Waylon and holds out his hand. “My name is Eddie Gluskin, and it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Waylon grasps his hand and gives it a firm shake. Eddie’ eyes widen slightly for a moment, both surprised and impressed by Waylon’s strong grip. “My name is Waylon Park, but uh, you probably knew that already.”
“Yes, you are quite the infamous patient around here, Waylon.” Trager states. “I’ve been meaning to have you two meet for a while now. Now that you’re out of the infirmary, I’d like to flesh out some time for you and Eddie to spend with one another.”
Waylon’s lips form a thin line and he glances curiously between Eddie and Trager. Trager, sensing Waylon’s confusion, continues, “I think that you two could really benefit each other. Eddie is currently working on research concerning atypical omegan behavior. And Waylon, spending time with an alpha and taking time to understand the intricacies of alpha behavior can only expedite your rehabilitation, especially with Eddie—he’s one of our top doctors at Mount Massive. Hell, at the very least you two will enjoy talking ideology with each other.”
“Sure, sounds wonderful to me.” Eddie answers, directing a blinding smile at Waylon.
Waylon nods in return. “Why not.”
Trager claps his hands together and grins. “Excellent! Okay then, I’ll pencil in some time for you two to meet with each other each week, but in the meantime…” Trager starts rummaging through his satchel hanging from his shoulder and pulls out a thick stack of papers, handing them to Waylon.
Waylon’s eyes glance at the papers in his hand and then travel back to Trager. Waylon raises an eyebrow as he asks, “What is this?”
“This, buddy,” Trager starts, “is your schedule for the next week. You’ll be pretty busy between classes, group therapy, and individual therapy.”
Waylon starts flipping through the pile of papers. His eyes widen and then slowly narrow. He lifts his head and glares at Trager. “The fuck is omegan etiquette class?”
Trager shrugs slightly, lips starting to curl upwards. “Who knows, but doesn’t it sound like fun?”
Waylon’s eyes narrow into tiny slits. Trager chuckles, but Eddie begins tap his foot on the ground, suddenly starting to feel slightly anxious as he watches Waylon return his attention back to the schedule. He’s hoping that Trager had sense enough to withhold Waylon from at least some of the omega rehabilitation courses that they offer.
“Why the fuck would I have to take cooking classes here?” Waylon growls out as his eyes continue searching the page. “And goddamnit, is that—there’s fucking home ec. on here!?”
Waylon’s head snaps up from the schedule in his hands. His eyebrows are drawn down and his lips form a thin line as he glares daggers at both Eddie and Trager. Waylon brings his hands holding the papers in front of his chest, until his arms are fully extended, and then promptly drops the stack of papers. Some of the papers scatter throughout the hallway, but most of the heavy stack falls to the ground with a plop. Eddie stares down at the pile of papers on the floor and then looks up to see Waylon’s retreating form, middle finger raised high in the air as he walks down the hallway and turns the corner.
“Well,” Trager turns to Eddie, sporting the largest smirk that Eddie has ever seen. “That’s Waylon for you.”
Eddie shakes his head as he bends over to pick up the papers littered across the ground. “The other doctors were right—you have your work cut out for you here, Trager.”
Eddie feels a hand rest on his shoulder and looks up to see Trager smiling, genuinely smiling, ear to ear. “I think you mean we have our work cut out for us, Eddie. You’re going to be my wildcard here.”
Eddie continues picking up the papers. He glances at the some of the other activities on the schedule for Waylon. Art therapy, omegan charm, child-rearing, yoga, self-defense, the art of feng shui—Trager really did just sign Waylon up for everything. “What does that even mean?”
“It means that you’re going to be key in winning Waylon over. I know that if we try to make him come to his senses through the typical avenues here that he’ll just end up resenting us—resenting alphas in general, too. So, I’m going to use the best weapon in our arsenal—an unassuming, compassionate, and generally progressive alpha.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Eddie stands up with the stack of papers in hand and gives them back to Trager. “So if that’s your plan, then why did you sign him up for every course and elective that we offer? You had to know he wouldn’t tolerate most of those at this point.”
“Because sometimes he’s just fun to piss off.” Trager says as he closes his eyes and smiles sweetly. “Later big guy, I’ve got an angry omega to wrangle.” Trager starts walking down the hallway following after Waylon, waving his hand without turning around to look at Eddie.
Eddie watches him go, and sighs as he contemplates his role in Waylon’s recovery. On one hand, he is motivated to see Waylon recover. He has a special place in his heart for omegas that don’t fit the mold, so to speak. And he definitely wouldn’t mind spending more time with Waylon, as he seems like a very unique individual. However, on the other hand, he hates being used in Trager’s schemes. It ticks him off even more when Trager’s schemes end up working out, which they almost always do. The man is a genius, part of the reason why Eddie chose Mount Massive for his residency all those years ago. Eddie supposes that he can help Trager out though, as it benefits him in the long run, after all. He might get some great information from Waylon about atypical omegas for his book he’s planning to publish. And he also doesn’t mind hanging around Waylon, especially with that sweet bubble gum smell that Waylon has hanging around him. No, Eddie decides it’s not that big of deal to help Trager out just this once.