Chapter Text
Handsome Jack, the Hero of Hyperion!
Don’t be like your parents who are probably dead because they stole money from Hyperion or did something equally stupid; be like Handsome Jack!
The Alpha’s Alpha!
Handsome Jack had single-handedly killed millions of bandits, opened many Vaults and began to civilise Pandora. He is rich, genius, powerful, charismatic, generous, brave, and the most important quality – Handsome!
If you want to learn more about the great heroism of Handsome Jack…
Rhys huffs in amusement, like he does every day when he passes by the various advertisements promoting Hyperion and singing praise on Handsome Jack (some of them literally singing). He has been working for Jack for more than two years, and all the build-up hero worship that he had flew out of an airlock long ago. He used to be basically brainwashed by the propaganda; now he is just mildly in awe of the CEO.
As his personal assistant, Rhys has learned a lot about Jack. Mainly that he works a lot, almost never sleeps, loves power naps and dark coffee with unreasonable amounts of sugar, and has high expectations of people who work for him. And he flirts a lot, but more on that later.
Rhys is the first PA who worked for Jack for more than a month. He had proven over and over that he is the best, he is loyal, and Jack made the right choice when he didn’t airlock him on his first day after Rhys didn’t put enough sugar in his coffee.
With his status as ‘the only PA that is worth shit, also the most badass Omega I’ve ever seen’ – which is his actual status in his employee profile – Rhys had earned a place in Handsome Jack’s life. He was allowed to meet the real man, not just the image carefully constructed by the Propaganda Department and the Advertisement Department.
Handsome Jack is rarely in his office, once a week at most. He spends up to ten days every month off-station, either on Pandora, Elpis, or elsewhere. When he is not there, a body double always is. The office is never empty, not even at night, as Hyperion’s enemies never sleep, so neither does the CEO.
Rhys is friends with most of the body doubles. Timothy is his favourite, and it’s not because he is the best doppelganger. Both him and Rhys like cats, terrible telenovelas, and that one restaurant in the other tower. They always have something to talk about, when neither of them is buried under piles of work, that is. Timothy usually spends most of the week taking up Jack’s place in the office, the exception being when he is sent on a long mission.
Then there is Mark. Mark is the only other doppelganger brave enough to tell Rhys his real name. He is fine. He has three kids who he talks about all the time, and he’s generally pleasant, that kind of man who can be anybody’s father figure. Surprisingly enough, he is great at being Jack, and can switch into Jack-mode in a blink, strangling Hyperion employees for fun and shooting traitors in the kneecaps.
The other doppelgangers have codes instead of names. 25-D is a great soldier, which Rhys learned when he accompanied that man to R&D one day and they became the target of a small group of wannabe assassins. Not even Timothy would take those people out so quickly. 13-A is bad at being Jack but awesome at telling jokes. 20-D had to repeat training three times because his stutter came back every time a gun was fired nearby. 24-B is a Beta and is suffering side-effects from showering himself in Alpha pheromones every day.
But those are doppelgangers. They are how Jack wants to be perceived. During his second month, Rhys was disappointed to learn that Jack’s favourite department isn’t R&D, like people believe, or Robotics, or simply Guns. Propaganda and Advertisement are his sweethearts. They get unreasonably huge funding and a simple mission: Create the perfect image for the CEO of Hyperion and make sure that Jack lives up to the image.
Rhys doesn’t like the artificially created concept of a heroic, almighty and omniscient CEO anymore. Instead, there is a special place in his heart for just Jack. While the Alpha spends only little time in the office, they still spend a lot of time together, as Rhys follows him to meetings or even off-station. There had been plenty of time for Rhys to get to know the real Jack and realise that this Jack is even better than the idol that he used to worship.
Besides, the flirting. It never stopped. Not even the best doppelgangers got it right. Timothy was close, unloading practised pick-up lines on Rhys generously whenever they were together in public, but no-one got to the Omega quite like Jack did. The CEO seemed to have a liking in the PA, though he never initiated for anything more than a professional relationship with the side of something that could almost be called a friendship.
