Canned Half-Life

Ruinous thoughts raced through Amy’s mind frantically feeding her dreadful images from her imagination. Each was fodder for a coven of sticky emotions: doubt, fear, shame, indignation, anger, and…jealousy. Her heart pounded against her chest and Amy pulled back her stifling hood.

Dr. Quack squinted at Amy’s sudden change in demeanor. “Yes, we’re very fortunate that you were able to make time in your busy schedule, doctor.” Shadow smiling with someone else. Her heart burned green.

“It is good that I was.” Dr. Ginger crossed her arms, her attention shifting to her compatriot. “Who knows what silly conclusions you bench technicians would come up with.” Shadow happy with someone else. Her vision blurred with gathering tears.

“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Quack frowned. “I am a board-certified medical doctor, same as you.” Shadow building a life with someone else. Her breath caught painfully in her chest.

“You are a pharmacologist. We are nothing alike.” Shadow marrying someone else. Her ears rang with church bells meant for someone else.

Dr. Quack glared at the dog sharply for a brief moment. “Agree to disagree.” His voice was strained. Shadow having children with someone else. Her abdomen clenched around its emptiness.

“Hardly! What you seem to claim as opinion is a fact.” Shadow dying old after having spent a long, good life with someone else*.* Everything grew quiet as a tomb, numbness freezing each horrible phantom in place to make a museum of Amy’s agony.

Amy desperately needed something, anything else to think about.

“Dear? Are you alright?”

Amy startled. “S-so what sort of tests did you want to run on me?” She asked. Stab her with needles. Dig cold uncaring fingers into her inner most crevices. Cut into her flesh with steely knives. Shock her with electrodes. Anything was preferable to how she was torturing herself.

“Right, of course.” Dr. Ginger’s concerned gaze softened. “Please excuse my colleague’s poor manners.” The duck doctor’s bill was a particularly aggressive shade of orange.

Dr. Ginger proceeded to explain in detail what they would be looking for, measuring, or sampling from her. Amy tried to keep a list, but there were too many acronyms, and she was still very much in the throes of an internal five-alarm holy-shitting fire. It very quickly became Apotosan to her. “If you ever feel uncomfortable,” Dr. Ginger concluded, “we can take a break or stop entirely. I also would like you to ask as many questions as you can think of. There shouldn’t be any secrets here. Are you ready to proceed?”

Gulping, Amy nodded. She doubted she’d manage to ask anything coherent, trapped as her mind was in a mausoleum of frightful imagined displays of Shadow with faceless, nebulous other women. Somewhere outside the walls, her instincts hammered away, doing a poor job pretending to be the logical side of things.

As the doctors fussed over her, asking her questions and taking measurements, Amy was half listening as her mind was filled with a constant buzzing. Wife. Hey, he wouldn’t have fucked her three times if he didn’t care for her. Mrs. Kintobor. She would have smelled another woman. Shadow married. Hey, this other woman could be dead. It was stupid. It was impossible, but these doctors didn’t have any reason to lie to her, right? Maybe she had misheard? God, please let her have misheard.

She ran through the halls of the haunted space. The idea was a fast-moving poison, a sickly purple fog chasing her, in her system, sinking and seeping deep into every crack and crevice of her heart and soul. The toxin burned in the worst of ways, a sticky, viscous darkness that corrupted and swallowed her every cell on its way to fully, utterly, irrevocably destroying her.

Why did it hurt so badly? They’d hardly been together at all and she knew he had something regretful in his past. Was he hiding another woman from her?

How could she feel this strongly? They’d hardly been together at all and she knew it had to be too good to be true. How could she expect anything else?

It didn’t make sense! They’d hardly been together at all and she knew she shouldn’t have this strong of an attraction. Why was she so desperate?

She was dying of heartbreak and she didn’t know why! They’d hardly been together at all!

Wasn’t she going to stop lying? If not to everyone else, at least to herself.

