"Hey Lindsay, guess what I got?"

"What?" she asked, one hand on her hip while she used the other to stir Kool-aid.

"Season six," he answered, producing a set of DVDs from behind his back. "I thought we could watch them and transport ourselves back to 1999."

She left the stirring for a moment, grabbing the DVDs from him and grinning.

"Can I just regress about ten years here and say Score!"

"Exactly what I was expecting. C'mon."

She put the Kool-aid into the fridge and followed him out into the other room.

"Want to start at the beginning or just pick an episode at random?"

"Random. It's not like we haven't seen all of them before anyway."

"You're a mind reader my friend," he commented, putting a disc into the player and joining her on the couch. The second the episode teaser started, she knew which one he had picked.

"Oh no, now I'm going to be talking in a hick accent all night!"

"What do you call your normal voice?"

She pushed him and snickered, drawing her knees up to her chest as the fictional story played out in front of them. They made snide comments and laughed through the whole thing, enjoying watching it together more than they ever had watching it alone.

"Well it seems to me that the best relationships, the ones that last, are frequently the ones rooted in friendship."

Lindsay had forgotten that line was even in this episode and wasn't prepared for the way it grabbed her. She wanted to make a joke, but couldn't think of one, and before she could do damage control, the rest of the line came out.

"You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And this person who was just a friend is suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with."

She didn't want to look over at him, but she couldn't stop herself. Slowly, she turned and their eyes met, each with a little shy hesitation. He gave her a grin and she smiled back, finding herself completely enraptured. Even though it was just a TV line, even though it carried no real weight, she couldn't look away from him. She could tell he was feeling the same thing. They weren't close friends for no reason; they'd both always been easy reads, at least to each other.

She mentally begged him to say something or do something or otherwise break the silence. As much as she could feel a connection, and as much as she loved it, she was afraid of where it might go. Part of her wanted him to reach for her hand and part of her just wanted to let the moment pass, something they could discuss later.

"Wanna go for a walk?" he asked finally. She nodded and they stood up, quickly heading outside where some of the surprise tension faded. They strolled slowly, neither saying anything for several blocks before he stopped to face her.

"I know you felt that too," he started, being as bold as she had ever seen him.

"I did," she admitted. He nodded and continued to walk.

"Wait," she blurted out, taking a deep breath.

He turned back around, his expression quizzical.

"What do we do?" she asked, not sure what she wanted the answer to be.

"I don't know."

They were quiet, watching each other again, standing on the middle of the sidewalk as a late spring storm thundered miles away.

"Maybe we should try."

She smiled a little at his words.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. What's the worst that could happen?"

"We'd break up and hate each other."

"No, I mean the worst that could happen to us."

"We'd break up and it would be awkward for a while. Then it might go back to normal."

"What do you think? Should we conduct this experiment?"

"Yes."

She opened her eyes slowly, finding herself in the semi-darkness. Everything was a fog, she couldn't quite remember what was happening, or what had happened. She whimpered and turned her head, looking for some kind of hint as to what had happened.

"Hey kiddo."

"Stell."

"How are you feeling?"

"Groggy. What happened?"

"There were just some complications. But you're fine. And your son is fine."

"I wanna see him."

"I know."

"Is he okay?"

"He's small. They've got him on oxygen and a feeding tube but he's just fine. Adam is with him now."

"I need to go," she said, struggling to sit up. "Why can't I move my legs?"

"The epidural is still wearing off. Don't sit up."

"But-"

"Lindsay, you lost a lot of blood. You need to rest."

"No," she sighed. "I need them."

"I know. Just take a breath. I'll go find your doctor okay?"

"Okay."

"Want me to send Austin in?"

"Yes."

Stella nodded and slipped out the door, leaving Lindsay to herself for a moment. She tried to think back, remember what had happened, but it was still just a jumble. She was sure the drugs weren't making her recall any smoother.

"Hey Linds."

She looked up and gave Austin a small smile.

"Hey."

"You scared us," she said softly.

"I did?"

"Yeah. You're going to be okay though."

"Have you seen him?"

"The baby? No, he's in the NICU. I suspect in one of those nice warm cribs, the kind I'm always jealous of in the winter."

"I need my baby, Austin."

"I know. Believe me, I know."

They looked at each other, a moment of understanding passing between them. Austin reached over and brushed Lindsay's hair behind her ear, the only comforting action she could think of. She'd never been very good at taking care of people, and seeing her best friend in this much pain made her want to run from the room. It wasn't that she was an emotional flatline. Quite the opposite actually. She just didn't want to be consumed by it.

"Aust?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think I can do this," she whispered quickly before the tears started to fall. She tried so hard to keep them in, tried so hard to be strong, but she could feel herself crumbling. She knew it was because she hadn't seen the baby, hadn't seen Adam, hadn't even talked to the doctor. She was drugged up and overwhelmed and lacking in information and it scared her to death to know that things were going on that were totally out of her control.

Austin remained silent, letting Lindsay cry, shedding a tear or two herself. She knew the feeling of helplessness and desperation well, and maybe it was a little more fresh than she had once thought. It was over ten minutes that they just sat there quietly.

The door opened slowly and Stella poked her head in.

"Hey, Adam's on his way down here," she reported with a smile. "He took some pictures for you."

"Okay."

Austin leaned over and pushed the button to raise the bed just a little, knowing that Lindsay really shouldn't be upright yet.

"I think I'm going to head home for now," she said, standing up. "I'll swing back by in the morning before work."

"Could you call my mom, Aust?"