It was confusing and infuriating at first. Later only confusing. Jack seemed to only flirt in this way with Rhys, saving the sappiest pet names and pick-up lines for the PA. But whenever Rhys tried to initiate something more – because Jack clearly wasn’t going to – it didn’t go anywhere. They did go out on what could easily be called dates, but they lacked the usual stuff like handholding, parting kiss, sex. There was a lot of longing glances, honest compliments and obviously unsaid things, though.
It all almost came to halt – and a very likely bloody ending – when Rhys noticed an oddity in Jack’s behaviour. Whenever the Omega tried to bring up whatever was forming between them, Jack shot it down, though not before paying a long glance to Rhys’ body. That led the PA to the conclusion that Jack wanted him to change something about himself.
Rhys is naturally very thin. He’s always had trouble putting on weight, or even keeping it. If he forgets to eat one meal, he loses 5 pounds – that kind of trouble. But even with his busy and stressful life, he is doing pretty well. If Jack wanted him to put on more weight, he could go fuck himself, and if he wanted Rhys to put on some muscle, same thing, because it was hard enough already for Omegas to put on muscle mass, and with Rhys’ workload, he didn’t have time to hit the gym.
It didn’t come to the confrontation, in the end, as Rhys had decided to just accept it as it is – endless cycle of flirting with no chance of a closure. He enjoyed their little dates, sometimes worked through any unnecessary feelings during a long shower, and continued to not seek a relationship elsewhere. His friends joked that Rhys won’t settle for anything less than a CEO, and they might as well have been right. Most people on Helios stopped being interesting after ten minutes of conversation, and that wouldn’t do for a long-term relationship.
For some time, this is their status quo, but at Hyperion, peace never lasts long.
It is a Monday. A damn Monday spent in the office with Jack, piles of paperwork taking up a good third of Rhys’ desk and growing while he works on the CEO’s schedule for the week. (Not that it wasn’t already done way ahead, but Jack loves to spontaneously change his plans on Sunday evening, so Rhys has to redo everything on Monday morning. That is the norm.)
Jack asks for another coffee, and Rhys notes that he should have eaten a bigger breakfast, because the amount of caffeine that he had already consumed is bordering on dangerous with only a small croissant filling his stomach. The CEO laughs at the joke and basically gulps down the still hot coffee in one breath.
People come and go into the office, stuttering profit numbers and project ideas, silently praying that the CEO doesn’t deem them too boring or stupid and they don’t end up in an airlock. Rhys would definitely deserve that feat, because as he listens to the conversations, he thinks that out of all the people who regularly sit in the yellow chair, Jack is the least adept Jack. Timothy would have told the messenger that brought bad news from R&D to move a little to the right and then open the trapdoor underneath them. Mark would have shot the man from Accounting in the shoulder to make him speak faster. Neither one of the doubles would go easy on the stuttering middle manager from Programming just because she was an Omega.
Jack seems to be aware of the problem; that he is not Handsome Jack enough. It might be the reason why he spends less and less time in the office every day, though if Rhys ever asked him about that, Jack probably wouldn’t mind showing him that he is exactly who people believe him to be by strangling Rhys on spot. Weakness is not an option at Hyperion, especially not for the CEO.
Still, when the last meeting before lunch is over, and Jack is left huffing in frustration and hitting the keyboard way too much, Rhys leaves his working station for a while and walks over to the Alpha’s desk. His primary objective is to help the Alpha calm down, which he intends to use the help of his nature for. Rhys is not above using his scent as a weapon, though most Alphas on high positions are immune, even Jack. It still has the little bit of a calming effect, if nothing else.
“What’s up?” the CEO asks when his PA sits on the edge of his desk. He gives Rhys his full attention, mindlessly fixing his sleeves (most body doubles wear their sleeves rolled up because they are too hot in Jack’s many layers, but Jack always wears them properly), and his nostrils flare soon after as he takes in the Omega’s scent.
