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Chapter Text

~ PART ONE ~

Gathered around their small radio, the Lemmons family just as every other family in America listened, horrified, as the President confirmed the rumours which had been spreading across the country of an attack, his words clear and carefully chosen.

“Yesterday, December 7th, 1941 — a date which will live in infamy — the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.”

“Japan?” Hassel, the family matriarch gasped, clutching the towel she’d been previously using to dry the dishes to her chest, heedless of the damp soaking into her blouse. “But, they’re not at war, are they? You don’t think he means Germany, do you?”

“Ma, the President wouldn’t make a mistake like that,” Cleatus, their eldest son, pointed out gently, moving to place his strong arm around her in place of their father who sat, ashen faced, directly beside the radio. “If he says it was Japan, then it was Japan.”

Ken, their younger son, nodded in agreement, curls flopping across his forehead.

“The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific. Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American island of Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. And while this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or of armed attack. It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.”

Cleatus, an Alpha, growled angrily.

He hated deception of any kind, always had, and so to learn that that a country they’d thought they were at peace with had acted in such a way left him vibrating with anger.

Ken wasn’t much better, his usually sweet Omega scent souring almost as much as their mother’s had although his was filled with anger more than distress.

Still their father, Arch, said nothing although his teeth began to grind together.

“The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces,” the President continued to speak, his grief palpable. “I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.”

A cold shudder ran down Ken’s spine, his legs going weak at the thought of those lose during the attack, and he found himself sinking down onto the arm of his fathers chair.

It was a testament to how disturbed their Alpha parent was that he allowed it.

 Yesterday, the Japanese government also launched an attack against Malaya.”

“There’s more?”

“Last night, Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong.”

Their mother crossed herself, fishing out the simple crucifix her parents had given her as a little girl, and began to pray softly, tears glistening in her big, blue eyes.

Ken’s own eyes filled with tears, his an even paler blue than their mother’s, something that had led them to believe he was an Omega long before he’d presented at thirteen.

It was a family superstition, that only Omega’s in the family had blue eyes, one that neither he nor Cleatus really believed even though according to their grandparents it hadn’t been proven wrong yet, Cleatus himself evidence enough with his brown eyes.

“Last night, Japanese forces attacked Guam.”

Cleatus let out another growl, springing up from his own seat to pace across the room.

“Last night, Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands.”

Multiple attacks could only mean one thing – that the attack on Pearl Harbour was part of a much larger plan that the Japanese must have been constructing for weeks if not months, maybe even years, the logistics alone a nightmare to put together.

“Last night, the Japanese attacked Wake Island.”

Ken had never heard of some of these places before, his schooling having ended the moment he presented as an Omega, but for them to mentioned he knew it was important and with every place listed his stomach grew more unsettled.

Had this always been Japan’s plan?

To take advantage of the distraction caused by the war in Europe which, thus far, America had chosen to remain out of in spite of their ties to England and France.

Had they always wanted a war?

“And this morning, the Japanese attacked Midway Island.”

“Jesus Christ…”

It was a testament to how distressed their parents were that neither of them scolded Cleatus for taking the Lords name in vain, something that would normally have resulted in a clip round the ear or worse, depending on the context and who heard him.

“Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday and today speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation. As Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defence. But always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us. No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory. I believe that I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.”

As one, both brothers froze, their eyes searching each other’s out.

A war meant only one thing, particularly for Cleatus who has an Alpha would be drafted were he not to enlist by choice so one way or another would end up fighting their countries enemies, and without saying a word they came to the same conclusion.

They would do their bit, voluntarily, the moment they were called upon to do so.

Ken, as an Omega, would never be drafted.

It had only been during the Great War that Omega’s were permitted to serve at all and even then it had been in non-combative roles only, medical orderlies and cooks.

Now they could fight but only if they volunteered to do so.

Beta’s, like Alpha’s, could be drafted should the need arise.

“Hostilities exist.”

A strangled whimper escaped their mother, prompting Cleatus to return to her side.

“There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory, and our interests are in grave danger. With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph — so help us God.”

They knew what was coming.

There was only one way that the President could end his speech.

And yet, when the words came, they were still a shock.

“I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire.”

They were at war.

As the radio moved on to it’s next broadcast their father finally moved, leaning forward to twist the knob to silence the presenters nasal voice, plunging them into silence that was only broken when he turned his haunted eyes towards his sons.

“What are your intentions?”

He’d been too young to fight in the Great War but his older brothers had, returning whole but haunted by all they’d seen, plagued by nightmares and fears that hadn’t been present before the war, while several of their friends had been killed so while he might not have witnessed the horrors himself he knew the kind of thing that awaited his sons.

It was Ken who answered first, the words slipping out without conscious thought,

“I want to go, Pa. I want to volunteer.”

“No!” Hassel exclaimed, tears flying down her cheeks as she hurried over to pull her Omega son into her arms, nearly pulling him off the arm of the chair in her haste. “It’s not…it’s not right. You’re an Omega. You don’t need to…you…you can stay home and…”

“Ma, please,” Ken blinked up at her tearfully, pulling away from her hold in order to gently take her hands in his, squeezing them reassuringly. “I want to go.”

“Me, too,” Cleatus chimed in. “I want to do my bit.”

There was no consoling their mother after that, her tears reaching a fever pitch.

Their father, on the other hand, sat in silence before nodding once.

It was enough.

He approved of their intentions and so, a week later and two weeks before his nineteenth birthday, Ken Lemmons walked into the nearest recruiting office and volunteered for the Army Air Force.

~ END OF PART ONE ~

Chapter Text

~ PART TWO ~

At just nineteen-years-old, Ken was one of the youngest members of his platoon during basic training as well as one of only three Omega’s and yet, when it came to the more physical elements of their training he was one of the ones who excelled the most.

He flew across the obstacle course, his body lithe and light, tumbling easily over things that the bigger men had to struggle to pull themselves over but was equally as valuable in the group exercises, perching on top of the wooden wall and helping his fellow recruits up and over it with the strength garnered from growing up on a farm.

No one enjoyed the time they spent training to handle gas attacks, the experience claustrophobic before they’d put them in a small room and filled it with smoke, but he was able to get his mask in place and wait the required time before filing out of the room, unlike one of his fellow Omega’s who had a panic attack every single time.

He was the first man to be washed out of their platoon.

He struggled with the weapons to begin with, only having used a shotgun on the farm and only when his Pa had let him, and his aim wasn’t as good as it should have been.

It took the combined effort of the friends he’d made in the platoon to get him through his qualification with a 30 calibre carbine rifle, one of the requirements to pass basic training, and even then he’d barely scraped enough points together during the week.

