Omega’s Hope

by Harris, Noah

  "That's…that's terrible," Christopher breathes.

  Timothy just shrugs. "She still took care of me. She made sure I was fed and had everything I needed. But she didn't love me anymore. Or maybe she did, but she didn't know how to show it. I'm not sure. I could tell she saw me as a failure from that day on, though. I could see the way she looked at me. She was better at hiding it than my father, but she couldn't hide the distain from her eyes. She could barely bring herself to touch me."

  "Timothy…"

  "After we got home from the eye doctor, mom locked herself away for days. She barely ate anything, and she didn't come out at all. I think in a lot of ways, she blamed herself. Like it was somehow her fault that my father's only son was a failure. Like her genetics are what sullied his. I heard him assuring her that he didn't blame her, but that just led to them both blaming me.

  "The days following that incident were hard. Mom was usually the one who could calm down my father when he was too strict, but she refused to come out of her room, and he was desperate. He made me do a lot of stupid exercises." Another bitter laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head, sending his curls bouncing. "He made me stare at a target a hundred feet away without blinking. As if that might help my eyesight improve. I know now that it doesn't work that way, but at the time, I believed him. Every time my eyes began to water and I had to blink, my father yelled at me. Most of it was terrible. I don't remember exactly, but I remember crying. I remember it hurt. There was a lot about me not trying hard enough. And I thought, if I just tried harder, I could somehow prove myself worthy enough to be his son."

  He sinks a little into the chair with a sigh. He's not angry, nor is he really sad. He doesn't feel much at all. There's a deep ache that's always been there when he thinks about how much he disappointed his family, but it's been numbed and buried with time. He pulls the blanket up a little higher, hiding his hands beneath it as he pulls it up to his chin. He stares at the far wall to keep from meeting Christopher's eyes.

  "I never really managed to do that. My father tried a lot of things over the years, but I just kept failing. He never understood how a great wolf like himself could have a son as pitiful as me. As the years went on, he got more irrational, more desperate, and more violent. There were a few times he hit me, saying I needed to toughen up." He sees Christopher stiffen, but he keeps going. Ignoring the prickling burn at the back of his eyes and ignoring how his voice shakes. "One time he told me I never should have been born if I was going to disappoint him like this. But the worst part was the day he gave up on me. It was the day my hormones presented me as an omega. When he looked at me without emotion, like he was looking right through me, like I was nothing more than one of his soldiers and said he wasn't going to try anymore. That he wouldn't expect anything more from me as his son. All I ever wanted was for him to give me another chance. I just wanted to prove to him that I wasn't a complete failure."

  "I…recognize the General's spirit." Christopher's voice is soft and strangely blank. "It's what inspired me to rise above my circumstances. Absolute perseverance. Success no matter what. No matter the pain."

  Timothy risks a glance at Christopher, and he's surprised by what he sees. There's clear conflict in his eyes and pain lining the furrow of his brows. He stares at the floor, leaning forward on his elbows once more, hands clasped in front of him. There's tension strung throughout his entire body, lining his features and making him look like he's wound tight enough to snap.

  "I didn't realize it was that bad," he whispers.

  He doesn't seem to know what else to say, so Timothy continues. He's come this far and hasn't been made fun of, so he might as well finish. "Despite signs like my clumsiness and my small size, my parents always held onto the tiniest bit of hope that I wouldn't be a lowly omega. The diagnosis of my myopia had been a cold reality check they couldn't ignore. Wolves are supposed to have exceptional sight. Better than humans. And mine was bad. I used to do training exercises with my cousins, hunting prey and practice sessions. They were always better than me. I couldn't see because my father thought my eyesight might get better if I pushed myself without glasses. I always got disoriented when I ran, and I tripped over everything. It was terrible.

  "But my parents still had the sliver of hope that I'd present as an alpha, or at least a beta. I had hope, too. Both my parents are alphas. But when I reached my full size, I was still smaller than everyone around me. My cousins towered over me, in both human and wolf form.

