Page 61 of Knot Happening Again

"What can I do for you, Dr. Pavel?" I ask, setting down the chart.

She wrings her hands, a nervous habit I've noticed before. "I was hoping to get your advice on a patient. An omega who went into heat unexpectedly. She's having a really difficult time, even though she's on those new organic suppressants."

I frown, a familiar frustration bubbling up. "That's the fourth case this week," I mutter, shaking my head. "They should take that crap off the market."

Dr. Pavel nods in agreement. "I've heard similar complaints from other patients. But what should we do for this omega? Her symptoms are… quite severe."

I take a deep breath, thinking back to the other things we’ve tried in cases like these. "Start her on a course of traditional suppressants immediately. We need to counteract whatever those 'organic' ones have done to her system. Monitor her vitals closely. Oh, and set up a nesting room. That helped with the last one."

Dr. Pavel nods, scribbling notes on her tablet. "Thank you."

As she hurries away, I lean against the counter, my mind drifting to the omega clinics that have been popping up across the city. Places where unmated omegas can ride out their heats in safety, with or without the assistance of alphas and betas that work there.

Part of me understands the necessity. Omega biology is complex, often cruel in its demands. Without a mate or a pack, heats can be excruciating, even dangerous. These clinics offer a controlled environment, a buffer against the harsh realities of an unmated omega's life.

But another part of me recoils at the thought. It feels... clinical. Sterile. A poor substitute for the warmth and intimacy of a true pack bond. The nesting materials are disposable, and the ones that aren’t are wrapped in plastic.

But I suppose it's not that much more clinical than the arrangements Temporary Bonds makes.

Ophelia's face flashes in my mind.

An omega, alone and hurting.

My chest tightens.

Would she ever consider one of these clinics if she decides not to spend her next heat under our care?

The thought of her in a stark, impersonal room, surrounded by strangers and nesting materials fit for a hospital instead of a heat during her most vulnerable moments, makes my alpha instincts howl in protest.

"Fuck," I mutter, pushing away from the counter. I need to move, to do something other than dwell on things I can't change.

I make my rounds, checking on patients, updating charts. But my mind keeps circling back to the issue.

As I enter the room of my next patient, an elderly beta with pneumonia, I force myself to focus. Mrs. Hernandez smiles weakly as I approach her bed.

"How are we feeling today, Mrs. Hernandez?" I ask, picking up her chart.

She coughs, a wet, rattling sound that makes me wince. "Been better, doc. But I'm tougher than I look."

I check her vitals, listen to her lungs. As I work, I can't help but notice the photo on her nightstand. Mrs. Hernandez surrounded by a large, loving family. Alphas, betas, omegas, all together, all smiling.

"Beautiful family," I comment, gesturing to the pictures.

Mrs. Hernandez's eyes light up. "My pride and joy. We've been through thick and thin, that bunch. I made them go home to get some sleep or they'd be here now. Wouldn't trade them for the world."

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. That’s what it should be like. Family, support, love. Not sterile rooms and clinical assistance.

But as I finish my examination and head back into the hallway, reality crashes back in. Not everyone has a family like that. Not every omega finds their pack, their mate. And until they do, places like those clinics might be their only refuge.

A nurse calls my name, pulling me from my thoughts.

Another patient, another problem to solve.

With a sigh, I gather my things to resume my rounds. As I do, my phone catches my eye. I can't help but check it, hoping for a message from Leon. Instead, I see a text from Mace.

Hey, Doc. Any word from Leon on when he's coming home? He's been back for over a week now.

I feel a knot form in my stomach. I've been asking myself the same question, but seeing it from Mace makes it feel more real, more urgent. I type out a response.

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