'Kevin, come on.'

Honey-Milk took Ryan by the hand since he didn't seem to really clue in that the new father was talking about him. 'Sweetie, you okay?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Ryan said, a little dazed; why would Lanie be asking for him? He let his wife lead him out, but stopped just before they got to the catwalk. 'What?'

'I just had a thought. I'm going to go to the preschool and get Dell. He's probably chewed through his Tyco blocks in excitement.'

Ryan kissed his wife, watched her go before he and Dave started back over the sky-walk. Through the arching windows, New York City was gleaming with early summer night-lights - bright whites, pales yellows, reds and blues and greens. Amongst those lights, crime was more than likely being done, people dying or being screwed - and not in the fun way - by lovers ending relationships. And none of the darkness mattered to them right now, because tonight, the NYPD's Twelfth Precinct got its newest member of the seceond generation.

'Tell me about the little guy, give me the bullet before we go on-scene,' Ryan teased; despite being supernaturally tired, Dave laughed jovially.

'Gumball's a jawbreaker, to use Honey-Milk's words. Eight pounds, three ounces, thirty-one inches crown to heel.'

'Go Lanie.'

'She was a superstar. His head looked a little like the Ridley Scott alien when he first came out, but that's from all the squishing and pushing, I'm guessing. And he's got a whole lot of hair, like a Troll doll with a brush-cut.'

'Any stitches?'

'Nope. All those birthing classes and books paid off, no downstairs slicing for Lanie. Not that she'd have noticed.' Dave shook his head. 'I've heard Lanie swear when she's angry but this was something else.'

'Women in labour can be quite creative with their cursing. What did she call you?'

'I believe it was ass-hat first, then when Honey-Milk told her that was a sucky insult, she called me a goddamn cock-sucking Italian.'

'I was a potato-sucking Irish fuckwit as Dell was crowning, and then she nearly ripped my hair out.' Ryan scratched his head at the very spot where his bride had grabbed hold like it was the last pair of boots at a Macy's black Friday sale. 'Unpleasant when you don't have wavy luscious locks like yours.'

Dave turned into Lanie's room, knowing his fiancee and his baby had had time to arrive from the delivery room. Sure enough, Lanie was still asleep; beside her bed was the bassinet with the new addition, now in pyjamas with little mitts on his hands and sporting his NYPD cap, his twelves blanket draped over him. The label on the bassinet read 'Gumball Parrish-Robbins', and Ryan was certain that was his bride's touch.

'Elenia.' Dave kissed her brow to gently wake her. 'We've got company.'

Lanie stirred, stretched. She was still really sore down there, but they'd given her a lovely painkiller and muscle relaxant combo to help. She blinked twice, then focused on the Irish detective. 'Kevin.' Her smile was tired but deliriously happy. 'I'm a mom.'

'Congratulations, Lanie. Dave said you were a champion.'

'We wanted to tell you first, before everyone comes in here and makes a big deal, but...'Lanie trailed off as Dave picked up the bundle of joy, placed him in her arms. She sighed a little, tracing her finger tip over his soft little cheek. 'We want to name him after you.'

Ryan's throat slammed shut, his eyes burned. Touched to the core he sat down, put his hand over the ME's dainty foot. 'Lanie, I don't know what to say.'

'If Lanie hadn't had you helping her out on the job, I would have gone insane worrying about her,' Dave told him, 'and knowing she and this little guy were safe because you were keeping an eye on her made this a lot easier to handle, for both of us. Especially when we could have lost him in January.'

'I know what it's like to start a family at an unexpected time, and I'm glad I could help in any way.' Ryan cleared his throat. 'So, ah, which name are you going with?'

'Dell's already got Thomas and Esposito's called dibs on Ryan if he and Mere ever have a boy, so we're calling him Kevin. Kevin Oscar.'

'As in the grouch?'

'As in my father.'

'That's the other thing. We want you and Jenny to be godparents.'

'You are determined to make me cry, aren't you?' Ryan gave a wheezy laugh, then pointed to the baby. 'May I?' When Lanie nodded, he plucked the swaddled newborn from her arms with the ease and comfort of a recent father. He cradled his little namesake, talked to him.

'Hey, little bro,' he crooned, remembering how Esposito had addressed his son, 'Kevin, that's a great name. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Your mom's the best, too, I know she loves you very much, but don't forget about Dad. He's stoked to see you and you've got a great one there too. And wait till you meet your aunts and uncles,' he said, passing the baby back to Dave. 'That's not even counting Dell and Rosie. Once my boy meets you, you'll never be rid of him.'

There was a knock on the door, and all three glanced over to see Oscar himself standing in the doorway, travel-weary but elated. Ryan recognized Lanie's father instantly, and discreetly slipped into the hallway to wait for Honey-Milk and Dell.

