When Mercy and I enter the maternity unit, Mercy lets her supervisor know we're here. The older woman greets me and then walks me to the room where the mother of the baby, Josephine, lies in.

"Maybe I should take her," the woman says when we are standing in front of the closed door. She doesn't acknowledge me at all, let alone ask me how the baby is doing, and it pisses me off. "She's been fighting everyone that came in there. I don't want to upset her even more."

For a moment I hesitate as I hear how Josephine is doing, but then do what my heart tells me to do and I shake my head. "I'll manage. She'll recognize me. I was there when she gave birth, and she asked me to keep an eye on her baby."

I can see the hesitation in her eyes, but after a short moment of consideration, she reluctantly nods her head. "You best leave the door open."

I nod once again, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. When Mercy's supervisor has given me a curt nod and has walked away, I take a deep breath before opening the door.

The room is dark, the only light coming from a small lamp that's on the bedside table. I spot her immediately, and my heart breaks at the sight.

She's sitting with her back against the pillows, her legs pulled up. Her head rests on her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs. She is on top of the sheet, and still in the blue gown that she seemingly wore to surgery.

She looks so small in that bed, it almost swallows her. From my place by the door, I can see her sobbing; her shoulders shake every once in a while, and I'm pretty sure she is crying as well.

Her knuckles are white, her hands under constant pressure as they are folded. She looks stressed, even though I didn't see her face yet. She looks like a bundle of misery, and knowing where she came from, I'm sure that's exactly how she feels.

"Josephine," I whisper, trying not to scare her. Nevertheless, her head snaps up in shock, and one look at her face breaks me a little more.

Her eyes are red and hollow, the dark circles around her eyes tell me she is exhausted. Her cheekbones are very pronounced which is something that I hadn't notices before. She looks well underweight, and nothing like a woman who just gave birth. Her skin is still pale, but in this light, it's almost ashen. Her trembling lips seem a little blue.

Her eyes scan my face and slowly move down to the bundle in my arms. Immediately, her eyes widen as she unfolds herself. "Oh God," she whimpers while she tries to get off the bed.

I see that she is too weak immediately, and therefore take the few steps across the room. "No, stay put. I'll bring her to you."

She holds out her arms, silent tears falling from her eyes down her cheeks. The moment I place the baby in her arms, a heavy, relieved sob leaves her throat before she cradles the baby against her, her nose against the baby's head.

The sight in front of me brings me to tears instantly. It's heartbreaking yet one of the most beautiful moments I've ever witnessed. I can feel her pain somehow, and also her relief of finally having her baby in her arms again.

For minutes, Josephine stays silent. She rocks her baby slowly, her head bowed and face in contact with her baby's head. She moves her fingers over the baby's cheek, nose, ears, hands, and feet, almost as if she's checking that it's real and she is in whole.

I feel lost. I know I should tell her goodbye now. I should walk out that door, wish her good luck and wave one more time, and then forget about it. I should check it off, go home, and then tomorrow start a new shift as if nothing has happened.

But I can't.

I can't walk away without knowing the whole story. I can't walk away without the reassurance that Josephine and this little girl will be okay and safe. I thought that once I'd brought the baby back to Josephine safely, my sense of responsibility would be gone, but it's the opposite. It's ten times stronger now, and I feel it for both of them, not just for the little girl.

"She's alright," I whisper carefully, not wanting to interrupt her moment with her daughter.

Josephine slowly lifts her head, her eyes wide with fear as she holds her baby even closer to her chest. Her legs are pulled up again, and she also makes sure that she's as far away from me as possible.

She scans my face again, now longer, and when her eyes find mine, I see the fear disappear a little. She is still very guarded and suspicious, but I can tell she relaxes somewhat.

"You... You helped me," she whispers, her voice hoarse.

I nod my head, making sure to keep my distance so I don't freak her out. "I did. I'm Hero. You asked me to keep her safe and I did."

"Thank you," she responds, her eyes once again looking down at her child.

