Chapter Text
The coffee was cold.
Minho crinkled his nose as he forced a mouthful down out of pure spite, and made a mental note to leave a scathing review later. It was the third day in a row that the new alpha barista at his regular cafe had messed up his order, and he was certain it was personal. She hit on him, he rejected her, and he hadn’t been given a decent cup of coffee since. Alphas and their fragile egos, he thought bitterly as he set the cup down on the side table and squinted at his laptop screen.
There were hundreds of new emails in his inbox. He’d thought that by now, two years into his early retirement, there wouldn’t be such a demand; yet all the senders were eagerly awaiting a response from Lee Minho, the world-renowned obstetrician.
He didn’t take cases anymore, but that didn’t stop them from reaching out. There were many times he’d thought about deactivating his email altogether, the questions often tedious and repetitive, but then there were the rare times that they weren’t. A few months back, an alpha mother had reached out when her doctor was recommending a C-section because the pup was breech. She was terrified of surgery and Minho had called her, soothed her fears, and received an update a little over a week later that the procedure was performed without a hitch, and both she and the pup were healthy. More recently, an omega father was concerned about his doctor ignoring his elevated blood pressure and extreme swelling, and asked Minho for a second opinion. Minho had responded urgently telling him to go the emergency room and be assessed for pre-eclampsia, and sure enough, he was admitted with that diagnosis. Those were the types of inquiries that made all the other nonsense worth it.
SUBJECT: Looking for Nausea Remedies
SUBJECT: Dealing with Food Aversions
SUBJECT: Avoiding Stretch Marks
Minho gave a small sigh of annoyance, trashing all three without bothering to read them. He’d published at least a dozen articles and given countless interviews that answered those exact questions in-depth. They didn’t need a response from him, they needed to learn how to do a quick Naver search instead of wasting his time.
SUBJECT: Seeking Advice on Feral Pregnancy
He paused, cursor hovering. He wrote his dissertation on feral pregnancies. He spent four months shadowing the midwife of a rural pack, and gained enough trust during that time to assist a feral beta with their birth. He was even invited to an international conference to discuss his groundbreaking research on hormonal imbalances during pregnancy and postpartum in feral individuals. It was a speciality he hadn’t gotten to utilize often.
He clicked on the email.
Doctor Lee Minho,
My name is Bang Chan, and I’m the alpha of a small pack of seven. Our youngest omega, Jeongin, is feral and pregnant. We’re having a difficult time finding him suitable care. He’s struggling and we don’t know what to do. It seems you’re the leading expert on feral pregnancy, and we’ll take any advice you can offer us. Please.
Thank you for your time and consideration,
Chan – Pack Identification #180325
Minho opened a new tab, pulling up the Pack Registration Database. He wouldn’t usually go searching up a pack—it felt too invasive, even if it was technically public record—but Chan had put that information there for a reason. Ferals were rare, and feral pregnancies even rarer. He was trying to prove that he was being honest and this wasn’t going to turn out to be some wild goose chase.
He copy and pasted the identification number and, sure enough, Chan’s name came right up as the pack alpha. He clicked the ‘more information’ tab, skimming through. They were listed as a rural pack, although it looked like their territory was just on the outskirts of Seoul. There were seven members documented, just as Chan had described: himself and two other alphas, Changbin and Seungmin; one beta, Jisung; three omegas, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin. Next to Jeongin’s name there was a little symbol, indicating his feral status.
Minho tipped his head back against the couch cushions. He was curious. He could feel his heart beating just a little quicker at the thought of a challenge, getting to put his expertise to use. But he’d promised himself not to take cases anymore, not after everything. His hand came to rest just to the left of his belly button, where a scar was concealed underneath his shirt. He was retired, in a new chapter of his life, slowly putting all of it behind him.
A consultation couldn’t hurt, though. Especially not when this pack clearly needed him. This wasn’t the kind of thing he could ignore without having it weigh on his conscience.
He started typing and hit send before he could talk himself out of it.
Bang Chan-ssi,
I’m willing to have a phone consultation to further discuss this. Call me at the number listed below at your earliest availability.
The phone rang barely ten minutes later. Minho had figured he’d hear from them at some point that evening, but he was surprised that it was so soon. He swiped his thumb across the screen, then hit the speaker button, placing the phone down on his chest. “Hello?”
