Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Twenty-Three

Blinded by cold fear, Alejandro rushed into the medical station, holding the twins tightly in his arms, while Rudi tried his best to keep up with the other kids.

"Alejandro!", he called after him in an attempt to calm his mind. "We should get the kids to a calmer place."

But he did not listen. He was unable to.

His emotions were blank while his mind kept painting pictures of the worst.

What if?

What if he would have been a reasonable man for once and would have put the job second?

What if he would have waited just a little longer?

What if anything had happened to you?

"(Y/N)!", he yelled through the hallways as he stormed through a door. "(Y/N)?! Where are you?! Where- WHERE IS MY SON?!"

"Mi querida...", your voice was so weak, so silent in that moment that he almost did not notice.

With your head lowered between your knees, you sat on the floor, your back pressed against the wall and rubbed the blood with your thumbs off your hands. Over and over again did you trie to scratch it off. But if wasn't like dry paint. Blood left stains. And a feeling as if death had touched you.

"Mi vida!", with a gasp he sunk to his knees in front of you, the twins wiggling and crying in his grip. "What... happened?"

He was close to tears, you could hear it in his voice. Never before had you seen him cry out of desperation. Never before had you heard him be this frightened.

It was as if he had changed from a soldier into a boy who hid under his bed from the darkness.

"I-... I'm so sorry, Alejandro...", you had to bite your lip to not burst into tears. "I'm so- I- should have never... They- They shot Moro... It's his spine, I- I don't know if he's gonna make it- he..!"

All of a sudden his arms wrapped around you. With all the gentleness he had to give did Alejandro pull you against his chest, the two little girls wrapped between your chests.

"It's fine...", he whispered with a weak voice, his face buried in your (H/C) hair. "It's fine. He'll make it. He'll be fine. We will find a new home. I'll make it safer. I'll... Nunca más permitiré que mis deberes te pongan en peligro, a ti, mi única. Te juro que prefiero morir a que nuestros hijos derramen otra gota de sangre."

Now you couldn't help but break down. While tears ran down your face line waterfalls, you dug your nails into his shirt and screamed and cried as if you were the one to die.

And in a way you did. Something inside of you died that day. And it would never return. Not in a million years.

"Mi caballero.", you gasped as some kind of pain stabbed you into the chest, twisted the blade inside your flesh and tore it down to cut a deep wound all the way into the pit of your stomach. "I failed, Alejandro! I failed... Forgive me! Please, forgive me!"

"This is not your fault!", he shook his head, the first tear burning a trail into his rough skin. "This is not your fault. You did not fail. You are not responsible. Please, mi ángel, do not think this way. It'll break my heart entirely."

You were unable to respond.

In that moment it felt like the world was about to carve in.

Nothing felt real anymore. The blood of Moro on your body felt like a second skin that tried to devour your mind. Every breath burned like fire inside your lungs. You barely managed to not choke whenever you breathed in a saliva threatened to cut off your airways.

Startled, Rodolfo stood in a corner, Wesley, Niña and Julio all clinging to his legs. Wordlessly he watched as both you and Alejandro had a breakdown on the floor of the medical facility, the blood of your son painting a picture of little hope and despair.

He himself had kids. This child that lay on a table in the operation room could have been his. It could have been him to sit on the floor, screaming and begging that it should have been him instead.

But it was no use. No pain in this entire universe would have been enough.

Swallowing hard, he gathered the three kids and guided them outside. They did not have to see this. They were too young to fully grasp the meaning of this situation. However, they were not young enough to be unaware of it. Unlike the twins, they did not have the luxury of ignorance no more.

"C'mon...", he whispered to the three as he pushed them down the hallway, that was splattered with blood as well. "We'll get you a nice hot bath. And some clean clothes."

"Sergeant Major.", all of a sudden Soap and Ghost appeared outside.

Unsure, Soap let his eyes jump into the medical facility before returning his attention to Rodolfo.

"It's..?", he stopped out of respect.

"Not good.", Rudi was surprised to hear that his voice seemed unaffected by the horrors he just had to witness. "Actually, it's the worst that could happen to a parent."

His grip on the kids tightened as he recalled that his oldest wasn't that much younger than Moro. Unable to say another word he just shook his head.

Understanding, the Brits nodded.

"Should we give you a hand?", Soap bend down and smiled at Niña. "I'm quite good with kids. My nieces love me."

A low sound escaped Ghost.

"I don't think I should.", he said, obviously referring to the mask.

Wesley looked up at him.

"You're... you're so tall.", he sucked in a sharp breath while snort audibly accompanied it. "I'm not- not afraid of scary people..."

Soap chuckled.

"He's a Ghost.", he put a finger to his lips to signalise the boy that he needed to keep the secret.

Wesley chuckled.

And even Niña managed to stop crying.

Only Julio remained silent. He had seen Moro get shot. It was the first death he had ever witness.