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To Learn and to Heal

Summary:

Ptolemy House is a boarding school for traumatized omegas, a safe place to catch up academically while receiving therapy. One of those therapies is peer counseling, the pairing of omega students with alpha students trained to use their pheromones and physical presence for comfort and support. The school year is beginning, and a new class has arrived, including all our favorite characters, modern omegaverse style.

A thoroughly strange AU. An excuse to put everyone in a school setting and make them hug a lot. An exercise in writing hormonal teenagers with weird biology and PTSD. Call it what you want. To be updated sporadically, as usual.

Content warnings: Not using Archive warnings on this one because I honestly don't know if the content qualifies. There will be canon-level references to violence and torture. Rape will be referred to more directly than the canonical dancing around the subject with the Iron Tower, but not in graphic detail. Bad things happened to these characters in the past, and they are currently healing, but will occasionally refer to the bad things that happened or the fallout from those things. Make your reading choices accordingly.

Notes:

Is the tech level believable for 2031? Meh. I do not care. Keeping canon dates makes my life easier.

Chapter 1: Jess

Summary:

Jess Brightwell has been rescued from the abusive alpha who his father sold him to, but recovery is a long way away. Still grieving his twin who didn't survive their alpha's abuse, he isn't even sure he can recover. But if he agrees to go to Ptolemy House, at least he'll get a computer.

Content warnings: grief, abuse

Chapter Text

EPHEMERA

From a Chicago Tribune article, July 15, 2031

Amazon Executive Arrested in Omega Trafficking Bust

In the latest arrest in the ongoing human trafficking investigation that has upended Chicago, Richard Burns, executive director of the Chicago Amazon headquarters, was jailed last night on charges including murder, human trafficking, sexual assault, child abuse, and embezzlement. A single omega, in critical condition, was rescued from the scene. Investigators discovered the remains of another omega, recently deceased, on the property. Search is ongoing. As victims are underage, no identifying details will be released.

Police believe Burns to be one of the financial backers of the omega trafficking ring operated by convicted traffickers Art and Tom Qualls. Brought to light three years ago by the shocking kidnapping of Mayor Keria Morning-Wolfe’s omega son, Professor Christopher Wolfe of the University of Chicago, the ring has been linked to hundreds of kidnapping and assault cases...


August 10, 2031

Jess sat in the bare conference room, flipping through the booklet Dr. Ebele had given him without much interest. The glossy photos on the pages showed rolling fields surrounded by autumn woods, young people talking and laughing on the porch of an old Victorian mansion, over-eager students waving their hands in a brightly lit classroom. All obviously staged.

Ptolemy House. A school for omegas like him, the doctor said. A place to recover and catch up on his schoolwork. What a joke. He hadn't been to school since he presented in sixth grade, and he doubted there was any catching up from that.

The click of the door handle set his pulse racing, even though he'd expected it. Just Dr. Ebele with the representative from the school. Jess caught himself sniffing even before he looked up. Blatantly, too, mouth open and nose wrinkling. Rude.

That would have earned him a slap from Da. Teasing praise from the old Alpha.

This man, this omega who smelled like old books and some kind of exotic wood, said nothing at all. Nor was there any sign of a reaction on his face. For an omega, he was intimidating. A sharp face framed by long black hair, skin a shade of brown that gave no real clue as to his heritage, and dark clothes. He had the small stature of an omega, but none of the humility Jess had been trained into. Instead, he strode into the room like an alpha, long black jacket flaring out behind him, and took a seat at the table across from Jess. 

"This is Dr. Wolfe," Dr. Ebele said, taking the seat next to the man. "From Ptolemy House."

"Doctor as in Ph.D," Dr. Wolfe said. "In computer science, so don't come whining to me about stomachaches."

"Right, got it, only computer viruses for you," Jess said, giving him Brendan's smile, the sarcastic one that used to drive Da out of his mind.

One of the only things Jess had left of his brother.

Dr. Wolfe narrowed his eyes. "I would rather you didn't come to me with those, either. There will be lessons in responsible internet usage, and you will be expected to clean up your own messes. If you go and get your computer infected…"

Dr. Ebele cleared her throat. Wolfe gave her a sideways glance, but went quiet. Looking at Jess with the motherly expression he couldn't decide whether he loved or hated, she said, "As you can see, Ptolemy House is a less restrictive environment, where you will be allowed both more freedom and more responsibility. I think you are ready for that, don't you?"

Responsibility, restriction, Jess didn't see the difference. Just different ways for adults to run his life because he was too fucked up to run it himself. But one thing stood out to him, one thing he actually cared about. "I'll get to have a computer?"

"Yes," Wolfe said, and after that, it was all just a matter of smiling and nodding and agreeing to what the two adults said.

Jess would have a computer. He could play games again. Find all Brendan's favorites and play until he didn't feel alone anymore.

He was daydreaming about getting into Brendan's World of Warcraft account when movement across the table snapped his gaze up and into focus. Jess's hackles rose, but it was just Wolfe, opening his black leather laptop bag to take out a spiral bound book.

Only a book. Not whatever Jess's stupid panic was afraid of. 

With his pulse pounding in his ears, he hardly heard Wolfe say, "I'd like you to have a look through these. Or more accurately, a smell. I assume Dr. Ebele has discussed therapeutic techniques with you sufficiently that you are familiar with the concept of a support alpha."

"An alpha to give me happy smells when I break down, yes," Jess said, rolling his eyes. Jess hoped Dr. Ebele hadn't told Wolfe how well he responded to the sessions he'd had with the clinic's alpha therapist. But then, if Wolfe was offering a support alpha, she probably had. Or maybe he was just that fucked up.

Wolfe nodded and pushed the book across the table. "Something like that, yes. While it isn't mandatory, we generally assign new students to volunteer peer counselors. This will assist us in determining compatibility."

Warily, Jess opened the book, eyeing it with suspicion, at least until the first scent hit him. Smoky, a little oily, not at all pleasant, but he could feel his pulse slowing and his hackles lowering, and he wondered if this was what Da's addicts felt like.

He flipped through a few pages before he got to one that smelled not only stupidly comforting, but actually good. Jasmine and cinnamon, like tea and cookies. He thought he might come back to that one.

At least until he got to one that actually made him purr. It was a strange scent, like vanilla and some kind of grease. Engine oil? Logically, he knew that shouldn’t smell good. Logically, he knew the scent was just his brain processing pheromones into something he could name. It didn’t matter. He was salivating. His eyes were drifting shut, and he was purring like a goddamned cat. Unable to stop himself from blushing, he sat up and cleared his throat.

Wolfe, with a look of keen interest, leaned across the table to sniff. “Ah, that will be Schreiber. A good choice.”

“Who says I made a choice?” Jess snapped, as if that would make a damn bit of difference. As if it wasn’t obvious.

Wolfe raised an eyebrow. Just one. “Oh? Would you prefer another one?”

Jess meant to say he didn’t want an alpha at all. Never again, not even one of these support alphas. But instead he found his chest squeezing in on him and his heart racing at the thought of giving up this smell. “No, it’s fine, this one’s fine,” he said, trying to sound like he didn’t care, trying not to gasp for breath. It was just a damn panic attack. Another damn panic attack.

“How about you take one more sniff to be sure?” Wolfe asked. It was a perfectly reasonable question, but he was looking at Jess like he could see right through him, like he knew exactly what was going through Jess’s head.

Like he knew Jess needed another hit.

And damned if the bastard wasn’t right. 

One sniff and he could breathe again.