Chapter Text
Growing up without a concept of Pack was just a part of Matt’s life that he hadn’t questioned. His family unit had dissolved before he could crawl. No one could blame his mother for suffering so horribly with postpartum, but being left with nothing to remember her by other than a cross necklace had left a hole in his childhood. His father didn’t talk about his mother often. The pain Matt felt in his chest seemed only an echo of the pain that he could see in his fathers face when he asked about her. Eventually, Matt stopped asking. Jack had been a beta, and he’d been sure to make his disdain for the concept of hierarchy clear. A beta in a field filled with so many alphas had put that chip on his shoulder. It had been what took him out in the end, refusing to throw against an up-and-coming alpha in the ring. They’d put him down for it, but the waves had still made headlines. Battlin Jack Murdock, Beta Extrodinair.
Father Lantom and the nuns at Saint Agnes’ orphanage were bound by their calling to forgo the concept of Pack. They were tied only to their faith. On his eleventh birthday, they held Matt a small presentation ceremony. Just him, Father Lantom, and a few of the nuns at the orphanage there to congratulate him on his alpha status. It felt like another one of life's cruelties. Even at eleven, he had no illusions that society would be able to look past his apparent “weaknesses” and take him seriously as an alpha. It filled him with rage, the surprise and utter pity in the voices of the nuns, and left him digging his fingernails so hard into his palms that they left clear half-moon imprints in the skin.
Father Lantom had pulled him aside that night before bed and gave him his first realistic idea of what Pack meant. The despair had pooled in his stomach as he listened to descriptions of scientific and romanticized concepts. There were chemical changes that happened, that pulled packs together. Loyalties that were more than just feelings, that fundamentally changed biology, but there was more. He explained the ways Pack tied people together, forging connections stronger than blood, connections that changed the soul. The idea of it made Matt’s heart yearn. The utter rightness of belonging that would always be out of his reach broke his heart all over again. He would have none of it, no family, no pack. A weak alpha, never belonging. Father Lantom did him the kindness of pretending not to see the tears that burned Matt’s eyes as he walked him back to his room.
Matt would spend years wondering what his father would think about the fact that he’d become an alpha. He worried that his father would hate it, he’d had his fair share of contempt for the alphas he faced in the ring. Would his alpha status put him too close to the violence he tried so hard to keep Matt away from? Alpha violence was historically at a low, with the regulation of scent blockers and suppressants making it so much easier to practically turn off those impulses. Still, he had taken the time to show Matt a bit of self-defense when he was young, adamant that he never throw a punch that wasn’t necessary.
When Stick came into his life, he brought a storm with him. Matt thought for a time that Stick would fix it, fix everything wrong in his life. For the first time since his accident, he didn’t feel weak. He didn’t feel strong, Stick would never allow Matt’s ego that pleasure, but when it was the two of them and all Matt could focus on was the burn of his muscles and the best way to counter Stick’s attacks he felt capable. They’d trained for months and along the way, Matt started to believe that maybe he would be able to have it all. He’d be able to love and protect and be a good alpha. He would never say these thoughts out loud. Matt firmly believed at that point that his hopes were only safe in his head, and speaking them out loud would only invite disaster. He slipped once, showed just a hair too much that he cared and Stick rejected him. He walked out of his life with scathing comments that haunted Matt. ‘I can’t help you anymore. I expected too much of you.’ He couldn’t even process how devastated he was before the door had closed behind Stick.
Matt had nearly ripped his room apart that night, his skin crawling and mind racing. It wasn’t until one of the nuns had rushed into his room to reprimand him that he knew that something was wrong. Even under the scent blockers, he could smell nothing but omega. Pre-rut. Several years too early, he’d only been twelve for a few weeks. Ruts weren’t supposed to start until fifteen. By only sheer force of will, he kept himself away from the nun. He felt out of control, new impulses racing through his mind that he had never given thought to. It was terrifying how little of himself was left through racing hormones.
Father Lantom was called and Matt was whisked away to the hospital. Intense emotional disturbances, he learned, could trigger early ruts. Matt had a mandatory meeting with a sexual health expert. She was friendly and professional, an alpha herself so she could speak from personal experience. She hadn’t even batted an eye when Matt growled at her.
“Matthew, you can put your hackles down. I’m just here to answer some questions you may have before you go into full rut.”
She was patient, reading out some basic information from a sheet until Matt’s head was clear enough to ask questions. She reassured him his situation was not nearly as rare as many thought. She took her time to walk him through what to expect over the next three days. Matt only asked what would happen after. She gave him options for what his choices were after his rut had ended, at this age he could only go on suppressants that would stagger his ruts, allowing him eight months between instead of the usual four. Once he was older he had the option of an implant that would be able to stop his ruts completely for up to five years, but that was only available starting at fifteen. Afterward, she showed him a tape, one that walked through self-soothing during a solo rut.
He’d been given a place to ride out the three-day ordeal, and Matt hated every second of it. Nothing in the room smelled like him, smelled like home. He spent more time growling and pacing while scanning for threats than he did soothing. He ignored the needs of his body, only drinking water when demanded by one of the nurses who was monitoring him. He was alone, in an unfamiliar space, no pack, no omega, it was all wrong. His heightened senses only made it worse. Every sound amplified sounded like a threat. Every trace scent of alphas walking the halls had his hackles raised, and every lingering scent of omega had his mind going hazy and unfocused. He never wanted to feel so out of control again.
Matt took his suppressants religiously growing up. Most every one of age at the orphanage took them, scent blockers as well. All the better to encourage celibacy and keep the alpha children from picking more fights. Matt pushed forward, doing all he could to ignore his alpha side. He still secretly practiced what he’d been taught by his father and Stick, but aside from that his hobbies only included ignoring the other children and studying. Brains, he knew, would make his father's memory proud.
He endured his next four ruts, this time locked up in his own room. It smelled like him here which allowed him to relax further than he had in the hospital, but everything else was still wrong. No pheromones for him to focus on, no omega to cling to. He’d made Father Lantom schedule him for the implant the day he turned fifteen.
It was freeing, not having to schedule and worry about ruts interrupting his life anymore. He started to work the moment he was legally allowed. He saved every penny he could for school. His father had left him with some money that he would be able to access when he was eighteen but where he wanted to go he’d need much more. Matt spent his high school years working hard and studying harder. He applied for every scholarship he could find information on, at least his disability was good for one thing. Maybe Columbia was within reach.
In that routine, Matt found pride in what he was doing. He was providing for himself, keeping his feet firmly on the ground. He demanded respect and rejected all pity. He was self-sufficient. It pleased him as an alpha to be able to stack the deck in his odds for once. Matt was his own pack and wholly convinced that would be all he needed in life.