A/N: Thanks to everyone who read my last Jolex oneshot! I'm happy to see that there's such a dedicated group of Jolex fans here, so I decided to go ahead and move forward with my longer project. It should be noted that this story takes place in the canon universe (ignoring time of year) post 12x25. It may or may not stay true to canon going into season 13, we'll have to see how they take things since I already have a lot of this story planned out.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! If you do I'd love to hear from you :)

September 19th, 2017.

7:00 AM

"How's she doing?"

The sound of Alex's voice pulled Jo out of her sleepy stupor. The steady beeping of the monitors, while annoying at first, had become sort soothing over the course of the night. Between that and the quiet hisses of the ventilators it had become harder and harder to keep her eyes open as the night progressed.

"She's good," Jo yawned, "Vitals were stable through the night. I think she likes having her brother in there with her."

Alex couldn't hide the small smile that lit his face as he crossed the NICU to peer into the isolette Jo sat next to. Co-bedding had been his call. He'd seen it work before with preemie multiples- they'd struggle on their own, but once they had their sibling next to them it was like magic. It was like they were drawing strength from each other. Their vitals would stabilize, their growth would speed up, their heart and lung function-

The smile on Alex's face faltered as he rest a hand on the isolette,

"She's still looking pretty cyanotic. You said her vitals were stable?"

"They were- they are, they've been consistent all night."

"Consistent, but not better?"

Jo sighed as she raised her eyes to the little girl by her side. She had watched all night- watched the rise and fall of her chest, watched her monitors, willed her skin to pinken up. But Alex was right, next to her healthy brother the baby girl looked like a smurf.

"No, not better. Did you find anything in the research lab?"

Now it was Alex's turn to sigh, pulling a chair over to the opposite side of the isolette.

"Nothing new. We either do the partial repair and go back in to do the full repair when she's stronger, or we take our chances with the full repair now. The success rates have been good, but the septal defect complicates things."

"So what are we going to do?"

There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the sound of beeping monitors and hissing ventilators. But they weren't soothing anymore, weren't comforting. Jo waited, hoping against reason that Alex would have one of his lightbulb moments and come up with some amazing third option, but Alex wouldn't meet her eye. He focused instead on the little girl in the isolette. With a hand trembling from exhaustion Jo reached in, her fingers brushing across the baby's stomach and making her squirm. A small whimper escaped her mouth- the only noise she could muster- and she turned her head to face where she felt the movement come from but didn't open her eyes. She hadn't yet- she'd been too weak at first and now maybe she was just too stubborn.

After a moment it became clear that Alex didn't know yet what to do, because he turned his attention instead to the boy closer in the isolette to him. Like Jo he reached in and laid his hand across the little one. His hand was so large, and the baby so small, that they were nearly the same size. And unlike the girl whose stomach Jo was rubbing now, trying to convince to give them just a little more movement, the baby boy yawned and stretched his body at Alex's touch. He gave a loud gurgle, blinking up at Alex with unfocused eyes, and that at least brought back a ghost of a smile to his face.

"How's this little guy been doing?"

It took a moment for Jo to pull out of her thoughts, switching gears from the now motionless girl to her wiggling brother.

"Oh, he's a real champ. Burping, pooping, waking up every three hours on the dot to eat, and I think he's gotten bigger since yesterday."

"Heh," Alex chuckled, tickling the boy's belly, "Good man. Now you just have to get your sister to follow your lead."

"We have to come up with a treatment plan," Jo insisted, now taking the baby girl's hand between her thumb and index finger, "She's so small, is a full repair even an option?"

"I know Robbins hasn't done one, at least not on a kid this size," Alex's eyes fixed to the little girl who had turned her head in his direction as he spoke, "I don't know about Montgomery, but she's probably our best bet. If she says we do a partial repair, we do the partial repair."

"Well what do you think she'll say?"

Inside the isolette the baby girl flexed her hand, clearly trying with everything she had to get a good grip on Jo's finger. She was just so weak, and so blue. Alex had seen a lot of blue babies- babies with junky lungs and heart problems and sometimes even rare circulatory disorders that a doctor might go their entire career without seeing- and even he had to admit that this baby girl was one of the worst cases he'd seen.