“Ah, Doctor Lee? This is Bang Chan.”
“Nice to meet you,” Minho said politely. He didn’t hear anyone else in the background and no one was introducing themselves, so he cautiously asked, “Is it just you?”
Chan gave a nervous laugh. “Yes. I’m on my way home from work, and I kind of panicked when I saw that you responded. I didn’t want to keep you waiting. Thank you so much for getting back to us.”
Minho pressed his lips together. He didn’t love the idea of talking about Jeongin when he wasn’t on the call, but he supposed this was his own fault. He should have been clearer. “Is Jeongin-ssi okay with you discussing his medical information?”
“Oh! Yes, he is. Definitely. He was actually the one who asked me to reach out to you in the first place,” Chan laughed again, another nervous thing. “I’d offer to get him on the phone with us, but one of my mates sent me a message earlier and said he’s finally sleeping. I really don’t want to wake him up. Unless you need me to!”
“Don’t,” Minho said immediately. Insomnia was a common pregnancy symptom, and apparently one that Jeongin was experiencing. “It’s fine. He needs his rest. As long as he consented, you can tell me about what’s been going on.”
“Right. Well, we’re not sure exactly how far along he is, because we haven’t found a doctor who he feels comfortable having an exam with. We noticed his scent changed about two months ago though.” Chan paused for a moment, before adding, “His birth pack were nomads and didn’t believe in modern medicine, so that’s part of the problem. He’s also only ever been to the city a handful of times with us, and he hates it. I think it’s just too intense for him, you know? But that’s where all the specialists are.”
“Feral individuals have extremely heightened senses,” Minho said knowingly. “Most of them prefer quiet, rural environments.”
“That’s why we built the house where we did. It’s not as remote as he’d probably like, but it’s a good compromise since most of us commute to Seoul for work.”
“Did you try contacting a midwife? Most of them take a traditional approach, so he might be more open to that.”
“We’ve tried four,” Chan said bluntly. “All of them were willing to make house calls, and we thought that would make it easier for him. He just runs to his nest and growls at them if they try to get too close.”
“Someone outside the pack should never approach an omega in their nest, least of all a feral one,” Minho frowned. The whole point of a nest was that it was a safe space. If a doctor showed up at his house and tried to examine him in his nest, he’d probably lash out too. The lack of common sense from those professionals was unbelievable. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I’m going to be honest, Doctor Lee. We’re desperate. He’s miserable. This isn’t–” Chan cut himself off, and Minho could hear him take a deep breath. “We didn’t plan this, so we aren’t prepared the way we probably should be. He’s not keeping anything down, he smells like he’s in constant pain, and the more we try to help, the worse it seems to get.”
Minho felt a pang of sympathy. They were in over their heads, and they clearly knew it. He didn’t have all the answers for them, but he might at least have some. “What’s he been eating?” He asked, deciding to start there. It was usually one of the easier things to resolve.
“At first we were trying his usual favorites–” a bad sign already, “but then that was upsetting his stomach so we switched to ginger ale and crackers, because that’s what all the online forums said to try.”
Minho hummed. It was an old wives tale, and though it did the trick for some people, it would never work for Jeongin. “It goes back to his naturally heightened senses. He needs bland food, he won’t be able to tolerate anything else, but he needs protein too. Rice and unseasoned meat are usually safe. There’s also nausea medications he can try, but given his history, it sounds like he’d be more open to trying the diet change first.”
There was a pause, and then a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. Chan cleared his throat, “That makes sense. We should have thought of that.”
“It’s not your fault,” Minho said softly, even though it wasn’t really his place. It sounded like that was something Chan needed to hear, and it was the truth. “This isn’t common knowledge. You’re going through something that most people aren’t familiar with, and you’re doing the best you can.”
“Thank you,” Chan said, his voice breaking.
“You said he’s been having pain too?” Minho prompted, and Chan cleared his throat again.
“He’s been having cramps and a lot of body aches.”
“Any bleeding?”
“No.”
“That’s good,” Minho said calmly. “The cramps are normal. If there’s ever any bleeding or the pain increases significantly, you’d probably want to take him to the hospital, but I wouldn’t worry too much about that. The body aches are more unusual. Are they all over or just in one area, like his back?”
