Two new members in the FBI (Rewritten)

Chapter 32

Previously on Two new members in the FBI

Jackson's Pov

When I saw Boston again, wrapped in a little blue blanket, his eyes closed as he rested peacefully, I felt a flood of emotion. I reached down and touched his tiny hand, the reality of everything crashing into me. In just a few moments, we were going to be taking him home.

"Ready?" Stiles asked softly from behind me, and I turned to see him standing in the doorway with a grin on his face.

I smiled, a tear slipping down my cheek as I nodded. "Yeah. We're ready."

We had made it this far, and now, we were bringing our son home. No matter what the future held, we had each other. And together, we were going to make it through anything.

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Jackson's Pov

We were really doing this. After all the worry, the sleepless nights, the terror and hope and everything in between, we were finally here, at the threshold of a new chapter in our lives. Boston, our tiny, resilient son, was about to leave the NICU.

As I stood there in the doorway of the hospital room, blinking back tears at the sight of him all wrapped up in that little blue blanket, I was struck by how different I felt compared to just a few short weeks ago. I'd been so full of fear back then. Fear for his health, fear that he wouldn't make it, fear of what kind of parent I would be, what kind of future lay ahead for him—for all of us. But now, as I looked at him, all I could feel was this overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief.

Stiles was beside me, smiling in that soft, gentle way he always did when he was both proud and emotional. He nudged me gently, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "Hey," he murmured, and I glanced over at him, my chest so full of love I thought it might burst. "We're ready to do this, right?"

"Yeah," I breathed, the single word catching in my throat as I tried to steady myself. "We're ready."

He offered me a knowing smile, and I could see the shine of tears in his eyes too. It was just like Stiles, holding it together for me, but I knew he was feeling all of it just as deeply.

A nurse came over with a clipboard in hand. She had a sweet, motherly face and a gentle voice, someone who had been there for us through this entire process, guiding us step by step. We'd filled out a hundred forms already, but now she was reviewing them one last time, ensuring everything was in place.

"Okay, Jackson, Stiles," she said, her smile warm and encouraging. "We've got all your paperwork in order, and Dr. Hayes has signed the discharge form. Boston's been thriving, and we're so happy for you both. Are you comfortable with everything? Do you have any questions before you take him home?"

I swallowed, my eyes flicking to the monitors that had tracked his vitals for over a week. They were off now, disconnected from him. No more tubes, no more beeping sensors—just Boston, breathing on his own, growing and ready for the outside world. Or at least, as ready as a baby born a bit too soon could be.

"I think... I think we're good," I managed, my voice wobbly. "You've taught us so much these last days. But... is there anything else we should know about him being early? Any warning signs? Anything we need to look out for?"

She nodded, as though anticipating the question. "He's still on the small side, of course, so you'll need to keep up with frequent feeds, regular check-ups, make sure you track his weight gain. And if he shows any signs of difficulty breathing or feeding, or if he seems too sleepy and isn't waking for feeds, you call us immediately, or come back. But from what we can see, he's strong. You're taking him home earlier than we usually allow for a 32-weeker, but he's meeting all the milestones nicely."