It almost felt like grief. Staring at his baby boy, that he didn't even want in the first place, now barely breathing and put into an incubator. Grief and anger, what was supposed to be a healthy cute and adorable blonde newborn, Abel, was barely alive now, machines and syringes with tubes attached to him, it could make anyone feel scared for his fate. Fucking anger, that was it. Jax ran his hands over his face, looking at the small incubator that was keeping his infant alive. Now he's thinking, if his junkie ex-wife, Wendy, wouldn't have plunged that syringe in her vein, maybe his baby boy wouldn't have needed a fucking incubator now. He rightly doesn't even want to see her, if she dies tonight, he doesn't give a fuck. She brought this to herself. He's been sitting in the hospital since days, in the same pair of blue sweatpants and a old black hoodie, beard a bit unkept and hair disheveled, he tried to push them back not caring enough to actually fix them, rubbing his running nose and sniffling as he licked his lips and blinked just to go back to stare with wide blue eyes at the small premature baby, shoving his hands in his pocket. Jax attention shifted, and his eyes snapped up from the incubator to the door of the medical room when someone knocked softly and slowly peeked into the room, his brows furrowed slightly when he saw an unfamiliar face looking towards him and the incubator, and when a free moments of silence ran he cleared his throat and spoke up. "Hey?..."