Page 15 of Flight of the Omega

JP heaved an enormous breath. “What do you know about it?” he muttered. His voice sounded clearer; he must have lifted his head a little.

“Plenty,” Jack said. He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall.

“Mm-nn,” JP said. Jack bristled at the omega’s petulant tone. “Whatcouldyou know about it?”

“Look, just because you got turned down one time—”

JP buried his face in the pillow again, shoulders shuddering. Jack couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying.

Frowning, he continued, “You can’t always get what you want, JP. Life don’t work that way, so you’re gonna have to—”

“I never wanted it!” JP screeched suddenly. “Not that, never wanted that, never … never …”

He choked off, then took a deep breath. Then another. And then he was hyperventilating.

Jack stared at JP, watched his expression contorting around his inability to breathe, his distress, and Jack had the inkling that the omega was caught in the grips of some kind of memory. A waking nightmare of sorts.

He didn’t quite know what to do. Some birds had anxiety, but this seemed different. Still, JP was gonna make himself pass out, so Jack unfurled from the wall and put a hand over the omega’s shoulder, slowly, cautiously, carefully.

“Hey,” he said as soft as he could, “JP.”

That got a long, shuddering gasp, and JP retched a couple of times, dry heaving horribly. He was feverish, but he was shaking, shivering uncontrollably.

“Cerulean,” Jack said. “Hey, Cerulean, pretty bird, you’re okay. You’re here with me, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”

He waited, not sure if that had gotten through; JP seemed to calm, at least a little. His breathing slowed, before finally dissolving into painful, body-wracking sobs. Jack didn’t know what to do, so he tried rubbing light circles on JP’s shoulder.

“Hey birdie,” he whispered.

“I just—wanted,” JP sobbed, his words painfully broken apart, “to have one heat. Normal. Not … not …”

He shook his head, smearing tears and snot everywhere. His breathing was still ragged. “Not forced,” he whimpered finally, and Jack grimaced, like he’d been struck.

“Oh,” Jack managed, and JP curled away from him suddenly, violently, wrapping himself tight around his pillow and shuddering.

Jack wasn’t particularly smart; he knew that as well as anybody. So he felt he could be forgiven that he hadn’t understood before. But now he could see it, plain as day. JP hadn’t felt safe with him—and Cerulean had been testing him to see if he could trust him.

Thatmade sense to Jack. He knew abused critters—and the birds especially—had trouble trusting. How could they, when they’d been so badly betrayed by those who were supposed to take care of them?

“Oh, JP,” he said, reaching for the omega, letting his hand fall when JP flinched away. “I’m sorry.”

JP’s shoulders came up around his ears, defensive. “What’s there to be sorry about?” His voice was low, muddled by tears.

“That I didn’t understand what you were asking me before,” Jack said.

JP sniffed. “Huh?” He lifted his head a little.

“You were asking me to take care of you,” Jack explained. He practically felt JP frown, his brows knitting together. “Because you trust me enough to take care of you.”

There was a beat or two, and then JP crackled with bitter laughter. “Clearly,” he said, “I’m an idiot.”

“Oh!” Jack protested.

JP didn’t look at him, but he sounded angry. “I trusted you, look what it got me. I trusted my father, I trusted the doctor, and …”

His shoulders slumped, like all the anger that had been holding him up suddenly subsided. “I’m an idiot,” he repeated, curling back into a ball.

“You’re not an idiot,” Jack said with a bit more bluster than he felt, but JP sounded like he needed that. “Trusting people doesn’t make you an idiot.”