"They've checked her and she is okay," I say when silence fills the room again. "She is a little under the normal weight and length, so they'll have to keep an eye on that, but she is healthy. I gave her some milk as well, so she'll be out for another hour at least."

Josephine's head slowly moves up again, eyeing me carefully. She doesn't do anything, and her gaze is making me slightly nervous.

"I... I Uhm, I gave her milk with my finger. Like, with a tube and tape and a bottle. So, if you want you can breastfeed her still. Because my finger is the same as your nipple." Christ, stop me.

She frowns, but her expression doesn't give away a thing. She doesn't look annoyed or confused. It's almost as if she is giving me the chance to explain again.

And I gladly take it.

"I mean, obviously not the same, but like better than a bottle. Because she had to work for the milk just like when she is drinking from you."

Not great, but slightly better. I think.

She slowly nods her head once, her expression still the same. "Okay. Thank you for doing that."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and nod. "Yeah, no problem."

Again, silence fills the room, and once again, I know that this should be the moment I head out. But I fucking can't bring it up to turn around and walk away.

"How are you feeling?" I carefully ask, hoping I don't overstep a boundary.

A silent sob falls from her lips, followed by a deep breath. "I'm okay," she hoarsely whispers. "I'm sore and my belly hurts, but I'm better now that she is with me."

I nod in understanding, eyeing her for a moment. She is shivering which is not a surprise; she is wearing a thin gown, and her arms and legs aren't covered at all. "Don't you want the sheet?"

She looks at me surprised for a moment, but when I nod to the sheet she is sitting on, she seems to understand. "Yeah, I'll get it."

She first struggles to sit up, sucking in a breath with painful eyes as she tries to reposition. I can tell it's difficult for her due to the pain, and the fact that she has to hold on to her baby, doesn't make things easier.

"Do I need to take her for a sec? So you can get comfortable?" I ask her when I can't bear to see her struggle any longer.

She sits still after my offer, her eyes cast down, glued to her baby who is still sleeping soundly. "Don't take her away from me again."

Her soft, broken voice cuts right through me. The fear I hear behind the plead is just too much. "I won't," I manage to get out, trying to detach any emotion in my tone. "She belongs with you. I just want to help."

After a short moment, she slowly nods. I take two steps so I'm right next to the bed, and then take the baby from her.

I watch Josephine hiss and wince as she moves the sheet from underneath her, her arms and legs shaking even more now that she is forced to move. I wonder if she has had anything to eat or drink after she's come out of surgery. It looks like she didn't, she is so weak.

She pulls the sheet over her legs and then shuffles back so she can sit against the pillows again. "You good?" I ask her when she slowly lifts her head and makes eye contact.

She nods and then holds her arms out again, silently asking for her daughter. I give the baby to her, making sure she is tucked in properly. I then walk to the chair in the corner where an extra blanket lays.

Josephine's eyes follow every step, I can feel it. When I'm standing next to her bed again, I hold up the blanket. "I'll just put this over you as well, yeah? You seem cold and it's not warm in here."

She nods again, her eyes never averting. Her gaze makes me awfully aware of myself. The way she is scanning me, maybe even judging me, it's nerve-racking.

When I've tucked her in while making sure to not touch her, I drag the chair next to the bed and take a seat. I watch the little girl in Josephine's arms, who is now once again sucking on two fingers. It's her thing, and I knew about it first. It makes me smile once again.

"She's been doing that ever since I first held her," I say, more to myself than to Josephine. I just hate the silence that fills the room, and it makes my anxiety levels even higher.

Josephine doesn't look at her baby to see what I'm talking about. She keeps her gaze on me. After a short moment of scanning me, she softly begins to talk. "Thank you for helping me. I don't think I could've done it without you. I was so scared."

Tears fill her eyes, and I fight the immense urge to grab her hand and comfort her. "Where you... Where you in labor long? Before we came in there?"

