Chapter Text
In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. He subscribed to dozens of newspapers, after all, and the news was always playing in the bullpen. So what if he usually took out all the science and crime sections and discarded the rest? He should have remembered some headlines.
But he didn’t. He was never interested in politics, and he had been allowing himself to indulge in Russian literature lately when he typically would be reading journals. So there he was, frozen at the moment someone mentioned the new law that was passed that morning, effective immediately.
The motion had passed quickly, no doubt hurried along by some high-up Alphas, and it was passed with a majority vote.
With a government composed of mainly Alphas, a few Betas, and no Omegas, it wasn't difficult.
He was at his desk in the bullpen only half-listening when he heard it; Morgan had his cell phone out with the volume on full blast and the team gathered around him.
—–Requiring Omegas to file ownership paperwork. Claimed Omegas will automatically fall under their Alpha’s ownership while Unclaimed Omegas will be required to seek Ownership from an Alpha. Failure to do so will result in the Unowned Omega being detained and listed under the ownership of the US government. Appropriate paperwork can be found at your local—–
Morgan whistled, bringing him back to the moment. “Wow, I’d hate to be an Omega right now,” he said. “Can you believe this?”
JJ shook her head in disbelief. “Good thing we don’t have any on the team.”
“Yeah, but all of us know one,” Emily said. “They’re people just like us. This is so backward.”
“Yeah, I guess… What’s wrong, Spence?” JJ asked, suddenly drawing attention to him. Several pairs of profiler eyes immediately shifted over, and he struggled to conceal his rapidly rising panic.
“Oh, um,” he stuttered. “It’s- It’s just unfortunate. I, well, I think Omegas should be allowed to be independent, you know, if they want. And have jobs… and… stuff?” He trailed off, nervously surveying the reaction to his declaration.
“I don’t know about that,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head. “Call me old-fashioned, but I think this is a good thing. Omegas will be at home where they belong. It’ll be so much easier to work without their… distraction.”
In the commotion of the argument between Emily and Rossi, Spencer was able to slip away into the bathroom. He gripped the sink, staring at himself hard in the mirror. His face showed poorly concealed terror and he probably smelled like fear. He reached for a towel to blot his face, but thinking better of it, ran into a stall and locked the door. Pushing his back up against the door, he panted hard, and not from exertion.
Not like his weight against the door or the flimsy lock would ever protect him from even the weakest Alpha, though.
Spencer willed himself to calm down before someone noticed he was gone or worse, came looking for him.
He was a Beta. He was fine. Everything was fine. Well, it wasn’t fine, it was bad for unclaimed Omegas that didn’t want to be claimed, but it was fine for him. He was going to be fine. Nothing would happen. The unclaimed Omegas he knew, well, something would happen to them and he didn’t want to know what that was, but it didn’t matter right now. Because he was fine.
Except he wasn’t fine. He was decidedly not fine. He was the furthest thing from fine he could possibly be. Horrible. Bad. Terrible, awful. What was he going to do?
What would any Omega do when they were faced with certain capture?
Run.
So he took a deep breath and held it; this was not the time to be falling apart. He needed to get it together and fast. Soon the government officials would be beating down his door, ready to haul him away to the nearest detention facility. He could hide his status from the FBI, some fake documents were nothing special, but the US government had his original birth certificate. They had all his records. They were coming for him.
He let out his breath and got up, schooled his terrified expression, and walked calmly down to the bullpen for his messenger and go bags. He had all the essentials. There was no use stopping at home. The televisions blaring all throughout the bureau attested to that. There were squads of officers knocking on the doors of every known Omega at that very moment. He slung his messenger bag over his head and headed for the elevator.
—–Under the new Law, Alphas are required keep their Omegas at their private residence unless there is a work permit in place. Omegas should be kept out of public spaces. If you are an Omega that has not yet turned yourself in to your Alpha or local custody office, you may face serious harm, as the ability for Omegas to consent has been revoked under article five, paragraph—–
“Hey, Pretty Boy, where are you off to? We have a case?”
Spencer spun on his heel and looked at Morgan for the last time. He was going to miss him. There weren’t many Alphas that he could tolerate, but Morgan was one of the best he’d ever met.
