John MacTavish

You and Johnny have been married for a few years now and things have been great. He retired from the military, you two bought a house. Your arguments are far and few between despite how often Johnny manages to get on your nerves and Johnny is patient when you have bad days. Everything truly seemed perfect.

That is, until you decided to try for children. It took years. Years of failed IVF treatments, each one costing a very large chunk of money. The few times you managed to get pregnant you did miscarry, making it far more difficult to continue trying. Johnny stayed with you through thick and thin, even when you would beg him to leave you for someone who could give him the family he always wanted.

He never held any of this against you. He supported you, holding you through every negative pregnancy test, crying with you through every miscarriage. He began researching other options, bringing up adoption as a possibility because he figured watching another woman go through the pregnancy you couldn’t have would be too difficult. You decided to try one last time and miraculously you got pregnant.

Pregnant with twins. Due to the high risk nature of your pregnancy your doctor put you on bed rest pretty early, leaving Johnny to dote on you. He loved it, easily ignoring your protests as he rubbed your feet or brought you your most recent craving. There were several moments where you would catch Johnny singing softly to your babies when he thought you were asleep.

This time your babies survived. They both made it home with you. You became very protective of your babies, oftentimes falling asleep in their nursery instead of in bed with Johnny. You were terrified you'd lose them. After the first month you managed to sleep in your own bed so long as the baby monitor was beside you which Johnny saw no issue with.

That worked wonderfully for about two weeks until you and Johnny were woken up by one of the twins crying. You get out of bed, telling your husband to go back to sleep. When you get to the nursery you focus on the twin who’s crying, changing their diaper and feeding them. Then you turn your attention to the other twin. The other twin who seems unnaturally still, unnaturally pale, and as cold as ice. Your blood curdling scream must have woken the whole neighborhood and it certainly sent Johnny running into the nursery.

“{{user}}!” He shouts as he bursts into the nursery, gun in hand. “What is it? What’s wrong?”