The sting of fingers on her arm brought her back to reality. Dr. Quack gently tied a tourniquet and Amy fought to stay still as the needle bit into her skin and drained her vein into a lot of little vials. “Please let me know if you are feeling lightheaded. There are snacks and water here if you need them.” He explained as he bandaged the slight wound. “And we can get anything else you might like. Just let us know.”

She just wanted this to be over so she could go home and cry over her ruined life. Enough of this crap. She was a grown woman! Act like it! Stop it stop it stop it! Why was she beating herself up like this? Why was she so eager to jump to conclusions without getting clarification?

Dr. Ginger frowned at Amy. “You are really starting to worry me, Miss Rose. Whatever is the matter, dear?”

Maybe this wasn’t the right time or place, or, really, the right people to ask, but Amy couldn’t help herself. She had to know more. She had to pry. She would go insane with heartache and grief otherwise. She was burning. She was drowning. She was suffocating.

“Test results should be done-“ Dr. Quack explained, obliviously.

“You said you treated Shadow’s wife?” Amy asked Dr. Ginger, rudely interrupting Dr. Quack.

Both doctors gave her a sudden confused look. Amy flushed, not expecting that sort of reaction. God, she must have said something super stupid.

“Who?” Dr. Ginger quirked a brow.

“Shadow is unmarried.” Dr. Quack answered slowly. “Perhaps you mean his brother, Eclipse?” Yup. She was about to feel pretty silly. Looks like the smarty pants parts of her brain weren’t always right.

“Oh! Right, I forgot Mr. Eclipse had a brother. They look really similar, if I recall correctly. I’m sorry, Miss Rose, I wasn’t being very clear. I treated Mrs. Meridian Kintobor, Mr. Eclipse’s wife. Well, one of them, anyway.”

Oh. Amy was stupid.

Oh. Amy was so stupid.

Oh…shit. Thank god Amy was stupid! Rarely has she been so happy!

The tension in her shoulders deflated. “O-oh, sorry. I had thought that…never mind. Forget I said anything.” Amy could cook an egg on her forehead for how embarrassed she felt, but she was also smiling widely. The doctors gave her funny looks but didn’t press further.

Of course, Shadow wasn’t married. Of course, he wasn’t leading her on or lying to her.

What had happened to her? A tiny little mix up sent her spiraling into an abyss? Did she trust Shadow so little that she’d jump to conclusions like that? Amy desiccated under the heat of her shame. And then there was that hot knifing jealousy of some imagined other woman. Amy hadn’t felt like that about anyone ever before.

Was that how Shadow felt to make him circle her so protectively in public? Was this terrible feeling what fueled him as he chased her and Barry down the stairwell? It wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, but Amy was starting to understand better.

Dr. Quack cleared his throat and lifted a small plastic tray from the countertop. “I need to take these samples to the lab.” The plethora of vials containing Amy’s blood clinked against one another as they jostled in the tray. “We should have results within thirty minutes.”

The time frame was so short that Amy laughed, thinking the doctor was telling a joke. When neither of them seemed to share her mirth, she grimaced. “Sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten results back in less than a month before.”

Dr. Ginger made a disgusted noise. “That’s unconscionable.”

“We have state of the art facilities on this level.” Dr. Quack explained. “I think I’d have some words with my technicians if results took a month to process.” He smiled congenially and left the room.

Dr. Ginger clapped her hands and retrieved a plush blanket from a drawer. Handing it to Amy, she said, “Now for the intimate part, dearie. You know what to do, I’m sure. I’ll step out to give you some privacy.” She drew a curtain across the room, forming a barrier between Amy and the door, before Amy heard the doctor leave the room.

Almost mechanically, Amy disrobed from the waist down. She’d done exactly this dozens of times over the years. Hands down, the physical exam was Amy’s least favorite event in the whole affair. Stripping and mounting herself for poking and prodding. Uncomfortable didn’t even begin to describe the feeling, but over and over she’d been told it had to be done.

She trembled with anticipatory anxiety. Calm down, she told herself over and over. She had to do this to find out what was wrong with her. Then she could get better and never have to deal with any of this again…

Amy remounted the examination throne and wrapped the blanket over her lap.

