Nine Months

by Kimmychu

Danny and Flack equals two. What do two tough New York detectives do when they end up experiencing something impossible to the male species, and up the equation to three? DannyFlack, of course!

3. Trimester 3

Nine Months

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (Most definito.)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Uber-cracktasticness. And I mean, uber. Unless it's your thing, of course. I can't actually mention the exact form of crack in the story, but the title should give you a clue.

Spoilers: Nada. Except maybe a teeny one for Blood, Sweat & Tears. And Run Silent, Run Deep. And Fare Game.

Summary: Danny and Flack equals two. What do two tough New York detectives do when they end up experiencing something impossible to the male species, and up the equation to three?

Disclaimer: After this ... I'd be amazed if the TPTB even allow the characters to come within a hundred feet of me, bwahahahah!

( Oooo . oooO )

Author's Notes: Wow. I can't believe it. I finished a story! Yaaaaaaaaay. The longest installment of this cracktastic tale, and I hope you guys get a big laugh outta it. By the way, I actually knew someone who had a craving for cement when she was pregnant, hahahah. Technically, the story is done, but I might just post two alternate endings for it as a bonus part or something. What do you guys think? Oh, and thank you to everyone who's been reading my stories and enjoying them. I appreciate the reviews!

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 7:

i.

"I wanna eat cement."

Flack strained to open bleary eyes. " … whu?"

"Don, I wanna eat cement."

The homicide detective sighed strongly and rolled as slow as a snail to the bedside table to switch on the lamp on it. He glanced at the digital clock. Then he rolled back just as slowly, struggled to his elbows and stared at Danny with half-closed, fuzzy eyes. His short, dark hair was standing up in spiky tufts all over his head.

"Danny ... It's freakin' three in the mornin'."

Danny was wide awake, blue eyes wide with what Flack would dub as extreme craving. His teeth were sunk into his lower lip, and his hands were fisted in the blanket under his chin. It somehow made him appear very endearing. The CSI paid no heed to Flack's comment. Or rather, he was so immersed in fantasizing about cement he didn't hear it.

"Cement … delicious cement. I bet it's crunchy and brittle." Danny noisily licked his lips. "Salty. Like Doritos. Mmmmm, cement."

Flack dragged a hand wearily over his face. Ohhh boy, Danny was having one of his peculiar food hankerings again.

"I wanna eat cemeeeeent," Danny whined. He revolved his head to aim a pleading gaze at his lover. "You can get some for me, right?"

Flack sighed again. "Danny. You can't eat cement. Remember what happened last week when ya tried to chew Mac's SUV wheels?"

Danny pouted. He blinked big, puppy eyes at the taller man. "But I waaaaaanna."

Flack collapsed face first into his pillow and groaned.

The food yearnings started a couple of weeks ago. At the outset, it was the usual things. Pepperoni pizza. Lots of it. And lasagna. And even those little, chocolate-slathered Jaffa cakes all the way from the United Kingdom. Flack could handle that. Miraculously, Danny didn't balloon up from all that food, except maybe his tummy expanded some more. Still easily concealed with a thick jacket or coat. Guess it all went to their baby growing inside him.

Then, it got really weird.

The first odd food hankering was clay, the kind used to manufacture pots and the likes. Flack didn't even know about it until he caught Danny nibbling on a medium-sized vase in Flack's living room that was made of the stuff. Flack spent five days physically holding Danny down whenever they passed a ceramic shop chock full of pots and vases and similar objects. Flack had to hide away all the ceramic items in both his and Danny's apartment too for the CSI's sake. He thanked God the clay hankering only got really bad when Danny was out of the labs. After that, it vanished as quickly as it came.

Then, the next one arrived with a bang. More accurately, it hit Danny while the two men were at a coffee shop near Flack's precinct during lunch. A middle-aged woman was sitting at the table next to theirs, carrying a gigantic bunch of red roses in one arm and chatting animatedly with a lady pal. Danny was staring at the flowers like nothing else existed. Flack assumed Danny wanted to be gifted with roses, so he made a mental note to buy some later. However, the homicide detective literally choked on his coffee when Danny began plucking the red petals and gulped them down as if they were mouthwatering candy. Flack had to use all his charm and handsome looks to placate the owner of what was now merely a bunch of green, thorny stalks.

