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Iso felt like he was on fire.
The sheets beneath his body were damp, his clothes soaked through with sweat. A heat ran beneath his veins in a way he’d never felt before, scorching him from the inside out. The protocol had sent him on a mission to bind the day before, and yet even those arid temperatures paled in comparison to the inferno consuming his body.
He hazily recalled the experience, searching for any reason for this case of heatstroke, because that’s what it had to be— heatstroke. There was no other explanation for the way he was feeling.
Bind had been a straightforward mission. A routine defense of the site. No casualties.
Iso himself had been in particularly good condition, his senses inexplicably heightened. Every glint of a pistol underneath the glaring sun was caught under his uncanny gaze, every shifting of the sands under careful footsteps heard. It was a state similar to how he felt in his arena, awareness keyed up to inhuman levels in order to guarantee victory at all costs.
He had been assigned patrol with Gekko.
Heat churned uncomfortably in his gut at the thought of his fellow agent, and he couldn’t stop the whimper of pain that escaped his throat even as his ears burned at such a sound escaping him. It echoed, pained and reedy into his empty room. He shuddered at the emptiness, an unfamiliar need rising within him. He turned to his side, curling up further on the rumpled sheets in hopes it would ease his discomfort. It didn’t.
Nothing felt right. His clothes felt wrong where they clung to heated skin, his bed too large and lacking. Lacking what he wasn’t sure, though as he considered the pillows and blankets around him he was suddenly struck by how terrible they were. They needed to be fixed. No, Iso needed to fix them. Right now.
His body, which had previously been glued to the bed by a mixture of pain and sweat, was suddenly filled with a familiar intensity. He had to fix his bed. Standing seemed to increase the flush on his face, the heat of it making him dizzy. However, it did nothing to stop him from tearing the sheets from the bed with a vehemence that shocked the small, coherent part of his mind. He stared at the damp bundle now cradled in his arms, some faint, animalistic part of himself delighted at the sight. A pleasant humming filled the air, though Iso couldn’t ascertain where it was coming from. Nonetheless, it soothed something inside him as he continued to strip the bed. It felt like he was in a trance, the repetitive pattern of pull, bundle, push causing his brain to go distant.
Unfortunately, this peace was destroyed when he ran out of blankets and pillows to sort. Reality crashed back into his body harder than a bullet. Everything felt amplified as his body seemed to burn hotter than before, pain encroaching further on where there had previously only been discomfort. He found himself crouched and hunched over where he’d been standing beside the bed, arms pressed across his body in a vain attempt to ease the pain and head leaned against the bare mattress. Tears burned in his eyes and the part of his mind still coherent behind the heat and pain was confused. He’d never been the type to cry.
His attempt to wait out the flood of sensation was in vain as the heat continued to grow. He felt something drip down his leg. Everything felt too clear yet simultaneously fogged by an impenetrable haze. His body slow to process his mind's commands and his mind slow to make them. His hand slowly drifted from its futile hold on his stomach down to the band of his pants, reaching below them to run light fingers along his inner thigh. A shudder went through him at the gentle touch along sensitive, heated skin as he searched for answers. They’re discovered quickly, fingertips suddenly covered in a slick substance. He carefully withdrew his hand, decidedly ignoring his body’s response to the touch and instead holding his hand to his face in the dim light of the room.
Iso, for a moment, considered his fingers and what they’d discovered like a child would a particularly ugly fish– with reluctant yet undeniable interest. It was too thick to be sweat, although that conclusion would be the most reasonable one. He was sure if he tasted it the salt of sweat wouldn’t be what he found either. He lifted his head and raised his hand to the rays of light shining through closed blinds, squinting at the sudden change from the darkness of the bed's shadow. The intention of further inspecting his hand, however, was discarded as his eyes caught back on the mess his bed had become. A whine slipped out at the sight, the sharp sound bringing his attention to the fact that the pleasant humming from before had vanished. This did nothing to help the distress gradually building in his chest, which in turn did nothing to help the heat.
God, it was so hot.
Iso wanted nothing more than to curl up on the cool ground and put out some of the fire, but his eyes caught on the bed again. The bedding he had piled and shaped was lumpy and uneven, yet that wasn’t the issue his hazy mind latched on to. Something was missing. He scrutinized it, unable to pinpoint what was wrong until he abruptly realized that he couldn’t smell anything.
Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, scent blockers were standard issue in the protocol, though many agents disregarded that if they weren’t on a mission. His own sense of smell, while above average in most situations, always had trouble picking up on the subtleties of different dynamics scents. However, even his stunted nose must have gotten used to the accumulation of scents around the base that permeated a feeling of pack.
And that leads to the current problem. He missed that scent, faint as it always was. His own scent was practically nonexistent in the first place, and to his own nose it didn’t exist at all. Due to this and his own lack of personal belongings his room always felt sterile, like a locker for a weapon rather than a home to a living, breathing person. It was a rabbit hole his mind had fallen down before, but now its barren state felt insufferable.
As he mournfully reminisced on the scent of pack he was struck by a realization. That scent was right outside his door.
Iso suddenly stood, pain brushed aside by a burning need to leave, to attain that which his hindbrain screamed would console him the most. His usual composed manner had been eroded by the tumultuous emotions brought on by the unbearable blaze eating at his mind, yet before he could fumble his way out the door he managed to halt himself. He quickly took stock of his appearance; sweat-soaked hair, the previous day's rumpled clothes, flushed face. He couldn’t withhold a grimace at the mental image of himself created. The other agents would definitely take note of his less than stellar condition, in fact, he realizes with rising guilt, they may even think he’s ill. Even if such a possibility is feeling more and more likely with each passing minute he would never want to burden the others with such a thing. The protocol had a duty to see to the defense of reality itself, they didn’t need to be distracted by something as insignificant as his well being.
And yet, despite such reasoning, his feet still move towards the door.
It's a slow process, his body drained from the heat raging through his body as well as the aches and pains it created. He stops once more as he stands directly before the metal door, straightening his posture and schooling his face into a look of practiced nonchalance. This mask had served him well in Hourglass, and it would continue to serve him now.
For as hard as it was to step outside his room, the stark emptiness of the corridor felt distinctly underwhelming. In spite of that he also felt quite lucky that no one would immediately discover his unkempt state. As he made his way down the hallway he could feel sweat form and cool uncomfortably along his neck, even the chill of the unregulated hallway unable to combat the fire in his veins.
He wasn’t quite sure of what he was looking for nor all that aware of where he wandered, too focused on maintaining his forced appearance. Nevertheless, between one slow blink and the next he abruptly found himself in the doorway of the recreation room. His eyes tiredly surveyed the room, at the various snacks and games set around the space, before zeroing in on something. Among the couches and bean bags surrounding the television there sat what his entire being seemed to scream that it needed. There among the cushions sat various blankets, pillows, and even a discarded hoodie. He stepped further into the blessedly empty room, approaching the items as if they’d disappear if he so much as blinked. As he got closer the subtle smell of pack became stronger, in fact it was noticeably stronger than he’d ever been able to smell, not that such a thing registered as important in his mind among the overwhelming need for these items.
Iso picked up the nearest blanket, bringing it up to his nose he carefully inhaled and was unprepared for the desperate whine that resounded from his throat. He dropped the blanket as though it burned as much as the heat under his skin, wildly turning to ensure that he was still alone in the room and unheard. His heart hammered away in his chest, he was unsure of why, but the thought of anyone else hearing such noises filled him with the strangest mix of crushing anxiety and heartfelt yearning. Glaring at the object that led to such an amalgamation of emotion he began to leave, however he didn’t make it far before the sound of footsteps echoed from outside the doorway. In a rare show of panic that would be the end of him if it ever cropped up on the battlefield, Iso froze.
Cypher entered the room with purpose in his stride, largely oblivious to the stress his mere presence was causing to its other inhabitant, and upon spotting Iso spoke.
“Greetings, my friend. You were at bind recently, correct? Pardon me asking, but how did you find the weather?” The information broker asked conversationally.
“Hot.” Iso, recovering quickly, replied in monotone. His eyes flickered to the doorway, escape a far off dream and the charade of wellness wearing off despite the short time it’d been in use. He had no energy for words.
“Ah, yes,” Cypher continued as he approached a table and began collecting the chess set that had been laid out upon it, “heat is ever present in that area, yet it adds to the charm don’t you agree?”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Aha! Now there is some humor from you.”
Cypher, now holding the chess set, subjects Iso to his full attention. However, upon seeing the Chinese agent the ghost of a furrow appears on the information broker's masked face.
“My friend, you seem to be quite warm as well. The memory of Bind’s temperatures surely didn’t do you in.”
The end of his words lilt up questioningly despite the statement, the desire for answers always present in the man’s voice at play once again. Iso, unwilling to be subject to scrutiny, offers up a believable and succinct reason for his state.