"Already done. Get some rest, Linds."

"I'll try."

The door opened again and Adam entered. Their eyes locked so intensely that she didn't even notice Austin and Stella leaving.

"Lindsay."

There was something about the way he said her name, something about the speed of his steps and the way he sat down and pulled her to him that made her wonder if everything was really alright.

"Is he okay?" she asked as Adam's hold on her tightened. "I need you to tell me what's going on. I need to know."

He pulled back a little and she was surprised to see his face stained with so many tears. It scared her half to death and would have scared her more if she didn't see relief in his eyes too.

"He's good. He's perfect. We've just been hanging out in the NICU, waiting for you to wake up."

"Something's wrong."

"No. Not anymore."

"Stop being cryptic. I need to know."

He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead to hers for a long time before he answered.

"We almost lost you."

She had never heard such brokenness in his voice before, or anyone's for that matter. Her stomach lurched at the thought and she drew in a ragged breath to calm it.

"What?"

"You lost a lot of blood, honey. You… your heart stopped."

He struggled to get the words out and the last few were barely audible as he closed his eyes and wished it away.

"They weren't sure if they could get you back."

He didn't need to say more for her to understand. He'd been scared out of his mind, and until the moment he saw her, that fear had been right there. She held him as tightly as he held her, giving him the reassurance that he needed so badly.

"I love you so much, Lindsay. I don't tell you enough."

"You tell me every day."

"I don't tell you enough," he insisted, leaning down to kiss her, putting the thoughts of what had almost happened out of both of their minds.

"Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to see him."

"I know. The doctor will be here in a few minutes. She needs to clear you before you can be moved, okay?"

"Okay."

"In the meantime, I think I have filled up the memory card already," he said, pulling the camera out of his pocket. "Wanna see?"

She nodded as vigorously as she could, and he smiled, handing her the camera.

"They've got him wrapped up pretty good because he doesn't have much body fat and he has a hard time staying warm. He's got a feeding tube, but they said he might be able to have regular feedings soon. And he's got a little jaundice, but not as much as some of the other babies in there."

"He's so small," she said, feeling a little left out and disappointed that she could only see him on a two inch screen.

"Yeah. Four and a half pounds. He's strong though. Already good at grabbing fingers."

"He has your eyes."

"For now, but I bet they go dark like yours."

"What… what does it feel like to hold him?"

"It feels like the pinnacle moment. The best thing you've ever done, the thing you've been missing your whole life and just discovered."

She smiled at his words, wishing to feel it herself, but loving this new dimension to him, this place where he was completely enraptured by this brand new life, a life they had created together in a moment of ultimate connection. She didn't think it was possible to fall in love with him any more, but she had. She was forgetting about the anxiety, the disappointment, and all the other things she had been feeling in the last several hours. Now she just felt love. It settled her nerves and held her tight, and for a little while, she could be content.

She supposed it was quite normal to fear rejection from her child, feel that their all important first moment of bonding had been taken away. Normal or not, it was right there in her chest as Adam wheeled her slowly down the hallway. Her heart beat faster the closer they got, from anticipation of both forms. She reached up and grabbed Adam's hand, needing his reassurance more than she ever had before.

"What's the matter?" he asked, crouching down next to her.

"I don't know."

He knew her fears even if she couldn't put them into words, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"It's going to be okay. You're his mommy. He knows you. They say babies remember the sound of their mother's heart beating. He's going to need to hear that."

"Okay."

He stood up again and pushed her into the quiet NICU and over to the corner where their son was laying in a small bassinet. It wasn't the covered kind with hand holes that she had seen in other hospitals and that reassured her slightly. There was a warming light near him and he looked so peaceful that she almost didn't want to touch him. There were two leads on his chest, keeping track of all his vital signs, while a tiny nasal cannula gave him just a little extra oxygen. There was a feeling tube taped to his cheek, but Lindsay didn't want to think about that little tidbit.

She reached out hesitantly and touched his hand, the connection almost sending shock waves through her. His small fingers curled around hers and held on tightly, even in his sleep.

"You wanna hold him?" Adam asked.

"Can I?"

"Yeah. I'm even getting pretty good at getting him moved, even with all his accessories," he said, rearranging the tubes and wires to make for easier swaddling. She watched in near awe at the tenderness with which Adam held their son. He was sure of himself and quick in his work, and before long he was placing the baby in her arms.

"There you go, buddy. There's your mommy."

She couldn't even process the absolute wonder she felt as she looked down at her son. He was perfect. He had a little pout on his face, his bottom lip sucked in just a bit. He had some hair, but not much and his head was tiny. She traced her finger over his face, marveling at his soft skin and how she could love him this much.

"He looks like you," she said after a moment.

"Maybe a little."

She didn't know what else there was to say and she found herself just staring in near disbelief. Every thought she had seemed to fizzle out and then stop, as if it wasn't even good enough for the brain space.

Brand new eyes opened slowly, a sea of deep denim blue that looked straight up at her, as if he had been waiting for this moment as much as she had.

"Hi Colton," she whispered, stroking his head. "I'm your mommy."

He blinked slowly then resumed the eye contact while she found his hand again and stroked his fingers.

"I'm sorry, baby. I did the best I could."

Adam pulled up a chair next to her, sliding his arm around her and holding her close.

"It's not your fault, Lindsay. You know that."

"I should have done something better," she said.

"Stop it. He's just fine. And there is nothing you could have done to change this."

"I know that."

She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled when his hand covered hers. This was finally it. The real beginning.