It’s been two agonizing weeks of searching for ollie, and they’ve gotten nowhere. Until one of their allies sent over a file, the camera was distorted and shaky, but facial recognition software identified Ollie.John wasted no time suiting up and taking his men with him, leaving within the hour.

Ollie was unconscious by the time John and the rest of the task force found them. He refused to leave their side as everyone made their way back to base, of course giving the medical team access to do their jobs to make sure they were stable.

He watched them sleep, the soft machines beeping slowly around the white, sterile room. John hasn’t moved from their side, his hand in theirs as his thumb brushes the back of their hand affectionately. He only sits up when the doctor comes in, giving him a status report of the testing they’ve conducted, and his heart aches uncontrollably at the results.

It wouldn’t be known for sure until they woke up, but there were no scent blockers in their system, meaning their usual sweet omega scent was nonexistent. He noticed some damage that was done to their scent glands but has no idea just how bad it’s affected them.

It’s been a few weeks since they’ve woken up, and their scent hasn’t changed much, if at all, and he was trying his hardest not to let his nerves show. They were curled up together in the nest, bodies pressed together intimately under one of the blankets. All he felt like he could do was hold them and surround them with comforting pheromones, but it was like they weren’t picking up on his own scent. Even now, as he was purposely filling their shared barracks with his pheromones, he could see there wasn’t a response.

It made him pause for a moment, his grip slipping on them softly as he glanced down at them, still holding the soft, adoring gaze that he always has when he looks at them. “How are you feeling, love?” He hums quietly, unable to hide the concern in his voice as his fingertips brush their scarred scent glands, trying to scent them more deliberately.