A/N: Just a bit of fluff, set after the series end.

For once, Kate is in the hospital for a happy reason. Not to get stitched up after yet another shooting. Not to hold vigil for a fellow officer fighting for their life.

Not to clutch at her husband's hand as they both battle to come back from that scene in the loft.

For the first time in hours, she's alone in her bed, in a private room full of flowers and cards and trinkets. She's managed to wash her face and comb her hair; she knows she must look awful, but she needs to make an effort. For him. For them.

Her body is simultaneously wrung out and wired. She wants to go over to the window, fling it open and shout her joy to the city below. Not that anyone would hear it, but because what she is feeling cannot be contained.

So when the door opens and a familiar gray head appears, she beams and stretches out her arms, beckoning her dad into her embrace.

"Katie," says Jim Beckett, beaming almost as brightly. He comes over to give her a kiss and a hug, then sits next to the bed, holding her hand. "How are you doing?"

"Great, Dad. Really, really great. Have you seen her?"

"Of course. I think I'm in love."

"Get in line," teases his daughter. "Rick has first dibs."

"We can share. I'm feeling magnanimous. Does she have a name yet? Her bassinet just says 'Baby Beckett-Castle'."

"We're in final negotations for the name," Kate tells him. "You'll be the first to know."

"Well, you'll have to phone it in," says Jim. "Unless you need me to stay…"

He has a conference to go to in Ottawa, and his flight leaves in two hours. In an echo of her usual efficiency, Kate's labor culminated just in time for him to meet his new relative.

"Just hurry back, Dad."

He leans over to kiss her cheek and leaves the room.

Kate hears male voices in the hall, then approaching footsteps, and the next person to enter doesn't poke his head in first or hesitate in any way, but strides confidently to stand beside the bed.

"Where do you want her?" asks her husband in an uncharacteristically hushed tone.

"Lap," says Kate immediately, and her prize is lowered gently into her arms. She shifts a bit and lays the bundle of burrito-wrapped baby on her lap, her own arms framing her head and bottom.

She gazes and gazes, drinking in the sight of her, and though she's acutely aware of Rick settling into a chair, she can hardly take her eyes away from her daughter.

At last she lifts her face to look at her husband, her lover, her best friend, and he has a smile that even she has never seen before. He looks from her to the baby and back, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, wide-eyed and proud.

Kate can't wait to get home, to bring their blithe little spirit into the loft, to settle into Rick's arms and the baby in her own. To bathe in such love as she never imagined she'd know.

She chuckles a little, and of course Rick's attention is piqued.

"Share the joke?"

"Does parenthood flip some kind of sap switch?" she asks. "Can I be tough-as-nails Kate Beckett *and* doting new mommy at the same time?"

"Don't forget Svetlana, the hot Russian model," says Rick, grinning as she rolls her eyes. He so rarely resists a punch line. However, this time he subsides quickly, asking, "Now that we've met her, what name do you think suits her best?"

They've discussed names, decided on possibilities depending on whether they had a boy or a girl (at least they agreed on wanting it to be a surprise), but at the moment Kate has one the tip of her tongue that they haven't talked about.

She looks down at their daughter and says quietly, "What about...Lily?"

Rick reaches over to stroke the sleeping baby's cheek with the back of a finger. His smile is soft and his touch even softer.

Then he raises his eyes to Kate's and nods.

Lily it is.

Prompted by a gifset by sculllay on tumblr: her-pegship dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 145362868710