Jack’s scent is special. Most of his doubles use a fake scent that mimics Jack’s closely, but an Omega like Rhys is still able to tell the difference. The fake scent lacks character. Jack’s frustration is palpable in the air right now, but if it were a double, Rhys wouldn’t be able to smell it.
But there is more to it. Obviously, the two are scent compatible and each other’s scent smells good to them. But something specifically about Jack makes Rhys want to wrap him up in a blanket and protect him like his own pup, which was disconcerting at first but is almost amusing now. Omegas sometimes develop too strong protective instincts of their close family.
“Rhys?” the Alpha clears his throat, getting the PA’s attention when he remains silent for too long.
“Hmm, nothing, just...” Rhys huffs, taking a deep breath to clear his head. “Just your scent doing what your scent usually does...” he chuckles, forgetting what he wanted from Jack in the first place.
Jack snorts, knowing about the thing. “So, you want to give me a bath, brush my hair and sing me a lullaby?” he guesses, teasing the Omega.
“No!” Rhys scowls. But then the CEO laughs, and the PA’s lips curl upwards too. “Stop it, you jerk! Did you decide what you want for lunch yet?”
“Ha! Called it! It’s the Omega mamma instincts again! I’m 34, mom, you don’t need to baby me...” Jack whines playfully.
“You aren’t 34, Jack,” Rhys deadpans. “And what do you mean – I literally order your food every day!”
“Oh, do you?” the Alpha asks, pretending puzzlement. “Oh, sorry, my bad, this is my first day on this position...”
“Oh, fuck off,” Rhys groans, chuckling when he sees Jack’s mouth open and shut as he bits down the urge to reprimand him for the foul word. “You think I wouldn’t recognise the original by now? Your scent is unique.”
“Guess I’ll have to cut R&D’s budget again, if the scent mimickers aren’t working...” Jack hums, though he sounds amused. “And hire you as the tester, since you know my scent so well.”
“Handsome Jack would never cut R&D’s budget,” Rhys smirks. “Maybe you’re an imposter, after all.”
“Then you should take me out,” Jack shoots back smoothly, his voice making it clear what he means. “You know, take care of me...”
“Keep dreaming,” Rhys laughs. “And tell me what you want for lunch already.”
“Hmm,” Jack hums thoughtfully. Rhys opens his palm comp to make notes, knowing that he won’t be able to memorise the list.
Nobody eats like Handsome Jack. It’s always a feast, made up of multiple courses and variations, vaguely connected by the country of origin. There are many courses and the food will usually fill his whole desk, and fill the office with pleasant, exotic scents.
“I feel like Truxican today,” the CEO says resolutely and begins to list the meals that Rhys is supposed to order. It’s a long list, completed by three different sweet drinks and a huge coffee.
“No dessert today?” Rhys asks jokingly while he adds his own order to the list, knowing that he would forget to pick something otherwise, though Jack wouldn’t hesitate to share with him.
“Nah, I need to keep my figure,” Jack shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and pushing out his stomach in a way that makes it look big, but Rhys is not fooled, knowing that it is flat and decorated by a six pack.
“Sure,” he laughs and then calls their favourite Truxican restaurant, ordering the food.
All of it arrives within twenty minutes, and Rhys takes his food to the lounging area to eat in peace, not distracted by work, while Jack stuffs his face sitting at his desk and typing something out with his free hand occasionally. He doesn’t end up eating all of the food, obviously, that would be impossible. The Alpha eats a bit of everything, humming whenever he comes across something that tastes really good, and when he is done, he has a cleaner bot get rid of everything except for the coffee. He leaves to the bathroom, like he does every time after lunch, and when he returns, he drinks the coffee while already burying himself in more work.
Rhys gets himself his second coffee of the day, a strong black with alluring scent that covers the CEO’s own, because it always gets extra distracting with the need to save, care, protect after they eat, for whatever reason. The amazing aroma of the black beverage in front of him pushes it all away, thankfully, and he can continue fighting his way through the endless mountain of paperwork.
