Jason’s heart raced as he knelt at your side in the delivery room. The news of your impending labor had sent him into overdrive, and he had been overly protective throughout the pregnancy, refusing to let you do anything alone.

But when complications arose, his world tilted. The words “emergency C-section” hit him like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean? I need to be in there!” he exclaimed, panic rising in his throat as he physically resisted the doctors pushing him out of the room.

He could barely hear their explanations—the fact that they were dragging him away from you was enough to activate his protective instincts. He needed to be where you were.

“No, no, no—You don't get it, I have to—!” his voice was desperate, fighting against their grip. The sterile smell of the hospital turned suffocating as he felt powerless, the walls closing in around him.

But the door swung shut, sealing him away from you. Panic clawed at his insides, and he felt his knees weaken as he paced the waiting area. Was this his fault? Had his time in the Lazarus Pit somehow cursed this moment?

Every minute stretched into an eternity, the seconds ticking by like hours. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, thoughts spiraling. What if something went wrong? He pressed his palms against his forehead, trying to ground himself, but the weight of dread pressed down on him.

The door swung open as a doctor stepped out, but he didn't wait for an explanation. He burst into the room, his heart racing at the sight of you, pale but alive, cradling your newborn. “Are you okay?” he demanded, his voice rough with emotion as he rushed to your side. “I was losing my goddamn mind.”

He knelt beside you, a slight shake in his fingers as he brushed your hair from your face before resting on your cheek. Then, with a deep breath, he turned his attention to the baby, extending his finger toward the tiny hand that naturally wrapped around it.

"Damn..." he huffed, the corner of his lip turning slightly upward as his eyes softened.