What started out as a normal evening at home, turned into a living nightmare—a nightmare of what ifs and possibilities. Even with the immense lack of sleep, Harper refused to sleep. She stood in front of the incubator-like container holding very precious cargo—Layla's baby. Little Henry James weighed less than two pounds. That's what the doctors refer to as 'extremely low birth weight'. They also say the odds of survival for a baby that small is just less than seventy percent.

You could say the odds were good. Seventy is okay, but not high enough to guarantee anything. It was now seven AM—five hours after his birth. His skin was deep pink, almost red and it was hard to even see him around the vast array of machinery used to keep him alive. Layla wouldn't be able to see him until at least tomorrow, given the nature of the birth. So Harper said she would come to the NICU (Newborn Intensive Care Unit) to check on him.

It was proving to be harder than she thought. She scrubbed her face with her hands, further irritating her tired eyes. After staying there for a while, she decided to go back up to the room with Layla. Her report would remain the same: no change. Harper had come down to the NICU three times so far. And each time, nothing had changed.

In a way, that was good. He wasn't getting worse. But he wasn't getting any better either. Harper pressed the up button in the elevator consul and stepped back to wait. It was incredibly hard to stay awake. She'd had a miniscule amount of sleep, and it was now seven thirty AM. She yawned as the doors opened. She stepped inside and pressed the floor she wanted to reach, and then the doors closed.

The doors opened a moment later on the recovery level, and she hurriedly stepped out. She followed the halls until she reached Layla's room. As she entered, she was careful not to make any noise. Layla was finally asleep. Josh had dozed off already, and he was slumped against the wall in his chair.

Harper sat on the cushioned bench near the wall and sighed upon seeing the sunlight as it leaked in the curtains. She refused to sleep. She couldn't. Her blood still pumped too fast to calm down. Any second something could go wrong. Just then, Steve returned from the cafeteria with three to-go coffees in a drink carrier.

He walked over and sat next to Harper, then held out a coffee to her. "You go nuts without caffeine," he said. She chuckled a little and took the coffee. He set the drink carrier on the floor to his right, taking a coffee out for himself. "How was he this time?" Steve asked.

"Small. Alive," Harper said, unable to possess enthusiasm of any kind.

"Well, no change is better than a drop in vitals, right?" Steve said, trying to be the encouraging one. Harper nodded with a small sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head as he snaked an arm around her middle. All of this talk about babies—and really the entirety of Layla's situation—had Harper thinking of her own possible reproductive problems. It made her wonder—did she really want all of this?

Did she want the pain and the anxiety, the problems and the what ifs? The answer was yes. She wanted that if it meant having a family of her own. She'd wanted children ever since she was little. The biggest setback to that happily ever after she dreamed of was her body. Would it even be possible, medically speaking? And she'd have to tell Steve eventually.

It was daunting. She trusted Steve, she loved Steve. But that shy, withdrawn, abused fourteen year old girl inside her Always kept her from talking about personal issues. Her fear kept her from living her life. But then again, was she even brave enough to tell him without the abuse coming into play?

She decided that the answer was in fact yes. She decided right there to tell Steve everything, before she changed her mind. "Can I talk to you for a second outside?" she asked, sitting up to look at him. He nodded and she stood, halfway to the door before he could even stand. He stood and followed her out into the hallway. "What is it? Is everything okay?" he asked, slightly concerned by her actions.

She seemed jumpy, anxious. And it was so sudden. Inhaling a deep breath, Harper said, "I need to tell you something..." She paused before continuing, causing Steve more worry. What wasn't she saying? "When I was in the hospital, the doctors said that my extensive wounds could cause a life-threatening risk during childbirth, meaning I might not be able to have kids."

It spewed from her mouth in a hurry. Steve paused, taking in her words a second. "Harper, why didn't you say anything?" he asked, empathetically.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Because I didn't want you to look at me differently," she said. "Like you're doing right now."

"What? Like I'm worried about you?" he asked, rhetorically. She tilted her head slightly as she gave him a look. "That's not it," she said.

"Then tell me what is," he said. Harper sighed, turning her head to look at the painting hanging on the wall to her left. It was easier when she wasn't looking at him. Like she was alone, talking to the wall. She was braver that way. "...You want to fix everything, and you can't fix this. You can't change this. I...I can't be more than something to look at," she said, moving her gaze to the floor beside her shoes. "There's no forever here—not with me."

It broke Steve's heart to hear what she was saying. Now he knew what had been bothering her ever since coming home from the hospital. He knew there had been something going on he didn't know about. And this was it. But didn't she know he wouldn't leave her for something like this? He stepped forward and uncrossed her arms, taking her hands in his, causing her to look up at him. "Harper...I love you. I don't need kids to have a forever or a family—you're it. You are my forever and my family," he said, sincerely. "You're all I could ever need."

The kind words and firm reassurance brought her to tears. "...Really?" she asked, lightly sniffling.

"Really," he said, nodding surely. "I mean it." She wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug and he put his arms around her, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked.

"Constantly doubting you," she answered, sniffling.

"Given what you've been through, I honestly don't blame you," he said. She pulled back to see his face, wiping at her eyes once. As she opened her mouth to speak, Steve's cellphone rang. He sighed and grudgingly pulled it out of his pocket. He answered, "McGarrett."

"Hey, Steve, it's Chin. I'm in the hospital lobby—I have something you'll want to see," Chin said, on the other end.

"Alright. I'll be there in five minutes," Steve said. He hung up the phone and slid it back in his pocket. He turned back to Harper and found her grinning at him. "Do you, like, send your teammates a text to let them know when you'll be in a serious conversation with your girlfriend so that they can call you at those exact times?" she asked. He chuckled lightly and gave her a slow kiss to the lips. "This will just take a minute, okay? I'll be right back," he said, smiling down at her.

"Mm hm, sure," she said, sarcastically. He kissed her once more before starting down the hallway.