But he doesn’t get very far before he finds himself fidgeting and shifting restlessly so often that he can’t focus.
At first, Rhys panics that it might be his heat, but that is almost two months away. He forces himself to take deep breaths and calm down, assessing the situation.
Clearly, something is wrong. He rules out too much caffeine – he’s used to having more. Can’t be poison, he is feeling okay. Besides, his restlessness seems to be originating from his nature. It’s his instincts screaming at him to get up and do something.
A whine builds up in the back of his throat from all the confusing emotions, but Rhys pushes it down. He has to think; surely it has an explanation...
Thud.
Rhys startles so much he falls off his chair, landing on the floor with a similar thud and a yelp. Blood thrums in his veins as he looks around in fear, scanning the office for any danger and finding nothing. He calms down considerably, though he remains alerted, knowing that something bad happened.
An uneasy realisation hits him – Jack didn’t start laughing yet. The CEO should be bawling laughing by now, that Rhys got startled by a stack of papers falling or something. But he isn’t.
Rhys shoots up, sprinting towards Jack’s desk faster than he thought he can, and before he even processes the situation and the empty chair. He finds the CEO on the floor in an uncomfortable position and unconscious.
“Jack?!” Rhys’ voice is high, basically squealing the name as he turns the Alpha onto his back. “Jack, Jack, come on...” he scans the CEO for any signs of being poisoned, but all his ECHOeye detects is that his vitals are all over the place, hinting on exhaustion and malnutrition. There is a small note in the bottom of his vision that the scan is not equivalent to a medical examination and a blood scan can show different results, which is so very helpful.
Rhys contacts Jack’s personal medical team, keeping an eye on his vitals and a hand on his cheek. He doesn’t remember how it got there, but he can’t bring himself to stop touching the Alpha.
When the medics are called, Jack begins to stir, his eyelids fluttering. Rhys immediately scoots back on the floor, making sure there is no physical contact between them. He watches as the CEO opens his eyes and immediately looks at him.
“Jack?” he breaths out in a whisper. “Are you alright?”
“Peachy,” Jack groans, letting his head hit the floor as he lays back. “What... Shit, did you call the medics?”
“Yeah,” Rhys nods. “They’ll be here in a—”
“No,” Jack interrupts him resolutely. “Send them away. I’m alright.”
Rhys bites his lip and doesn’t do anything. He wants to tell Jack that he is acting irrational, that he just collapsed, and he can’t not see a medic about that. He could still be poisoned.
But he is still set on edge, and while normally he would be more stubborn and willing to argue with the Alpha, now he can’t seem to be able to fight his own nature. But he doesn’t obey the Alpha’s order, either.
“Rhys...” Jack says in a stern tone, seeming to sense his struggle. “Tell them to fuck off, now.”
This time, the Omega whimpers for real, but he complies and calls up the medic team, telling them not to come. He feels Jack’s gaze on him the whole time, probably the Alpha making sure that he doesn’t try to go against him again, and the scrutinising gaze makes his cheeks burn red.
“That’s better,” Jack notes, patting his cheek. Then he gets up, sitting back in his chair, and Rhys dully notes that Jack voluntarily spent the whole time on the floor, clearly still drowsy, but there is still nothing the PA can say to convince him to get help.
“Jack—” he begins to say, but he stops, at a loss for words, so he stands up, dusts his pants off, all the while aware of being watched. At least the CEO didn’t throw him out of the airlock, yet. Taking it as a good sign, Rhys decides to ask: “Do you at least know why it happened?”
Jack hesitates for a while, carefully studying Rhys. At last, he nods. “Yeah, I know exactly why, and why you don’t need to call the medics about it.”
Rhys exhales a little sigh of relief. “Good, that is… good. Something. It’s something… Is there something that we, or you, or your medics can do about it?”
