⚠TRIGGER WARNING️⚠️

***HAWKS POV***

My throat felt like it was burning from the inside out. My legs felt like they were made of the heaviest lead. My eyes stung, but they dared not close. Yet, I still ran to her.

It was my fault. Everything had been on me, and now I was desperately clawing through a merciless sea of guilt, the waves brutally bashing against my pounding chest, filling my lungs until I could barely breathe.

Why did I bring her?! Why did I ever think I could trust him to follow a plan?!

I had been assisting in loading Endeavor into the ambulance when I received the dreaded phone call. Best Jeanist's voice had been rippling with fear as he spewed out the news, already on his way to Kyushu after being summoned as (Y/N)'s secondary emergency contact. Hanging up abruptly, it was then that I finally saw the countless missed calls upon my cracked screen.

"Hawks, she's in emergency! They wouldn't tell me anything, but whatever it is, it's bad! Where were you?! Why was she in the center of it all?! Why aren't you with her?!"

The disgusting prick inside of me wanted to scream at him, to tell him that I had been doing my job, but that wasn't the case. Protecting my wife and my unborn child was my job, and I had ultimately failed. Now, I was sprinting through the winding hospital corridors, searching for my reasons to live.

They're okay! They're alive! They're alive! They've gotta be alive!

Had running always been so difficult? My legs just didn't want to cooperate, and my feet felt like they were sinking deep into the polished floors with each step. Leaving a scattered trail of scorched vermilion in my wake, I finally made it to that dreaded door. The door that was now the only thing keeping me from my girls.

It was there that I became frozen in time. Did I knock? Did I burst in like I so desperately wanted to? What if she didn't want to see me? What if, what if, what if, what if..?

No...she does.

My palm held the force of a thousand men once it connected with the surface of the door, and I pushed through, my breath trapped by the squeeze in my throat. Bloodshot (E/C) eyes dragged to meet mine, but she had already been sitting up. Her beautiful face was now a Picasso of plasters, herding her tears into an unnatural zigzag down her paled cheeks.

No words needed to be said.

(Artwork commissioned from the jawdroppingly talented grimm.noir on Instagram!)

From my perspective, there was nothing left in the world besides the two of us. I felt both leaden and weightless as I just stood there, unable to process a single thing. Was she talking? No, she was exactly the same as me, trapped in the clutches of a pain that could never be truly expressed.

I wasn't even sure if I could dare touch her. These hands had been sullied; stained red, by lies and perfidy. How could I ever even begin to believe they could be worthy of comforting the one they had damaged the most?

"...It's..."

Why had I ever thought it would be a good idea to bring them along with me?

"...not..."

How could I have saved so many people, but not them?

"...your..."

I could still smell the offensive stench of smoke, clinging to my clothing and skin from hours before. The same bitter, accusatory scent that had branched her fears outward.

"...fault..."

I hated myself for wanting to run. (Y/N) had had every right to suspect me of betrayal, but not in the way she thought. Nobody in the world could ever compare to her in my eyes. My sins were far more complex than promiscuity. Honestly, part of me wished that had been my crime. Perhaps then we wouldn't be being crushed beneath the thumb of despair.

My husk of a body acted upon muscle memory, and before I even knew it, I was wrapping my wife up in my arms, drawing her into my chest and smothering my face in her tangled (H/C). Never had I ever seen somebody cry so violently, and it was then that I knew, no matter how much pain I felt; physical or otherwise, could ever hold a candle to what she was going through right now.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed by, and only when the clock struck one in the morning her agnosied sobbing died down. At some point; rather soon after encasing her in my arms, I had climbed up into the hospital bed with her, staring off into the stark ivory wall with burning eyes, feeling my organs stew and boil in my cosmic guilt.

"She..." (Y/N)'s voice was so broken and small, I barely even heard her, having to shift down so we were nose to nose. I could barely force myself to look her in the eye. "...Y..you were right...She was a...gi..gir..." I pressed my forehead against hers, squeezing her as desperately as I could, yet remaining as gentle as a feather.

This is all my fault...

