Disclaimer: I don't own Jurassic Park or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Set in an AU version of Jurassic Park III where the plane crashes and Alan and Billy are the only survivors.

Warnings: alpha, beta, omega dynamics, alternative universe: alpha/omega, angst, drama, post and present survivors guilt, sexual content, anal sex, masturbation, oral sex, very light dub-con due to questionable consent issues that generally surround this trope.

Meraki

Chapter One

The irony was, they crashed on Isla Sorna long before the Kirbys had a chance to land. Just as he was beginning to get the sense that something wasn't right, everything went straight to hell. The sudden sound of metal against metal had him looking away from Mr. Kirby and towards the cockpit as smoke started issuing from the right turbine. After that the panic ricocheted. Building in pitch and intensity until Billy was pulling at him. Yanking him down into the seat beside him and strapping him in as the plane banked low and Cooper toppled down the center aisle, slamming into the rear of the plane with a brutal snap. He had the presence of mind to brace up against the window. Watching with too-wide eyes as the jungle flashed by. Moving faster and faster until everything melded together in a dizzying rush. Still, he couldn't look away. Not even when the crush of Billy's hand firmed around his like a last stand.

They were going to land.

Land on the island.

Crash on the-

Massive engine failure was the official cause, according to the news reports he read later. When it was all over and InGen was doing it's best to bury the story and repaint it as a tragic accident. Not the botched rescue mission that'd only taken place because no one had bothered to listen to two grieving parents and all the reasons why their resourceful son might still be alive.

He was no expert, but considering the condition of the plane and its advanced age, it was no wonder it crashed. It was only afterwards, when they'd sorted through what was left in the debris trail, that they figured out why. The Kirbys weren't who they said they were. They weren't adventure tourists, thrill-seekers or wealthy socialites. They didn't have special permission to be anywhere near the island or - apparently - the money to rent a decent plane either. They were blue collar, middle class - just like them. And if they were anything other than liars, they were just worried parents trying to find their son.

In the end, he supposed that was reason enough for the false pretenses.

But if there'd been any other motivation for getting him here, it'd died with them.

All of them.

He and Billy were the only survivors.

He didn't remember the impact. Only the muscles and bones that'd ached - blossoming with dark bruises - after they'd picked each other out of the rubble with grim expressions and hunted eyes. Grateful to be alive, but each with the knowledge that they were in a world of trouble. Something that was only made worse when they discovered the broken radio and drained satellite phone.

The debate about what to do next had been brief, but heated, as Billy cursed and kicked at the broken radio. Carefully securing the satellite phone in his pack as they settled on trying to make their way towards the center of the island at first light. Knowing their only chance was if they could find a way to charge it somehow. After that it was a matter of finding a boat that could get them to the coast. Bypassing as much of the mainland as possible in an effort to avoid the largest predators. At least in theory.

There was no debate about who to call.

Ellie.

He didn't even have to think about it.

He might not have been good about asking for help, but he always knew who to call.

They spent the first night sleepless in the trees as dusk fell and a pack of Compsognathus picked the bodies they hadn't been able to bury down to the gleam of bare bones and tattered clothing. Staying quiet as they balanced side by side in the branches for warmth. Listening to the patter of rain beading off the brim of his hat as Billy's curls plastered themselves thick across his scalp head. Huddling miserably against the trunk as lightening flashed soundlessly in the distance.

It wasn't the best of circumstances, but at least they were together.

He supposed there was something to be said for small mercies.

"Alan?"

They'd been on the island for almost a week before he was forced to admit they had another serious problem. He'd only brought a standard blister-pack of rut suppressants with him. In a few days he'd be out, and biology would do what it generally does best after it's been suppressed to high heaven. Make up for lost time.

They'd only been supposed to be gone for the weekend.

Taking an entire pack in his rutsack had been him being overly cautious.

It should have been enough.

'Should' being the operative word.

He shuddered reflexively. The action visible and ultimately costly considering he already had Billy's attention. Doing his best to ignore it as his gaze ranged from the empty sag of his pack to the thick jungle around the overgrown compound. Keeping him on edge and moody as he crushed the blister pack in the fat of his fist. He hadn't had a rut in over twenty years and he wasn't afraid to say he wasn't happy about having one now – especially here. Like most Alphas, he'd been on suppressants since he'd presented.

"Alan? You alright?"

