Chapter Text
Ella never thought she’d be afraid of something so… natural.
She’s survived torture, captivity, and war. She’s watched the world burn and helped build it back up again. She’s stood at the center of destruction and come out stronger every time.
And yet, she’s never felt more fragile than she does now, gripping Aaron’s hand so tightly her fingers tremble.
A contraction rips through her, sharp and unrelenting, stealing the air from her lungs. She gasps, her forehead damp with sweat, and Aaron is right there, pressing a cool cloth to her face, whispering soft words she can barely process.
“It’s okay, love,” he murmurs, voice steady, but his hand shakes where it holds hers. “You’re doing incredible.”
Ella grits her teeth through the pain. “You’re lying,” she manages, eyes squeezed shut.
Aaron huffs out a soft laugh, though she can hear the strain in it. “Maybe a little. But I mean it—you are incredible.”
She opens her eyes just enough to see the way he looks at her, golden-green eyes full of something so profound it makes her chest tighten. His hair is a mess, his usually pristine shirt rumpled from hours of pacing and sitting beside her, but he looks at her like she’s the strongest person in the world. Like she’s his world.
Another contraction hits, and she nearly crushes his fingers. He doesn’t even flinch.
The room is warm, too warm, the walls pressing in on her. She knows Delalieu is outside the door, knows Kenji is probably pacing the hall, making everyone else nervous with his anxious energy. She knows the doctor is speaking to her, that nurses are moving around, but everything else fades when Aaron presses a kiss to her knuckles, grounding her.
“It hurts,” she breathes, voice shaking. “Aaron—”
“I know, my love,” he says, his forehead pressing to hers for just a moment. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
And he doesn’t.
Not when the hours stretch on. Not when she grows exhausted, when her body shakes with the effort. He stays right there, his hand in hers, his voice a lifeline.
She doesn’t know how much time passes before the pressure shifts, before the doctor tells her it’s time. Everything becomes a blur of effort and pain, of Aaron’s voice anchoring her through it all.
Then, suddenly—
A cry.
A sharp, piercing wail that shatters the room’s tension in an instant.
Ella gasps, her heart stuttering, and then the weight of her exhaustion vanishes as she lifts her head, searching—
And then there, in the doctor’s hands, is the smallest, most perfect thing she’s ever seen.
Tears slip down her face as they place the baby against her chest, tiny and warm and theirs.
Aaron makes a sound she’s never heard before—a quiet, breathless thing—and she turns to look at him, finding his eyes wide, his lips parted in something close to wonder. He reaches out, hesitating just for a moment before gently tracing a fingertip along their child’s impossibly small hand.
“She’s…” He swallows hard, blinking fast, then whispers, “She’s perfect.”
Ella lets out a shaky laugh. “She really is.”
Aaron leans down, pressing the softest kiss to Ella’s forehead, then another to their daughter’s. “You did it,” he breathes. “You did it.”
She looks at him, at the love in his eyes, at the way his hands tremble as they rest against their child’s tiny body, and she knows—
This is everything they ever wanted.
And it was worth everything to get here.