Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

Jackson figures out what's going on with Michelle and attempts to Not spill the beans.

A/N: Since I know a lot of people are avoiding sick-fics right now due to Covid, I will warn you now this chapter discusses a serious illness. It's not covid-related at all, but ye be warned.

Also, angst, which I'm aware is not standard fare for this fic, so let me know what you think.

Avoidance is an Alpha's Worst Friend

"What's up, J-Money?" Michelle called out from her spot in the backyard. Jackson cringed and walked out from the side of the house where he'd been attempting to surreptitiously parse Michelle's scent.

"Guess I can't hide from another alpha?" Jackson chuckled nervously as he walked over.

Michelle was sitting against the back wall, back against the wood, butt in the grass. Between her fingers was a cigarette he was fairly positive contained something stronger than nicotine too. His mother would be appalled by the entire situation.

Michelle shrugged, lips quirking up,"I was the youngest and the only non-beta, Jackson, no one did as much eavesdropping as me." She gestured with her cigarette before returning it to her lips, "I still had Joey in the house to help me figure shit out at least. How've you been coping?"

"Joey wasn't particularly informative," Jackson drawled. Michelle chuckled as Jackson plopped down into the grass beside her. "And according to the doc, I'm a unique case with 'interesting' blood chemistry."

Jackson felt no remorse about the finger quotes. Dr. Ngo had used that word at least a dozen times while reading his blood test results. Jackson still had no idea what they'd said, but his pheromone levels still hadn't level out.

"He thinks I still have a few months before all my alpha characteristics make themselves known." Jackson rolled his shoulders back.

The prospect of further impulses and weird sensory shit was not something Jackson had put on his Christmas list.

Michelle snorted, "If it makes you feel better, female alphas can present with new characteristics pretty much forever."

"Nope," Jackson wrinkled his nose and shook his head, "I already knew it sucked to be a girl, but just…no."

"It's a hormone thing," Michelle knocked her shoulder with him and took another drag on her cigarette. "Any change in them can trigger a change in pheromones too."

Jackson squinted at her, "I thought pheromones were a hormone?" He shook his head, groaned, "I really gotta start paying more attention in biology."

When Michelle laughed her entire body lurched forward. That's when he caught the scent of salt again. It was hazy, and mild. So was…everything, actually.

"Wait…" Jackson blinked and sniffed the air. Michelle chuckled again. She blew out a puff of smoke and the salty smell was completely masked. "What is that?"

"This is a trick some alphas I met in college showed me,"

Michelle held the cigarette out for Jackson to smell. He didn't get anything from it, just a smokey ash scent. No nicotine, no marijuana.

"You smoke it long enough, you can almost pass for a beta," Michelle winked and smiled, "With betas anyway."

"What's the salty smell?" Jackson asked. Michelle's smile dropped. "You and my mom smell enough alike that I can figure out everything else, but-"

"Don't parse my scent."

Michelle's tone was flat and her words sharp. Jackson flinched at the sound of them. His mouth clamped shut.

With a shake of her head, Michelle blew out a breath, "It's not important. I just want to spend Christmas with the family, all the laughs and smiles, okay?"

Jackson bit his tongue to stop from asking another question. Michelle's eyes turned to focus on him. There was a haze over the blue irises, an almost milky overlay that made them look unnaturally grey.

"I mean it, Jackson," Michelle's intonation told him more than the bells in his head that she was trying to command him. She forced her brows lower and her words firmer, "No questions, Jackson. No parsing my scent."

A bit of ash crumbled and dropped from the tip of the cigarette. Jackson looked at it. The cigarette was not the source of the salty smell.

"You're sick." Jackson said the words as the popped into his head. Hus eyes were glued to the cigarette, "You're trying to hide it."

Michelle huffed. Her head fell back against the fence, "No. Not sick." Jackson raised a brow. Michelle laughed, it broke and splintered into a near sob before she whipped at her eyes.