  "From then on, things went pretty quickly downhill. After I presented, all hope was lost. I think my parents expected it, everyone else seemed to, but that didn't stop them from expressing how disappointed they were anyway. I think it hit me the hardest, though. It was like I could feel everything crumbling around me."

  He closes his eyes, fighting against the burn. He doesn't want to cry. Not about this. Not anymore. It's all in the past, and he's moved on. He's built himself up, and none of this matters anymore. But under the numbness, there's still the ache.

  "I begged my father to use his connections to get me into the training camp. He thought it was a waste of time, but he did it anyway. I wanted to prove once and for all that I wasn't as deficient as he thought I was, and I think part of him hoped I would. I thought I'd do better since I was bigger and older than when I practiced training with my cousins. But I was wrong." He smiles then. Feels the small shadow of it on his lips. Bittersweet. "In a way, that camp was the wake-up call I needed. I finally realized I'm not meant to be a strong wolf. Or a wolf at all. It allowed me to move on and put my time and energy into building up a better life away from it all."

  By the time he opens his eyes to look at Christopher, he's smiling in earnest. He expects the man to share in his relief at the happy ending to his tale, how he's overcome his shortcomings and made something of himself. But instead, Christopher is frowning. His expression looks torn.

  "Timothy, I am so sorry," his voice wavers.

  Timothy blinks, his own smile fading in his confusion. "Why?"

  Christopher shakes his head, eyes red rimmed and glassy. He looks pained. "What happened at that camp, the conclusions you came to, your fate as a wolf…those aren't your fault. All of that is due to a terrible mistake on my part."

  He reaches out, putting a large hand on Timothy's knee and squeezing gently, as if to ground them both. Timothy can feel the warmth of it through the blanket, and his mouth feels dry. He wants to look away from the intensity in Christopher's gaze, but he can't. Those green eyes hold him captive, swirling with far too much to name.

  "The morning after we mated, Hansen cornered me. He was riling me up. Making me look bad in front of the others. He wanted to discredit me in front of the pack so he could rise to alpha. He tried to say I was weak for having mated with you. That you had control over me. They wanted me to prove I was still the strongest. They had terrible suggestions for you. They wanted me to beat you. They wanted…" His hands tighten, and he takes a shuddering breath, shaking his head. "It was bad. There was so much pressure, and I didn't know what to do. When I saw them getting ready to throw you in the river, I had to make a decision. And I panicked. I thought it was the lesser of all the evils. One shameful swim, then I would be the pack alpha, and I could properly protect you after that." He looks up at Timothy, strangely sheepish as he smiles, an air of regret hanging on his words as he says, "But I never got the chance to apologize or to make it up to you. You ran, and I let you because I realized what I had done was unforgivable."

  Timothy's head is swirling. He can barely breathe. Nothing about that day has changed, and yet it feels like everything has. the events are still the same. The result is still the same. He's still hurt, just as he's always been. Christopher still wanted to unite the pack and establish himself as alpha. But now…now Timothy understands. He understands the strange coldness that overcame Christopher when he ordered him to be thrown in the river, and the flicker of regret just before it happened.

  He'd always thou
ght Christopher was just a cold, unfeeling alpha. That he’d been wrong about him and his kindness. He thought Christopher was no better than his father, just a brute of an alpha who would step all over him and shove him around. But…

  But Christopher cared. He didn't handle it well, but he cared enough to pick the option that wouldn't hurt Timothy. And…he said he wanted to protect him. That he would make it up to him.

  Timothy knows he should be cautious and wary about believing him, but he does. He believes Christopher. There's too much pain and guilt in his eyes to not.

  Nothing about that day has changed, and yet everything has. It has Timothy's world spinning off kilter, making him dizzy.