"I..I'm so so..rry...I..if I hadn't tried t..to be a hero...this wouldn't ha-" I just couldn't bear it. Pulling her as close as possible, I shook my head frantically, the sobs I was withholding causing my body to almost seize and rattle.
"This is n..not your fault..! You hear me, (Y/N)..?! Don't you ever e..even think that..!" I hiccuped, peppering any part of her that my lips could reach with kisses, silent apologies in every single one. "I should have b..een there...I was there...b..but...I didn't even...I just..."

Again, we broke down in a tangled heap of misery and pain, clinging to one another and openly begging for a miracle, as though that could have somehow magically returned our baby girl to us. Another hour passed by, and I remained awake whilst (Y/N) slept in my arms, not an ounce of energy left in her body. She looked so disturbingly fragile, and I just laid there, condemning the day when she had been cursed by my existence.

"Hawks," I barely even twitched at the sound of Best Jeanist's voice. "if there is anything you need of me, don't you dare hesitate to ask..." He sounded so melancholic, and that just added to my self loathing. He was another person I had hurt. The denim-clad hero had become like a father to the both of us over the past months, and he was grieving too.

"Thanks..." I croaked, slightly tightening my hold around my shattered wife. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket; the twelfth time counted in the past forty five minutes, and I clenched my jaw so hard that I was certain my teeth would crumble.
"Of course...I shall return later with some of (Y/N)'s essentials. I'll call ahead, just in case you both need more time...I'm truly-"

"Could..." I cut him off, slightly twisting the hospital gown ribbon that was tied around my wife's neck. "...could you please stay with her for a b..bit..? I need...to get some air..." The last thing I wanted to do was leave her again, but something was eating at me, from the inside out.
"Most definitely...Take as long as you need. I assure you, I will not leave her side..." Jeanist agreed softly, moving further into the room as I slowly sat up.

Sunshine...

Sunshine had turned the most gut-wrenching shade of grey I had ever seen in my life. I brushed my gloved fingertip across the dried tear stains trailing down her cheek, cautiously sliding my arm out from under her and easing off the bed. The picture of her lying there; alone and defeated, would forever be etched into my mind, and it would haunt me with each breath I took until my dying day.

Turning, I was met by the man who had somewhat been my mentor, tensing the moment his hand came into contact with my shoulder.
"I can see that look in your eyes, Hawks. I know I was unacceptably harsh on the phone, but you are not at fault for this..."

You don't know...

"...Nobody could have known what was going to happen. (Y/N) needs you to be as strong as you can possibly be for her right now...and you know that you both have unending support from not only myself, but many others..."

Shut up...You'll get hurt, too...Everyone will...She's going to get hurt again...and again...and again...

"...I beg of you, Hawks...Don't do anything reckless..."

Twenty two years too late...

Forcing myself, I reached out and gave him a vaguely appreciative pat on the arm, stepping out from under his hand and making my way towards the door.
"I don't think I have it in me, even if I wanted to..." I whispered, running a hand through my ratty hair. "Thanks, Tsunagu...for being there for u...her..."

I took my leave after that. I couldn't even bring myself to take one final look at her, suffering in a comatose silence, likely living through that nightmare, over and over again...and again, I wouldn't be there for her.

Once I was outside, still unable to filter any clear oxygen through the knotted lump in my throat, I pulled out my phone. I only bothered reading the most recent message I had received, my amber eyes seething as they traced over each line of each individual letter.

From: XXXX

- Ninth Street. Behind the bakery. Time to flock together and discuss, Bird Boy.

For the first time since that dreaded phone call, my hatred was directed towards somebody other than myself. The images of fierce, scorching azure flickered to life inside my head, causing my blood to boil at an equal temperature.

You...You're just as guilty as I am...for killing my baby girl...

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***I'm sorry.

It is almost impossible to describe the emotions that arise when losing a child, but I did my best to put what I could into words. I'm not sure I managed to convey it properly, but that was how I felt, so that was what I chose to write.

I apologise from the bottom of my heart if this has insulted or genuinely upset anybody who has also gone through/know someone who has gone through such a traumatic event.

Next time in Icarus...

Azure eyes and many more lies...***