He didn't need Addison there to know what she would say. She'd take one look at the little girl and as soon as she saw her size and color, the choice would be obvious. Partial repair, no doubt about it. Doing a full repair on a baby this small…

"I don't know," Alex lied, trying to hide the look of defeat on his face as the reality of the situation sunk in, "We'll see when she gets here. Her flight's supposed to be landing around ten, so I'll go pick her up and we should be back around eleven at the latest."

Jo glanced at the clock on the wall, and for the first time since Alex walked into the NICU he saw her crack a small smile.

"Hear that baby girl?" she whispered, shaking the baby's arm a little in her hand, "You've got a whole six hours to get those vitals up so we can get you that surgery."

"I can stay with her if you want- stay with them," Alex hadn't meant to forget the little boy now hitting his hand with a tiny waving arm, "You should go get some sleep, you've been here all night."

Jo yawned as if remembering for the first time how long she had been awake, but shook her head.

"I'll be fine, I want to keep an eye on her vitals, and he-"

"You know, we have a lot of really great nurses who can do that for you."

Jo and Alex both jumped a little at Arizona's interruption. They had been so caught up in their thoughts, in considering the baby girl's prognosis, that they hadn't even seen her sneak in. It wasn't clear how long she had been standing there, but she had heard enough to step in.

"Those nurses have ten patients each," Jo protested, "If they miss something-"

"Based on the fact that you're in exactly the same place I left you last night, I'm going to guess you haven't slept, and that makes you much more likely to miss something than my fabulous nursing staff."

As Arizona came to join them at the isolette, Jo shot Alex a pleading look. Her eyes were begging him to back her up, but his voice seemed caught in his throat. His eyes dropped down to watch the baby boy's unfocused gaze flitting around the room, trying to ignore the audible change in Jo's breathing.

"I can't leave, she needs me here, and he-" Jo gestured to the little boy and as if on cue he gave a quiet gurgling noise, "is going to start screaming for my boobs in twenty minutes. So unless you want me to starve my child I'm staying right here."

"Jo," Arizona's voice softened, dropping into the tone she had perfected over years of talking to parents of sick children, "Why don't you take Adam back to your room with you? You can feed him, have some skin to skin time, get some sleep. Alex, can you…"

Arizona gestured to the isolette, but Alex hesitated to move as he saw the look of panic in Jo's eyes grow.

"She needs him, she's been stable since we put them together! Please, I can feed him here, I'll sleep in this chair."

"Hey," Alex cut in, finally finding it in himself to lift the lid of the isolette, "Robbins is right. You've been here all night, and this little guy could use some one on one time."

"Alex, she needs us" Jo said again, begging him with her eyes to stop as he lifted Adam into his arms and closed the lid on the isolette. Alex watched their baby girl flinch at the loss of her brother next to her, but her monitors didn't detect any kind of change.

"She's going to be okay, she's strong. She'll probably sleep better without him waking her up every three hours."

Alex bounced Adam in his arms a little as he carried him over to Jo. The baby boy was beginning to whine now, wiggling in Alex's arms as he rooted around for his mother, but Jo didn't move to take him.

"Why don't I stay here with January?" Arizona offered, coming to stand by Jo's side and placing her hand next to hers in the isolette, "I'm not on the clock right now, I just came to check in and see how she's doing. I'll stay and keep her company until Dr. Montgomery gets here."

Jo sniffled, biting back tears again as she looked between Alex and Arizona. Adam was getting more upset now in Alex's arms despite his father's attempts to soothe him. Meanwhile January barely moved as Jo slid her hand out of the isolette and let Arizona take her place.

"You promise you'll stay with her?"

With time it had become easier and easier for Arizona to handle the sound of despair in the voices of her patients' parents, but this time it wasn't easy. This time she was looking into the faces of two people she knew, and when she turned to peer in at the baby she kept her hand on she saw the most perfect mix of their features. This wasn't just another family, just another patient. This felt like her family. So when she spoke, it was only after swallowing the rising lump in her throat.

"I promise, I will stay right here with your little girl. I won't leave her side."

The moment where Jo stared back into her eyes seemed to last forever, but finally she nodded in acceptance, turning to take Adam from Alex's arms before he started to cry.

"Hang on, let's get you in a wheelchair," Arizona suggested, standing to go find one. Turning away from them she took a brief second to wipe the tears from her eyes and take a stabilizing breath.