She was going to be fine.

She was going to be fine.

She was going- A knock sounded from the door. “I’m ready.” Amy called and Dr. Ginger reentered…followed by Dr. Quack.

Dr. Ginger’s hackles rose and she rounded on the duck. “What are you doing? Leave the room.” Dr. Ginger ordered.

“Excuse me?” Dr. Quack grimaced.

“This is an internal examine and I don’t need a consult, least of all from a pharmacologist. Begone!” Dr. Quack opened his bill to respond, but Dr. Ginger just kept going. “Oh, you are going to argue? Let’s just ask the patient, shall we?”

Both of them turned to Amy, who flinched at the sudden attention. “I-I’d prefer privacy, I think?”

Dr. Ginger aggressively turned to Dr. Quack. “There you have it. She’s not a petri dish to examine. Get out.” She sure felt like one.

“R-right,” Dr Quack sputtered, “excuse me.” He quietly closed the door behind him.

“Alright.” Dr. Ginger turned to Amy with an alarmingly pleasant smile after the vitriol she’d just spat.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with…” Amy wasn’t really sure what to say, so she gestured between Dr. Ginger and the door. “You don’t seem to like Dr. Quack?”

“Oh?” Dr. Ginger’s floppy ears rose slightly. “No, I like him just fine. Oh! But I suppose it seems strange, doesn’t it? Ah, yes, I’ve been told I can be a bit combative. A bit of a- if you’ll excuse my Avalonia, a bitch.” She giggled at her joke. “So, I’m hazing him, I guess you could say. I need to make sure that he has a thick enough skin, given we’ll be working so closely moving forward. Can’t have a breakdown mid-research over something so petty as personality conflicts.”

Amy tilted her head. “You’ll be working together?”

“Yes, it’s very exciting actually. We have been talking all morning before you arrived – frankly I’m surprised you arrived at all given last night – and discovered we have a common cause.” She gave Amy a soft smile. “Addressing the Hyperestrus Epidemic. He may know his way around an assay machine far better than a uterus, but his heart is in the right place.” She tapped her sternum.

“Hyperestrus Epidemic?” Amy hadn’t heard that term before.

“I think the media calls it the Off-Cycle Heat Crisis. Terrible name. Makes it sound like it’s too hot outside.” She shook her head. “Masks the epidemiological nature of the event. Now, please lie back, dear.” Amy shifted herself and Dr. Ginger sank onto a rolling stool. “Would you rather I go as softly as possible or as quickly?”

Amy thought about it for a moment. “Soft, please.”

“Like a down-stuffed pillow it is.” The dog donned a set of disposable gloves over her regular ones. “Ready?”

No. “I guess.” Amy looked away, her lower half still covered in the blanket, as Dr. Ginger situated herself between Amy’s legs. The table lowered smoothly and Dr. Ginger extended the stirrups. Amy lifted her heels and pinched her eyes shut. This would be over in the blink of an eye if she could just concentrate and get away correctly. Go on the same vacation she’d been on many, many times before.

Think.

Be there and not here.

Breathe.

Relax.

Here is the dream, there is reality.

There, not here.

The sand under her bare paws was coarse and rough and irritating. It got everywhere. Sharp little granulates sifting through her coat and grating at her skin. The lapping of the wave striking the shore of the lake pounded like mortar shells denoting, loud, inconsistent, and panic inducing. Why wasn’t this working?

“Heya, Ames!” Sonic’s voice, childish in the memory, ripped through the fantasy like shrapnel.

Amy’s eyes popped open and she stifled a gasp. Fingers were in her and she didn’t want to be present, didn’t want to be here, but her usual escape wasn’t…welcoming anymore. Because she’d fucked it all up. How could she retreat to her happy childhood memories when her stalwart companion and truest friend was currently furious with her?

The fingers stilled. “Are you okay, dear? I’m detecting some tension.”

“F-fine!” Amy squeaked. “It’s okay. You can keep going.”