In her maternity suite, Lanie felt her eyes well up, her voice go hoarse. 'Daddy, you made it.'

'I got Dave's message twenty minutes after he left it, hopped a flight from Dallas out here.' He had in his one hand a little stuffed duck wearing an Anaheim jersey and in the other a purple and green bag, felt a little foolish all of a sudden clutching them. 'I'm so sorry I was late, Lanie. I should have known to fly out earlier, leave my assistant in charge.'

'But you're here now, that's what counts.' Lanie smiled warmly at her father, then pointed to the bag he held. 'First presents?'

'Yes, ah, a little something from me and my boys.' Oscar took a seat in the chair beside his daughter's bed, passed the stuffed toy to Dave to put in the bassinet. 'The duck, Emilio, is from me, for the little guy or gal.'

'Guy,' Lanie confirmed. 'Kevin Oscar Parrish-Robbins. We're thinking of calling him Carey for short.'

'Just like the Habs' goalie. Even have most of the same initials. Carey Price, Carey Parrish-Robbins,' Dave, ever the Canadian hockey fan, added.

'That's a good name for my grandson.' Oscar pressed his hand to his mouth as he watched His little girl was a mother. 'Elenia, I'm so proud of you. Of both of you. You've contacted your parents, Dave?'

'Yeah. I'm surprised you didn't hear my mother yell all the way from Albany.' Dave stooped to put Kevin into his grandfather's hands.

'Hello, Carey. Yeah, I'm your poppy. Go ahead, open it,' he added to Dave when he saw his daughter's young man pick up the bag.

Curious as to when Oscar would have picked up a gift, he unwound the soft paper from the parcel and laughed out loud. It was another onsie, but this one was fashioned to look like a Mighty Ducks' jersey, the original - now vintage - purple and silver and green stripes unmistakable. Only instead of there being two hockey-sticks crossed behind the duck-shaped goalie mask, there was a bottle and an old-fashioned Tiffany rattle. Turning it over, he saw the name 'Parrish-Robbins' on the back and a number 6, for the month of June.

'Tel Finneran was quite taken with both of you last fall and told the guys on the team that you were having a little one in June. He goosed some cash out of them and they got this custom-done for me to give you. He also made them all sign a card for you too,' Oscar explained, watching the way Dave's eyes went round as marbles as he put Carey back in the bassinet. If the new father's reaction to the gift was any indication, he knew they would be worshiping at the altar of the Great White North's famous and favourite past-time.

There was another knock on the door, and this time they looked over to see the other members of the Ryan family - Honey-Milk and Dell had arrived. 'Looks like Carey's quite the popular little guy,' Oscar commented, his words ending on a yawn.

'Daddy, why don't you go with Ryan over to the lounge? I'm pretty sure Castle's there with food or he'll get you a coffee if you like.'

'That sounds like a great idea. I'll be back in a little bit.'

When Oscar was gone, Honey-Milk and Dell walked in quietly. She picked up the toddler, spoke to him quietly. 'Now remember, he's very little, and sleeping so we have to be quiet.'

'I kite. Sssssh.' Dell held a finger to his lips as his mother walked over for him to look in the bassinet. 'Buddy 'mall.'

'He's not even an hour old yet.'

'Boy?'

'Yes, Dell, he's a boy. His name is Carey. Can you say Carey?'

'Cah-wee. Moosh?'

'Here. Give me a kiss.' Honey-Milk held up her fingers like she was asking for a high five. Dell leaned over, pressed his little lips to them, then watched as Honey-Milk gently pressed the Dell-dampened tips against Carey's little cheek. 'We have to be gentle around him. He's very new and very tiny.'

'I gennel. No oush Cah-wee. Lanie up?'

Honey-Milk glanced over to where Lanie was watching them with tired but amused eyes. 'You feeling okay if he sits with you a moment?'

'Sure.'

'Up, peas,' Dell said, hoping manners would work in his favour and sure enough they did. His mother carefully put him on the space of bed created by the bend of Lanie's body. When he was settled, he tapped her hand. 'Yea Lanie.'

'Thanks Dell.'

'I gennel.' He leaned forward a little. 'Hug?'

Lanie smiled, wrapped her arm that wasn't attached to an IV around his little body. 'Of course.'

'Peasant 'mo-wow.'

'You're bringing Carey a present tomorrow?'

Dell nodded, held his finger to his lips. 'Sssh. 'Pise.'

'I won't ruin the surprise.'

Lanie gave him one last hug as she began to yawn; recognizing the signs, Honey-Milk scooped her son up. 'See you tomorrow,' she mumbled as she began to drift back into the welcoming void of sleep. 'Dave?'

'Right here sweetie.'

'Love you, Dad.'

'Love you too, Mom.'

R&R&Enjoy.