He forced a smile he knew Billy wouldn't entirely believe. He was going to have to tell him eventually. Just not now. He'd never been very good with words. Worse with finding the right ones. The ones Billy deserved. The ones he needed to get out if he was going to save them both. There was something about the transfer from paper to mouth that tripped him up every time. Or at least that was what he told himself. Ellie had certainly thought something different when she'd finally left him. And maybe she was right, maybe it wasn't about the words so much as it was how he said them – or how he hadn't. How emotions and sharing them had always been complicated for him in a way they'd never been for her. Or-

"I'm fine," he assured, clearing his throat as he combed back his hair with his fingers and adjusted his hat. Letting the brim shadow the lower half of his face as Billy looked up from the innards of a one of the cars InGen had left to rust. Trying to find a half-decent wire to finish their cobbled-up attempt to charge the satellite phone. "Just tired is all."

It wasn't entirely a lie either.

"I'll take first watch tonight," Billy offered, still watching him closely. Suddenly making him wonder if he was in the same predicament but was too shy to say anything.

He paused in the act of a careful stretch. Trying to remember if Billy had ever given any indication one way or another as the sound of a screwdriver grating across dying metal made the low-grade headache he'd been nursing since the crash ratchet up another notch. Thinking back to all the paperwork he'd signed once, jesus- years ago, that'd approved the kid for fieldwork.

He'd never asked Billy where he fell on the spectrum. These days it was practically a non-issue - not to mention professional suicide. With suppressants you wouldn't know an Alpha or an Omega from a Beta. Not that it mattered to him, mind you. He had no interest in gender politics. Especially concerning uppity Alphas, outdated dominance hierarchies and their so called 'right' to heat-stricken Omegas. It didn't happen often, but it happened enough to make rut suppressants widespread almost everywhere.

His lip threatened to curl as the thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

Those were the type of Alphas that gave the entire group a bad name.

While you couldn't change your nature, but you could always rise above it. As long as you respected it - understood it - then you had the tools to ensure your biology worked with you. Not against you. As long as you didn't get too cocky. Of course, some would argue you couldn't truly understand yourself or others regardless - not with the widespread use of suppressants. But he supposed that was a philosophical debate for another time.

"I was able to collect enough rain last night for one of us to have a shower. The solar bag is probably about as warm as it's going to get," Billy piped up, extricating him from his thoughts like he could tell he needed the mercy. "Why don't you use it? Looks like you need it anyway."

"I'm not the only one," he muttered, pretending not to see the man's amused grin as he looked down at himself. Forced to admit he did smell rather ripe. The sun wasn't even at it's peak and he was already soaked with sweat. He waved his hat in front of his face as the humidity slathered itself thick around him. Suffocating and wet in a way the dry summers at the dig site never were. Feeling the heat radiating off the mess of abandoned vehicles as Billy let go of a triumphant sound behind him. Waving the wire in the air with blinding smile.

Now they were getting somewhere.

He bowed his head, tilting into the spray as the weak trickle changed direction every so often. Considering the problem at hand as he tucked his chin into his chest and let his thoughts run rampant. Ignoring the chittering drifting down from the trees and the vague sounds of Billy moving around nearby as the world and everything in it narrowed down to one very unavoidable problem.

His rut was going to slow their progress at the very least. Even if he found a room in the ruined command center that could contain him for the duration, it would be days before he was well enough to travel. And that was if he made it through his rut at all.

Ruts had been suppressed a long time ago and for good reason. Like Omegan heats, rut put an enormous strain on the body. And when you were without a partner, well, the negative effects were immense. He'd barely made it through his first rut and he'd been in his early twenties. He hadn't known what was happening to him when he'd abruptly presented halfway through his freshmen year at University. He'd gone to class on autopilot. Feeling like he was shaking apart as the world devolved into need and want and a thousand shades of confusing heat as the lecture hall around him gradually drained of people and two sweet smelling women with intimidating I.D badges and comforting smiles managed to get close enough to stick him with a very large needle.

Nowadays he wasn't exactly young anymore. And coupled together with having suppressed his rut for decades, the results were more than grim. An Alpha in their prime, under far better conditions, still prepared for their rut for nearly a week in advance. Food intake was increased to ensure there was adequate energy to expend. And generally sleep was nearly tripled leading up to the first day. He didn't have the opportunity for either. Neither of them had slept more than three or four hours a night since they'd crashed and while there was a decent amount of food scattered around the compound, it wasn't limitless and certainly not in the quantity he needed. Especially if they were going to have enough to make it to the coast.

