"Good." Reid's hand tightened on my shoulder, his voice rough with relief.
"There's one more thing." Nolan's expression shifted, became more thoughtful, his scent taking on notes of curiosity. "Aster, your body responded to the rut. Not a full heat — your system is still recovering from the suppressants — but there were hormonal changes. Your scent shifted. Your body prepared."
I felt Reid go still behind me, his hand frozen on my shoulder.
"What does that mean?" My voice came out smaller than I intended, uncertainty creeping in.
"It means your body is healing." Nolan's voice was gentle, reassuring, his eyes warm. "The suppressants did damage, but you're recovering. Eventually, your heats will return. But it'll take time. Months, probably. Your body needs to remember how to do this on its own."
I nodded, processing. Part of me was relieved — no heat to deal with on top of everything else. But another part felt a strange loss, like my body had reached for something and come up empty.
"We'll monitor it." Nolan continued, packing his medical bag, his movements calm and efficient. "No rush. Your body will tell us when it's ready."
He paused at the door, looking back at us with an expression that was no longer clinical. Warmer. More personal.
"You did well." His voice was soft, his eyes moving between us with something like pride. "Both of you. The rut was intense, and you handled it. Together. That's... that's not nothing."
Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving us alone in the sudden silence. I felt strange. Restless. The bath had helped, Nolan's examination had reassured, but something was building under my skin. Something I couldn't name but couldn't ignore.
I stood abruptly, the movement surprising both of us, and started pacing. My hands wouldn't stay still — pulling at the hem of Reid's shirt, running through my hair, reaching for things on the nightstand and putting them down again.
"Aster?" Reid's voice was concerned, his brow furrowing as he watched me pace, his body still on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know." The words came out frustrated, my voice tight with something I couldn't identify. "I feel... I need... I don't know what I need. Something's wrong. Something's missing."
I grabbed a pillow from the bed, clutched it to my chest, then dropped it and grabbed another. Wrong. They were all wrong. They didn't smell right, didn't feel right, didn't?—
"Oh." Reid's voice was soft with sudden understanding, his body relaxing even as his eyes went bright with something that looked like wonder. "You need to nest."
I stopped pacing, the word hitting me like a physical blow. Nest. Yes. That was it. That was exactly it.
"I need—" I looked around the room wildly, my heart racing, my instincts screaming at me to build, to arrange, to create something safe and warm and mine. "I need blankets. And pillows. And — and your shirt. The one you wore yesterday. I need?—"
"Okay." Reid was on his feet, his hands on my shoulders, his voice calm and steady, grounding me. "Okay. I'll get whatever you need. Tell me what to do."
"I don't know." The admission came out helpless, tears suddenly pricking at my eyes, frustration and confusion swirling in my chest. "I don't know how to do this. I've never — the suppressants always stopped it. I've never actually?—"
"It's okay." He pulled me into his arms, his purr rumbling to life, the sound soothing something jagged inside me. "It's instinct. It'll come. Just... start with what feels right. I'll help."
I pulled back, my eyes scanning the room again, and this time the chaos in my head started to organize itself. The bed. That was where I needed to start. But it was wrong — the sheets smelled like laundry detergent, not pack. Not home.
I ripped the sheets off. Reid watched without comment as I tore the bed apart, pulling off blankets and pillows and tossing them aside. Not right. None of it was right.
"I need—" I turned to him, my voice urgent. "I need things that smell like pack. Like all of you. Clothes you've worn, blankets you've slept with, anything that has your scents on it."
Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by something soft and warm.
"I'll get Kol and the others." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, his voice gentle. "They'll want to help. They'll want to be part of this."
He disappeared through the door, and I heard him calling for the others, his voice carrying down the hall. I turned back to the destroyed bed, my hands shaking, my instincts screaming at me to fix it, to build, to create something that would keep my pack safe and warm and together.
Kol arrived first, his arms full of blankets, his scent bright with sunshine and excitement.
"Nesting!" His voice was warm, delighted, his eyes sparkling as he took in the chaos of the room. "I've always wanted to see someone nest. What can I do? How can I help?"
He held out a pillow — his pillow, I could tell from the scent — and I reached for it instinctively.
Then stopped.
