Kate was unknowingly playing with her fingers, grasping her thighs. She was stressed out of her mind as she waited, seated on the couch of her psychiatrist's office. Her heart was pounding, her breathing seemingly controlled, she was becoming twitchy. It had been a week. She had said all the right things, given all the right answers. She had done what had been asked of her, became a model patient and finally, it seemed she could be trusted. Kate wasn't happy about the wait. A week of imagining, envisioning, a week of not knowing, it had been torturous, but she understood it. She was in this institution for a reason; her mind wasn't all that healthy, they needed to make sure. She wasn't happy about the wait, but knowing he was okay meant, maybe, now, so could she.

She hadn't slept well the night before; in fact, she hadn't managed to sleep at all. The lack of sleep was making itself known as she became twitchy. Kate twirled her thumbs, looking around the room for something to distract her. She smiled to herself; she was finally meeting her son.

When she heard the familiar voices down the hallway, paired with the sound of footsteps getting closer, Kate sprung to her feet. Wiping her sweaty palms off her pants, she stood erect, facing the door. They were finally here.

She bit the bottom of her lip, her eyes watering, smiling as her doctor and her dad entered, with a loaded baby carrier in hand. She clasped her hands together, squeezing to a point her knuckles were whitening. Her dad smiled at the sight of her, his eyes glistening with joy. She had made it back. He set the carrier on the coffee table in front of her, taking a step back, letting her take it all in.

Kate watched the baby sleep, not moving. She was mesmerized, frozen in place. A surge of emotion overcame her as she realised, she was looking at her son. She was a mom. She brought her hands to her face, her indexes on her mouth. She pinched her lips together. Her breathing was now uneven, coming in and out of her nose in unequal bursts of air, she didn't even try to fight the tears from flowing. They were happy tears.

"He's beautiful," she hiccupped, her eyes never parting from the infant.

He was. With his angelic features emphasized by sleep, his rounded tummy expanding in regular breaths, his mouth twitching underneath the rhythmic movements of his white and green pacifier, he was beautiful. He was tiny. A small bundle she already cared so dearly for. His eyelashes flickered and she jumped back, thinking he was waking up. She breathed out relieved, when he seemingly fell back into his slumber and she relaxed.

Jim, who had been watching alongside his friend from afar shortened the distance between them, approaching his daughter, gently kissing her temple. Knowing she wasn't going to risk waking the boy by taking him out, he whispered in her ear, "It's okay," before bending over the carrier and unbuckling his grandson, carefully as not to wake him. One hand under his tush, the other under his head, he lifted him from the seat. Jim slowly turned around towards his daughter who hesitantly extended her arms.

He smiled, handing over the child, saying, "Katie, I think it's time for you to meet your son, Nicolas Jameson Beckett."

At the contact, her arms instinctively closed around the sleeping boy, cradling him close to her chest, his head, nested in the crook of her elbow. She observed him, studying his features as her finger gently caressed his chubby, cherubic cheek, making its way over his soft, light-brown hair.

"Hey, Nikki," she cooed, pressing a kiss on his forehead.

Nikki.

Popping her head up, titling it lightly to the side, she eyed her father, pensive.

"What is it, Katie?" her father asked, troubled.

"The name…Nikki. Where does it come from?"

"Kate, I… I…I had to name him," he started tentative, letting his tongue trail his lips before continuing, "Katie, I had no idea how you wanted to call him. I didn't even know you were pregnant. I'm sorry. I kept Baby Beckett for about a week, but I had to name him."

"Oh! No, No, No, No. Dad, I'm not mad. I'm just wondering. It sounds so…right, familiar."

"It's what your mother and I wanted to call you, had you been a boy," he smiled, looking over to the doctor, "Marx here, said I had imagined it, but I could have swore I saw you smile when I asked you if you liked it all those weeks ago."

The doctor only shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, smirking.

"I love it, dad," she added, smiling as she nodded.

When her gaze went back to the child, cradled safely into her arms, she was greeted by her doe-eyed son looking up to her, alert. "Hey, baby," she hummed as his hazel eyes met hers for the very first time.