Another, even longer silence, and Rhys silently prays that Jack doesn’t kill him for overstepping, which he apparently is. Then, Jack runs a palm over his face and shakes his head again. “In my experience, hardly anything can be done about it. So, what we’ll do now,” he says with emphasis, getting the Omega’s attention, “is forget about it. Go back to work.”
Rhys’ shoulders slump, but he does as he is told, returning to his desk. Jack does the same, picking up where he left off, but Rhys can’t focus at all. He pretends to work, mindlessly skimming through papers with his senses tuned to the maximum, listening and sneakily looking out for any sign that Jack might collapse again.
Multiple times, the CEO begins to rub his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose or massage his temples, and once he even starts leaning to the side, but he never passes out. Two hours go by without an incident, the only excitement being Jack asking for another coffee and Rhys ignoring him, too lost in thought, until Jack snaps at him.
Rhys makes Jack his coffee how he likes it, and even stronger black coffee than before for himself. It’s so bitter that it’s undrinkable, but all he cares about is the scent, anyway. He needs to get his instincts out of his head, but it’s hard when they are proving right for once.
And then it happens again. Thud. Rhys is up on the platform in one breath, by Jack’s side within seconds. He rolls the CEO on his back and scans his vitals, getting the same results that tell him nothing. He waits, stifling his own whines and whimpers, waiting if the CEO wakes up again like he did the first time, but nothing happens for a whole minute, and he can’t take it any longer.
The medical team has just let him know that they are on their way when the Alpha stirs, groaning and swearing. Rhys doesn’t fuss over him, as hard as it is, and instead sits on his own hands and lets Jack fight the nausea on his own, hoping that it would buy him and the medics some time.
When the CEO manages to sit up, leaning heavily against the desk and panting, cold sweat appearing on his neck and on the skin between his mask and hairline, Rhys breaks and asks if Jack is alright.
Immediately, the Alpha’s eyes snap open, boring into him. Rhys feels like an open book; he knows he is easy to read for the CEO and that Jack will see through his plan, but this time, he is determined to have it his way.
“Rhys,” Jack says in a hard tone, a clear warning. The last warning. “Don’t.” He doesn’t specify, but the PA knows what his boss is saying.
Don’t call the medics. Don’t disobey me. Don’t make me kill you.
Still, he doesn’t move to cancel the order again, stubbornly sitting where he is, struggling to keep eye contact with the angry Alpha.
“Rhys—” Jack starts again, but the Omega doesn’t let him finish.
“No,” he refuses, his nature giving him strength to go against the Alpha’s harsh, commanding tone. There are people in danger, people he cares about, suffering so much that it’s palpable in the air, and he can’t take it anymore! He had been taking it for more than two years, but it’s over now.
Swearing, Jack brings his wristwatch to his face, probably intending to cancel the order himself. Or to make the turrets turn his PA into a puddle of blood and bones. Rhys will never know, because his instincts compel him to fight for what is dear to him, to protect his loved one, and he pins Jack’s left hand to the surface next to his head with his cybernetic arm in a blink.
“No,” he repeats, this time not that resolutely. There is a sob pushing up his throat, tears in his eyes, and Rhys is aware that he is most probably about to die a horrific death. Still, he doesn’t back down. “I won’t let you,” he says, hating how pathetic he sounds. “Something is wrong, and you need help. You’re sick or wounded or I don’t know, and you’re stopping me from getting you help.”
“Because it’s none of your fucking business!” the CEO snarls, tugging at his arm, but it doesn’t break free of the metallic hold.
Something breaks inside of Rhys, a wall that he had built around a certain kind of feelings to protect himself and his carreer, and he snarls back. “You know damn right that it is all of my fucking business!”
Jack sits stunned for one second, his lips parting and eyes widening, but then he shakes it off. He bares his teeth, growls in a way that would have any sane Omega hiding under their desk, and tugs at his arm again when Rhys fails to react.