I'm not sure if she will tell me anything. Given what I saw in that apartment, her need for distance and the fear in her eyes are not surprising. But I have to try. For some reason, I hope that once I know the story, I'm able to let it go.

Deep down, I know I'm not. But I have to try.

"I don't really know how long," she answers, her eyes back to the bundle in her arms. "Time passes by unknowingly slow when you don't..." She stops abruptly, tears streaming down her cheeks while she sobs.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me," I reassure her, my hand now on the bed. I have no idea how to comfort her without coming close, and I know how weird it is that I even want to come closer to her. It's confusing. "Do you have a name already?" I change the subject, hoping that it will make us both feel more comfortable.

"Daisy," she responds immediately, a small, careful smile covering her face as her finger traces the little nose that's poking out of the blanket.

"Daisy," I repeat. "That's beautiful."

She nods in agreement. "I know."

I can't help but chuckle at her witty response, and as a reaction, she lifts her head and raises her eyebrow, the small smile still present.

"Why Daisy?" I ask when she doesn't react any further with words. I want to keep this conversation going because it seems that it makes her smile. Only a little, but she smiles.

"It's one of-"

"So, how's the little one doing?" We're rudely interrupted by Mercy's supervisor, and immediately I see Josephine recoil. Her arms move around her baby and she pulls her legs up, closing herself off from her surroundings as much as possible.

Her eyes well in fear, and somehow it makes all the alarm bells in my head go off. Without thinking and acting solely on emotion, I stand and make my way to the woman, stopping when I'm standing in front of her and thereby blocking her way towards Josephine and her baby.

It's a pure need to protect them, and even though I'm aware that this woman won't do any harm, I can't stop it.

"They are both doing good," I respond, empathizing on the word both to let her know I don't like the way she only asks about the baby. To give my words more power, I cross my arms in front of my chest. It's a gesture that I often use during work to express authority, and right now, I don't give a fuck how inappropriate it is to use it against medical staff.

The eyes of the woman widen in surprise, but she doesn't seem impressed. "That's good to hear," she smiles, seemingly oblivious to what I'm doing.

She walks around me, not giving me another glance which takes me by surprise. When I turn around, I see that she is already standing next to Josephine's bed.

Josephine has shuffled to the other side of the bed, creating as much distance between her and the woman as possible without falling off. She looks extremely uncomfortable, and to make things worse, Daisy starts to cry as well.

I do not doubt that it's her reaction to the fact that her mother is so tense right now.

"If you give your little one to me for a moment, we can try and get you up. You really need to use the restroom now since you haven't after surgery, and maybe it's also good if you change into something warmer," the woman continues, ignoring the crying and already holding out her hands to take Daisy from Josephine.

I think she means well, it's just the lack of empathy that makes this so wrong. It makes me furious.

Josephine doesn't seem to think any good of it, because she furiously shakes her head while she clenches Daisy against her chest even tighter, muffling her cries a little. She is shaking, the two blankets that cover her not giving her any warmth anymore.

She is so scared.

"Josephine," the woman tries again, leaning over the bed a little. She's persistent.

Josephine shakes her head once more. "No," she whimpers, so soft and fragile you wouldn't believe she'd just had a small conversation with me.

That's it.

"I think it's best if you keep a little distance," I interfere, walking to the bed as well.

"Sir, with all due respect, I need to give her the care and help she needs." The woman crosses her arms now, her attitude chancing.

"You're not helping her right now." I stand my ground, knowing that Josephine can't do this for herself at the moment. "You're scaring her."

"How could I possibly scare her?" The woman huffs. She even dares to roll her eyes which makes my blood boil.

"Can I talk to you? Outside?" I ask her, trying my best to keep my temper in check. Her confused eyes that are laced with irritation that's aimed at me, move from Josephine to me.

"Now please," I press again when she doesn't make any attempt to walk out. This woman is really getting on my last nerve.

She sighs and again rolls her eyes, now without trying to hide it, but then honors my request and makes her way out of the room. I take a deep breath, willing myself not to flip the fuck out the moment I step into the hall, and then turn to Josephine.

