Alan Eppes was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. He glanced at his alarm clock. Three forty-eight. "Oh, God! Donnie," he muttered, fumbling for the phone. With a son in the FBI, a call at that hour was always frightening. "Hello?" his voice shook.

"Dad!"

"Charlie? What's wrong? Are you all right?"

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. "I'm fine, Dad. And so's Amita. And so's your grandson."

"Grandson?" Alan was confused. "But... Amita wasn't due..."

"For another three weeks. I know. But your grandson had other ideas."

"Oh my God. Is he all right?"

"He's fine. A little small, but all his fingers and toes are there, and he's got lungs like an Olympic athlete."

His first grandchild. Alan's eyes filled with tears, and he bit back a sob.

"Dad? Dad? Are you okay? Hey, I'm sorry I woke you up. I just couldn't wait..."

Alan took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm glad you called me, Son. I'm just.. I'm so happy I don't know what to say. You're sure Amita's okay?"

"I'm positive, Dad. She's fine. She's right here if you want to say hi."

"No, no. Just let her rest. What time do visiting hours start?"

"Not until ten. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

"Sleep?" Alan squeaked. "You wake me up in the middle of the night, give me the most wonderful news I've heard since... well, I guess since you were born... and you expect me to get back to sleep?!"

"Sorry," Charlie tried to sound contrite, but Alan wasn't fooled.

A smile spread across Alan's face. "Right. I can tell from the sound of your voice that you are not sorry at all. And neither am I. I'll see you in six hours."

Six hours later, Alan stood in the doorway of Amita's room, carrying a dozen white roses, a box of Neuhaus Belgian Truffles for Amita, and a teddy bear for his new grandson. He paused, looking at the little family before him. The baby nuzzled Amita's breast while Charlie leaned over the two of them, one arm around Amita's shoulders and the other hand holding his son's tiny hand. Charlie glanced up, smiling a smile that Alan guessed had not left his face since the baby was born. "Come on in, Grandpa. Meet Alan Lawrence Eppes."

"Alan.." Alan said softly. "I thought you were going to name him Charlie."

"Too confusing," Charlie chuckled. "Every time Amita yelled 'Charlie!' we'd both answer."

Alan put the flowers on the night stand and handed Amita the box of chocolates. "For you, Dear."

Amita gave him a brilliant smile as she shifted the baby to take the box. "Thank you! Oh, Alan, these are my favorites!"

"So I heard." Alan grew serious. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm a little tired. A little sore. I'm really sorry Charlie woke you up so early."

Alan patted Amita's hand. "I only wish I could have come over right away." His gaze traveled to the tiny bundle in Amita's arms. "He's so small. But Charlie says he's fine..."

"He's perfect," Amita touched the dark hair on little Alan's head. "Come on, hold him." She adjusted her robe and held the sleeping baby up.

Alan handed Charlie the teddy bear and took the little bundle. "Alan Lawrence," he murmured. "Nice to meet you."

Little Alan stirred and opened his eyes. He regarded his grandfather solemnly and blinked. Alan touched the baby's soft, warm cheek, and the baby turned towards his hand, making little sucking motions with his mouth. "I think he's still hungry," Alan chuckled, handing the baby back to Amita. "I'm sorry, little man. I don't think I'll be much help in that department. But anything you want, ever, all you have to do is ask."

Charlie rose, sat on the edge of Amita's bed. "Here, Grandpa, have a seat."

Alan blinked as his eyes filled with tears. "Grandpa. I had almost given up hope..."

"Really?" Charlie laughed. "You should have said something."