Adapting to military life took some getting used to and the rank structure confused him for weeks before, suddenly, something clicked and they started making sense.

It was at about that time that they started being put through so-called aptitude tests to see where they’d be best suited, most of his platoon hoping to become pilots, navigators or bombardiers, some of them absolutely desperate to get into the air.

Whilst he knew he’d enjoy being part of a flight crew, something about the technical working of the aircraft spoke to him after spending his childhood playing with engines.

“Where’d you learn to do that, son?”

The question came after he’d stripped apart part of an unfamiliar engine and put it back together under the critical gaze of the instructor from the aircraft maintenance group, hands steady and movements unhurried as he checked each piece for imperfections.

“My Pa taught me how to fix our tractor when I was eight,” Ken answered honestly, studying the engine closely to make sure everything was correct. “I liked it so I kept taking things apart when I could, teaching myself how they work and how to fix them. Pretty soon I was fixing everything on our farm and a couple of our neighbours.”

“Well, I’m going to recommend you for technical training as an aircraft mechanic.”

Ken thanked him, his scent betraying how pleased he was by the decision, and after washing the grease and oil from his hands returned to the rest of the platoon, joining them for another session of foot drill on the square, something they all hated.

It wasn’t that it was difficult, it was just that their instructor expected perfection at all times and would scream in their faces when they got anything even slightly wrong.

He was also sexist, declaring on their first day that he didn’t believe Omega’s should be permitted to enlist and ever since had done everything in his power to single them out.

“Late, again, Lemmons.”

“Sorry, Sergeant.”

He knew better than to explain where he’d been.

Their instructor wouldn’t care.

“That’ll be twenty-five push ups, boy, and don’t let me see you coming up short.”

Hiding his sigh of frustration, Ken obediently lowered himself down onto his front and began to perform the required push ups, the damp gravel of the parade square digging into the palms of his hands.

It took every ounce of strength he had not to let any of his uniform touch the damp ground, knowing that if their instructor noticed marks on his chest or knees he’d earn himself even more push ups for dirtying his uniform.

Thankfully, when he was ordered back to his feet his uniform remained pristine.

It didn’t stay that was for long, sweat soaking into his back and under his arms as they were marched around the square for over an hour, not even the slight chill in the air cooling them down enough to make the constant activity bearable.

Never having to see their drill instructor again was one of the best things about finishing basic training and being shipped off to their various training camps or flight school.

In what was proving to be a familiar scene Ken found himself to be the youngest in his aircraft maintenance class and the only Omega, the rest of the class made up for fourteen Beta’s and three Alpha’s who could quite easily have been mistaken for another three Beta’s were it not for their scents and noticeably sharp teeth.

It was there that Ken made his first enemy.

Beau Rawlings was ten years Ken’s senior and one of the eldest men in his class.

He was also one of the Alpha’s.

He’d singled Ken out the day they arrived, making unwanted advances that the Omega had calmly rebuffed, his pretty face having left him familiar with the attention of Alpha’s even before he’d officially presented, but that had only angered the Alpha.

“Watch yourself,” John Hermann, a worryingly thin Beta who’d introduced himself to everyone by his childhood nickname of Winks, warned him their first day of training. “Rawling’s didn’t take your rejection well.”

The warning was appreciated but unnecessary, the Alpha not even trying to be subtle about his harassment of Ken.

He tripped him as they collected their breakfast, stole the cup of coffee from his tray and spat in it when ordered to return it by their training officer.

Thankfully, Ken was permitted to get a fresh cup of coffee instead of having to drink it.

He walked too close to Ken as they made their way to the hangar for their first lesson about B-17’s, pinching his side and palming his ass no matter how many times Ken pulled away and only stopped when Winks forced himself between them.

Ken being the only one to get any of the initial round of questions right only made things worse, the Omega having already read through the booklet they’d been issue on arrival.

After the lesson concluded they were ordered to report to the dining hall for lunch but Ken hung back, speaking with the instructor about a couple of questions he’d thought of during the lesson but hadn’t wanted to interrupt to ask, leaving him traversing the camp alone once those questions had been happily answered by the young Lieutenant.

The last thing he was expecting was for someone to grab him by the back of his uniform and swing him into the side of a building, the rough brickwork leaving cuts all over his face and palms, nor was he expecting someone to pin him to wall using their own body.

“If you know what’s good for you, Omega, you’ll shut the fuck up about things that don’t concern you,” Rawlings growled in his ear, hot breath sending a shiver of disgust down Ken’s spine moments before his body froze on instinct when the Alpha ground his half-hard cock into his backside. “Leave things to the men who deserve to be here.”

Whether he’d have assault Ken further the Omega would never know, approaching footsteps spooking the Alpha into letting him go and hurrying to the dining hall.

Ken remained frozen, leaning heavily against the wall for a long moment, struggling to process what had happened.

Had…had Rawlings really just assaulted him for speaking up in the class?

Or was this all about Ken turning down his advances?

As the days turned into weeks Rawling’s behaviour got worse, Ken’s quick thinking and natural abilities with the various engines and systems and general maintenance of the aircraft resulting in him becoming the instructors favourite student irregardless of the Omega’s attempt to blend into the crowd.

His things went missing from his bunk, particularly his personal items, and his uniform was always wrinkled during inspections even though everyone saw him pressing it.

He was tripped, shoved, groped and verbally abused so often that the rest of the class slowly began to alienate Rawlings, Winks doing his best to help shield Ken all the while with the others joining in when they realised just how bad it had become.

Things eventually came to a head when the instructors started separating them into groups by skill level, giving them assignments based on those assessments.

Ken was in the top group and Rawlings, predictably, was in the bottom.

He expected trouble, though he was prepared for it…

Nothing happened.

No shoves.

No comments.

Nothing.

He went to bed that night wary, exhaustion finally dragging him under, only to startle awake when a hand covered his mouth, nails digging into his cheek as he was hauled from his bunk by an arm that pinned his own arms to his side.

Screaming, he struggled as much as he could as he was carried out of the bunk room and into the ablutions block, praying that one of the others came to his rescue.

He barely had time to realise what was happening before the hand left his mouth and his head was shoved into an overflowing wash basin, submerging him in freezing water.

The arm remained around his body, trapping his arms, whilst the hand moved to press down onto the back of his neck, holding him underwater even as he struggled.

Heart thundering in his chest, Ken choked, water flooding into his lungs moments before he was pulled up out of the water just long enough to cough uncontrollably, his assailant shoving him back under the water moments later.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that the other man was hard, his cock pressing against his backside as he struggled, grinding against him even as he repeated the move, giving Ken just enough time to suck in a desperate lungful of air before shoving him back under.