"Oh." Jackson swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. The cherry scent was back. Michelle tried to swallow back her tears. She really did smell too much like his mom. "I'm sorry."

Jackson knew it was wrong as he agreed not to say anything. Neither Tanners nor Gibblers did well with secrets and his house was full of both.

He considered telling Ramona, and then swiftly vetoed.

Because she was a Gibbler. And Gibblers can't keep their mouths shut. Not for any other reason.

Popko hadn't answered his text either. So…

Jackson sat in his room, biting his knuckles, with bells ringing in the back of his head.

"Might as well prep the ice bath now," Jackson's eyes scrunched closed and he rolled backwards onto his bed. His body swerved to the side.

His mother walked by his door just as his feet hit the ground.

"Okay…" Jackson let out a breath and gripped his knees, "…I definitely got the Tanner lying ability then."

And that meant he had none.

Jackson listened at his bedroom door for ten minutes until the coast was clear. Then he slipped down the stairs and out the front door.

From the end of the block Jackson registered the sounds and smells of the Gladstones as they pulled up to his house. If Jackson had figured it out, then surely Joey would too.

"If Joey spills the secret, then I kept my promise," Jackson gnawed on his bottom lip as he walked up a hill.

Paying attention to where he was going was not high on his list, if Jackson was being honest. Which, honesty was sort of his problem right now. So. Yeah.

Do you smell like salt? ?!

Popko's text took Jackson by surprise. He furrowed his brow at his phone and thumbed a quick reply.

Not that I know of? Why?

Now, Popko responded promptly. Where was that an hour ago?

Don't scare me like that dude!
Salt smells in alphas are the scent of death.

Jackson flinched as the bells in the back of his head pushed to the forefront again. It wasn't like he hadn't already guessed that though. Not that Michelle had affirmed his suspicions.

Do you know what it means specifically?

Google, dude. Learn to use it.

Jackson rolled his eyes at his phone. It dinged with another message before he could respond though. This one came with a link to some specialized WebMD style site for alphas.

Why was Popko so much better at finding alpha stuff than him? If any skill should have come default with being an alpha…

The webpage was detailed. With lots of medical jargon and graphic pictures. Really, all of it was unnecessary. Popko's text had summarized it perfectly.

Alpha-specific cancer in the scent glands.

A church nearby started ringing its bell. Jackson was so preoccupied with the ones bashing together in his skull he didn't even notice.

He also didn't notice the sidewalk coming up and tripped. Epicly. Onto his face. Because, ya know, the day needed to be worse.

"God, I hate life." Jackson groaned into his arm, which had kindly kept his face from hitting the concrete directly.

When he looked up, Jackson had to blink a few times to be sure he hadn't actually hit his head a few times. But, nope, the cemetery was still there.

There was even a hearse pulling into the parking lot of the church next door. Mourners. Flowers. All of that.

This would be freaky anyway, but the pit in Jackson's stomach told him exactly which cemetery this was. And he hadn't been here since he was 12.

"Really, really fucking hate my life," Jackson clambered to his feet as he stared down what he was fairly positive would rate as his least favorite place in the world for the rest of his life.

Totally justified.

His father had been lowered into the ground, his grandparents had yelled, his mother had cried. Textbook ripping apart of a family really.

It *was* the worst place in the world. Filled with his very worst memories.

So Jackson walked into the cemetery. Because apparently he was a masochist.

The ringing in his head stopped though, so obviously he could blame all of this on alpha impulses if need be. That was also what he assumed helped him find the gravestone he'd never visited before.

*Thomas Michael Fuller*

The name stared back at him and Jackson swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. The pit in his stomach grew.

"This is really all your fault," Jackson told the stone. He spoke without any regard for who might hear him.

There was nobody nearby after all.

"You're the alpha," Jackson pointed an accusatory finger, "And I can read between the lines, okay. You being an alpha is why you became a firefighter, it's why you're dead."