She is looking at me with wide eyes, but her demeanor is visibly more relaxed now that the woman has left the room.

"I'll go and talk to her." I motion for the hall and then turn. The moment my hand is on the doorknob, I'm haltered in my movements by Josephine's soft, fragile voice.

"Will you come back?" Her tone is shy, a little vibration at the end of the question that tells me the fear is still there.

I turn my head and give her a reassuring nod. "I will."

I don't think I've ever sounded more determined in my life.

When I walk through the door, I see that the woman whose name I still don't know is waiting for me. Her hands are placed on her sides, and I can tell by her expression that she is ready to get into a huge discussion with me.

"Listen, do you have any idea what happened to that woman inside that room?" I beat her to it, pointing to the closed door while feeling my anger rise.

She rolls her eyes, her arms now crossed in front of her chest. "Of course, I know. She almost gave birth on her own. It's something that happens quite often. It's not something that shocks us around here, certainly not me."

She has a supercilious attitude over her, and given her grey hair, the lines in her face, and her overall I'm-tired-as-fuck demeanor, I'm sure she has enough experience.

But the fact that she has no idea what is actually going on, along with the fact that she acts as if giving birth on your own isn't a big deal, make it impossible for me to hold back any longer.

"That woman gave birth on her own, after spending God knows how long in a dark, filthy room, with inside only a mattress. Chains attached on the wall made sure she couldn't leave. A little more sympathy would be very suitable," I growl, my fists clenched.

I've never been this angry, I swear to God.

She opens her mouth to respond, but I beat her to it, again. "On top of it, you barge into that room, not even bothering to knock, and immediately ask for her baby which she had in her arms for fucking two minutes. You don't ask her how she feels after her surgery, you ignore the fact that she is scared, and you practically pull her baby away from her after you knew how panicked she was right before I came in. You bloody told me how all she did was ask for her baby."

By the time I'm done with my rant, I'm out of breath and she is staring at me with wide eyes. Her arms now hang slack along her body, her assertive expression replaced by shock and maybe even a little shame.

I stare at her, waiting for any type of reaction. I'm not sure what I want to hear from her, but I sure as hell want a confirmation that she's understood what I said.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, visibly searching for words. After a few tries, she is finally able to form some words. "With all due respect Sir, that girl has been unapproachable from the moment she woke from her narcosis. She hasn't been talking, only asking for her baby, and when anyone came close to check on her, she screamed. It is my job to look out for her and her baby, and she is making it quite impossible. Now, I'm not sure who you are in all-"

"For now, it seems like I'm the only one she doesn't push away," I cut her off, not giving a fuck about courtesy. "She isn't screaming at me, and she is talking to me. She even lets me hold her baby. So, I suggest that you indeed do what is expected of you; taking care of Josephine and her baby. You can start by bringing in something to eat and drink since it looks as if she hasn't had any in days." Which is probably closer to the truth than I want to know, I silently add.

She rolls her eyes once again, only this time with her head down in hopes I don't notice. "Fine," she growls, and then walks past me, her shoulder bumping against my arm in irritation. It's almost comical.

I take a deep breath and make sure the anger is not visible on my face before I knock on the door. After getting a soft "come in", I enter.

Josephine is still sitting on the bed, in the same position as when we left the room. She is rocking her baby, trying to get her back to sleep. Daisy isn't crying anymore, but I can hear little whimpers, much the same as right before I gave her the bottle.

Daisy, like a flower. It's really a name that suits her.

"I'm sorry about that," I mumble as I close the door. I then walk back to the chair I was sitting on. In the meantime, Josephine slowly and with a painful frown moves back into a more comfortable position, visibly relaxing now that she sees I'm the only one who came back.

"It's okay," she softly says, looking down at Daisy. "I think she might be hungry again."

I stand from my chair and bend a little so I can see Daisy properly. Her mouth is snapping open and shut, her head searching. It's exactly what she did right before I offered her my finger.