“If you are sure. I’m almost done, I promise.”

Dr. Ginger was gentle in her examination. This was by far the most innocuous and kind vaginal exploration Amy had ever endured. However, the nature of the experience was intrinsically stressful. Even the most gentle beheading still left one decapitated.

She needed to be away or else she’d scream. Dr. Ginger would understand, Amy hoped, but she didn’t want to disrupt the old dog. Where could she go if she couldn’t go back to her happy memories of summer at the lake?

Happy memories…but then again, did she really need a memory?

Shadow’s hands cupped her face and Amy leaned into the warmth. “You’re safe.” His husky voice, deep and slow, whispered into the shell of her ear. She buried her face into his bare chest, nuzzling into the blaze of white fluff, and inhaled. Rich earthy tones of lavender and coffee. A lazy morning, alone together in a remote cabin somewhere in the woods. Safe and calm and boring.

Amy would have killed to have something of Shadow’s to stuff up her nose right about now.

They’d been together privately a handful of times so far and she’d never thought to ask for a cloth scented by him. It would be such a simple, yet useful thing, but the idea hadn’t even occurred to Amy. She really wasn’t a very good Omega on a number of levels…but this was an easy fix! She could just ask for one the next time they were together which would be…soon, right?

Before the anxiety of uncertainty about the next time she could see Shadow took its turn beating her amygdala like a rented mule, the intruding fingers exited Amy and shirked the nitrile gloves with a sharp snap. Dr. Ginger declared, “And we’re done!”

Amy opened her eyes and the bright examination room rushed in, chasing her fantasy away. Her body continued to tremble as it sorted through a mild shock.

“You’ve got a very healthy and unremarkable uterus and vagina, dearie.” Dr. Ginger stood and adjusted the blanket covering Amy’s lower half. “If you’d like to have children in the future, I don’t see anything that might stop you. Go forth and multiply to your heart’s content.” She moved to the door and drew the curtain again. “You can go ahead and get redressed. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

After Amy had cleaned herself up and gotten decent, Dr. Ginger returned with Dr. Quack in tow, his beak buried in a packet of stapled together papers.

“I have your test results.” He addressed Amy.

“Already?” She asked. Had it really been thirty minutes?

He nodded. “Yes. Your results were considered high priority, but their expediency exceeded my expectations.”

Amy frowned. Being treated specially made her uncomfortable. It was too close to being seen. Further, she was beginning to struggle to repress the shame and embarrassment of Shadow doling out resources on her. Oh gosh, and now she had all this shame and guilt about how upset she got when she thought he was married. Ugh, what a mess. Marinate later! Think about something else! “And…what do they say?”

“Miss Rose, in general, I am happy to say that you are a perfectly healthy young woman.” Dr. Quack examined the printed results closely. “However,” He looked up and addressed her, “have you ever been diagnosed with acute amorsis?”

Amy frowned. “Isn’t that…” She wracked her brain. She’d heard the term before, probably in health class or written across a poster in a clinic somewhere, “Heat death?”

Dr. Quack grimaced and Dr. Ginger laughed. “The names people come up with, I swear!” She barked.

“Colloquially,” Dr. Quack explained, “the term heat death tends to refer to a condition called hyperestrus, wherein an Omega’s body enters into a degenerative cycle of increasingly frequent and increasingly potent heats. Amorsis is the Omega version of what is commonly known as mate sick. When an Unclaimed Omega is exposed to the pheromones produced by an Unbound Alpha for prolonged periods of time or in high concentrations, the Omega’s body develops a growing need for the enzyme an Alpha delivers in their saliva during a Claiming bite.”

Amy’s shoulders slumped. All this and she was getting the exact same advice. Get fucked. Get pregnant. Get Claimed. You’re too old.