An entire week of restraining Danny, every time they walked by a flower shop selling roses, crawled past way too slowly for Flack's liking. Flack had heard of pregnant women having crazy food cravings, but this was ridiculous. Like the first one, this particular food yearning disappeared in a flash too. For a few days, life was uncomplicated.

And then, last week, the worst one struck. Flack deemed it the worst, because Danny suddenly desired, more than anything else, to eat car tyres. Car tyres. In New York city. Mac had gotten awfully suspicious about why Flack insisted on being partnered up with Danny for every case, and decided to assign the two men to work with him on a homicide case.

At a freaking junk yard full of condemned cars. And tyres.

Oh, dealing with a tyre-crazy, pregnant Danny there was the most challenging experience the homicide detective ever lived through, even more so than his cadet training. Every single time Danny strayed from the murder area and stalked towards a pile of tyres, Flack was there to haul the whining bespectacled man away before he did some critical damage to himself and the baby. It was even more difficult due to Mac's presence, and the older CSI's astute, eagle eyes watching them. Flack had to give credit to Danny for controlling himself as much as he did, and let Danny out of his sight just for an instant, once the evidence collection was done and the body was taken away.

It was a big mistake. Returning from a short interview with a witness, Flack discovered the CSI kneeling before one of the front wheels of Mac's SUV. Danny's mouth was wide open and lunging straight for the dark grey, grimy tyre. With a frantic yell, Flack grabbed his lover's shoulders in time and forcibly dragged the bawling man away. It was damn good timing too, because Mac materialized next to them out of nowhere and frightened forty years off Flack's life. The homicide detective was forced to concoct possibly the lamest excuse for Danny's crying, that the smell of tyres was making Danny all teared up and sick.

Which made Mac glower at them in an exceedingly skeptical and unconvinced manner. Which, in turn, made Danny blubber twice as loud. Which, subsequently, induced Mac into a private guilt trip, and he ordered Flack to drive Danny home and out of the junk yard immediately. It must have been so traumatizing that Flack's brain had somehow blocked his memories of how he got through the last six days after that incident without strangling Danny.

And now, here they were with Danny's fourth food hankering. Officially, Flack decided, the worst yet. Car tyres, they could avoid if there were no cars in sight. But, cement. The stuff was EVERYWHERE.

"Don, pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaase?" the CSI begged, shaking Flack's arm. "I'm hungry."

Flack frowned and attempted to appear conciliating simultaneously. "No, Danny! You can't eat cement. End of discussion!"

Danny's pout intensified. Flack shifted his eyes, determined to be unswayed.

"No."

"Pleaaase?"

"No."

"Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaseeeeee?"

"NO."

The smaller man shot to an upright position, blanket slipping from his shoulders to expose his upper body in a black tank top. The pout morphed into a sulky expression. Danny glared at Flack.

Then his lower lip trembled.

"You think I'm a big, fat cow, don'tcha?"

Flack heard glass crack inside his brain. What the? How the heck did they go from eating cement to Danny being a big, fat cow?

" … huhbuh?"

Danny's hair was all tousled from sleep too. His lips were downturned. "You don't want me to eat 'cos ya think I'm a big, FAT COW!"

Flack got up onto his knees. A muscle in the taller man's cheek began twitching intermittently.

"Yeah, ya DO! I KNOW IT!" Danny sobbed, eyes wet. "Ya never touch me anymore, and ya never call me beautiful or gorgeous or anythin' anymore!" The shorter man's blue eyes suddenly widened in panic. "You're seein' somebody else on the side, aren't ya! Who is he! Is he better lookin' than me? HUH?"

Obviously, Flack's brain was still in neutral mode.

"I've never called ya beautiful."

