Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Hospital.

The hurried slap of footsteps echoed through the hushed corridors, slicing through the oppressive stillness.

Nanette and Finley looked up at the sound, and there, finally, was Victor-the man they'd been searching for all this time.

Victor looked frantic. Veins stood out at his temples, his dress shirt and slacks rumpled and sweat-stained, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Where's Isadora?" he demanded, voice raw. "Where is she?"

Nanette sprang to her feet the moment she saw him, her emotions boiling over. "Victor, what took you so long? If anything happens to Isadora, I swear, you'll answer to me first!"

Finley gently held Nanette back. "Enough. Don't," he said quietly.

He turned to Victor. "Isadora's still in the delivery room. She hasn't come out yet."

Victor's gaze shot to the closed door down the hall, its red warning light glaring like an accusation.

Every muscle in his body tensed. He forced out the words, his voice tight. "I'm going in. She shouldn't be alone."

After a few quick words with the doctor, Finley nodded.

Victor wasted no time he pulled on a sterile gown, scrubbed his hands, and strode inside.

The delivery room was thick with tension, the air heavy with anxiety.

agonized cry cut

lay on the bed, clutching the rails with white-knuckled hands. Sweat beaded on her brow, soaking the hair at her temples,

obstetrician encouraged her gently, "Mrs. Fitzgerald, just a little more. You're doing

with helplessness and guilt, and he rushed to her side, gripping her

and desperation threatened to swallow him whole. He clung to her hand as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded,

he choked out her

grounding her as she forced her eyes open.

vision blurred

his heart tear in two, the pain sharp and

urgent. "Mrs. Fitzgerald,

was paper white, her breath ragged, but she summoned

And then-

wail filled the room, clear and bright, like the first light of dawn after

loudly, "Congratulations, Mr. Fitzgerald.

*

suite was hushed,

dark like the sweep of a paintbrush, her features delicate and serene, her pale cheeks touched with the faintest flush. She looked like the

her side, silent,

presse to his check

had written her handwriting neat, elegant,