“It’s a common malady developed by Unclaimed Omegas that live in urban areas.” It was Dr. Ginger’s turn to exposit. “Contact with Alpha pheromones becomes nearly impossible to avoid. In the past, some fools had attributed the increased occurrences of amorsis in cities to pollution or other nebulous toxins or corruption.” Dr. Ginger’s disgust was wholly unveiled. “Omega morphological understanding has progressed much in the past thirty years. At least as far as female Omegas are concerned. Male Omegas might have to wait another thirty years for any sort of relief from the superstitions and fatuous notions of the dark ages.”

“Male Omegas?” Truth be told, Amy didn’t spend too much time considering the plights of male Omegas. She knew they had both sets of sexual organs like female Alphas, but little else.

“Such as the idea that a female Alpha or a male Omega can reproduce through autogamy.” Dr. Quack said. “Though they can technically fertilize themselves, the zygote is never viable.”

“Actually, under the correct grave circumstances, they can.” Dr. Ginger corrected simply.

“Oh, be serious!” Dr. Quack huffed.

Dr. Ginger placed a hand on her hip. “Do you not read The Journal of Modern Biology?”

“I publish in Biology!” Dr. Quack took a step towards Dr. Ginger.

“Then you should be very aware of the latest archaeological physiology work by Dr. Dillon Pickle et al. During the near extinction event that led to the development of second-sexes, it was hermaphroditic mutations that allowed Mobians to reproduce via autogamy and survive. Male Alphas and female Omegas are actually a step back evolutionarily speaking.”

“That was thousands of years ago. That you would suggest a capability for autogamy, even under the proper circumstances, is ridiculous.”

“You only say that because there are no confirmed cases within modern society. If you had read the conclusion, you’d know that Dr. Pickle is assembling an expedition to explore legends of autogamy in the modern age amongst the uncontacted tribes in jungles of Soumerica.”

“That...sounds rather fascinating actually.” Dr. Quack grimaced, clearly not pleased with the admission. “I shall have to ask Dr. Pickle for a primer the next time I see him. Were you aware that he is an esteemed member of our Board of Directors?”

“Good. You tell him to fire his copy editor because the abstract on his latest paper was illegible. I’ve removed cysts with a better grasp of modern language.”

“Could we…” Amy asked in a small voice, “maybe get back to my results?” The heated doctors seemed to realize they had an audience and separated.

Dr. Quack cleared his throat. Dr. Ginger held out her hand and after a foul look, Dr. Quack handed her the shelf of paper. As she scanned the results, he explained his findings. “Your blood contains abnormally high levels of heat-linked hormones especially considering where you currently are in your cycle. However, what is more concerning is that no amount of artificial hormonal-suppressant indicators were found.”

Amy frowned. “I don’t understand. I take blockers every day.”

Dr. Quack nodded gravely. “Yes, but your body is reacting as if you have been taking inducers.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Oh god…” Amy wrapped her arms around herself. What? Did that mean…Bad batch. That day she met Shadow…she had taken a second dose try to avoid going into heat again.

Dr. Ginger straightened the papers. “Your results contain no elevated indicators for cancerous growths or other disorders that would initiate hyperestrus. I cannot fully eliminate the possibility, but the next step would be to do a full body MRI which is just fishing for evidence to support a theory rather than developing a theory based on evidence.” Dr. Ginger explained in a single breath. “It is my professional opinion that your symptoms of hyperestrus are consistent with those observed in other similar cases recently and therefore, I believe you are a participating member in the ongoing epidemic of off-cycle estrus events.”

Amy blinked, the information taking a moment to sink in. She hadn’t fully processed what had happened to her the previous night, but Dr. Ginger was right. Amy felt a little vindicated knowing she’d been on the right track when Dr. Chambers had dismissed her concerns. How much trouble could she have avoided if he had just trusted her?

“I concur with Dr. Ginger’s conclusion.” Dr. Quack nodded. “I have enough evidence that I can say with reasonable certainty that your condition is likely caused or at least aggravated by the Starline Pharmaceuticals hormonal ‘suppressants’ that you have been taking daily. I highly recommend that you cease taking that medication and consider a period where you do not take any hormonal medication at all. This would allow your body to stabilize.”