“If you want to know what’s wrong with me so much, okay. We’ll go talk to my doctors, they’ll fill you in. And then, then I will airlock you, Cupcake, because this secret is beyond your security level.”
The threat is serious, Rhys knows immediately. He sees it in Jack’s eyes, wild and dangerous and blurred when tears start spilling from the Omega’s eyes. His lip trembles, but he manages to find a steady voice when he speaks. “Then be it. I-I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. Y-you can kill me then.”
The Alpha gulps, once more stunned to silence. He stares at Rhys while the Omega fights to compose himself, wincing slightly when one especially loud whimper escapes him. Jack tugs at his arm again, and when Rhys doesn’t let go, he uses his other hand quickly to punch his elbow joint, somehow causing the whole prosthetic to reboot and go slack in the process.
Rhys doesn’t know what to focus on first – his breathing, why his top-notch cybernetic rebooted after a single hit, or Jack, who is probably about to kill him. But the Alpha solves the dilemma for him, carefully taking Rhys’ dead arm and pushing it down to hang at his side. “A secret trick, not widely known,” he explains. “For emergencies. It would be embarrassing if I got killed by a Hyperion product.”
The PA nods dumbly, not sure what else to say. He is grateful that he isn’t dead yet, that’s all. He realises that Jack is contemplating him again, so he meets his eyes once more.
“You really want to go through with it,” the CEO notes. “You would let me kill you just to make sure I see a doctor.”
Not trusting his voice, Rhys nods resolutely. Jack gives him a look that he would give to a fascinating experiment in R&D.
And then it’s gone, replaced by anger again, though not the immediate, boiling type, but a mere leftover from minutes ago. “Let’s go, then,” he says, standing up. “And file a job opening for me, would ya? I’m looking for a PA.”
A shiver runs through Rhys’ whole body, but he nods and opens his palm comp, his arm having just finished rebooting. He does as Jack asked while he follows him out of the office. They run into the medical team on the way, and Jack scolds them for taking so long, giving them directions for the nearest airlock. Normally, Rhys would be against airlocking employees on a whim, but a) they are Handsome Jack’s medical team; they really should have been faster, and b) he’s really glad that for a few seconds, Jack’s anger is not directed at him.
Jack’s private doctor’s office is located two floors below his office. Three different specialists share the rather huge and luxurious room equipped with prime tech, and they all look, to Rhys’ surprise, not scared. They treat Jack with due respect, but they don’t tremble and stammer like most people on Helios would.
“Handsome Jack, sir,” a middle-aged man of dark skin greets him. “We’ve been told that you have lost consciousness two times during the day. Should we proceed with the usual procedures?”
Rhys watches with bated breath as Jack grits his jaw, squaring his shoulders as he fights an internal battle before he deflates and nods. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
The doctor’s eyes flicker to Rhys but a gesture of Jack’s hand tells him to ignore the PA. All three doctors begin to, in Rhys’ opinion shockingly slowly, tend to the CEO. Their movement is synchronised and time effective but reminds him of a slow, late-night dance, and not the marathon sun he would hope for in this situation. One doctor takes the CEO’s blood pressure and while they are putting the used equipment away, another is already using a small flashlight on his right eye, watching its reaction. Another waits before the other two are sitting at their separate desks before checking Jack’s lymph nodes with slow, practised movements.
It feels a little awkward to watch, but there is little else the Omega can do but stand in the corner and listen to hushed conversation between the professionals and the CEO. He tries not to think about his oncoming trip out of the airlock, focusing on understanding what the doctors are saying, but they seem to pointedly avoid giving away what the issue is, only sharing new numbers and reading old numbers from the database for comparison.
Jack needs to lie down to have his blood taken, because he would probably faint again, and Rhys watches curiously the expression on the CEO’s face. Normally, Jack would be much more guarded, not giving anything away, but now he just looks tired and strangely contemplative. Melancholic, maybe. He even closes his eyes tightly shut when his sleeve is rolled up to reveal his forearm.
