Author's note:

So, I had this great idea, inspired by another story, which my muse then proceeded to twist into the mutant child of Omegaverse. I kid you not.

All reviews and critics welcome.

John had already completed exams - thank God - when he got sick. Rather, it had started during his last exam when he'd started shivering, so much so that he'd had to concentrate to hold the pen steady. He'd pressed on and finished, but quickly waved off his friends who were heading to the pub, saying he thought he was coming down with something. From there, he'd hurried as fast as he could, nearly tripping over himself until he reached the dorm building. John barely managed to stumble through his front door, shutting the door behind him before slumping to the tile floor with a sigh of relief.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this sick, barely able to get up off the floor, as he reluctantly made it to his bed and collapsed on top of the messy sheets. His roommate Mike was out for the weekend to see family, so there wasn't anyone to make him tea or soup. Not that Mike would have helped much anyway, spending the time when he wasn't in class shagging half the student body. John couldn't quite understand the amount of time Mike put into pursuing various interests, maybe that was given John had yet to present.

He just had no interest in any such shagging. Mike teased him about it from time to time, saying "You're only saying this now, but once you present, everyone will be fair game." John highly doubted that. At least he hoped he'd have better taste than Mike, whose range had yet to reject anyone, as far as John could tell.

John already knew how he'd present anyway. His parents were Betas, his sister was a Beta. All of his friends were Betas, considering any Alphas were usually sent to fancy schools by their well-to-do families.

John snuffled into his sheets from where he lay on his stomach. The shivering had overtaken his whole body, he could feel himself literally vibrating on the sheets. Sheets that needed a good wash. He wrinkled his nose. They hadn't smelled dirty that morning, but now they smelled musty, even a faint hint of the coffee he'd spilled on it weeks ago. Hadn't he washed them after that? He tightened his hands where they were clenching the sheets, wrinkling them further as he tried to slow down his shivering. Maybe some chamomile tea would help. He thought there might be an old box at the back of the pantry. He slowly inched his way to the edge of the bed until his feet were off the edge, then swung his feet around and sat up. Immediately, the room became a blur, his mind a lightheaded haze before he blacked out.

When he woke up, he didn't know how much time had passed, but the room seemed darker, and he was curled up on his side. Still shivering, but he felt hot, burning all over, his sheets damp beneath him. Was it a fever? John felt scared now, honestly scared. He'd never blacked out before, that couldn't be a good thing to do, right? He stretched his hand out from where he lay, fumbling around with his hand barely reaching his desk until it clasped around his mobile. He flipped it open and pressed his speed dial.

God, he didn't want to call Harry, but there was no one else he could call, no friends at Uni he knew well enough that could take him to the hospital. Because he felt he might end up there, the way his mind was going foggy.

"Harry?" He croaked into the phone as he heard the click of someone picking up on the other line.

"John? Is that you?" John breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't the weekend, Harry wouldn't be drinking yet.

"Harry, I need your help."

"Is something the matter?" Her voice sharpened on the other end. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I - I thought I was coming down with something this morning, but, it's really bad Harry."

"You're sick? Can't you just pop a few paracetamol?" John blearily thought for a moment. He remembered there being a bottle in the bathroom. Dammit. Too far.

"Harry, I'd get some if I could even stand up. I can't fucking stand up!" He tried to put some anger into his voice, but it came out more as a plea.

"Oh." There was a pause. John heard her take a breath. "Oh! John, I'll come over right now, let me just tell my boss that it's an emergency." The phone clicked and John looked at it for a moment, before comprehending that she'd hung up. He pushed the phone back across the bed and then buried his face under one of his pillows. His heart rate was ratcheting up, he could hear it pounding in his chest. The worst of it was he felt sticky all over from his sweat, or at least he thought it was until he tried to roll over onto his back. What came out of his mouth was something between a gasp and a moan.

"Shit" he said with a hiss as he felt a spike of both pain and pleasure frisson from his arse, all the way up his spine. He reached back and palmed his arse through his pants. He lifted his hand back up and stared at it. His fingers were glossy, covered in a liquid that slowly dripped from his fingers to the bed. Nononononono.

It couldn't be.

Sure, he hadn't presented yet, often showered with the Beta Wash to keep people from staring. His doctor that he saw once a year, said it was fine, a little abnormal, but fine. He just happened to be on the other end of the spectrum, one of the late presenters, since he was already 19. But it had been assumed that he'd present as a Beta. I mean, both of my parents had been Betas, right? I'm just a Beta, I couldn't be a... He couldn't say it. But the viscous liquid on his fingertips, the way it slowly dripped down his fingers and onto his sheets wasn't lying. He could faintly remember the brief sex-ed he'd received as a child. Betas could only produce Betas. That's what he'd been taught at school. That's why there were so many Betas. Alphas could mate with Betas, or the rare Omega. But only Alphas and Omegas together produced more Alphas and Omegas. Omegas, that were used as breeders, usually women, but with the odd man making up a smaller percentage.

He scrunched his face and thought harder. If Alphas and Betas mated, there was only a 10% chance that an Alpha would be produced, even less of a chance that an Omega would be born. His breath caught. It couldn't be that -

The door banged in the distance, at least it seemed far away, as if across a great space.

"...on...John!" He didn't even try to look up. He heard a gasp and then a hand - cool - placed lightly on his shoulder. He shuddered at the touch.

"John, what happened?" He turned his head slowly to see Harry crouched beside him, dressed in her office wear, dark hair pulled back in a loose bun.

He let out a laugh, which probably sounded more like a sob as she carefully touched his forehead.

"You're burning up!" She leaned in closer, and John saw the moment when realization came across her face. She sniffed delicately at his neck.

" smell different." She wasn't going to say it.

"Course." He mumbled. "I presented."

"You smell jasmine, mixed with something earthier."

"An Omega. A goddamn Omega. I'm not supposed to be an Omega Harry..."

She cooed gently as she brushed his hair out of his face. It was comforting and he momentarily forgot how hot he felt. John couldn't remember the last time she'd done that, maybe when he was six, when their parents had still been alive...

"John..." she bit her lip.

"I'm going to give you these sleeping pills for now, to ease it for you. I've heard the first heat can be painful."

John's hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist, almost painfully so.

"Don't let them take me! I - I don't want to become some sex slave."

He'd heard stories, of how Omegas were taken from their homes by the government. How they lost their identities, were bonded to strange Alphas, never to have a life of their own.

"I know John." She looked him over carefully. "I won't let that happen."

She hesitated. "I...I might know someone who can help. Just, take these for now, let me worry for you." She held up two white pills, which he reluctantly took and dry swallowed. He felt a queasiness low in his stomach before slowly dropping into unconsciousness.