Hooooly moly, this is the longest chapter I've ever written. I think I had too though, cause I didn't want to draw out the scene with the Doctor. Next chapter I promise we're going to do into a bit more detail about what happened while Kate was in the coma; how Martha and Jim came to be notified, what friends have been visiting...all that jazz. If you're feeling a bit confused, don't worry, Kate is too :)

Kate lay in the bed; her hand help limply in Rick's as he read to her from a well loved copy of Nikki Heat. Her father and his mother had left, at her request, to go home and rest. "I'm fine Dad," she'd assured her father in a quiet voice, trying to sound confident. Now she lay staring out the window, past the mass of flowers from their family and friends, barely registering what Rick was saying. Glancing at his face, Kate could see the pain in his face, pain that was becoming startlingly familiar with each passing hour. She knew he was trying to be strong for her, for their son.

"Rick." Kate said quietly, pleadingly. Imploringly searching his face for the security she needed, for the reassurance that they were going to get through this, together.

Rick looked up from the book in his lap, took one look at the desperation in his wife's face, and felt the familiar feeling of hopelessness he was quickly growing accustomed too. Dropping his book to the floor, Rick leant forward and took both of her hands in his, stroking his thumbs over hers softly; When he raised his eyes to meet hers, Kate saw the despair and frustration shining in the normally comforting blue, now welling up with emotion. Several tears escape her eyes, flowing freely across her face, saturating her pillow.

"Can we break down together?" Kate jokes, though her voice shakes.

He nods, smiling feebly. "No breaking down in silence, deal?"

"Deal." Kate tugs his hands closer to her body, cradling them against her chest. "Tell me something sweet to get me by."

Rick considers her, nodding again. "Scoot over."

Rick climbs onto the bed next to her, wrapping an arm tightly around her comparably small frame, and finding one of her hands with his free one. Looking into her eyes, Rick searches for the glimmer of hope he knows, the determination she showed when she first saw her son. It's there, behind the sadness and the frustration; he can see it flickering beyond the darklands. Cautiously, he opens his mouth and lets the words fall, soothing both of their souls one syllable at a time.

"When Alexis was born, I was terrified. Terrified because, for the first time in my life, I was totally and utterly responsible for someone. I've always wanted to protect her from everything, but in those first few minutes of her life, it was like…I needed to wrap her up in cotton wool and hold her until she was big enough to look after herself. I was a complete mess. Meredith was, obviously, thoroughly composed and talking about something on Broadway." Rick jokes, forcing a snort out of Kate. "When the doctor handed Alexis to me, I just kept thinking, 'don't drop her, for the love of God do not drop her.' I don't remember much else to be honest…but when I held Alexis for the first time…it was like everything was perfect; this tiny person had made everything wonderful, just by being born. All those worries I had were temporarily discarded, because all I could think about was this beautiful little girl in my arms. I've never felt anything like it since." Rick shook his head, smiling at the memory, Kate hanging onto his every word.

Kate shifts in the bed, getting more comfortable. "I want that. I want you to have that again." She says smiling wistfully, squeezing his hand.

Tilting his head forward, Rick places a trail of feather light kisses along her jaw. "We'll have it. Soon, when he's ready, we'll be able to hold him." Even as he says it, a sense of apprehensiveness creeps up on him. Rick knows it won't be soon, Kate knows it won't be soon, their family knows it won't be soon. Soon was a very long time away.

Kate breathes him in slowly, his smell bringing back feelings of security. Releasing his hand, she reaches up and traces the curve of his jaw, brushing the three-day-old stubble growing there. Kissing him tenderly, Kate conveys a silent apology filled with the promise of the outcome they so desperately wanted, needed to happen. I love you and I'm sorry and we'll get through this and thank you.

Pulling back slightly, Rick nudges her nose with his. "Me too."

"Mr. and Mrs. Castle? The doc-" The ward nurse, Liberty, pauses, looking expectantly at Rick.

"Please, call us Kate and Rick. We're going to be here a while so we may as well be on a first name basis, right?" Rick jokes, trying to lighten the mood of the room.

"Uh, right. Kate, Rick; Doctor Marshall will be here shortly to discuss what's going on with your son. I realize it's a very confusing and unfair time for you right now, but Doctor Marshall will be able to alleviate some, if not all of your concerns. Kate, you were filled in when you woke up from your coma but as you're still very much in a fragile state yourself, we all thought it best to let your body and your mind rest before everything is explained more cohesively." Liberty said eloquently, with the air of a professional who sympathizes with her patients.

Sitting a little straighter in his chair, Rick looks toward Kate, sitting upright in the bed for the first time since she woke up early yesterday morning. Nearly 24 hours later and she's proving to be 'the most determined patient' the ward staff have ever seen. Catching her eye, he offers a reassuring smile; returned only half-heartedly with a tight squeeze on his hand.

"How's our boy? Is he okay?" Kate says quietly, fearful of the answer. What if he stopped breathing, even with the machine? What if his heart stopped? What if his body just shut down?