Pacing did not help. Jackson wiped at his eyes and found himself rambling even more. The words coming even swifter than his steps.

"And if you weren't dead, then maybe I wouldn't have to deal with any of this! You'd have figured out what was wrong with Aunt Michelle. Or you'd have figured out I knew!"

Jackson paused, scoffing to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. His voice lowered to a whisper and Jackson lowered himself to the ground.

"You'd have explained all of this alpha stuff better than Joey too, right? I wouldn't have to rely on Popko's googling skills and some doctor who, let's be honest, is probably writing some weird medical paper on me at this point."

That wasn't really fair to Dr. Ngo. He was helpful. Jackson knew that. It didn't make him feel any less like a lab rat when Dr. Ngo had ordered a second set of blood tests.

"Everything would be better if you were here." Jackson drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself.

If there's no one to see you cry, than it doesn't count.

"This is not where I expected to find you." Michelle stretched out her legs as she sat beside the gravestone. She leaned sideways against it, one arm slung over the top.

Jackson wasn't sure what graveside etiquette looked like, but he was positive Michelle was violating it.

"And, just for the record, your dad sucked at this alpha stuff too," Michelle chuckled, forehead wrinkling, "Worse actually. He didn't know any of the terminology when I met him. And…" Michelle patted the grave with one hand, "…I'm fairly positive he went to his grave without knowing he'd been scent-marking your mother for the better part of 15 years."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Jackson chose to keep looking at his father's name rather than at Michelle. It was harder not to notice the makeup caked on beneath her eyes now that he knew why it was there.

Michelle sighed, scratched the back of her head, "Okay. Look, I told them."

That turned Jackson's head.

"When you didn't show up to greet Joey, Ramona said you left, and…well, you know your mother," Michelle tilted her chin down to level Jackson with a look.

"So…you broke under pressure," Jackson smirked at her, earning himself an eyeroll.

Michelle scoffed, "Did not." She crossed her arms and leaned her head back to look up, "I just didn't feel right making you keep a secret like that. You've got enough to deal with."

"This is true," Jackson nodded, pursing his lips as he watched Michelle stare into the sun as if it wasn't burning her eyes.

"It you didn't have such a sharp nose, I'd have totally gotten out of here without having to worry anyone," Michelle's lips puckered out and Jackson snorted.

Michelle lowered her gaze to glare at Jackson. He just smiled at her.

"Mom says family has a right to worry," he shrugged. "Something about sharing burdens." Michelle rolled her eyes.

Jackson felt kinda bad now, since he'd done the same thing when his mom had said it. Huh. Maybe he should work on his karma?

"Wait…" Jackson narrowed his eyes, "If you told them you have cancer, how are you here?"

"I believe the maneuver is known as a 'bomber run,'" Michelle said carefully, eyes scrunched up and lips pulled down.

Jackson groaned, "So you dropped the bomb and ran."

Great. Somehow, Jackson still ended up feeling guilty. That seemed unfair. He hadn't even been there!

"Yeah, it's a favorite of mine," Michelle said before taking a deep breath through her nose. She nodded towards the grave, "Feel better now? Talking to your dad?"

"Not really," Jackson reread the epitaph that proclaimed his father as loving, loyal, and brave.

Michelle pointed off towards where a small cluster of black dots was congregated, "My mom is buried somewhere over there. I visited once, before I moved. Didn't help me much either."

Jackson followed her finger. He watched one of the black dots walk forward. He could smell the grief - not overly dissimilar from rain - and the soil - earthy and bitter.

It left a bad taste in his mouth and Jackson focused back on Michelle and his father, "So… he was really just as flustered by all this alpha stuff as me?" Michelle snorted.

"Kid," Michelle drawled, lowering her brow as she shook her head, "He was absolutely hopeless. And I met him as an adult."

The pit in Jackson's stomach seemed to shrink, filling in a bit as Michelle recounted some of the stories his mother probably didn't want him to hear.

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