He stared at his phone, begging it to ring as he sat in the waiting room of the NICU. It was as though Buck, had been dragged there. He got into his car and was suddenly here, seemingly without blinking. "Abby?" He spoke into the phone as she answered; "I need you."

She got there, rushing in to find him standing against the window of the neo-natal nursery staring at a baby who was fast asleep. "Buck? What's going on?" She asked as he wrapped his arms around her. "Look Abby," he replied pointing to the baby "Isn't she perfect?" Abby looked at the baby and smiled before turning back to him, more confused than when she got here. "Who is she? Why are you here at midnight?" Buck couldn't break his eyes away from the bundle in the crib – strapped up to oxygen. "I rescued her this afternoon – her mom put her down a drain…why would someone do that to her? She's perfect, you know?" Abbey smiled knowingly and bit her lip. She understood this feeling – although she hardly ever saw the aftermath of the calls, what happened in the moments after the desperate call.

Buck and Abbey followed the nurse into the room getting scrubbed up and into gowns. Buck placed his hand into the humidicrib and rubbed his thumb along the soft baby skin on her face. Abbey watched on for support – confused about her role in the situation. To be fair, she didn't exactly understand his role either. "Buck, should we even be here? I mean what are we doing here? Yeah, it's sad and not okay her mom did that. But what are we supposed to do? You saved her, you did your job. Why are you…" Buck stopped her with a look, hurt by her reaction. He'd expected her to feel the same as he did. To want her as much as he did. "I thought you'd want to do this with me? I've applied to foster-adopt her. I was told that if I found someone who would co-foster with me, because of my age and job, I'd be approved. I thought that would be you, Abbey?"

She was blown away and ready to vomit, this was never meant to happen for her. When her last relationship ended, she knew with that went her chance of a family. Abby had come to terms and was even happy with her position in life. Her job was important to her, and so was caring for her mother. Abbey didn't know if she was ready for this – this change, this guy, this baby.

She left the room just moments after he said, needing fresh air to breathe. Outside, the cool air hit her face, like the slap she desperately needed. Tears started flowing as she leant against the brick wall looking out over the city, seeing how small she was in the scope of reality. Taking one last deep breath, she stood told and pulled herself back together.

When Abby went back in, Buck was sat on a recliner. His shirt was undone, and the baby was resting against his bare skin. He saw her and shrugged, mouthing "It's okay…" He understood, kind of. Abby walked in, her head held high and smiled warm and meaningful. "Where are the papers, Evan?" His head shot up instantly hearing her say his name. She'd never used it before – always calling him Buck, in an attempt to lessen the impact of this so-called relationship.

The two of them stood the next morning, in front of the NICU watching her. They were waiting for the social worker, who had called them for an emergency meeting. They'd spent the night after leaving the hospital building baby furniture and washing onesies. In hope and preparation, that their fostering request would be approved. The overworked and overtired social worker bustled down the corridor, flicking through files. "Buckley and Clark?" She asked barely looking up at the two of them "The mother has just signed over custodial rights to the state, and since the father is not to be listed on the birth certificate, this baby is now a ward of the state." Buck and Abby just nodded along. "Now the state is worried about the state and fragility of the relationship you two currently have but if you are willing to undergo parenting classes and relationship counselling, we see no reason not to sign this child over to you for the foreseeable future."

They could barely keep up with what she was saying, just nodding and agreeing to all the right things at all the right moments. Suddenly, there were contracts and agreements being handed to them and pens whizzing as they signed everything in a flurry. "Now, the mother has chosen not to supply the baby with a name. Which means either you can as her permanent foster parents or ask the state to." Buck shook his head, "Mila Grace, I've been thinking about it all night. Mila Grace Buckley." He blurted out and Abby was shocked that he was so thoughtful about being a father already. "I like that," Abby smiled squeezing his hand. Buck nodded as the birth certificate and fostering certificate were drawn up.

Then it was over, and Mila was theirs. Nurses and the doctors were consulting the couple about her care, her timeline for discharge and what choices they were going to make. Although, her birth and the following events were tumultuous and stressful – she had remained relatively unharmed and was already being weaned off oxygen treatments. It was up to them when they decided to discharge her.

Buck was chomping at the bit, hating staying in the hospital room which felt confined and made him queasy. "Come on, babe. They said she's fine. Let's get her dressed in that cute onesie you bought and get the fuck out." Buck said trying to lighten the atmosphere which felt claustrophobic. Abby was feeding Mila her bottle and sighed looking up at him. "Evan, soon. Give it a second. We've had her for an hour!"