Trowa was in a terrible accident. It was on the escalator at the mall. (He feel) He was rushed to the hospital and there he was quickly taken to the emergency room, where there was laid upon the hospital table and so I'm told, was operated on.

A day later, Trowa woke up. Alone. He was in a hospital bed, and wore that blue hospital gown, and there was a bracelet so he couldn't escape. That's okay though, he didn't feel like walking. He needed to make a call though. He got the nurse to bring over the phone. He dialed his own phone number, waiting patiently.

Someone picked up. "Mmm."

Thank god. Quatre, his superboyfriend was home.

"Oh god, Quatre. Thank god you answered the phone. Baby…I'm in the hospital."

"Uh-huh," affirmed Quatre. He was playing solitaire on the computer, his favorite game. He laboriously picked up the queen of hearts from the stack and thought about putting it on the king of clubs. But there was also a king of spades. Hard decision to make.

Trowa was aware of his boyfriend's obvious shock, so he continued. "I was in an accident. A terrible accident, baby. You….things have changed now."

"Yep." Quatre chose the king of clubs because he liked clubs better. Spades were overrated. He then picked up a seven. There were no eights around. "Crap."

"Yes….I know, baby…it is crap. I…I have to warn you though…you need to be prepared to listen. Are you ready?"

"Mm." Quatre still didn't know what to do with that seven. If he moved that five over there than maybe it'd free up another card, and who knows, it could be an eight. "Sure."

"A-alright. Listen. My….my lower region was destroyed in the accident. I…they couldn't do anything. But to make my life more normal, they've….well they've turned me into a girl. I have an implanted vagina now."

"Um." When Quatre had moved the five it had turned out to be a four instead. And it was a black four. That wouldn't do him much good. The five had been black too. "Man…"

"I know. But that's not the worst part. The uterus they implanted with it…well….it had Heero's baby in it. It's kind of like getting AIDS after a blood transfusion, but worse. I'm now carrying the baby of our bestfriend/pimpmaster." Trowa preceded to cry.

"Whatever." That four would just have to sit there for a bit. I mean really, what can you do with a black four. Not much, unless you've got a red five. And you know, where the hell is that when you need it?

"Baby? You're okay with it?" Trowa was choked up.

"What?" Quatre realized he was holding a phone and there might be someone else on the other line. "Who is this?"

"No baby, it's not a prank. It's true."

"Oh." Judging by the fact he was just called baby, it was probably Trowa calling him up. Or did he? "You said baby, right?"

"Yes. I'm having a baby."

"Oh. Who is this?"

"It's TROWA!" screamed Trowa, suddenly overtaken with the amount of estrogen he had coursing through his uterus.

"Oh. You're having a baby?"

"YES!"

"Who'd you knock up?"

"You really don't get it, do you baby?" Trowa cried more.

"Are you saying you want to break up with me?"

And then the next thing that was said was the most horrible thing that Quatre had ever heard in his life.

"No," Trowa said. "I want to be with you the rest of forever."

Quatre's mouth fell open. He had paid attention to that. "That….was….GRAMATICALLY INCORRECT!"

Trowa screeched. "I'm SORRY, baby, OKAY? SORRRRY!"

"You better be," grumbled Quatre, returning to his solitaire game.

"What should we name it?" Trowa was cheery.

"What?"

"The baby. What should we name it?"

"Who's having a baby?" asked Quatre, moving the black four onto a red five he had just found.