The tension outside the delivery room grew heavier with each passing minute. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everyone in a pale, anxious glow. Every sound from behind those double doors seemed amplified—the shuffle of feet, the metallic clatter of instruments, the sharp cries that made hearts stop for a breath. The longer the cries echoed, the more each person's imagination filled in the blanks—every contraction became a moment of peril, each shout from the nurses a stab of fear, every muffled sound twisting their hearts tighter with dread and hope all at once.
Caroline arrived mid-chaos, still in her teaching clothes, rushing down the corridor with a blanket she'd grabbed on instinct. "How bad is it?" she asked, breathless.
Hayley shook her head, her voice thick. "Bad enough. She's early—too early. But if anyone can make it through this, it's Nova."
Kol and Davina stood a few feet away, both uncharacteristically silent. Kol's hands were jammed in his pockets, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. "I hate this waiting rubbish," he muttered. Davina reached over, intertwining her fingers with his. "You hate feeling helpless," she corrected softly. He gave a slight nod, eyes dark with worry. "That too."
Even Elijah, ever composed, looked strained. He leaned against the far wall, his posture rigid. "If something happens..." he began quietly, but Freya cut him off sharply. "It won't." Her voice trembled with restrained emotion, her magic still thrumming faintly around them.
Nearby, Rebekah's phone buzzed. She stared at the screen for a moment before turning it face down on the chair beside her, unable to focus on anything outside this moment. "She should be celebrating baby showers and decorating nurseries," she whispered. "Not fighting for their lives."
Lizzie and Josie exchanged worried glances as MG and Kaleb arrived, breathless from running. "Any news?" MG asked. Lizzie shook her head. "Not yet. Hope's in there with her. If anyone can pull her through..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
At that, Penelope crossed her arms, trying to mask the crack in her voice. "If anyone hurts her—or those babies—I'll personally hex them into next week."
Stiles gave a short, humorless laugh. "Normally, I'd make a snarky comment about that, but... yeah, I'll hold them down for you." His eyes were wet, though he tried to blink them away.
Kaleb crossed his arms tightly, his expression darkening. "This is all Allison and Scott's fault," he muttered bitterly. "The stress from that confrontation—it's what pushed Nova into labor. If they hadn't shown up, she wouldn't be in there fighting for her life right now."
Malia's head snapped toward him, fury blazing in her eyes. "You think I don't know that?" she snapped. "You think any of us wanted them anywhere near her?" She took a shaky breath, fists trembling. "When this is over, I'm going with Hope to make sure Allison and Scott never come near her again." Her voice was low and cold, with a determination.
Klaus reappeared briefly, leaning against the doorway with his hands stained and trembling. He looked older somehow, the weight of fatherhood and fear dragging at his shoulders. "The doctors are doing everything they can," he said. "Hope's holding her hand, talking her through every breath." He looked up at the others, his voice quieter now. "Nova's strong. Just like her mother. Hope is in there with her, refusing to leave her side."
Hayley paced back and forth, her hands twisting together. "She's strong," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "She's Hale-born and Mikaelson-loved. She'll make it through this."
Klaus moved beside her, his usually unshakable expression softened by fear. He rested a hand gently on her shoulder. "She will, love," he said quietly, though his voice trembled. "Our daughter is in there with her. Hope won't let anything happen."
Hayley turned toward him, her eyes glassy. "Those babies are our grandchildren, Klaus," she whispered, her voice breaking. "And the girl in there—the one Hope loves more than anything—she's fighting for all three of them. I'm terrified."
Klaus's hand tightened on her shoulder, his jaw set as he nodded. "Then we stand strong for them. All of them."
Freya and Rebekah exchanged a glance nearby, both sisters visibly shaken but united. Freya moved closer, her magic still humming faintly at her fingertips. "You're right," she said softly. "Hope and Nova need us focused. We keep the family strong while they fight." Rebekah nodded, wiping her tears with a shaky breath. "They're our family too. Both of them."
Kol, who had been leaning against the opposite wall, pushed off and joined them, his expression unusually solemn. "No one touches our family," he said, his voice low but filled with conviction. "When this is over, if anyone tries to hurt them again, they'll deal with all of us." His gaze met Klaus's, and for once, there was no teasing or rebellion—only fierce unity.
The hallway quieted again, everyone watching the closed door as if their collective will could keep Nova safe. Hope's muffled voice filtered through—steady, loving, breaking only slightly under the strain.
"Breathe, baby. I'm right here."
Even those who didn't pray found themselves whispering something to the air, some plea to whatever might be listening. The sound of Nova's cries rose again, raw and fierce, and the hall went still.
When the next silence came, it was deeper. Everyone exchanged uncertain glances, afraid to hope—but unable to do anything else.
The hallway fell into a hush so heavy it almost seemed to hum. Each person carried their fear in silence—hands clasped, breaths held, eyes fixed on the closed door that separated them from Hope and Nova. Hayley leaned against Klaus, his arm wrapping around her shoulders protectively as Freya, Keelin, Rebekah, Marcel, Davina, and Kol stood close. Across from them, Derek, Issac, Aiden, Ethan, Malia, and Stiles sat together, drawing strength from one another's presence. Josie rested her head on Lizzie's shoulder, both girls whispering quiet reassurances neither truly believed. MG, Kaleb, Penelope, and Jed were sitting in chairs trying to keep calm while their friend's life and the lives of her children hung in the balance. MG fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting to the door every few seconds as if he could will it open with sheer worry. Kaleb leaned forward, elbows on his knees, muttering under his breath about how none of this should've happened. Penelope's usual confidence had vanished; she sat rigid, nails digging into her palms, quietly mouthing spells under her breath for strength and protection. Jed tried to keep everyone grounded, his large frame hunched forward as he rubbed the back of his neck, whispering to himself that Nova was too stubborn to give up now.
No one moved. No one spoke. But in that fragile stillness, a bond was forged between every soul waiting there—a promise that whatever came next, they would face it together. The hum of the lights, the faint sounds of hospital life beyond their corridor, all faded beneath one shared truth: Nova wasn't alone. She never would be.
And so they waited, hearts trembling in the silence, clinging to hope's last whisper that she—and the little lives she carried—would make it through the night.