“I was training.”
Cypher stared at him with uncanny eyes for a moment before shrugging.
“Ah, youth. Where you all get the energy I’ll never know. I’ll be on my way now, best not keep anyone waiting.” He said cryptically along with a pat on the chess set before making his way out of the room.
As the sound of Cypher’s footsteps faded, Iso couldn’t stop the way his carefully maintained facade crumbled. He glared once more at the pile of belongings on the couch before shakily collecting them in his arms. Whatever willpower or dignity had halted him before vanished along with the last dredges of his energy, now all he felt was longing and that damn heat.
How he made it back to his room without encountering another soul remains a mystery to his dazed mind. Any kind of confusion is secondary to the trance that envelops his mind once again as he arranges the pilfered materials among those already in his bed. After they’re distributed satisfactorily, he can no longer fight off the utter exhaustion the heat is still stoking in his body. He discards his jacket and crawls into his bed before curling up among the bedding, accompanied only by that strange humming and still feeling as though something is missing.
——
A knock on the door is what wakes him.
At first he believed it was the heat, as it felt even more unbearable than before. How that was possible he didn’t know, but the way his bones felt as though they were being boiled was as painful as such a thing sounds. He groaned and curled into a ball, feeling like a child but uncaring when faced with such misery.
The knock sounds again.
He tucks his head further into the sheets, seeking solace in the stolen scents. Whoever was at the door, they were likely there for something important. He’d already failed them by getting sick, and the thought of failing them any more was so unbearable it couldn’t even be considered an option. And so, he began the arduous process of extricating himself from his pile.
A final knock, followed by a familiar voice calling his name.
His eyes widen as he freezes in his shuffle to the door.
“Sage? What are you doing here?” He asks in a strained voice, choking back the sudden whine that had tried to claw out of his throat.
“Iso, I apologize for disturbing you. However, Cypher approached me and mentioned you may not be feeling well. May I come in?” Sage spoke calmly, her voice and presence as soothing as her abilities. Iso stood on the other side of the door, helpless to resist.
He didn’t want to distract anyone, cause them worry when the focus should be on their mission, yet here Sage was— already worried. With his reasoning to keep a distance gone, his resolve crumbled. He was in pain, ravaged by a heat he didn’t even know the source of and here was Sage offering him of all people help. To turn her away would be unfathomable. He opened the door.
Immediately her scent washed over him, identical to her namesake. It was overwhelming, scents had never been this strong before and faced with it now all he could do to muffle the instinctive whine of relief his body released was press the back of his hand over his mouth. As he stood struggling with the overwhelming effect of another’s scent, Sage stood shocked in the doorway.
She had expected many things after Cypher had told her he’d witnessed Iso acting strange and then refused to elaborate. However, nothing could have prepared her for the sweet scent of lilacs and honeyed tea that escaped the room like a cloud.
“Iso,” she said, shocked yet still conscientious of her delivery, “you are an omega.”
“Sage…” Iso breathed, eyes dilated so wide the violet of his iris was almost completely consumed. Sage’s words flow like water in one ear and out the other. He unconsciously gravitates closer to the healer, his body recognizing her as pack and wanting nothing more than for her to be close.
“And you are in heat,” Sage notes with no small amount of sympathy before worriedly adding, “and seem to have been for quite some time.”
Hesitance appears on her face as Iso continues to stare longingly at her, before resolve takes over her features. She takes his hands in her own and looks into his eyes.
“Iso, would you allow me to stay with you for your heat? I would like to help make your experience as comfortable as possible, however, I require your consent to ease your pain.”
Iso stared for a moment more, before collecting himself enough to respond.
“Please, help me, Sage. I’m tired.”
It’s spoken in such a world weary tone that Sage couldn’t have stopped herself from wrapping him in her arms if she’d wanted to. She carefully scents him in the process, and he shudders in her arms, releasing such relief into his scent she almost staggers at it. She cradles him for a long time there, standing in the doorway to his empty room. Eventually, he begins to slump with more than just relief. When that happens she carefully leads him to his nest, smiling at the sight of it as well as the inclusion of the common room's communal items. She lays him down inside it before discarding her shoes and curling up next to him, projecting safety and calm into her scent.
Through the hazy lens of heat, Iso’s world narrowed down to this one moment. The soft breathing of Sage beside him. The fire finally calmed. And, for the first time in a long time, he felt a strong sense of belonging.