His vision began to darkness, his body growing weary, and a bolt of true fear shot through him as he realised that there was a very good chance he was going to die, killed by one of his fellow soldiers in the bathroom of their barracks.

A terrified sob escaped him when he was pulled up one final time before being shoved back under only to find himself pulled back out by several sets of hands moments later, his assailant vanishing amidst angry shouts and panicked cries.

“Shit!” Winks all but screamed in his ear, collapsing backwards onto the tiled floor with Ken in his arms, holding him as he coughed up far too much water. “Somebody get a doctor!”

Other voices called out orders to “get him out of there” and it took Ken a moment to realise they were talking about his assailant, dragging the man out of the building entirely, arms forced behind his back and nose broken in the initial scuffle.

“Jesus Christ,” Winks hissed once they were gone, adjusting his grip on Ken so that the Omega was sitting slightly more upright. “You’re okay, Kenny. You’re okay.”

He wasn’t.

He was far from okay.

But he was alive thanks to them.

The doctor arrived along with most of their instructors and a couple of MP’s who dragged Rawlings off towards the guardhouse, growling angrily all the while.

Ken was only vaguely aware of being carried to the camp hospital so they could keep an eye on him, the doctor worried about the amount of water he’d swallowed, and whilst he was there his fellow students filled their instructors in on the things Rawlings had been doing that they hadn’t caught themselves, the Alpha apparently already on thin ice with them before he decided to murder Ken out of some need for revenge.

It was hushed up, the Top Brass not wanting the general public to know that an Alpha had tried to kill and Omega, although they did insist that Rawlings be court martialled for what he’d done rather than just receive a dishonourable discharge.

They offered Ken the option of an honourable discharge but he refused.

“This is what I want to do,” he assured his instructors after he was discharge from the hospital, his face pale but for the bruises left by Rawlings fingers and a lingering cough remaining. “If I go home that means he won.”

“Good man.”

He didn’t tell any of his family about the attack, not even his brother.

Instead he wrote to them to tell them that he’d graduated top of his class and was being assigned to 351^st Squadron of the newly formed 100^th bomb group as one of their first crew chiefs making him the first Omega crew chief in the entire Eighth Air Force.

~ END OF PART TWO ~

Chapter Text

~ PART THREE ~

A week after joining the 100^th Bomb Group at their current training base, Ken felt the familiar warning signs of his Heat approaching and reported duly to the base hospital.

“Have you got an Alpha you’d like to spend your Heat with, son?”

“No, sir,” Ken answered quickly, barely holding back a shudder at the thought, Rawlings actions towards him having completely put him off Alpha’s indefinitely. “I’d rather wait it out alone, if that’s okay?”

“You know the risks?”

“I do, sir. I’ve been riding them out since I presented so I know what to do.”

The doctor nodded, his concern clear, but Ken left the office with an approval slip to use to access one the Heat Block when the time came and another note to give to the officer in charge of his maintenance section.

Of course, word of his approaching Heat spread like wildfire and he found himself bombarded with offers, most light-hearted and joking, others serious in that they wanted to help him rather than take advantage of him.

There were a couple who made lewd comments, though, and Ken wasn’t the only one to make a mental note of what men reacted that way.

He knew Winks had told the rest of their crew about the assault, his friend having been assigned to the 100^th with him and insisting that they stick together so he could look out for Ken, string bean though he was.

Ken could have been insulted but instead he found it endearing.

He appreciated the fact that his crew didn’t treat him any different, at least not to his face, and was particularly grateful that the two Alpha’s on his crew kept a respectful distance from him at all times and made sure to announce their presence when approaching him after one of them accidently startled him so badly he cut himself.

They were good men, decent, and made no offers at all about helping with his Heat.

Instead they made it clear that they’d keep things running smoothly for him until his was back, taking notes of everything he instructed them to work on or look out for.

His Heat struck like a sledgehammer.

One moment he was bent over an engine alongside Winks, the pair of them balanced precariously on the wing of the plane in question, and the next he was clutching at his stomach as a cramp hit, his cheeks burning as his temperature skyrocketed.

“Heat?”

“H-Heat.”

His scent, usually drowned out by the oil and grease they worked with, flooded the air, heads turning towards him as Winks literally dragged him down off the wing and across the hardstand, forcing him into the back of the jeep that they were only meant to use with permission of their officer with gentle yet firm hands.

The rest of their crew hung back, the Beta’s placing themselves between Ken and the Alpha’s who were vibrating from the effort of not abandoning their principles and rushing to the Omega’s side, their instincts screaming at them to help him.

Winks drove like a man possessed, honking the horn to get people to move out of the way regardless of their rank, and Ken was pretty sure he saw the current CO jump out of the way to avoid being clipped when Wink’s took a corner too quickly to be safe.

They made it to the Heat Block in under fifteen minutes.

Apart from the Operations Room, the Heat Block was the most secure building on base with two armed guards stationed outside the entrance, Beta’s, and two more inside.

“Oh, it’s hitting you hard, isn’t it?” the medical orderly on duty that afternoon hummed sympathetically as Winks helped him inside. “Have you got your approval slip on you?”

Nodding, blinking sluggishly as his vision swam, Ken tapped his back pocket and held himself as steady as possible as Winks retrieved the slip, passing it to the orderly.

“Well, this all seems to be in order. Is this your first Heat since joining the military?”

“Y-Yes.”

The orderly nodded, clearly having expected that answer, and moved to steady him on the opposite side to Winks, touch soothing and gentle.

“Let’s get you to your room and I’ll explain how things will play out once your friend has gone,” the orderly announced, leading the pair along the main corridor of the building. “Just to check, you haven’t changed your mind about having an Alpha help you out?”

“N-No,” Ken grunted, his legs nearly giving out thanks to a particularly back cramp, the insides of his thighs suddenly feeling sticky and damp. “I…I want to be alone.”

“Okay, that’s not a problem,” the orderly assured him, stride sure and steady. “We’ve got different rooms for when an Alpha is involved is all, and some people do change their minds so I always like to check when they arrive, just in case.”

He was led into a small room with a bed similar to his own bunk only with significantly more blankets folded on top of it, ready to be turned into a temporary nest as needed.

Winks was reluctant to leave until Ken offered him a weak smile of reassurance,

“I’ll be fine, Winks; I’ve been doing this since I was thirteen. See you in a few days.”

Nodding, his friend gave his arm a quick squeeze before retreating back the way they’d come leaving Ken alone in the unfamiliar room with the unfamiliar orderly.