While they wait for both the results of the bloodwork and for Jack’s blood pressure to even out, Rhys dares to step closer to the examination table. He takes in his surroundings again, noticing that the mini hospital that the room seems to be is strangely… personalised. There is a photo frame on the nightstand next to a hospital bed in the far corner, a poster that Rhys knows is Jack’s favourite, ‘the new face of Hyperion’. Everything is yellow/gold and black, Jack’s favourite colour scheme. One of the curtains for privacy has unicorns on it.
Judged by their scents, all the doctors are Betas, which is far from unusual. They stay away from Rhys and give them some privacy while the PA searches for something to say.
“You look like someone who’s about to die,” Jack says, going for snide but sounding exasperated.
Rhys shivers again, looking at the tips of his shoes. “Well, am I?” he asks, not giving it much hope.
“Yes,” Jack simply answers.
The Omega takes a deep breath, pushing down both fear and sadness to instead ask: “And you? Will you be alright?”
The Alpha looks at him with surprise, parting his lips to answer just as the dark-skinned doctor returns. Even though he is the youngest of the three, he seems to be in charge.
“The results are back, sir,” he says softly, as if sensing the heavy atmosphere between the CEO and the PA. “Everything is normal, except for serious malnutrition. Do you wish to stay here and receive nutrition through an IV?”
Jack shakes his head, slowly sitting up. “I don’t have time for that,” he brushes it off, and the doctor nods, stepping away once more.
Rhys gapes. He is torn between shaking Jack’s shoulders, and screaming at the doctors to do their job and make sure that the CEO walks out alive, whether he wants it or not, but a prominent question comes to mind and doesn’t let him think about anything else until he finds the answer. What’s going on? What’s wrong with Jack? How can he be malnourished, and why are the doctors acting like it is normal? How can he be malnourished when Rhys watched him eat a literal feast a couple hours ago? How is that normal?
“You’re whining again, Rhys,” the Alpha points out, tentatively standing up, holding the table for support.
“Sorry, Jack,” the Omega mumbles, trying to keep the high pitch out of his voice. “I just… I don’t… I’m…”
Another one of the doctors approaches them and speaks up, cutting off Rhys’ babbling. “Sir, do you wish to proceed to the… last procedure?”
With a long sigh, Jack agrees, and so Rhys steps away and watches as the CEO walks up to one of the privacy curtains and begins to strip, putting his clothes on nearby chair. He doesn’t bother to hide behind the curtain, though it seems to be tempting him. Rhys contemplates turning away, not looking, but for some reason, he believes that Jack wants him to watch.
One by one, layers are peeled off Jack’s chest. Jacket, waistcoat, shirt, sweater. Then an undershirt. Then a weird thing that looks awfully like…
Rhys doesn’t know whether to snort in disbelief or whimper in confusion because the last layer on Jack’s upper body is a muscle suit – something made to create a fake muscle outline under clothes. But what comes out of his mouth is a shocked gasp, in the end, when he sees the CEO’s body.
His skin is pale, almost translucent, his bones protruding, stomach caving in on itself. He looks starved. Is starved.
“Not the Alpha of your dreams, huh?” Jack asks bitterly, spreading his arms. He only stays in that position for a second before he turns away from Rhys and quickly finishes undressing. The rest of his body is just as bad. Rhys can see his spine protruding, his hip bones, the tendons under his knees stretching the thin skin.
While Jack is having his weight taken by the doctor – ‘Not your all time minimum, but very close, sir.’ – Rhys finally puts one and one together. He feels more than a little sick, the news almost too much to handle. His head spins and heart beats fast, and he worries that he might end up passing out too.
He’d never thought that Handsome Jack, the Hero of Pandora, the CEO of Hyperion, the Alpha’s Alpha, might have bulimia.
If he even thought about it for a second, he would notice the pattern. Jack always went to the bathroom after eating. He survived on the sugar in his coffee solely. He had always been like that.
