"The good news," began the doctor, as Austin stood next to her on the elevator to the pediatric ICU, "Is that the baby was at the minimum gestation for premature children."

He followed, waiting for her to continue.

"The general requirement for babies to be prematurely delivered, as we were forced to do with your baby, is exactly that." She led him into the NICU, where they quickly slid on scrub-like clothing over their clothes. The doctor led him carefully to a crib, which held a tiny baby, slightly larger than a bottle of lotion. The child's skin was almost grey, and a tube down its throat seemed to be helping it breathe. The infant's eyes appeared to be glued shut, and the monitor it was attached to was beeping very slowly.

"However, Mr. Moon..." the doctor looked at him sadly, "She is not expected to make it."

Austin looked at his daughter. She had fine, dark hair clinging to her gray scalp. "Why not?" he whispered. It was all he could manage.

The doctor drew up a stool and gestured for Austin to sit on it. "Your child has undergone several massive surgical procedures at once. She is, in practicality, too small to survive such procedures."

Austin blinked. He wasn't quite sure what he felt. This whole thing... It hadn't felt quite real to him. But staring at the tiny baby, something inside him broke. Or maybe it was already broken.

"The machines," He whispered, trying to not let his voice break, "They're keeping her alive?"

The doctor's eyes focused on the tube helping her breathe. "Yes."

Austin stood up. "Can Ally come see her?"

The woman paused, watching Austin's jaw tighten.

"When Ms. Dawson wakes up, she can come see her, yes. If she is well enough and if the baby survives until then."

Austin gently placed a finger against the clear side of his daughter's closed bassinet. "Just hold on 'til you meet your mom, 'kay? I promise you that you've never really lived until you've seen her face. It's almost as pretty as yours."

He ran his hand over the tiny pink paper card taped to the glass of the bassinet, the one that read "Baby Girl- 1.5 lbs" in careful type-set.

"Can I go see Ally now?"

The hall way was silent, with the exception of the squeak of the wheelchair, until he spoke.

"Okay, Als, I wanted to tell you this. Not the doctors, not the nurses, me." Austin knelt down in front of the wheelchair, placing his hands gently against Ally's cheeks. "Our baby... she's... too small. She can't live without the machines she's hooked up to. She's too premature to survive longer than another day or so. Her organs are failing."

Ally was motionless in the wheelchair. Austin had thought he was broken, but he then realized that it was Ally who was beyond repair. She nodded, wordlessly, neck stiff.

"But she's beautiful, Ally. She's absolutely amazing."

She nodded again, eyes unblinking, and Austin kissed her cheek gently, before standing and beginning to push her wheelchair in the direction of the elevator.

A nurse helped them untangle the baby from the mess of wires. She removed the tube, and turned off all the machines. Another doctor wrapped the baby in a pale pink blanket and carefully passed her to Ally.

"She's been in complete failure as of this morning. Her chances of survival are zero. In these cases, hospital policy states the parents should preferably be with the baby. As we remove her from the machines, all assistance goes with it. Without the machines, her organs will continue to fail, her breathing will slow, and, eventually, her heart will stop beating." He explained.

Austin helped Ally into a near by rocking chair, and sat on a stool next to her, both staring at the baby.

"We should name her." Ally was whispering, as if it was to be a secret between her and Austin that they would give this baby some kind of identity besides a mistake.

"Okay." He murmured into her ear. "What name are you thinking of?"

Both were crying softly.

"Love." replied Ally, kissing the top of the baby's tiny head.

"That sounds perfect." Austin stroked his daughter's forehead with two fingers.

The shattered, broken parts inside of both of them healed in the two remaining hours of their daughter's excessively short life, but the wounds reopened, and bled faster and harder after her feeble heart stopped.

God I'm a bitch.

One more chapter left guys.

HOPEFULLY IT WON'T BE AS DAMN POORLY WRITTEN AS THIS ONE. OR AS LATE.

Love ya'll.

Hope you still love me.

Jenny