"Your boy is -" Rick grips Kate's hand tightly. "- absolutely fine. He's getting stronger by the minute and his heart is pumping steadily," Liberty paused, grinning. "Though he's having a bit of an identity crisis. I don't think 'Little Man' will go down too well as he grows up."

Kate half laughs, half cries. "We're working on a name. We just can't decide!"

"I still think he's a Ringo…" Rick chimes in, glad to feel a bit of lightness in the air.

"Ringo Castle…it's got a certain ring to it, for sure." Martha pipes up from the corner, where she's seated on a couch brought in by two nurses, with Jim.

"I like Pierce, actually." Jim wonders aloud, trying to keep from laughing as Kate's face fell; Rick's lit up with enthusiasm.

"Kate, can we please-"

"Absolutely not Richard Castle. We're not naming him after a Beatle, or after double-oh-seven." Kate exclaims, shaking her head and smiling. She could almost, almost, forget that her son is still seriously vulnerable; Doctor Marshall steps confidently into the room, looking around at the seemingly happy family jesting with each other. Kate quells her voice instantly; the fear is back.

"Doctor Marshall, I hope you've got some good news about our little man." Rick states, standing up to shake hands with the burly 40-something man from Seattle. Kate had liked Doctor Andrew Marshall as soon as she met him; he had an air of quiet confidence about him, without appearing to feel superior to his patients. He had an ability to put people at ease, and Kate needed that.

"I have news, yes. Let's get comfy, shall we?" Doctor Marshall pulls up a chair from beside the doorway, sitting himself down with a folder of paperwork on his lap. "Liberty, could you please get the blue folder with the information in it?"

"Of course." Liberty excuses herself and disappears out into the corridor.

Martha and Jim exchange nervous glances; Kate's fingernails are digging into Rick's hand but he doesn't care; a cold numbness is taking over his body. Would he have to stay in the incubator for months, years? What if he could never run around outside like a normal little boy, kicking a ball in Central Park with his Dad? Would he be able to live a relatively easy life, or would he need to take ten different medications every day? Shaking his head, Rick chided himself. "Stop over thinking this."

A light squeeze on his hand brings him thumping back to reality. Kate knew exactly where his mind had been; she's right there with him.

Breathing deeply, Rick looks at Doctor Marshall. "So?"

Doctor Marshall looks around the room again, nodding. "So. Baby Castle was delivered via cesarean at 24 weeks. He is what we call a micro preemie. Our first concern was for his breathing; at this age, their lower airways are only just starting to develop. He was showing signs of respiratory distress syndrome, which was treated with a mild medication, and he was immediately put on a ventilator, which he'll need to stay on until he can breathe capably on his own." Marshall glances around at the four anxious faces in front of him, keeping pace with his every word.

"I was also very concerned that the wee guy would have PDA, or Patent Ductus Arteriosus, where there is a persistent connection between the large blood vessels surrounding the heart. It's normal for a fetus to have PDA but the connection should ideally close once the baby starts breathing, otherwise it needs to be treated swiftly with medication or surgery, in some extreme cases. Luckily, the connection closed pretty much straight away, which I was incredibly happy about. Ah, is this making sense so far?"

Numbly, Kate nods her head; Rick murmurs a quiet 'yeah.' Movement out of the corner of Kate's eye makes her turn her head towards her father, stepping away from Martha to offer Kate his hand. Reaching for it, Kate feels as though she's stretching out for a lifeline. The thoughts swirling around her head are heavy and weighing her down; she can't breathe.

"Kate?" Doctor Marshall is looking at her with concern. "I know this is a lot of information to comprehend, but it's all looking really good for your son. There's nothing overly concerning for me, at the moment. He is as healthy as can be, given the circumstances.

"Katie?" Jim squeezes his daughter's hand, giving her confidence to speak.

"I'm…okay." Kate says quietly, motioning the Doctor to continue. Rick toys with the wedding band on her left hand; the small, intimate gesture somehow comforting.

Doctor Marshall smiles reassuringly. "Good. Now you're probably aware that premature babies are born with often severely underdeveloped digestive systems; micro preemies are born with very immature digestive systems, meaning IV nutrition is needed to ensure they remain as healthy as possible. Baby Castle has an IV line going in through his umbilical cord stump, called an umbilical line for obvious reasons. He's also got an NG line, a feeding tube running down his nose to his stomach to keep his wee belly full. The respirator is obviously running from his mouth down his airway to his lungs. His lungs are causing no warning signs as yet, although they are very underdeveloped."

Readjusting some papers in his folder, Marshall takes in a few notes then turns his attention back to the increasingly at-ease looking audience.

"At the moment, we're constantly monitoring the little man's heart and breathing rates, as well as the oxygen saturation in the blood. That's what the wired stickers on his chest, feet, wrists, arms and legs are for; constant surveillance." Marshall jokes. "So far, it's all looking really positive for him. There are some extreme medical occurrences that can happen, and I do have to inform you about them, but I'm hopeful that we won't see them in Baby Castle."

The silence that fills the room is concrete; uneasiness and apprehensiveness creeping silently back into the air. Rick clears his throat unsteadily, running his hand over his face.

"Let us have it Doc."

Nodding, Marshall starts to speak again.