Cases of Alphas having an eating disorder weren’t unheard of, but the stigma around it was still very high. Rhys understood, on some level, why Jack risked so much to keep it secret, even when it almost cost him life.
He didn’t understand why Jack didn’t trust him with it, though.
“Ready to go?” Jack’s voice appeared right in front of him, and Rhys startled so hard he jumped back and hit the wall. The CEO was already dressed, and Rhys must have zoned out for longer than he thought.
“I…” he began to say, but the Alpha shushed him.
“Hush! Don’t say anything, just go,” he ordered, and so they left the doctor’s office.
While they walked back to the CEO’s office, Rhys didn’t have time to think about his quickly approaching death. He thought back to all the instances when he didn’t notice the CEO’s – now painfully obvious – problem. When he shrugged over his weirdly working metabolism, sending him to the bathroom after every meal. When he ignored that the uneasy scent around the Alpha was always more prominent after he left the bathroom. When he watched him stuff himself full and never gain weight.
“Helios to Rhys,” Jack snaps his fingers in front of his face, and Rhys finds himself staring at Elpis. Somehow, they have walked all the way to the great window behind Jack’s desk without him noticing.
“Jack, I…”
“Oh, shut up,” the CEO silences him again, anger returning to his features.
“No, Jack,” Rhys insists, desperate to get it out. Maybe a little selfishly, but he needs those words to be said. “I didn’t know,” he emphasises. “I didn’t know that this was happening to you, Jack. My instincts have basically spelled it out to me; my nose fucking knew it from day one, but I never… I didn’t realise. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Jack asks, puzzled. He frowns in confusion, for a while losing the air of rage and destruction that otherwise hangs around him. “For what?”
“For— I mean, isn’t it—? I could have helped you, could have noticed it sooner, or, or done something, I—” He makes another realisation, another metaphorical punch to his gut. “I thought that you turned me down because you didn’t like something about me, but you just didn’t want to let me close, so I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t, Jack. I would try to help you, always, but you— And now you— Oh God…”
Finally, the fact that Jack is about to kill him catches up fully with the Omega, and he breaks down. He expects Jack to simply put a bullet through his head after his pathetic display of weakness. But instead, he gets arms wrapped around him, holding him as he sobs.
“I’m not gonna kill you, idiot,” Jack whispers into his ear, holding him tight. “What would I do without you?”
“B-but—”
“Shh, don’t be stupid,” the Alpha soothes him as if reading his thoughts, even though Rhys can’t get a word out. “I just… You can take the job opening down again when you calm down. I’m not getting rid of you.”
“N-no?” Rhys sobs, hatting his pathetic wet voice but clinging to hope.
“‘F course not, dumdum.”
Thanks to the assurance, Rhys is able to calm down considerably. He wipes his face and nose with his sleeve, saying goodbye to the shirt, and straightens up a little. Jack keeps his arms around his waist, loose enough for him to slip away.
The omega knows that he should choose his next words carefully. He blurts out the first thing on his mind, anyway. “Will you give me a chance? Please?”
“A chance to what?” Jack asks. He isn’t caught by surprise anymore, looking his usual, controlled self, but Rhys feels like he can see through the mask more than ever.
“To help you. I think. I think I can help you, if you want.” He doesn’t mention that he has no idea how to do that, simply hopes that Jack won’t see through his bluff. If those doctors refuse – or are too afraid to try – to help the CEO, it is up to him.
“Yeah,” the Alpha answers slowly, voice low like a whisper, “I think so too. Actually… I think you’re probably the only person left in this galaxy who could help me.”
Some of his natural confidence flows back into Rhys, and he smiles. “I’ll help you get through this, Jack. And then you’ll take me out on a proper date without turning me down for no reason.”
The Alpha laughs, gently kissing his nose. “Demanding little Omega… But I’ve been dealing with this for most of my life, babe. You’re standing against a badass-level problem…”
A snort. “I can take on a badass, Jack. Unless you’re hiding a Vault monster in there, I can take it. No, scratch that! I can take a Vault monster, too.”