Your whole body shook with tension as you walked down the white, lifeless corridor of the hospital ward. At some point your legs began to speed up to follow the excited rhythm of your heartbeat.

Your quick step became a race. You stumbled, threatening to fall to your knees like an impatient child who had not been able to hug its parents for some time.

You hurriedly picked yourself up again, ignoring the sharp pain that spread through your outstretched knee.

"(Y/N)!", Alejandro called after you.

He tried hard to follow you, but was held back by the children who asked with tears in their eyes if they could see their brother again. His voice echoed in your ears.

You knew it was not right to leave him behind. But you needed that few seconds head start. You had to make sure for yourself that your son was still alive, that you were not to blame for his death.

It was supposed to be a dark memory, not a life lesson.

"Moro!", you threw yourself through the door into the room in which your son lay.

The breath burned inside your lungs as you stumbled into the small room. You barely managed to grab the end of the bed for support before your knees went weak and a yelp escaped your dried out lips.

"Moro...", tears clouded your vision.

Your fingers curled, nails dug into metal. Your shoulders began to tremble.

The room felt so cold. Almost as if winter had arrived way too early.

Your body refused to calm down.

"Mi amor!", all of a sudden Alejandro was behind you, one of his hands grabbed you gently by the shoulder for reassurance.

His voice was different. Shaky, written with both guilt and this kind of unsure happiness that came with the unknown.

With bated breath the two of you stood there, clinging to the end of the bed and each other for support, while your eyes turned glassy.

The boys face was paler than it had ever been, skinnier and somewhat like the one of a man who had seen hell and returned.

It was obvious just how weak he was, how much strength he needed to keep himself sitting upright in that wheelchair of his.

He had his hands rested on his legs but seemed to he unable to properly move at all.

"Hijo...", you whispered after a moment of taking it in and stepped forward to kneel down in front of him.

His eyes found yours and a hint of a smile appeared on that face of his, sad yet so relieved that he wasn't alone anymore.

"It was dark...", he mumbled, his voice barely more than a whisper and tried to reach out to you.

But he did not have the strength in him to actually control his body at his own command.

Your hands gently took his face, thumbs caressed his cheeks while yours were wetted by hot tears.

"I'm so glad you're alive.", you breathed and covered his forehead with kisses.

He chuckled, exhausted, and tried to escape that love bombing. But as you allowed him to slip away Alejandro took your place and wrapped his arms around the boy.

He yelped, probably because a tight hug was already too much in his state.

"Papa...", he mumbled and dug his nails into Alejandro's shoulders to cling onto them.

"It's alright, mi guerrero. Everything will be alright.", your husband kept assuring him.

Julio and Niña snuggled up into your arms. Frightened confusion was written all over their small faces. They were too young to fully understand yet nothing could have made them more happy than the fact that their brother was still alive.

You kissed both of their temples to calm them before your attention returned to Moro.

Alejandro kneeled next to him on the floor now and just like you his hand kept caressing the boys cheek for comfort.

"How do you feel?", you asked gently as your gaze wandered along his legs that sat motionless in the wheelchair.

A look of dissatisfaction appeared on his pale face. Then the expression changed and he looked like he wanted to do something but couldn't since it exhausted him too much.

"I can't feel my feet.", he said, unsure what to make of this. "My legs... everything feels so heavy."

You swallowed hard. Immediately, tears filled your eyes again and guilt hit you in the face.

"I'm so sorry.", your voice trembled once more.

"Querido.", Alejandro's hand found yours to give it a firm squeeze. "This is beyond your influence."

With your teeth clenched you lowered your gaze to hide the tears from the kids and shook your head.

"I-!"

"It's fine.", Moro suddenly said out of the blue. "They're just legs. At least my feet will never hurt again."

A huff escaped Alejandro. And even you had to smile.

"What if you'll never walk again, zorro pequeño?", you glanced at him through your brows, scared what he would make of this realisation.

His gaze was empty for a moment. It seemed like there was no life inside those eyes. Never before had he looked this out of himself.

"I'm alive.", he finally said with a smile. "I'm with my family. That's enough."

"Yes!", all of a sudden Julio jumped from your lap and climbed up Moro's to take a seat.

With a feisty look on his face the small boy looked his brother dead in the eye. It made him look a little like a small version of Alejandro.

Perhaps it was possible to make kids resemble one even without the same blood in their veins.

Moro hugged him.

"Don't worry. I'll still help you climb a tree.", he smiled and for the first time since you've entered this room he looked like he had survived that shot.

"You better!", Julio shouted with a swollen chest. "Or I'll become a bigger man than you one day!"

He crossed his arms.

"Easy, chicos.", Alejandro's laugh made the room feel warmer. "It'll be a long way till you are as big as papa."

He grabbed you by the hip and pulled you towards the three, Niña following.

His lips were soft as he kissed you.

"This is fine.", Moro said.

You smiled.

"No. It's great."

"It's perfect.", Alejandro kissed you again.

Everyone who was supposed to be alive was. And everyone who should have been dead would soon be.

This was, indeed, perfect circumstances.

"Perfect.", you whispered and rested your head on Alejandro's shoulder with a smile. "Te quiero, Alejandro Vargas."

"Te amo, (Y/N) Vargas.", he replied with a chuckle.