“No, I, uh. I’m just leaving early. I can feel a migraine coming on from all the commotion.”
Morgan nodded with understanding, and Spencer was glad he never questioned him. But that’s what you gain from implicit trust: the power to exploit it as well.
“Tell the team goodbye for me,” he said, and walked to the elevator. He saw the doors close on his entire life, unknowing if he would ever see it again.
The elevator doors opened downstairs and Reid saw a large government van parking right in front of the building. He hurried towards a side door, trying to move quickly while also appearing unsuspicious. Four government agents exited the van and charged towards the building, one of them shouting orders. Spencer was out the door with a soft click just as the officers burst in.
There was only one name on the list the officers held: Spencer Reid. That there was even one name at all was shocking; there were no Omegas allowed in the FBI so this one was definitely a fraudulent Beta. That would carry an extra penalty.
“Spencer Reid!” The commander shouted, pushing through the glass doors to the BAU. “Give yourself up!”
Every head in the bullpen whipped around. The commander scanned each surprised face while his subordinates rushed to check in bathrooms, offices, and storage closets. Spencer was long gone.
“What are you talking about?” Morgan exclaimed.
“Surrender the Omega. It’ll be better for everyone if it comes peacefully.”
Morgan shook his head. “You guys have this messed up. Reid’s a Beta.”
The commander narrowed his eyes. “We have records indicating that Spencer Reid is an unclaimed Omega.”
Hotch stepped forward. “Officer, this is most likey just a minor mistake. We understand you’re just trying to do your job. But there are no Omegas here.”
“You can search the place,” JJ offered diplomatically. “But everyone here has been through a thorough background check. We would know.”
The commander didn’t relent. “Are you aware that harboring an unclaimed Omega is now a federal crime?”
“He’s not here!” Morgan said. “And he’s not an Omega!”
“And are you aware that lying about an Omega’s whereabouts can be prosecuted in a court of law?”
“You!” The commander pointed at Rossi, who just walked in. “Where is it?”
“I really don’t know, and I thought Reid was a Beta, too, until you all burst in,” Rossi said, sounding baffled.
Emily turned. “Rossi, don’t make it worse. He is a Beta.”
Rossi shook his head. “You’ve seen that kid. It’s not much of a stretch when you think about it.”
She crossed her arms. “He’s not an Omega and you couldn’t take him even if he was!”
“Ma’am, we have proof,” the commander said stoically.
“You can take your proof and go to hell,” Emily spat.
“Sir, do we arrest her too?” one of the officers asked his commander.
“No time. The Omega is getting away,” the commander responded, and the officers were gone as quickly as they came, leaving devastation in their wake.
Spencer had practically jogged to the train station while carrying his satchel and bag, which he was so grateful to have been able to grab before he fled. He kept his head down and avoided even accidental eye contact with any Alpha officers. He didn’t know where they had all suddenly come from, but they seemed to be swarming transportation hubs.
Inside his go bag, he kept an emergency stash: money, documents, suppressants. He boarded a train without a destination and had the conductor write him a ticket on board so there would be no record of his travel.
He desperately tried to lay low. The stench of Alpha was all around him. He watched as the streets rolled by, each revealing a new horrific scene. Omegas screaming in handcuffs, being dragged away by Alphas in uniform, Omegas in leashes being tugged around like possessions.
Just yesterday, he would have regarded these Alphas as his equals. He certainly felt just as capable and intelligent as anyone else. But seeing the way that his gender was being treated, with little respect, even downright callousness, he could see it as plain as day: the Alphas did not regard him as their equal. They wanted him as an accessory, an object, something to control. And perhaps it was always that way to an extent, made clear only by the new law.
The life of an Omega never appealed to him, not the wild heats, or loss of control, and definitely not the life of homemaking. Hence why being a Beta was so fulfilling: the monotony, the quiet life of academics. He could go on forever like that, with suppressants.
He could’ve, anyway.
After a few hours, his cell was ringing incessantly in his pocket with unknown numbers, some leaving ominous voicemails demanding he turn himself in. He removed his sim card and chucked it all out the window.