Author's Note: Alternate titles I considered for this story include "Kyle XY: The Next Generation" and "Kyle XY: A New Hope". Feel free to submit your own! :-)

On a less frivolous note, I wanted this fic to address a lot of the issues that the show's producers unfortunately never had time to handle - when Kyle destroyed the pods at the end of season 3, was he playing God? Could it be considered abortion? Was there any justified use of an artificial gestation pod? Was it cruel to bring a child into the world that way, and if not, how long was too long before it became "wrong" to keep a child in the pod? I barely touch on some of these, but I wrote this fic based on the premise that these are the kinds of questions that keep Kyle up at night. So without further ado...

There was no turning back now. Kyle looked at the pod in trepidation, hands shaking and stomach aflutter in a physiological response that harkened back to the days of his youth. Butterflies. But not like he'd felt with Amanda, nor anyone since. These were different, paired not only with joy, but also with... Kyle paused for a moment to listen to his own heartbeat, which had sped up to nearly equal the soft rhythm coming from the pod... yes, that was definitely fear.

Technically, Kyle didn't have to do this today. One more day in the pod wouldn't hurt it... her, he corrected himself, and maybe one more day would be good for him - give him a bit more time to prepare, make sure everything was ready. But he knew he didn't need the time, he had checked his small woodland cottage a thousand times over - literally - down to the last detail. Nesting, Nicole had called it when Lori was pregnant with Ethan. Kyle wished that Nicole could be here with him now, she would know exactly what to say to get him through this. In fact, he wished that all of the Tragers could be here with him, but for reasons he didn't quite understand, he felt in his gut that this was something he needed to do alone.

And this was something he needed to do today. Consequences or not, Kyle had made a promise two years ago to the day, on the fifth anniversary of Jessi's death, that today would be the day. And Kyle kept to his promises, as best he could, even if they were only to himself. So despite his fear and the amplification of the nagging feeling that had been plaguing him for the past two years that this had been a terrible, terrible idea - that it was reckless and selfish and very very stupid, Kyle approached the pod and began to adjust the knobs in final preparation for the moment that he awaited with mixed anticipation and dread. After all, the only other alternatives were to either postpone this to tomorrow, breaking a promise to himself and robbing his daughter - the word tasted funny on his tongue - of one more day of childhood, or to just unplug the goddamned pod. And while he wasn't sure if that was technically murder, he shuddered at the thought.

As Kyle began to drain the pod of the pink gooey fluid developed by his father, he thought back to twenty years ago, to the last time that he had handled fluid like this. He had been so young and innocent then, just a year out of his own artificial womb. Everything in the world had at first seemed so black and white - lying was bad, telling the truth was good. Killing was wrong, saving lives was right. Adam Baylin's technology could be used for evil, therefore it could not exist. But very quickly, over the course of that first year and beyond, Kyle's vision was colored with a million different shades of gray. Lying was sometimes necessary to protect the people he loved. Killing was always wrong, but when it was kill or be killed... Kyle hoped that the day would never come when he had to make that choice; he wasn't sure which option frightened him more. But that Baylin's artificial gestation technology could not exist - this was something that Kyle had remained thoroughly convinced of for years, and he might never have changed his mind. But life didn't always turn out the way you expected it to, and after Jessi passed away, Kyle had found himself questioning a lot of things he had previously known to be true.

Kyle had never really understood the expression "to remember as if it were yesterday." He knew that other people's memories worked differently than his, that the images faded over time, but still... it seemed a funny turn of phrase to him, as he could remember everything as if it were yesterday, or today, or just one minute ago. And this particular moment that occurred three years, two months, and 12 days ago, was no exception...

"Psst... Kyle!"

Kyle pulled the blankets tighter and rolled over in the porcelain tub that he still slept in after all these years. It had been a hell of a time lugging it all the way out here from the Tragers', even with a bit of a mental boost, but it had been well worth it.

"Kyle, wake up!"

Kyle still refused to open his eyes.

"Buhhhh Nicole, I don' have school today. Isss a Saturday..." It was also nineteen years after his high school graduation, but sleep did funny things to one's sense of time.

"Kyle, it's me." Kyle knew that voice. He bolted upright in the tub.

"Jessi!" Confusion. "But wait, you're de..." And then sudden understanding. "You're me. I'm still asleep, right?"

Jessi just laughed.

"You catch on quickly."

"I've missed you." Kyle said, pulling the phantom Jessi into an embrace. Rationally, he knew it wasn't real, but for the time being he was content to let his mind play tricks.

"I know." Jessi smiled.

"Is that why you're here?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Jessi grinned mischievously. Even in death, she somehow still managed to be as feisty as she'd always been. "Okay, fine. I wanted to give you something."

"But how? You're..." He still couldn't bring himself to say the word. Dead. Fortunately, Jessi didn't make him.

"Check your Latnok box."

And suddenly, the box that Kyle had recovered from the rubble of the old Zyzzyx compound was in his hands. Kyle reached up and unclasped the chain around his neck which held the key. He turned the ring in the soft indentations in the box and heard a faint click, then a hiss as the box slid open, emitting a light fog and a sudden coolness into the air.

"Jessi, what is this?"

"It's a miniaturized cryogenic oocyte containment unit. But you knew that."

And it was true, Kyle did know - he didn't know how he'd known, or since when, but it was apparent now - clear as day. Jessi must have left him clues while she was still alive - subtle clues, and for whatever reason his subconscious had waited until now to piece them together.

"You froze your eggs. Why?"

"Just in case." Jessi smirked, "hey, pod people have biological clocks too, you know."

Biological clock. That was another term he'd picked up from the Tragers. It wasn't an actual clock, though - and until now, Kyle had assumed that his was missing entirely. Apparently, his subconscious thought otherwise.

"And this is your way of telling me mine is... ticking?"

"Something like that."

And just like that, she was gone. Kyle awoke the next morning sprawled across his basement floor next to an artificial gestation pod that seemed to have materialized overnight. A quick suite of mechanical system checks only confirmed what Kyle already knew to be true - this pod was not only fully operational, it was occupied.

It didn't even occur to Kyle to run a paternity test. He knew exactly whose child this was.

The pink nutritional supplement had all but drained now, and Kyle could make out the curve of a cheekbone, the delicate slope of a nose. His daughter's eyes were still closed tight, and she looked so peaceful, as if she were dreaming. It felt almost cruel to wake her - Kyle knew better than most that the world could be a cold and frightening place. But it could also be a warm place, he thought as he lifted his newborn daughter out of her glass womb for the first time - a place full of kindness and hope and love. These were the things that he had brought this brand new life into the world not only to see, but to share.

And then she opened her eyes.