He sighed as the luke-warm water trickled fitfully from the cheap plastic hose. Scrubbing at the muck still caked across his arms and lower legs with the blunt of his fingernails. Raking angry red furrows across his skin like retaliation. Knowing there was no one to blame but himself as he did it again. His childish attempt at a temper tantrum, he supposed. Self-harming and ultimately useless.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as Billy's shadow loomed from the other side of the frosted glass. There were biologists that believed suppressants were inherently harmful to the body. Many with an impressive amount of evidence to back them up. But so far, no one was particularly open to the alternative. To disrupting their lives and be ruled by an almost constant flux of hormones and pheromones. It wasn't civilized. In fact, it felt like a step back into the dark ages. Before the marches for Omegan rights and the gradual dismantling of Alpha rule. Not only that, but they were dangerous on top of it. While Alpha ruts could often be completed without a partner, Omegan heats were actually lethal without an Alpha. That right there was as good of an argument for suppressants than anything – at least in his opinion.

His lip quirked. Temporarily distracted by humanities shortcomings as the last of the water trickled down the curve of his shoulder and made tracks towards the soft flat of his belly. Malcolm had been right of course. You couldn't contain the natural world anymore than you could permanently muzzle biology. Suppressants were a band-aid. Not a cure. And they were as fallible as both the people that created them and the people that used them.

Because that was the problem, wasn't it?

At the end of the day they were all a little like John Hammond.

Full of well meant hubris.

Each of them hopeful that at the end of the day, they were the ones who had control.

He closed his eyes into the fabric as he grabbed the stale smelling towel they'd been sharing and rubbed it briskly through his hair. Knowing as long as Billy was here he'd never get out of this with his dignity intact. He wanted him too much. He had for a long time. It'd been a surprise to him when he'd finally realized it. Especially after Ellie and the more or less steady stream of girlfriends he'd been with over the years. But something about Billy had clicked for him in exactly the same way. Making him question aspects of himself he'd never thought twice about before.

He'd never acted on his feelings, and quite honestly likely never would. He respected Billy and valued their friendship too much to take that kind of a risk. But sometimes - like that moment on the plane, watching his eyes light up as he saw the herds for the first time - he would look at him and wonder.

Billy had grown on him. He could admit that now, even when there was still everything to lose. From the day he'd been more or less forced into hiring a teaching assistant to the moment he realized he'd just assumed Billy would be coming with him to his first dig of the season. Billy hadn't just made himself indispensable, he'd made himself part of his entire god damned life without him even being aware of it. By then it was too late to back out of it or throw up some distance. Because he was already waking up in the middle of the night to phantom fingers wrapped around his prick. Started himself awake just in time to make a mess of his sheets. Hard and aching-slick as the flash of Billy's face pulling tight with pleasure was enough to send him spiraling.

He pulled on his filthy jeans with a grimace. Nose twitching at the scent of chemical moth-balls as the black shirt he'd found hanging in a maintenance closet clung tight in more than a few places. Reminding him of the way Billy had stripped down to the thin green wife beater and jeans they'd salvaged from Cooper's duffle bag on the forth day. Highlighting muscles and clean lines feathered with fine downy hair that threatened to make his mouth go dry. Leaving him to wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him or if his last few pills hadn't been doing their job after all. He had a feeling he knew the answer and honestly- it was a far more damning than the alternative. He'd always been a bit too eager when it came to Billy and he knew it.

His cock twitched against his thigh like it could sense the nature of his thoughts as he did up his belt and made to leave the room. Shaking his head as the sound of Billy struggling with one of the car batteries carried down the drafty hall.

The thought wasn't exactly comforting.

Exhaustion was a real, visceral thing that night when he settled into the thin sleeping bag and tangle of blankets they'd managed to salvage from what InGen had left behind. Almost used to the constant stream of jungle noise as a small group of juvenile Euoplocephalus picked at the foliage at the very edge of the compound fence. Squabbling over the best tufts of long leafy ferns with low moans that made him smile small into the curl of the sleeping bag.

He yawned. Watching Billy tinker with the group of car batteries that were slowly charging the satellite phone until his lids eased closed. Keeping his eyes on him until sleep rolled in and he had the vague feeling that their roles had switched. Feeling the weight of Billy's eyes on him as his muscles slowly relaxed. Sinking down in inches across the uneven concrete as the brim of his hat skewed slowly to the right, soaking in the warmth from the fire as the damp wood smoked and spat.

It seemed like he was always tired these days, but never of Billy.

He figured that meant something.

Something he didn't know what to do with.

Something he wasn't sure if he should do anything with.

But the point was, it was something.

A/N: There will be two more chapters. Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.

Reference:

* Meraki: to do something with love or soul.