“N-none?” Amy had never not taken suppressants. From the day her second-sex expressed in her teens, she’d taken a daily dose. She didn’t even know how her body would respond. Or who she would be off them.

With a jolt, Amy realized she’d forgotten something incredibly important. “What about…afters?” Shit, would they even be effective this long after Shadow knotted her the night before?

“I understand the desire for last night’s events to not lead to lifelong consequences, so take what you need. But after this, it is my medical recommendation that you refrain from taking oral contraceptives for long enough for your normal cycle to reassert itself.”

“That being said, you are unlikely to have conceived.” Dr. Ginger broke in.

“What?” Dr. Quack grimaced. “She-“

“Her estrogen levels are too low.” Dr. Ginger shook the report at Dr. Quack. “Even taking the post ovulation dip into account, paired with her low progesterone levels, even if ovulation occurred, the uterine lining is unlikely to be thick enough to support the fertilized ovum.”

“I…can’t be pregnant?” Amy was relieved, but a part of her was extremely disappointed.

“Though it is not impossible, odds are that you are not. And this is another indicator of something amiss. A proper, healthy heat involves many parts of your body working in concert,” Dr. Ginger gestured like an orchestra conductor with the rolled-up report, “but only the parts involved in attracting a partner seem to be acting up.”

“So…” Amy tried to put the pieces together, “I’ll get better if I just stop taking those suppressants?” Please let it be that easy. Please, god, let it be that easy!

“I cannot say with complete certainty there will not be any long-term effects, but my professional opinion is that you will begin to see improvement quickly. Your regiment of daily doses has exposed you to much more than the average Omega.”

She’d suspected, but Amy still couldn’t quite believe it. “How is this allowed to happen? How can Starline just poison people?” That was illegal! It had to be illegal…right?

Dr. Quack frowned. “We don’t know.”

“But we intend to find out and roast whoever is responsible on a spit!” Dr. Ginger added, vehemently.

“Uh, yes, metaphorically, of course. Within the scope of the law.” Dr. Quack clarified hastily. “And I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, Miss Rose.”

Amy frowned. What did he mean by that? He was helping her. “What for?”

“Collecting data from other rut-riot cases has been extremely difficult. Taking blood samples is a very time sensitive process and oftentimes the Omegas at the center of the riots are in police custody during the critical window for collecting high quality samples. What data we have been able to collect is often long after the fact and inconclusive. Yours is the clearest we’ve been able to examine so quickly after the incident.”

Dr. Ginger frowned. “By the time data has been collected, most hormonal levels have returned to normal, and the Omega’s bloodwork just looks like they don’t have any suppressants in their system.”

“It looks like they were negligent!” Amy’s face grew heated. “Like it was their fault for forgetting their suppressants, but their suppressants weren’t suppressing anything!” Oh god, that was evil!

Both doctors nodded gravely. “Whoever is responsible for this,” Dr. Ginger bared her teeth, “is both a despicable monster and a genius. A very unfortunate combination.”

“That is not yet known.” Dr. Quack sighed. “But now you’ve provided us with hard evidence that corroborates Dr. Prower’s findings that Starline Pharma’s product is not efficacious in the slightest. Whether the lack of effect is intentional or not remains to be determined, but I don’t want to trouble you with issues like that.”

A number of thoughts flashed through her mind as Amy processed Dr. Quack’s words. All those pallets of medicine in Liam’s warehouse. All those strange heart attack deaths on the OO In Memoriam thread. All of Orion’s inexplicable knowledge. Was it all connected? She really needed to wade through all of Orion’s messages before she made any conclusions…

“Though it might not seem so from your perspective to be effectively kidnapped by a stranger,” huh? “but Shadow’s rescue of you from the midst of the rut-riot last night may prove to be the key to finding a cure for the current epidemic. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive his forwardness.”

Amy blushed. Oh no…Could Dr. Quack really think that-? Could he really not know that she and Shadow were-? Did Shadow really not tell-? Did Amy want them to know?