“Okay, so simple bits first,” the orderly began, lowering Ken down to sit on the edge of the bed so that he was free to move around the room and demonstrate things as he explained them. “This is your room for as long as your Heat lasts. The only people who will enter will by myself and my fellow orderlies to bring you food and water and, if we’re concerned, to take your vitals.”

Moving, he closed the door, highlighting the fact that it had a glass window.

“We will check on your once an hour but unless we are concerned for your health won’t interfere so please, do whatever you need to do to alleviate your pain,” the orderly urged him. “And with that in mind you’ll find a variety of sterilised equipment for you to use should you need to in the bedside drawer.”

Ken could feel his cheeks flushing from something entirely different when the orderly moved to pull open the drawer, revealing the unfamiliar equipment he spoke of.

“No need for that,” the orderly chided him softly. “Use what feels right for you or don’t use any at all. It’s entirely up to you.”

He genuinely didn’t know what some of the things were so he highly doubted he’d be using any of them, not this time at least.

Maybe if he had an older Omega to go to for advice…

“Now, if you need to summon an orderly for whatever reason there is a switch here,” the orderly continued, going over to the door to show the red switch situated below the ordinary light switch. “This activates a light in the office and lets us know you need help. We will respond as quickly as we are able to but if we are already dealing with another patient there may be a delay. I’ve only had that happen a couple of times, though.”

Ken nodded, hand pressing against his lower belly as another wave of cramps hit him, a droplet of sweat running slowly down his nose as his temperature continued to rise.

“Now, would you like a cold bath?”

“Oh,” he exhaled heavily, like he’d been punched in the gut. “Please.”

“Each room has its own little bathroom,” the orderly explained, helping him to stand and moving over the small door that Ken hadn’t noticed before, pulling it open to reveal a tiny bathroom that contained a toilet, a sink and a simple enamelled bathtub. “No hot water I’m afraid, but during a Heat a hot bath is the last thing you want anyway.”

He wasn’t wrong.

If an Omega was riding out their Heat alone as he was then they needed to keep their temperature from spiking too high for their bodies to cope, something that an Alpha’s pheromones usually aided in when they joined an Omega for their Heat.

“Let me get that started for you,” the orderly grunted, reaching down into the tub to put the plug in before turning on the tap, crystal clear water gushing out a moment later. “Right. Any questions?”

Shaking his head, Ken stumbled back into the bedroom after the orderly, perching on the edge of the bed as his head swam before beginning the struggle of stripping off his clothes, barely noticing when the orderly wished him luck and left, closing the door.

His fingers refused to behave, the laces of his boots giving him more trouble than ever before, but eventually he pulled them off, dropping them carelessly to the floor.

Peeling his sweat-soaked uniform off one layer at a time, each item dropped with the same lack of care, he eventually stumbled into the bathroom completely naked, skin flushed painfully red from his soaring temperature, hands clutching at his stomach as the cramps grew longer and more intense, slick dripping humiliatingly down his thighs.

He would never understand how people could romanticise being an Omega.

It was painful.

It was humiliating.

It was dangerous.

The pictures always made it seem either glamourous, if the Omega was meant to be a good example, or shameful, if the Omega was designed to be the opposite, wanton or gluttonous, portrayed either as hedonists or spoilt brats.

Novels too always made it out to be something envious, something desirable.

As Ken lowered himself into the still filling tub, the blissfully cold water drawing a whine of relief from his lips as the building heat beneath his skin eased, he wondered if anyone actually believed those stories.

Back home, most Omega’s mated young to avoid the danger that came with riding Heats out alone, unable to afford the suppressants which had just begun to appear in shops within the last couple of years, and there had briefly been talk of Ken being Mated to one of their neighbour’s boys once they were both old enough.

Nothing had come of it, though, and he was thankful as had he been Mated he’d have probably been pupped within a year and would never have been able to join up.

He stayed in the tub for as long as he could, lowering himself down into the water as it slowly warmed in response to heat radiating from his skin, lasting almost an hour before the pain from his cramps grew too much and he forced himself to return to the bedroom and build a nest with the pillows and blankets, still dripping wet when he climbed into it.

His Heat lasted almost a week, each day passing by agonisingly slowly as he desperately tried to ease the throbbing pain between his legs and the cramps.

The food they brought him was better than what they usually got, designed to replenish everything he was losing to his Heat, but even that couldn’t get him to finish a single meal, his stomach churning unpleasantly from just water let alone the rich food.

On the fourth day a different orderly came in unexpectedly to take his temperature, a concerned frown on his face, and when he left he placed one of the things from the drawer on Ken’s stomach with a pointed glance towards the Omega’s slick entrance.

“It’ll help.”

Ken didn’t really believe him but, with his Heat lingering longer than usual, his mind was clouded and took the suggestion as an order, bringing the rubber phallus between his legs instead of just his fingers.

It did help, once he’d gotten the hang of it, and by the time his fever broke and the aching need began to ease he wondered how he’d gone so long without one.

It was humiliating to leave the toy behind, however, wrapped in one of the blankets from his nest to hide it from view in spite of the orderlies reassurance that they’d clean up after him, urging him to wash away the sweat, slick and semen coating his skin before dressing in his freshly washed and pressed uniform.

When they’d taken it away for cleaning he did not know.

“Look who’s back!” Winks cried out, relieved, when he joined his crew in the mess hall for breakfast, sitting gingerly beside his friend. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he responded softly, truthfully, watching as a wave of relief spread through his crew, betraying just how worried they’d been for him. “How have things been out here?”

“Oh, you missed a right stink,” his friend laughed loudly, pouring Ken a glass of orange juice from the jug at the end of the table. “See, this new pilot tried to show off by buzzing the tower but did it too close and ended up clipping the corner with the tip of his wing. He was lucky not to rip the whole thing off and crash!”

“Christ,” he choked, genuinely shocked having expected just the usual mechanical issues and paint scratches. “Everyone okay?”

“Yeah, but the CO was pissed. Chewed him out in front of everyone after he landed.”

“Was it one of our planes?”

“No,” one of his Alpha crewmates answered before Winks could. “O’Malley’s.”

He nodded, sipping the juice with a smile, pleased to find himself enjoying the taste for the first time since his Heat began even though it was clearly made from concentrate.

“What about our planes, then? Anything to report?”

It was surprisingly easy to slip back into the routine they’d just begun to establish, listening to their reports on the issues they’d dealt with in his absence and confirming, not for the first time, just how lucky he was with his assigned crew.

They’d coped without him, yes, but not in such a way that it implied they thought they could function without him at their head and were unanimously eager for him to return to duty following their morning meal.

“Alright then, boys,” he sighed once they’d all eaten. “Let’s see what fun and games today brings.”

~ END OF PART THREE ~

Chapter Text

~ PART FOUR ~

Dear Son,

I hope this letter finds you well on this cold and wet Christmas morning.

