A Helping Hand (Micheal Afton x Reader x Ennard)

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙

In the process of a rewrite, please bear with me! There may be several cutoffs in the process of this, as well as plot holes between the new and old version (not to mention possible spoilers!!) I'm working on this as fast as I can. Expect huge changes. Thank you!

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❗️WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS UNCENSORED, DETAILED THEMES AND MENTIONS OF CHILD BIRTH, SCIENTISTS, NEEDLES, LANGUAGE, AND KNIVES, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.❗️

(Y/N)'s POV

     With a sigh, they flopped unceremoniously onto the soft cushions of the couch situated within their room, groaning quietly as their back sunk into the pillowy surface. There was no overestimating the exhaustion they felt. Though the day had only just begun, it felt as though it had been drawn out for several hours already. Was this the sort of life they deserved? Barely the age of twenty, working their entire life, as though they were some sort of unfeeling machine?

     Life was never meant to be easy for anyone. Everyone had different lives, some longer than others, some crueler than others. Situations were different with each person. That was just how it was. But honestly, this sort of life was a bit much. Perhaps that could be blamed on the past. After all, from the day (Y/N) was born, they were always considered... abnormal, to some degree. As subtly as anyone would put it — special, miracle child, different — that was just how it was.

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Unknown POV

     Doctors and nurses rushed around the room, few staying by their mother's side to assist her in the push, a comforting hand holding the woman in labor's own belonging to her husband as he squeezed gently. Screams filled the medical room, only adding to the tense atmosphere. The hospital often was met with similar situations. The mothers' waters would abruptly break, wherever they were, they'd be rushed to the location, and the doctors would do all they could to ensure the lives of each mother and child as new life was brought to the world. Most attempts were successful, much to the proud, ever-growing reputation of the hospital. Most. Surely, this was no different.

     As another pair of doctors rushed in through the doors, it was then the last of the little one left the womb and ended up resting between their mother's legs, covered in blood. Quickly swept up and gently cradled by one of the nurses, she sighed, looking over the little one diligently. She looked over at their mother, smiling softly at her exhausted yet overjoyed expression, looking up through lidded, tired eyes at the form of her newborn child as the others tended to and cleaned her up. Their father's expression itself matched this, a proud, tearful look on his face as he whispered clear words of relief under his breath, clasping his other hand upon the back of his wife's own.

     Then, turning her gaze back to the one in his arms, she paused. Her smile slowly faded, and her eyes widened with realization and worry. Not for any sort of appearance-related reaction, no. For the fact the child wasn't crying at all, let alone moving. The nurse turned to the door leading out of the room, swallowing thickly as her brows furrowed. Please, she mentally begged, please, let this sweet thing live. They've only just been born.

     But she'd only just reached the barrier between the Labor and Delivery unit and the rest of the hospital, adjusting her grasp on the newborn to one arm and reaching out for the door, when the sound of a quiet giggle caused pause. Not just from this nurse, but from the entire room, their gazes turning from their tasks to the woman standing at the door. Her eyes slowly fell from the handle, moving to the source, her eyes going wide.