Two new members in the FBI (Rewritten)

Chapter 34

Previously on Two new members in the FBI

Jackson's Pov

Stiles squeezed his hand, his voice warm and steady. "We'll do it together, Jackson. You don't have to do it alone."

As they left Dr. Hayes's office, the sense of relief that had been building since the conversation started started to grow stronger. It wasn't a cure-all, but it was a step in the right direction. There was a plan. There was help. And for the first time in a long time, Jackson felt like he could breathe again.

It wouldn't be easy. There would be hard days ahead. But with Stiles by his side, and with the support of the people who cared about him, Jackson knew that he could get through this. He wasn't failing. He was just human, trying to do the best he could for his family.

And that, for now, was enough.
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Jackson's Pov

August 17th, 2024

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Boston came into the world, and I still wasn't sure if I was doing anything right.

I sat on the edge of the b ed, staring at the small crib nestled next to our bed, listening to the soft sounds of Boston's breathing. His tiny chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his little fists curled up beside his face. He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of the absolute chaos his dads were going through trying to keep up with him.

Three weeks. It felt like a lifetime and a single blink at the same time. The days blurred together, and I wasn't even sure what day of the week it was half the time. The only real markers of time were Boston's feeding schedule, diaper changes, and the occasional moments of sleep Stiles and I could steal in between.

Stiles was still asleep beside me, his arm stretched out toward my side of the bed like he had reached for me sometime in the night. I glanced over at him, watching his steady breathing. He'd been incredible—always there, always ready to take over when I was too exhausted to function. But I could see it wearing on him too.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. My OB appointment a few days ago had been a wake-up call. I had been so focused on Boston, so caught up in the whirlwind of keeping him safe and healthy, that I hadn't stopped to think about what was happening to me. The doctor had said it wasn't about fixing myself, but about understanding what was happening and taking steps forward. That was easier said than done.

Boston stirred slightly in his crib, letting out a tiny noise, and I immediately sat up, peering over at him. His little mouth opened and closed a few times before he settled back into sleep.

That was something I had learned—preemies made a lot of noises. Soft grunts, little whimpers, even tiny squeaks. At first, every sound made my heart race, thinking something was wrong, but I was starting to learn his patterns. He was strong. He was growing. He was okay.

I leaned back against the headboard, rubbing my face with my hands. I should go back to sleep. I needed the rest. But my body wouldn't let me relax, my brain constantly running through every possible thing that could go wrong. I had spent the last three weeks in a constant state of hyper-awareness, afraid that if I closed my eyes for too long, something would happen.

Stiles had noticed. He always noticed.

"Jackson," his groggy voice cut through the quiet. I looked over to see him blinking at me, his face still half-buried in the pillow. "You okay?"

I forced a small smile, nodding. "Yeah. Just watching him."

Stiles made a soft noise and pushed himself up on one elbow, looking between me and Boston's crib. He rubbed his face, trying to wake up fully. "How long have you been awake?"