All the snow is gone and everything is covered in mud, even the town. Your father took a tumble the other day and ended up covered head to toe in mud which he then tracked through the house for me to clean up. I’m surprised you couldn’t hear me scolding him wherever it is you are at the moment.

My sweet boy, we miss you so much.

Thank you for the photograph you sent of you with your men. You look so grown up and handsome it took me a moment to realise which one was you. If you have the time to get one of just yourself taken I would love for you to send me a copy so that I can put it up on the mantle where I can see it every day when I’m thinking of you.

We decorated the tree last night but it wasn’t the same without you.

Cleatus sends his love. He’s home on leave and looks so smart in his pilot’s uniform. Thank you for convincing him to join the Army Air Force with you instead of going into the regular Army as he wanted to. You hear such terrible things about the fighting already going on, in Europe and out in the Pacific, that I hated to think of my brave boy out there.

At least if he’s flying I’ll know he’s safe.

I want to thank you for being so good about writing home. You don’t know how much your letters mean to me and your father. I’ve read every one of your letters out to him more than once and keep them in a cardboard box in the living room.

I’m afraid I must go and see to the dinner now, my darling boy, so I will close by wishing you the best of luck and all the happiness you deserve for the New Year. You have always been such a good boy, and I am so proud of you so I am asking God’s blessing to rest upon you always and to keep you safe.

With Love, Mother

~ * ~

The letter from his mother had arrived on New Years Eve having been misdirected twice, prompting him to read through it like a man possessed even as his friends and colleagues sang and danced around him, belting out everything from their favourite Glenn Miller song to the latest sensation from Bing Crosby, entitled “White Christmas.”

Personally, Ken was sick of hearing it already and couldn’t wait for the new year to begin.

He was glad to hear that Cleatus was doing well but worried that his mother was in for a nasty surprise when they were finally sent into combat, the pilots all having been warned time and time again that the real thing would be nothing like their practice missions and that many of them were likely to be killed or wounded.

Cleatus had initially wanted to join the infantry, hoping for a chance to work with horses, but when it was confirmed that that wouldn’t be the case he’d taken Ken’s suggestion of becoming an airplane mechanist with the Army Air Force some serious consideration.

He’d never expected that his brother would test so highly that they’d make him a pilot.

He wasn’t with the 100^th, however, having been assigned to the 613th squadron of the 401st Bombardment Group following competition of his training but he was flying B-17’s, allowing Ken to give him some advice on how best to care for his aircraft.

“Not enjoying the party, Lemmons?”

Jumping, he turned to find the towering figure of Captain John “Bucky” Egan, the groups Operations Officer, approaching him with Captain Gale “Buck” Cleven, CO of the 350^th squadron, at his side.

“Letter from my Ma,” he explained softly, holding up the slip of paper. “Arrived today.”

“Everything okay, I hope?”

Buck had surprised him when he’d first met the talented pilot, his plane one of the many assigned to Ken and his crew, as he carried himself with confidence and bearing of an Alpha but there was no denying the sweet scent or gentle features that marked him out as an Omega, one of the few active duty Omega pilots in the 100^th Bomb Group.

There were many who claimed Omega’s weren’t fit for combat roles, likely the same people who had a problem with Ken being in such a technical role rather than in the kitchen or stores, but Buck was definitely one who’d prove them wrong.

He was calm and self-assured, confident in his abilities but not boastful like some.

He also had good instincts, both up in the air and on the ground, and Ken wasn’t the only Omega within the group for gravitate towards him when in need of help or advice.

This had led to almost everyone, Alpha’s and Beta’s included, referring to him as the unofficial Pack Omega of the 100^th Bomb Group, much to the Omega’s confusion as to him he wasn’t doing anything special or unwarranted of an officer and a pilot.

“Everything’s fine, sir,” he responded. “My brother made it home for Christmas.”

“That’s good,” Buck murmured in that unfairly attractive southern twang he had, the one that made Alpha’s and Beta’s all over the base go weak at the knees for him. “We’ll be due some leave of our own soon. Will you be heading home to see your folks?”

“I’d like to. It’ll depend on what sort of pass I get.”

A twenty-four-hour pass would be no use to him even though they were currently stationed at Kearny, Nebraska, as it would take longer than that to reach their farm.

Even a forty-eight-hour pass would be pushing it.

“Think the plan is to give you ground boys some leave when we head off on that big exercise, let the West Coast boys look after our planes for a week or so before we fly back,” Bucky piped up with the kind of inside knowledge that came with his position. “I’ll see if I can swing it that you get at least a week, get you home before we ship out.”

“So it’s confirmed then?” Ken found himself asking softly. “We’re shipping out soon?”

Bucky pulled a slight face, clearly kicking himself for having let that slip.

“Not for a couple more months but, er, keep that to yourself, would you?”

“Will do, sir.”

Bucky was correct, Ken and his men receiving a full weeks leave to be taken whilst the group was on their practice mission, however the practice mission itself was delayed.

He wrote to his mother, initially to tell her about the leave and then to apologise about the delay, promising faithfully that he would be on the earliest train possible when the time finally came for him to return home and he was as good as his word, getting up at the crack of dawn in order to catch the first transport to the nearest train station, bag packed with the bare essentials he’d need and best uniform pressed to perfection.

Unsurprisingly he wasn’t the only young man in uniform on the two separate trains he had to take, nor on the bus into town, but he was the only Omega he saw in uniform.

No one was there to meet him as he stepped down from the bus but that was to be expected, Ken having decided not to let his parents know his exact plans just in case anything changed at the last minute or went wrong, and so the moment his feet touched the dirt he shouldered his kit bag and set off on the familiar path out of town.

It was a surprisingly hot day for April and within minutes he’d stripped off his jacket so he didn’t sweat through his shirt, slinging it over his shoulder under his kit bag, and he was glad of the slight breeze that stirred the grass and dirt around him.

He knew the moment his mother spotted him through the kitchen window, her scream of excitement unmissable with the windows open as they were, and by the time he’d made it all the way down the driveway she was tumbling off of the porch in her haste to throw her arms around him, pulling him close to her and smothering him with kisses.

His father followed a couple of seconds behind her, resting his hand on Ken’s shoulder.

“Oh, why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” his mother scalded him tearfully when she finally pulled back. “Pa would have come to meet you at the bus stop.”

He wasn’t given the chance to reply, however, as she all but dragged him inside so as to feed him the leftovers from their own delicious lunch, the Omega eagerly wolfing down every bite of his mother’s home cooking after so many months living on military food.

