Author's Note: This idea came to me a week ago. Why, I have no idea. But I think it's cute, and I hope you enjoy it. Side note, if you haven't told CBS how you feel about AJ and Paget, please do. I love the girls, and I want them to stay. I want AJ, not some new chick.

Enjoy, reviews are most definitely appreciated!

Five Times David Rossi Was Amazed By White

David Rossi was exhausted. Utterly exhausted. He had been at the hospital for going on thirty-seven hours now. In the beginning, he had been able to grab a few quick naps, maybe thirty minutes to an hour, but after about Hour Twenty-Seven, there was no more time for napping.

Too much noise, too.

Between the beeping of God knows how many machines, footsteps of people scurrying around outside, doctors and nurses bustling into the room every so often, and the soft to progressively louder-until-they're-almost-shouts moans, David couldn't have slept if someone had hit him in the head with a mallet. Although he was sure there was some morphine in this place somewhere...

It had started so slow. She had started feeling the light contractions a few days ago, and when they had started to come at regular intervals of five minutes, Rossi had driven to her home, picked her up, and driven her to the hospital. For the next half hour, it had been a whirlwind of forms and elevators and halls-oh, the freaking maze of halls-and wheelchairs and rooms and IVs and David Rossi was tired already. So he decided to try and take a nap, and encouraged her to do the same. They were occasionally interrupted by various nurses and doctors, coming in to check her progress and break her water, but for the most part they got enough sleep to make it through the first few hours. The doctors still found that everyone was head down, so a natural delivery was an option. She wanted natural.

But then labor reached Hour Twenty-Four and Rossi realized that he had been here for a full day. And had spent most of that day sitting in this small, uncomfortable chair, holding her hand as she occasionally squeezed, and talking to her. At Hour Twenty-Five, the doctor on call had suggested that she walk around for a little bit and try to encourage labor. So David had helped her put on those stupid little socks with the rubber slip-proof nubs on the bottom and hauled her up off the bed. He had on hand on the IV pole, guiding it while she held on, the other holding her gown closed until he finally wrapped a blanket around her, forming a make-shift jacket to cover her.

They returned from their walk, which was more like a journey into the minotaur's maze without the golden thread, and she was immediately started on Pitocin. Exactly one hour later, Rossi had no more time to reflect on what he needed to do once he returned home; he was all in it.

He held her hand while she virtually crushed his, fed her small ice chips when her mouth began to feel like the Sahara, and rubbed her back when the pain got to be too much. Finally, the anesthesiologist arrived, and within a few minutes, had her hooked up and placated. Rossi's hand was glad.

Now they were well into Hour Thirty-Four, the epidural was starting to lose effect as the contractions became stronger, and David was fairly certain he would be leaving this hospital with a cast on his hand. But he was okay with that, as long as everything turned out okay. At the very beginning of Hour Thirty-Five, the doctor was unsure if she was ready to push, and she had yelled that she was more than ready and he had better get ready to catch. Rossi told the doctor he had better listen. So her feet went up in the stirrups.

The doctor had asked if Rossi wanted to watch from his angle, but Rossi didn't think she would appreciate more people than necessary having a close-up of her intimate areas, so he decided to stay up where he was and encourage her.

Encouraging had quickly turned into anxious shouting as the nurses counted, and she was squeezing his hand until the blood flow to his fingers had stopped, but he was to busy to notice or care.

"That's it! Come on, you can do it! Just a little more! You're doing to good, just keep it up!"

And thirty-seven minutes after she started pushing came the call "I see a head!" followed two minutes later by a cry.

And it was the most wonderful sound David Rossi had ever heard. A long, full, lusty cry from a set of very healthy lungs. Followed by a quick breath, and then another long shriek. Mere minutes later, another voice joined the first, just as healthy and squealing...

Rossi had ran around the room for a few minutes, making sure everyone was okay, and then he excused himself out the door. He walked down the hallway and made sure to turn only one corner, not daring to tempt fate and get lost never to return. He wasn't running away, he just needed a minute to collect himself. He stopped and dropped into a random chair in the hallway and took a few deep breaths. He hung his head and ran his hands through his hair, wondering how much grayer it would be the next time he looked in the mirror.

A few more minutes and David rose from the chair, walked around the one corner, and put his hand on the doorknob, taking just a second more. After all, he had just gone from single man to father of two.

The knob turned and he hesitantly stepped inside the room. And there was Emily, sitting up in the hospital bed, gazing into two bassinets at two babies that did not belong to her. She looked up when she heard the door open.

"David," she said, giving him a large, tired smile. "Come in."

He took another step and closed the door, suddenly unable to move. He was paralyzed by the things inside those bassinets. If he hadn't have been so terrified, he would have laughed; the great David Rossi, scared out of his wits by two infants!

"Come on, Dave," said Emily gently. "Come meet your children."

David numbly stepped forward until his thigh hit the edge of her bed. He stared straight at Emily, not daring to look into the bassinets only five inches away.

"Emily," he said faintly. He cleared his throat, hoping to make his voice a little stronger. "Emily, you know you didn't have to do this."

"You're family, Dave," said Emily. "You wanted kids, and I was happy to surrogate for you." She covered his hand and gave him another smile. "Now, turn and look at your babies."

And Rossi turned. He was met with two little infants, both swaddled in blankets, each with a foot sticking out. There was a small anklet around each foot. David leaned down and saw that both read "Baby Rossi".

"I...I don't know which is which," he said with an almost desperate chuckle.

"The one on the right is the firstborn, the little boy. On the left is the little girl," said Emily. And with that, she gently slid her arms around the nearest one, the boy, and hoisted him into her lap.

David made his way to the little girl, then slowly slid his hands under her and carefully lifted her into his arms. He held the little girl to his chest, then made his way back to Emily and the boy. His boy. His son.

Holding them close, David studied their faces. Their mother was an anonymous egg donor, so he had no idea what she looked like, only that she was Italian. Both children had wispy jet black hair. He tried to figure out if they had any of his featured, but he couldn't tell.

"They both look like you," Emily whispered, in awe of the infants. "Look, he has your nose, and she has your lips. And I think they might both have your eyes."

Just then the little girl, his daughter, opened her eyes, first the left, then the right. David had a small second to stare into deep brown eyes before she gave a huge baby yawn and closed them again. David smiled.

The butterflies that he had not realized were fluttering in his stomach seemed to lessen and were replaced by a whooshing feeling of excitement and joy.

"Have you picked out names?" Emily asked, watching as his son grabbed on to her finger.

"Nico Angelo and Isabella Alessandra."

"Wow, where did those come from?" asked Emily, surprised that he had these names ready.

"I have absolutely no idea," said David. "They literally just came to me."

"I like 'em," said Emily, looking at the babies again. "Hello, Nico and Isabella. I'm your Aunt Emily. And this is your Daddy."

David smiled. Daddy. He could get used to that. He guesses he'll have to. He stares down at his children.

"They're perfect," said Emily.

"Yes, they are," agreed David.

He was in amazement of his children, swaddled in white.