"Due to the fragile nature of micro preemies, there are some things that can happen because of the delicacy of the body. There is a very slight chance Intraventricular hemorrhaging, or IVH, could occur; that is, bleeding into parts of the brain, due to easily ruptured blood vessels. Ah, Retinopathy of Prematurity is another condition preemies can be susceptible to. Basically, the blood vessels in a micro preemie's eyes aren't fully formed at birth, and rapid development can damage the retina; again, there's a very small chance this will happen. Under 15% of preemies develop ROP, and in most cases it resolves on it's own. Now perhaps the most serious condition I would be worried about is Necrotizing Enterocolitis, or NEC. This is where the linings of the bowels become infected and begin to die off. Again, it's a very small statistic, only 7%. But like I've said, I'm very optimistic about Baby Castle. He's responded well to the treatments we've given him so far, he's definitely a wee fighter. We will need to keep him in the ICU until he's strong enough to breathe and fight off bacteria. At this stage, it's quite possible he'll be in the ICU until his 30th week, which is when most babies are developed enough to be able to go home."

Rick breathes heavily, digesting the information. Another six weeks? Glancing at Kate, he can see she's chewing her bottom lip, a sign of unhappiness and disbelief. Jim releases his daughter's hand and rolls his shoulders, trying to release the tension he's been holding in throughout. Martha appears composed, optimistic.

"What are the long term health problems my grandson could have, Doctor?" Martha queries, fixing the Doctor with a solid stare. Jim looks apprehensively at Kate and Rick, whose faces are filled with emotions Jim can't quite separate. Fear, sadness, or disbelief?

Clearing his throat, Marshall makes eye contact with the four people in front of him, all watching him with anticipation.

"There are a few major health issues that afflict 40% of micro preemies long term; though many preemies will show no long term effects of prematurity. There's a chance of cognitive problems; developmental delays, trouble in school when he gets older, ADD or ADHD. Cerebral palsy is also something he might have, though his bodily movement and muscle structure are looking exceptionally well at the moment. He could have chronic lung disease, digestive problems and vision or hearing loss. None of these issues will present themselves straight away; they're likely to present after some time. Vision loss will show once the eyes open, and we'll be testing him for vision and hearing loss periodically." Doctor Marshall finishes with a smile and a nod, trying to install confidence into the room.

Kate expels a breath she hadn't known she was holding; Rick hangs his head and looks intently at his hand. Martha and Jim look at each other, feeling like slight intruders in their children's moment of disbelief and clarity.

"Do any of you have any questions?" Marshall asks, glancing around.

"Ah…no. Thank you, Doctor." Martha says after looking towards Kate and Rick, still in their bubble of disbelief. Marshall stands to leave, gathering his folder of paperwork.

"Wait." Kate's voice halts the doctor from walking out, and he turns to face her.

"When can we hold him?" Her face is anxious, pleading.

Doctor Marshall fixes Kate with a sympathizing stare. "I can't say, I'm sorry. At the moment, he is still very vulnerable and prone to infection because of his immature immune system. We need to let him develop more good bacteria cells to be able to fight off the bad bacteria. It won't be…soon. It's likely to be a matter of weeks, not days. I'm sorry, I know this is an awful time for you."

Kate's mouth falls open, her face registering shock and anger. "Weeks…" she repeats dimly, tears forming in her eyes. Beside her, Rick is trying not to fall apart, tears already falling thick and fast. Gripping her hand tightly, he turns to her with a brave smile on his face.

"We just need to let him get stronger. We'll be holding him before you know it." He whispers quietly, though his voice cracks.

At that moment, Liberty walks back into the room, holding a blue folder decorated with bright, colourful stickers. Taking in the scene before her, she silently places the folder on the bench beside the door. "I'll keep you up to date as often as I can," she says softly before exiting the room again.

Doctor Marshall takes a deep breath. He wishes he could give these deserving parents what they want, what they need. "I'll leave you with information on everything I've talked about," he says, indicating the folder on the bench. "If you have any questions at all, please ask myself or Liberty. And," he pauses, trying to find the words to put this stunned family at ease, "we're doing everything we can to give your son the best chance of a healthy life."

"Thank you Doctor." Martha says again, nodding as he excuses himself from the room.

Jim clears his throat quietly. "Martha, shall I buy you a coffee?"

Understanding the hint, Martha gathers her coat and walked toward the door with Jim. "Hey kiddo." she directs at Rick, waiting until he raises his head to look at her with his red-rimmed eyes. "One day at a time."

Smiling through the tears, Rick finds comfort in his mother's words. She's right, of course. No over thinking, no what if's. One day at a time.

They stood hand in hand, her supported by his other arm wrapped around her waist. Their son was curled up next to his teddy bear, nicknamed Ronnie. Stretching out a hand, Rick pressed his palm against the glass, and quietly, he began to sing.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."

Softly, Kate chimes in. "Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free."

"Blackbird fly…" Rick whispers softly, tenderly.

One day at a time. They couldn't touch him; they couldn't even hear him when he cried. Watching him breathe was all they could do; whispering a lullaby through the glass was all they could do. For now, that was enough.

Blackbird, fly.