The house hadn’t changed, he was relieved to see as he settled in later that day, and the bedroom he and Cleatus had shared since they were children had been left untouched, his brothers familiar scent filling the air when he gave into temptation and stretched out on the Alpha’s bed for a moment before moving to have a nap on his own.

He spent the first couple of days of his leave tinkering with the various machines they had on the farm, particularly those that his father had reported he’d been having trouble with, dressing in his old work clothes that barely fit thanks to the muscles he’d put on.

“You shouldn’t work him so hard, Arch” his Ma protested unnecessarily as the two men joined her in the house for lunch, gulping down the glasses of lemonade she’d made to combat the heat. “He’s home for a rest, not to spend all his time working.”

“I don’t mind, Ma,” Ken protested. “I like working on engines, you know that.”

“I do,” she agreed, placing bowls of delicious stew down in front of them. “But I also know there’s a dance tonight for young people such as yourself and I’ve said you’ll go.”

“Ma…”

“Don’t you Ma me, Kenneth Allison Lemmons,” his mother huffed fondly, dropping into her own seat at the table once the two of them had been served. “It’s a church dance so nothing untoward will happen,” she reassured him, as though that had been the issue and not the fact that he’d much rather stay at home with them. “So, I want you to head up and have a good bath after lunch so you’re nice and clean for this evening.”

There was not arguing with her, he knew that, and so he reluctantly agreed.

He bathed, taking the time to properly wash his hair, and shaved.

Then he dressed in his best uniform which he noticed had been freshly pressed without him noticing, the shirt having also been washed and dried, and ate the light dinner his mother had prepared before allowing his father to drive him into town for the dance.

He hadn’t had any more choice in the matter than Ken had.

His arrival caused as much of a stir as he’d feared it would given that there were only a few other attendees in uniform, all of them Alpha’s and Beta’s, while every other Omega was dressed to the nines in their best frocks or suits, cut to best accentuate their figures by highlighting their childbearing hips or their soft chests or their narrow waists.

Pretty much the opposite of what his dress uniform did for him.

His enviably slim waist was completely hidden, the uniform instead accentuating the muscles he’d put on since enlisting, his shoulders and arms appearing more like what you’d expect of a Beta than an Omega, and his trousers were loose and long.

That didn’t matter to the Alpha’s in attendance, however, most of whom he’d known since childhood and many of whom had been disappointed when he joined the Army.

He was immediately inundated with offers for a dance, some from Alpha’s he’d been previously engaged with another Omega, and, reluctantly, he was forced to accept one of them, allowing the Alpha in question to lead him out onto the dance floor.

To refuse would have reflected badly on his parents and he’d never allow that.

“Heard a rumour you were back in town but I didn’t realise you’d be gracing us with your presence tonight, Little Lemmons,” Wyatt Holden, the Alpha he’d agreed to dance with grunted as he started to lead Ken around the floor in time with the music. He was a couple of years older than him, a friend of his older brother, and had been calling him Little Lemmons ever since he was old enough to toddle after the older boys. “Thought we’d never see you again after you ran off to join, what is it, the Army?”

“US Army Air Force,” Ken answered automatically, pausing as he was spun out and pulled back into hold in time with the lively music. “And I didn’t run off. I enlisted.”

Wyatt snorted loudly,

“You don’t have the keep up the act, you know?”

Act?

“No one believes your parents really let you go anyway so you might as well just tell the truth,” Wyatt declared loudly, voice carrying over the music. “Who was it you were trying to get away from? I know a couple of the boys wanted to court you, but I didn’t realise any of them had found the guts to ask. Was it Mason? Or Kipp? Don’t tell me it was–”

“No one asked to court me,” Ken cut him off sharply, grateful that the song was coming to an end and he’d be able to get away from the Alpha soon enough. “I wasn’t running away from anyone. I enlisted because I wanted to and with my parents full support.”

“Huh.”

Wyatt’s disapproval was almost palatable, his already bitter scent growing even worse.

“Thank you for the dance,” Ken murmured automatically as the music reached its end, people applauding the little band who had been laid on for the dance. “It was lovely.”

“Fancy another one?”

“Not right now,” he grunted, pulling out of the Alpha’s grip and moving towards the drinks station on the other side of the room. “I need a drink, so I’ll sit this one out.”

The Alpha was clearly displeased with Ken’s refusal but shrugged it off, heading over to a pretty blonde woman instead who eagerly stepped onto the dance floor with him, shooting a pleased smirk back at her gaggle of friends who tittered happily for her.

Clearly Wyatt had become a much sought after Alpha since Ken was last in town.

Offering the matronly woman manning the drinks station a smile he accepted the glass of fruit punch, non-alcoholic of course, that she offered him and moved to join the crowds of people at the edge of the room, chatting with their friends as they watched the dancing and waited to be asked onto the floor themselves.

He saw plenty of faces he recognised but also a fair few unfamiliar ones.

These were mostly Omega’s and it wouldn’t surprise him if they’d travelled from some of the neighbouring towns in the hopes of finding an Alpha outside their own small circle.

“So, you’re back then,” a distinctly nasal voice sneered from his right, prompting him to turn and face the group approaching him. “Didn’t think you’d have the nerve.”

“The nerve?” he repeated, bristling under their frowns of jealous disapproval and very much aware of the number of people listening in on them. “And why shouldn’t I come back home when I get leave to do so, Elvira Briggs?”

“Well, after making such a spectacle of yourself I just thought you’d know better.”

“A spectacle?” he repeated her words once more, this time with amusement, smirking as she bristled even further in front of her friends. “And what spectacle would that be?”

“This, obviously,” she sneered, gesturing to his uniform derisively. “Pretending to be something important in the military when everyone knows that an Omega in uniform is just a convenient hole for the soldiers to play with when they’re bored.”

Ken choked, genuinely shocked by both her bluntness and her crudeness.

Even a couple of her friends turned to stare at her in shock.

“Wow,” he exhaled loudly once he’d taken a moment to process what she’d said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I…I just…wow…”

He laughed, unable to stop himself.

“What, did your parents say no to you joining up, is that it? Or did you get turned down?”

The angry flush on her cheeks was answer enough.

“That’s it, isn’t it? They wouldn’t let you go,” he concluded, watching as her cheeks flushed a deep red colour under her perfect makeup. Had she not always been horrible to him at school, jealous for no good reason, he might have been kinder. “Well, I’m sorry your dreams of becoming a, what was it you just called me? Oh, yes, a convenient hole for the soldiers to play with have been scuppered but for your information I am in fact the crew chief for anything up half-a-dozen B17 aircraft which means I’m far too busy to be spending any sort of time with Alpha’s unless they’re on my crew taking my orders.”