Sofia had been this small once. She'd been hooked up to monitors and IVs and a ventilator, and then she had grown stronger, she'd overcome all of the challenges she faced and now she was a little astronaut wannabe with plans to fly to the moon before her 30th birthday.

Grabbing a wheelchair from the back of the room, Arizona had to keep reminding herself that sometimes things did work out the way they should. And with Alex and Jo as parents, January was genetically predisposed to being tough as nails- tougher even. She would get through this, the same way Sofia had, and grow up to be the dirty little foul mouthed kid that Arizona always knew Alex would had. Soon enough she and her brother would be wreaking havoc on them all.

As Adam began to cry in Alex's arms, Arizona wheeled the wheelchair up alongside the chair where Jo sat.

"Alright Jo, time to say goodbye for now."

The younger woman nodded, not bothering to wipe away her tears the way Arizona had while she reached into the isolette one more time to grab January's tiny hand.

"Your auntie is going to come hang out with you now baby girl, but Daddy and I will be back soon I promise. We love you so, so much."

Jo's hand hesitated, rubbing January's between her fingers, but she could still only give a little flex. It was still something though, she had to keep telling herself that. Otherwise she wouldn't be able to let her go the way she did now, slipping her hand out of the isolette. She braced herself against the arms of the chair, but even with the support Jo groaned in pain.

"Everything hurts," she whined, not protesting when Arizona stepped in to help her into the wheelchair. Normally she would shrug her off, insist on doing it alone- but right now she could barely stand without the pain that radiated through her lower body pulling her right back down.

"You gave birth two days ago, to twins, everything is supposed to hurt."

"You're not funny you know," Jo scowled at Alex, "Now give me my baby before I start leaking everywhere."

Alex smirked, leaning down to place a kiss to her forehead as she took Adam into her arms. The little boy immediately turned to his mother, continuing to cry as he headbutted her in the chest.

"Owww, dammit Alex, your son is an asshole."

Arizona couldn't help but let out a small laugh as Alex rolled his eyes and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, pushing Jo towards the door. Halfway there he stopped, turning back to Arizona. For the first time that morning he let the composed face he'd kept on for Jo fall.

"I want you to page me if anything happens," he said, his voice stern.

"I will," Arizona reassured him. Without thinking she moved her hand to rest against the tiny box where January laid motionless again.

"I mean it," he insisted, "I don't want you to page me after it happens, or after she stabilizes, or if you have to do something…"

His voice caught in his throat. The possibilities of what could go wrong, and there were so many things that could go wrong, filtered through his mind. Sometimes being a doctor really freakin' sucked. Maybe if he wasn't, maybe if he didn't know every tiny thing that could potentially go wrong, he could accept Arizona's words of comfort more easily.

But they just felt hollow and meaningless.

"As soon as something happens," Arizona said, "I will page you. I promise. Go get some sleep. Alex, I've got her."

The fear in his eyes, the gut wrenching look that Arizona had only seen him wear in truly desperate cases, didn't resolve itself. But finally he gave a slight nod, turning his attention back to Jo as she fussed with the hungry baby in her arms. Once they were gone and Adam's crying had quieted to just a faint echo, Arizona finally let out the breath she had been holding in.

"Oh miss January," she whispered, sitting on the edge of the chair Jo had recently evacuated and reaching her hand in to stroke the baby's cheek, "We're going to get you out of here. I don't care what we have to do, we will fix this, understand?"

January gave only the slightest movement, a slight turn of her head into Arizona's touch, but it somehow felt like she was agreeing. As she settled into the chair, her fingers still brushing along the baby's soft skin, she let out a small chuckle,

"I still can't believe they named you January. Like, really? There is a story behind it though, which, I mean, my name is Arizona and there's a story behind that too so I guess it's just something about uncommon names and well… you'll learn it someday. Someday when you're big and strong and the little jerks in fourth grade won't stop asking why you're named after a month, you'll go home and get mad at your Mommy and Daddy for naming you January, and then you'll learn your story. And you won't be so mad then, because they'll tell you this part of this story and you'll realize just how strong you really are. So right now you just have to focus on getting through this part, because I promise you this story is going to have a happy ending."

The monitors around them beeped and the ventilators hissed, and all Arizona could do was pray that she'd be able to keep her promise.