  "You didn't fail as a wolf," Christopher says, voice low and reassuring. "I failed as your mate and as an alpha, and I've never forgiven myself. I miscalculated, and it cost us both so much." He lifts his hand then, reaching up to adjust Timothy's glasses. His knuckles trail along Timothy's jaw before moving up to brush the hair away from his face. He smiles, and something in Timothy's chest blooms. "I have no doubt that your wolf is strong, Timothy. Maybe not in the traditional way, but in your own way. You just need to figure out how."

  Christopher

  After their impromptu heart-to-heart, the two of them fall into a routine. It's not perfect, and there are definitely some bumps along the way as they figure out how to live together, but they eventually get there. They figure out how they fit, and while it's not exactly as Christopher imagined being with his mate would be, he wouldn't trade it for the world because Timothy is here with him now, and that's all that matters.

  They go from tip-toeing around each other to actually moving in each other's space. Timothy is less wary of him, and Christopher finds that he's not angry anymore. There's an unspoken agreement not to bring up their past. Other taboo subjects include the father of Timothy's child and his parents. Christopher's role as alpha is also a wary subject, not in itself, but for what other memories it might dig up. They're careful for fear of disturbing the fragile peace they've found. It's a tremulous truce, but it's working for them.

  He's come to realize that they came together like oil and water because of all the baggage they've carried through the years. They immediately jumped into the past rather than meeting each other in the present. And Christopher, for one, is actually excited about moving forward and exploring Timothy's present. And thankfully, at least for the time being, the omega seems willing to give him a chance.

  The pack gets used to Timothy's presence, tolerating him enough and respecting Christopher's orders to leave him alone. Timothy still doesn't leave the house much, but at least he seems to feel safe.

  He's also listened to Christopher's pleas and stopped taking the wolfsbane. Christopher had been overjoyed with the thought that his mate would no longer be in pain or risk hurting himself and the baby. What he hadn't expected was to have the pleasure of watching Timothy slowly start to grow into his wolf.

  * * *

  Small things, it turned out, had a way of becoming big things in the most unexpected ways.

  A couple weeks into their newfound truce, the two of them settle down to watch a movie together. It's a simple thing, just an excuse to spend time together more than anything, without the needless pressure of conversation. The idea of spending the evening in a dim room, sitting on the couch with Timothy as they relaxed and let their worries slip aside, is a cozy one. And if Timothy gets relaxed enough to allow Christopher to sit close and drape an arm over his shoulders? Well, that would just be icing on the cake.

  It starts as simply as Christopher flinging a blanket over Timothy, wanting to keep the omega snug, comfortable, and warm while they watch the movie. He sits across the couch from Timothy, legs stretched out and arms resting on the arm and back of the couch. He smiles as he watches the omega curl into a ball on the couch, wrapping the blanket around himself and snuggling in.

  It makes Christopher's heart flutter and ache with the need to pull him close, but he digs his fingers into the couch instead. He doesn't want to push the boundaries that they've only just begun to work around.

  Christopher had thought that would be it, but fifteen minutes into the movie, Timothy is still restless. He settles for only a few seconds at the time before shifting again. Curling under the blanket differently, shifting on the couch, wrapping the blanket in different ways. He's trying to be subtle about it, but Christopher is far too aware of the omega to not notice. When he looks at him, he's surprised to find the man frowning, brows furrowed as he glares intently at the screen.

  "What's wrong?" he asks.

  Timothy rolls his shoulders. "I don't know, I can't get comfortable."

  "Well, what do you want? Do you need anything?" Christopher asks, already sitting up and preparing to fetch whatever his mate desires.

  Timothy looks sheepish as he says, "I think…more blankets? I guess…I don't know. I just…I feel like I need more…"

  Christopher feels the slow stretch of his grin chasing away his concern. When he doesn't say anything right away, Timothy glances up at him through his lashes, pouting when he finds Christopher's unabashed smile. "What?"

  "Timothy," Christopher says gently, oh so patiently. "Do you want to nest?"