Thankfully he caught sight of what she was planning just in time, allowing him to step back and avoid the liquid she flung at him with a scream of rage before storming off.

Her friends stood frozen for a moment, shocked both by the way he’d finally stood up for himself against her and for how she’d reacted, before they turned and hurried after her.

“Did that feel as good as we always dreamed it would?”

Spinning, Ken couldn’t hold back a whoop of surprised delight,

“Woody!”

Laughing, the Beta threw open his arms as Ken instinctively rushed towards him, irregardless of the stares and murmurs being directed their way, intent on hugging his friend who he hadn’t seen since the Beta enlisted in the Navy following Pearl Harbour.

Speaking of which…

“Looking good, brother,” Ken murmured, leaning back to give the significantly taller man an appraising look, taking in the way his dress blues hugged his slim frame. “Suits you.”

“Could say the same about you,” Jenson Woodlark III, known as Woody to his friends and Junior to his family, responded sincerely, reaching out to smooth out Ken’s collar. “Looks like I owe my mother an apology. She swore blind she’d seen you the other day but I didn’t believe her. How long are you back for? I’ve got a weeks leave before we sail.”

“I’ve got another week and a bit before I have to start making my way back, to base” Ken answered cheerfully, allowing his friend to steer him away from the spilled drink. “What did you end up doing? And can you tell me what ship you’re on or is that a big secret?”

“Gunner’s Mate, USS Texas,” Woody answered cheerfully, brushing his golden curls back off his forehead. When they were younger there were many a soul who’d been convinced Woddy would present as an Omega, hence why everyone approved of their friendship as Ken’s presentation had come as no surprise ether. The fact that Woody had turned out to be a Beta had shocked everyone apart from Woody himself who had confessed that he’d always felt he would be a Beta when the time came. “I get to play with the big guns and let me tell you, they’re big guns. Whole ship shakes like anything.”

Ken let out a sharp whistle, trying to imagine it.

“Not sure I’d like that very much,” he confessed, laughing when Woody steered them straight into the centre of the dance floor, all but shoving another couple out of the way to take their place for the slow dance. “For old times sake, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

After their presentations Woody’s mother had tried to steer him away from his friendship with Ken, worried that he was too close to the Omega, but Woody was nothing if not stubborn and their friendship had survived to the point where they’d always made sure to share at least one slow dance together per dance they went to.

“So, any Alpha’s caught your eye in the…who are you with by the way?”

“I’m assigned to the 351st Bombardment Squadron,” Ken explained, pausing as he was spun out gently in time with the music before being pulled back against Woody’s chest, the two making a striking pair in their contrasting uniforms. “Which is part of the 100th Bombardment Group of the Eighth Air Force. And no, no Alpha’s for me. Not after…”

Woody frowned, picking up on the change in Ken’s scent,

“Not after what? Did something…did someone…”

“An Alpha at the technical school I was sent to following basic didn’t take too kindly to my rejecting him. He…” he swallowed audibly, grateful that Woody kept them moving around the floor so as not to draw unwanted attention, his own legs going numb as he recalled the incident in vivid detail. “He attacked me one night, dragged me out of my bed and…and held my head in a sink full of water until I thought I was going to drown.”

His friend choked audibly, scent spiking and grip tightening automatically.

“Jesus Christ, Ken…”

“Some of the boys woke up and pulled him off me,” he pressed on, blinking rapidly to keep the tears that threatened at bay, refusing to let anyone else see him in distress. “Saved my life. He got court martialled but they kept it quiet, morale and all that, but all my boys know so I now have on of the most protective crews in the Eighth Air Force.”

“Have you told your parents? Or Cleatus?”

“No, and I’m not going to,” Ken countered, fixing his friend with a sharp look. “And neither will you, Jenson Woodlark, so don’t you go getting any ideas, you hear me?”

His friend didn’t look best pleased but nodded, giving Ken a final spin out just as the song reached its climax, pulling him back in time for the final chord to sound loudly.

“I’m serious, Woody. They worry enough about me as it is,” Ken exhaled deeply, guilt burning hotly in his stomach. “And I refuse to make things worse. Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t,” Woody promised as he led Ken off of the dance floor as a significantly faster song started up, couples eagerly rushing onto the floor to show off their energetic kicks and lifts. “They deserve to know but I agree, there’s no need to worry them with it now so as long as you promise to tell them one day when this war is over, I’ll keep your secret.”

“Thank you.”

As a small part of him had feared would happen their dance opened the floodgates that his earlier refusal had kept at bay, Alpha’s and Beta’s alike pestering him until he was forced to reluctantly give in and dance with them just to avoid embarrassing his parents.

Some were fine, genuine in their attentions.

Others were handsy and these he had no problem putting in their place, shoving one particularly overzealous Alpha away from him when his hand had dipped even lower than those before him had tried to go, fingers reaching dangerously closed to his hole.

“Get your fucking hands off of me you pervert!”

“Hey!” the Alpha protested even as the couples around them on the dancefloor froze, turning to see what was going on and finding Ken glaring up at the Alpha. “What gives?”

“What, you think it’s okay to grope your dance partner, do you?” Ken snapped, cheeks flushing with anger as his bitter scent flooded the air. Several other Alpha’s let out displeased growls, turning on the guilty Alpha who blustered loudly, clearly not used to being called out by his dance partners. “You put your hands on me or any other Omega here and I’ll show you exactly how I was taught to deal with assholes like you, okay?”

“No need for that, son,” a deep voice rumbled from behind him and he was surprised to find the Minister himself approaching, clearly having been summoned from where he’d been keeping an eye on the dance his church had organised. Fixing the Alpha with a disappointed look he gestured towards the door. “We have a zero tolerance policy for behaviour like that so collect your hat and coat and be on your way, Patrick Hale, and I’ll be speaking you after the service on Sunday about your behaviour towards Omega’s.”  

Cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and anger, the Alpha turned and stalked out.

Silence fell for a moment, the band shifting awkwardly, before the Minister gestured for them to start up and again and turned to offer Ken his hand, pulling him into a more traditional hold than the Omega was used to and starting the dancing back up himself.

“I hope they’ve been treating you well in the Army?”

“Yes, sir,” Ken responded softly, keeping his answer deliberately vague as he knew full well that anything he disclosed to the Minister would be passed onto his mother after church on Sunday, his worry for his “flock” often leading to him interfering when it wasn’t wanted and sometimes even when it wasn’t needed. “Very well, sir.”

