Victor was shivering when he woke up. He recited his numbers. [figure out the fucking numbers you bitch.] Right on time. Fuck. He rubbed his hands over his face and headed to the sink in the back. It was the sweat clinging to his skin that was making him feel cold. Soon enough, the salt would make him feel sticky. He rinsed it off as best he could, knowing he was just delaying the inevitable. 

"Anything I can do to help?" Will asked, awake uncharacteristically early. Unless Victor had slept in, which was possible. Heat messed with his ability to keep things straight. It wasn't too bad now, but it would slowly ramp up. In a few hours, he be a mewling mess on the floor. Human women didn't know how easy they had it. Sure, their cycles were once a month, but they were nothing compared to the torture of heat. And this time, Victor wouldn't be curled up in his own bed at home, with all the modern amenities and omega could want. This heat, he'd be strapped down, IV'd up, and monitored as closely as a giraffe giving birth.

It didn't help that the scent of his alpha lingered in his nose, [name the scent] making him feel needier than usual this early. He threw himself down on the floor, hoping to work out his desire in exercise, but with each push up, he imagined driving himself backward onto his alpha's cock, his alpha caressing his back, whispering sweet nothings to him. In the end, all the exercise accomplished was to make him more hot and bothered than before.

He collapsed to the floor in frustration. At least the tile was cool. But not comforting. The hormones were twisting his brain, making him so horny all he could think about was the man who was his alpha, whose name he did not know. Who had promised he was here to help. As his need grew, he thought about throwing himself against the bars and yelling for his alpha. A thread of reality stopped him. If he did that, he'd endanger his alpha. But he was rapidly loosing his ability to care.

"Will." He turned to his cellmate frantically. "You've gotta knock me out."

Will plucked at his lips, searching for the cigarette that was never there. "Man, you know that won't help."

It wouldn't make his heat any better or more bearable, but it might keep him from revealing his alpha's secret. But he couldn't say those words aloud. Saying anything, explaining anything to Will might also tip the Letters off, and that was exactly what Victor was trying to avoid. 

"Just one good shot," Victor said, miming a punch to his forehead. "That's all I need."

"Vic, I'm not trying to knock you out. Even if I threw a punch at you, you've got a hard head. I'm not chancing hitting you hard enough or often enough to make you go down when it's not going to do you a lick of good."

Frustrated, Victor leaned down to look at Bob. "Come on, Bob. We're buddies. One headbutt? Please, I need your help. Just do this one thing for me."

Bob withdrew deeper beneath the bed. 

"What's up with Victor?" someone called from another cell.

"It's the fever," Will called back, their code for heat. 

Victor knew he was running out of time. If his "friends" wouldn't help him, he'd have to help himself. He took a running leap at the bars, head first. As expected it knocked him on his ass. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Will shouted, finally crawling his ass out of his bunk. "Chill out, Vic! You're going to hurt yourself."

Victor jerked out of Will's arms and threw himself at the bars again. "That's kind of the... ugh... point."

Will wrapped his arms around Victor and yanked him away from the door. "Shh, it's all right. You'll get through this. Everyone does."

"It's not... heat... I'm worried... about," Victor growled out as he struggled against Will's hold, but the hormones were distracting him with how good it felt to have someone's arms around him, skin touching his. Not... my... alpha... Vic reminded himself, though he knew he was fighting a loosing battle. "Please... Will... help me..." Victor wasn't exactly sure what he was asking Will anymore, but the beta murmured comfortingly in his ear.

"Shh... help is coming... help is coming."

I'm here to help.

"Help... me..."

"Yeah, buddy. I'm always here to help me." 

Victor found his mind drifting, and he realized vaguely in the back of his head that this was a bad sign. This was the stage before everything amped up and he completely lost it. He had only a little window to make Will understand him... and then that window was gone.

Two burly Blockheads barged into the room, wrenching Victor from Will's arms and dragging him out to the waiting rolling hospital bed. Victor tried to struggle, but his limbs were limp. The cell door clanged shut behind him and he just barely heard Will call out, "Don't worry, buddy! It'll all be over soon!"