They visited her every day. For a couple of hours every afternoon, Kate got to interact with her son, but quickly, those couple of hours weren't nearly enough. Nicolas was changing every day and she didn't want to miss out on any it. She had begged and she had cried when he had told her she wasn't ready, but today everything was changing. She was healthier; she was better. It had been a hell of a 15 weeks, but she had come a long way. Today, she was going home.

Kate was leaning, her back over the brick wall, letting the sun rays spill on her face, eyes closed. Her small duffle bag of belongings strapped on her shoulder, she waited. It felt good to finally be out of the hospital clothes, to finally put her converses back on. She loved the feel of her jeans brushing her skin and the wind caressing her face. It was good to finally be out.

Dr. Marx was at her side, watching her, reminiscing her 15 week stay. He wished all his patients had such blissful endings. He had still prescribed her with bi-weekly visits to a colleague of his in the city, but she was better and he had no doubt she would be able to stay this way. She had completed the methadone program, and there were no indications it wouldn't work. She was still on the anti-psychotics, but he hoped she could, sooner or later, function without them. For now, she could go back to her son, go back to her dad. She could go back and finally make a life for herself.

He'd committed her 15 weeks ago, when her mind had broken down. She'd lost herself for 7 weeks, fleeing to a world where she had made better choices. Now, 8 weeks after awaking, she was ready to go home.

Jim's grey Lincoln finally pulled up the curb in front of them and parked. Kate faced the doctor and opened her arms, pulling him into a hug, "Thank you, for everything doc."

"It's nothing, Kate. Take care of yourself, and take care of that baby. I'm going to want pictures," he answered, with a hold on her biceps.

Kate smiled in response, nodding before heading towards the car, turning her head to look at the building and at the man that had managed to make her whole again, one last time.

Jim got out of the car, waving at the doctor. He went to his daughter's meeting at the back of the car and opened the trunk for her. Immediately, Kate flung her bag inside and threw herself on her father, hugging him tightly. She had told herself she wouldn't cry, but a rebel tear managed to trail down her cheek. Kissing his cheek as she let go of him, she stated, determined, "Let's go."

Because she had seen enough of that place.

She sat in the passenger side of the car sunk into the seat. She rolled down the window; she was amazed at the small things she's missed. She sat back up and spun her body around, looking over to the back seat to what she'd missed the most. Some thing, someone she didn't know, but missed incredibly so. Nikki, her son, her sweet baby, was fast asleep, still sucking on his pacifier without a care in the world. "Does he always sleep in the car?" she asked her father.

"U2 does the trick every time."

"U2, huh?"

"Just put the 'Joshua Tree' in and off he goes," her father laughed.

She smiled, sitting back, facing the front and buckling herself in. She had so much to both waved to the doctor as the car backed away, leaving the institution behind them. Father and daughter hummed to the music, little words had always been necessary between them. Kate laid her forehead on the window, observing the changing landscapes. She was in the beginning stages of sleep when she got pried out of it by the sound of a ringing phone, echoing throughout the car. She slowly roused, and read the name displayed on the dashboard. Her father was quick to decline the call, but the name she had just read made her quirk an eyebrow, "Dad?"

"What is it, Katie?" he asked, unsure.

"Nothing, never mind," she shrugged off, redirecting her gaze towards the window. Richard Castle had just called her father. Her mind tried to make sense of it, but Nikki started squirming in the back, momentarily distraught by the ringing sound that had interrupted the music. She hadn't even realised the familiar buildings that were beginning to surround them, she would be home in a couple of minutes. It had been a long time since she had had a home, a real one. She pulled the baby bag on her and got Nikki's stuffed lamb out, making it dance in front of her boy who flapped his feet, screaming joyfully. She smiled at the sight, he was one happy baby.

The car finally stopped in front of their building and she sighed. She was back and everything was going to be okay.

Thoughts? Comments? Complaints?

I know it's a slow chapter, but I wanted to write it, hope you still enjoyed!