“I’ll admit I was concerned when they started accepting Omega’s into the military but perhaps that’s simply my old-fashioned sensibilities getting the better or me,” the Beta murmured, turning them effortlessly to avoid another couple who’d returned to the floor by applying the slightest bit of pressure to Ken’s lower back. “It took me a moment to recognise you in your uniform. Your parents must be very proud of what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit different from my old Sunday best, that’s for sure,” Ken found himself chuckling, responding as he would have done one of his friends back at base rather than as he’d been taught to speak to the Minister. “Although I guess it is kind of the military equivalent of Sunday best as I sure as hell…heck…don’t wear this when I’m waist deep in a B17 engine or crawling around under its belly. It’d be ruined in a week.”

“And that’s what you’re doing, is it? Fixing…I’m sorry, I’m not sure what a B17 is…”

“It’s a type of plane,” Ken explained. “You might have heard it called a Flying Fortress.”

“Ah, yes, I have heard that phrase before,” the Minister murmured, a pleased smile appearing on his weathered face. “And you enjoy your work? It’s not too difficult?”

“Sir, I’ve been helping to fix engines on my family’s farm since I could walk,” he laughed brightly, eyes alight with mirth as the Minister smiled and nodded in return. “I’m good.”

If anything, his response seemed to amuse the Beta, their conversation shifting to memories of his childhood witnessed through various church gatherings and events.

Eventually, the dance came to an end and Ken prepared himself for the next Alpha to try his luck, glancing hopefully at the clock to see how much longer the dance had to go, only to find to his surprise that dancing with the Minister seemed to have given him some level of protection as for the remainder of the evening his partners were nothing but courteous towards him, conversation light and hands remaining where they should.

If only that protection could have lasted a little longer.

As though his appearance at the dance signalled that he was interested in finding a Mate whilst he was home of leave, Ken was plagued with proposals throughout the rest of his time at home, some of them going so far as to drive out to their farm to speak with his father in the hopes that his opinion would sway him into accepting their proposal.

It didn’t, not that his father approved of any of them anyway.

One even had to be threatened with a shotgun when he refused to leave, spouting nonsense about how Ken had been “asking for it” and “needed to be put in his place”.

It left a sour taste in his mouth, spoiling what should have been a special time with his parents, particularly as his mother was unable to hide how guilting she felt about the situation given that his attendance at the dance had been entirely her idea, not that Ken would ever blame her for the pig-headedness of alpha’s unused to hearing the word no.

His mother couldn’t bear to come to the station to see him off, already crying before he’d even finished packing his bag, and sent him off with hugs, kisses and enough food to feed him and his crew for a couple of days; sandwiches and cakes and meat pies.

“Ma, this is too much,” he’d tried to protest when she’d held out the cloth bag filled to bursting with everything she’d prepared, slipping a suspiciously new looking thermos of coffee in for good measure and a couple of glass bottles of water. “I’m not sure I can–”

She wouldn’t take no for an answer, unsurprisingly, and so he’d been well fed for his entire journey back to base and his crew had eagerly enjoyed what was left of his feast.

His father wouldn’t hear of him making his own way to the station, corralling him into the family pick up and driving him into town, his expression torn between pride and sorrow, hands clutching at the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned completely white.

“Promise you’ll keep yourself safe,” his father urged him suddenly as they climbed out of the truck, the words seemingly taking him by surprise as much as they did Ken. “Kenny.”

“I promise, Pa,” he murmured, resting his kitbag against the side of the pickup moments before his father pulled him in for a tight hug, rubbing their cheeks together. “I’m not…I don’t know if I’ll be able to get home again before we’re sent overseas. I’ll…I’ll try but…”

“Just write to us as often as you can, son,” his father ordered, inhaling his scent deeply before pressing a quick kiss to his temple and stepping back. “Let’s get you onboard.”

Although a small station, the trains tended to take a small break there as they had a decent supply of water so the water tank was always full and their coal supply was equally regular and so there was no rush for Ken to get onboard and find a seat, his father insisting on carrying his bag for him and storing it in the overhead luggage rack.

The compartment was empty but for a young Omega and her toddler, the boy playing happily with a toy train, and so they were free to say their final goodbyes without too many prying eyes, the train whistle sounding moments later as a warning to everyone.

“Love you, Pa,” Ken murmured, stealing one final hug before urging his father out of the compartment and off the train, pressing himself to the window to wave goodbye as the train built up enough steam to pull away from the station, much to the little boys delight as he gasped and turned, scrambling over Ken’s lap to reach the window much to his mother’s distress and the Omega’s amusement. “He’s fine. Want to wave with me?”

The little boy did, happily, his appearance causing Arch to shake his head fondly.

Children had always been drawn to Ken even before he’d presented so the fact that the little boy had scrambled into his lap without a second thought wasn’t too surprising.

“He’s normally much more reserved around strangers,” the young woman offered up apologetically, retrieving her son from Ken’s lap with a fond huff. “But he loves trains.”

“Honestly, no need to apologise, Ma’am,” Ken reassured her, picking up the abandoned toy and handing it to the little boy who giggled happily. “I happen to love trains too.”

Somehow the journey back to base seemed to take even longer than his journey home had even with the company of Molly and her son, Martyn, for a good portion of the route.

She was travelling to stay with her parents after his Alpha husband got deployed leaving her newly pregnant and alone with an energetic toddler to raise, an energetic toddler who had been more than happy to listen to Ken explain how steam engines worked, his eyes drifting shut as he slumped against his mothers chest into a much-needed nap.

“You’re a miracle worker.”

“Not really,” he chuckled softly. “I just know a lot about engines is all.”

To his surprise he found the base a bustle of activity he returned on the orders of their new CO, Colonel Howard Turner, who’d been put in place after their practice mission was such an unmitigated disaster that “changes had to be made for the good of the Eighth Air Force” and had been given strict orders to improve their overall performance.

As such, the pilots were being put through hell with endless training missions and lessons in navigation and tactics which in turn meant that the ground crews were rushed off their feet maintaining the aircraft and ensuring they were ready for use.

And then came the news they’d all been waiting for.

“So it’s been confirmed then, sir? We’re shipping out.”

“Yup,” Bucky nodded handing over the clipboard he’d brought with him, a detailed plan of what supplies they needed to get ready for the journey to England taking up almost ten pages with everything numbered. “The advanced party, which is you boys, by the way, will be leaving at the end of the week for New York where you will board a ship to England. Plan is for you to get there with enough time to get our new base ready for us.”

“A ship?” Winks yelped, turning green at the thought of such a thing. “We’re not flying?”

Shaking his head, Bucky offered the younger man an apologetic smile,

“I’m afraid not. Too much equipment needs to go over in one go.”

Ken swallowed, nodding reluctantly in agreement and understanding.

It made sense.

And yet the prospect of crossing the Atlantic filled him with dread.

~ END OF PART FOUR ~