“All over, I think?” Chan seemed unsure, and Minho made an affirmative sound.
“Regardless, body aches are usually a later stage pregnancy symptom. I’m a little concerned that it could be an early indication that he’s deficient in G-43 hormones, which isn’t unusual for someone who’s feral. It’s nothing life-threatening to him or the pup, but it doesn’t make you feel great.”
“Right. We read your article about that. It goes along with pheromones, right? Something about the body needing more because it’s not processing them the right way?”
Minho held back a laugh. It was cute that they’d tried to read one of his academic papers, but they clearly hadn’t understood it. He admired the effort. “Something like that,” he agreed. “There’s supplements he can get that might help, but I’d honestly recommend a full hormonal panel be done to make sure there’s nothing else. I think he’d benefit from routine bloodwork every month for the duration of the pregnancy and even a few months after, just to monitor things.”
“I wish I had a pen right now,” Chan mumbled, seemingly to himself. Then, a little hesitantly, he asked, “Is there any way you could email that to me? I don’t want to mess anything up when I’m explaining this to my pack.”
“Of course,” Minho said easily. “The problem you’re going to run into is getting the bloodwork done. He obviously won’t be able to go to a clinic.”
Chan sighed. “Exactly. He’s not trying to avoid the doctors or anything. He knows it’s important for him and the pup, and he wants to go. He wants to feel better. He just…”
“He’s acting on instinct, as feral individuals do,” Minho finished as Chan trailed off. “It’s a typical, primal response to protect his pup. His body is telling him this is what he needs to do to keep them safe.”
“Why do you understand that when no other medical professionals can?” Chan asked, and it was an earnest, desperate question. “They either hear he’s feral and hang up on us, or don’t know what it means and make a mess of everything.”
Minho could feel his frustration. It was true that most professionals aren’t comfortable working with anyone labeled feral, and don’t bother learning how to properly treat them. They don’t understand that feral doesn’t mean mindless, gruesome beast; it means the individual is fueled by instinct, biologically more in touch with their wolf. They’re still people just like anyone else, deserving of basic respect. That was one of the reasons he became so passionate about better understanding them himself.
He wasn’t sure how to actually say that without getting Chan more upset, but thankfully he was spared from needing to when he followed-up with, “Is there anyone you could recommend who actually knows what they’re doing?”
And wasn’t that the question.
Minho thought of his old coworkers. They weren’t bad people, and they certainly tried their best, but none of them would know how to handle Jeongin. The only people he would really trust were in other countries, like Doctor Chen in Singapore, or Doctor Smith in the United States. Both were leading experts in feral obstetrics, but neither were a legitimate option given the distance. They needed someone close. Someone who could be trusted to approach things the correct way. Someone educated with hands-on experience. Someone like—
There’s no one I can recommend, I’m sorry, Minho wanted to say, but instead what came out of his mouth was, “I’m willing to try meeting with him for an in-person consultation.”
He regretted the words as soon as they were out there, but it was too late. Chan fucking sobbed, and Minho didn’t have the heart to take the offer back.
“I’m sorry,” Chan said, blubbering into the phone. He must have pulled the car over, because there was no more background noise. “I don’t mean to– this has just been so much for us, and the fact that you answered, and you’re offering this– thank you. Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing, really,” Minho lied through his teeth. He picked up one of the throw pillows next to him and chucked it at the wall as hard as he could. It gave an unsatisfying thud and fell to the floor. “I can’t make any promises about how the meeting will go. It might not work out.”
He’d have to make sure that it didn’t, actually. He’d go out, meet the pack just this once, give them enough guidance and information to make it through the pregnancy, then run back to his apartment and never speak to them again. This wasn’t his case, and it never would be. End of story.
“It’s more than we ever expected when we reached out to you,” Chan said sincerely, sniffing. He sounded like an ugly crier. “When do you want to come out to the house?”
Never!
“How about Saturday?”
“That’s perfect! I’ll text you our address, and– really, Doctor Lee, you have no idea how much we appreciate this. Jeongin’s going to be so excited, you were kind of his last hope.”
Minho wanted nothing more than to slam his head into the wall and render himself unconscious in that moment. Instead he said, “I’ll see you on Saturday,” and hung up the phone as quickly as possible.