She was presented with a choice. Remain silent and allow the misconception to stand or correct the duck and inform on his boss’ private life. Her urge was to let the lie flourish in the sun, but that’s what she’d done with Sonic and look where that got her…No, Amy needed to cut it out with the lying.

“Shadow and I are seeing one another…romantically.” She confessed. “He was able to rescue me at the festival because he was there with me.”

The doctors were taken aback and shared a look.

“Well look at you.” Dr. Ginger grinned.

“I see.” Dr. Quack cleared his throat again. “That is…none of our concern really. And…Ah, yes, well. Perhaps I should make a confession myself. Last night I saw you as Shadow brought you into the office. You were very…indisposed.”

Amy blushed and looked away. “I…don’t really remember any of that.” Given what she did remember, she must have looked like a horny lunatic to unsuspecting Betas.

“I had drawn the conclusion that there had been some medical emergency.” He laughed lightly. “Imagine my surprise when I learned of the rut-riot at the festival. Shadow has been a chronic bachelor since I have met him. And…” Dr. Quack glanced at her neck, “you are Unclaimed.”

“We’re taking it slowly.” Amy felt compelled to explain herself. Pulling at the shoulder of her hoodie.

“You do things at your pace, dear. Hyperestrus aside, though, you are developing amorsis.” Dr. Ginger gestured with Amy’s results.

Right. Do things at your own pace, but also you’re making yourself sick…

“But,” Dr. Ginger continued, “there are many ways to treat such a burgeoning case that you really needn’t worry or feel rushed.” She turned to Dr. Quack. “You should talk to your boss. If Miss Rose has amorsis, he’s likely developing amoritis.”

Dr. Quack’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t say I’m thrilled to have the conversation, but you are correct.”

“I often am.”

Dr. Quack ignored the prideful quip. “This explains a lot of his recent behavioral outbursts.”

Amy’s ears perked. “Excuse me. What’s wrong with Shadow?” Amy asked.

“Amoritis is the Alpha expression of ‘mate sickness’.” Dr. Ginger bracketed the term with air quotes. “Where Omegas have a dearth of claiming hormones, Unbonded Alphas experience a buildup of unreleased enzymes which can become toxic over time.”

Amy recoiled in horror, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth. Shadow was becoming sick because of her? Her chest clenched painfully and her eyes filled with tears.

“Again, it is a highly treatable malady, dear.” Dr. Ginger reiterated. “A hundred years ago, perhaps there would be some difficulty, but the benefit of modern medical science is that we’ve wrested more control from our bodies.”

“I-I had no idea.” Was Amy’s reticence making Shadow sick? What kind of messed up catch-22 was that?! Typical, she thought ruefully. It was just her usual terrible luck. The universe just couldn’t stop laughing at her.

“I’m sorry to change the subject, but I need to officially ask for your consent, Miss Rose.” Dr. Quack lifted a clipboard from the counter and offered it to her. Amy took it and found a legal-looking form attached with two carbon copies, one pink and one yellow. “There are two questions. May I please have your permission to use the samples we have collected from you today in order to study the Hyperestrus Epidemic? And would you be willing to undergo additional testing and observations in support of further study?”

“Yes.” Amy answered, taking a pen from Dr. Quack. “Of course.” She signed the release. How could she answer any other way? Her fears aside, if she could help others, she had to. Rouge could tear her apart for her naiveté or whatever, but this time Amy was going to do the right thing…no matter the consequences.

The duck sighed heavily and his eyes glistened. “Thank you. Thank you so very much! I have been beside myself with worry about all the pain and suffering the epidemic has caused and to finally have proof of a cause?! I can’t describe my joy! Thank you, Miss Rose! With your assistance, we can help so many people.”

“We’re going to make those bastards pay or I’ll eat my tail.” Dr. Ginger gave Amy a toothy smile.

Amy swallowed. She knew she should feel proud that her pain and suffering might could save others from similar fate, but instead she felt a sucking draw, as if the ground beneath her feet was shifting, slowly pulling her under.

She wished Shadow was with her.