  The omega freezes, brow relaxing as his eyes widen. His lips go slack, struggling to form words as his voice fails him. He looks surprised, but more than that, he looks a little frightened. Had he honestly not realized it was his wolf's instincts making him restless? Is he that out of tune with himself? "I…I don't know. I've never…"

  Christopher is off the couch in seconds, already moving through the house with a purpose. "Stay here."

  It takes several trips, but he returns with arms full of blankets and pillows, stripped and stolen from their beds and from the linen closet. He piles them on the floor as Timothy watches, strangely wary, surprised, confused, and yet eager. When he has everything he can find, he grabs the coffee-table, pulling it away from the center of the room and pushing it off to the side to make space.

  He starts to organize the blankets, gently encouraging Timothy to join him. The omega stays resolutely fixed to the spot until Christopher starts to actually build a nest, then he's sliding to the floor, taking the blankets from Christopher's hands with a mumbled, "You're doing it wrong."

  Timothy won't meet his gaze, but that's alright. Christopher smiles anyway. He lets Timothy take the lead, handing him the things he needs and following his direction as the omega builds his nest. His movements are quick and precise, eyes almost frantic as he observes everything, but quick and calculating. How much of it is Timothy's mind at work and how much of it is his wolf's instincts, Christopher isn't sure. But he dares to hope that it might be the two of them working in tandem.

  By the time Timothy finishes, finally sitting back with a satisfied sigh, they have a decent nest. It takes up the center of the living room, using couch cushions and chairs as walls and support for a sheet to be draped over them. The blankets form a plush padded floor, and pillows line the edges. Timothy grins, crawling into the nest and curling up, pulling a blanket over himself. Christopher waits just outside.

  He eyes Christopher curiously, one eyebrow raised. "Are you coming in or not?"

  The alpha can't help but grin. It's all the invitation he needs. He crawls into the nest with his mate, lying down close while still giving the omega his space.

  They have to start the movie over, but that's fine. Especially when ten minutes into the film, Timothy scoots over to rest his head on Christopher's shoulder. He smiles, wrapping an arm around the omega. He doesn't come closer. Doesn't press up against him like Christopher desperately wants him to. But this is fine for now.

  When he glances at his mate, he's surprised by the intensity with which Timothy is fixated on the screen. There's a pinch to his brows and a purse to his lips. "What's wrong?"

  Timothy's doesn't look away from the film. "He's innocent."

  Christopher scoffs. "They're clearly setting h
im up to be the culprit."

  Timothy shakes his head, inadvertently rubbing his cheek against Christopher's shoulder. "No, he's the victim," he says it with absolute certainty, and Christopher can't bring himself to argue.

  By the end of the movie, he's surprised to find Timothy is right. And when he looks at his mate, awed and impressed, Timothy preens with pride, a smug smirk on his lips. "I told you."

  He's always known his mate is smart. The life he's built for himself proves that. But Christopher can't help wondering how he just knew so innately right from the start. As Timothy curls up to sleep, eyes drifting closed, he can't help but wonder if the omega is just smart, or if there's something more to it.

  * * *

  The nest in his living room stays, and Christopher slowly and subtly adds to it over the passing weeks. He brings in new blankets, fluffy and fuzzy additions that make Timothy's eyes light up with unspoken glee. He never says he's putting them there. He simply leaves them for Timothy to find.

  He can't deny the way his own wolf preens and gloats, beaming with pleasure whenever he catches sight of Timothy curled up in the nest. Especially when Timothy shifts into his wolf form when he thinks Christopher won't notice, nuzzling his muzzle into the twisted mass of blankets and pillows.

  His wolf is looking better. He looks less pained and less gaunt. His fur is fluffy, with a healthy shine. And Timothy…looks happy. He makes all these content yipping sounds, digging and curling into the nest, licking almost reverently at his swollen belly.

  It makes Christopher's heart ache. He longs to join him but knows it's best to keep his distance. At least until Timothy invites him. Until then, he watches from afar, both overjoyed and pained with his own desperate longing.