Danny stared at him with eyes big enough that the whites showed around the cerulean irises. The CSI's attractive face crumpled.

Uh oh.

Flack shook his head madly and waved his hands in a mollifying way, already figuratively bashing himself on the head with a sledgehammer for his idiotic remark. It didn't work.

"Nononononono, wait! I didn't mea -"

Danny sniffed once. Twice. His clenched hands went to his tearful eyes, and the brown-haired man began wailing like a banshee, eyes scrunched closed.

The homicide detective slapped himself in the face with both hands. Way to gooooo, Flack.

"Danny, no, that's not what I meant!" Flack clasped the other man's wrists, trying to move Danny's hands away so he could look Danny in the eye. "You're a guy, so I always call ya, uh … handsome! And gorgeous! And a hunk! Yeah, and you're always hot to me, babe. You're my Italian stallion, remember?"

Danny's sobs lessened a great deal. The smaller gazed somewhat hesitantly at his lover. At least he wasn't bawling anymore.

Unfortunately, Flack's mouth was also in overdrive mode.

"I mean, sure, you've gotten way bigger in the tummy and you're more whiney and bitchy -"

Danny's face screwed up and the noisy weeping resumed ten times louder than before.

Flack huffed. Okay, he needed to do some damage control here. Time to be the pants in the relationship.

"Danny." The taller man shook Danny fast by the shoulders. "Listen to me. Yeah, we gotta face up to the fact you've changed a lot in the past few months, but ya know what? It really doesn't matter to me what size ya come in. And I don't care if ya drive me crazy at different times of the day and night. And ya know why?"

The CSI had stopped crying once more. Danny stared at Flack with large, damp eyes, mouth in a pout.

"Because I love you. In all ways. Even when ya wake me up at three in the mornin' to ask me to get ya cement. I LOVE YOU, get it?" " Flack shook Danny a second time. "And one, I am not seein' anybody on the side. Why should I, when I've got the hottest person right here with me? And two, you have no idea how much I'm dyin' to pounce on ya, but I don't wanna hurt the baby." The homicide detective sighed. "And c'mon, who's gonna tolerate my fashion sense like ya do, huh?"

That got Danny to smile minutely.

"Who's gonna help me pick out my ties and my shirts? Who's gonna eat pizza with me at one in the mornin' after a whole day of lookin' at dead people? Who's gonna laugh at my silly jokes? And who's gonna bicker with me when I'm in a bad mood and in need of somebody to keep me in line?"

Flack smiled tenderly at Danny, stroking one wet cheek. "Who's gonna be there in my arms, tellin' me it's gonna be a'right at the end of the night, huh? Who's the only person in the world who makes me feel like the luckiest sonofabitch alive? You, that's who."

Flack playfully pinched Danny's drying cheek. "Get it yet?"

Danny stared at the other man some more, then dived forward to enfold his arms around Flack's torso, nuzzling his face into the taller man's bare chest.

The homicide detective chuckled softly, embracing the other man affectionately. "Ya still wanna eat cement?"

The CSI shook his head.

"There're some chocolaaate triiiiifllllllllles in the frrriiiiidge," Flack said in a singsong tone. "The ones ya like with milk chocolate candy, caramel, marshmellows and Irish Cream flaaaavoriiiiiiiiin'."

Though Danny's face was hidden, Flack felt him smile. "Only Irish flavorin' I want is right here."

Flack snickered. "As much as I'd love to give ya some, it's really late. We got a long day tomorrow."

Danny sat up. "S'okay. I wanna sleep anyway."

The taller detective sent the other man a mock glower. "No cement?"

Danny shook his head in a negative, smiling gently.

Flack smirked puckishly, climbing back under the blanket to lie down on the bed. "Good. And ya better stay sleepin' till the mornin' too, 'cos I ain't wakin' up to get ya cement, period."

The smaller man tugged the blanket over his shoulder and snuggled up to his friend. Then Danny murmured, "How 'bout a plate of carbonara pasta?"

The CSI promptly received a spank to his BVD-encased bottom.

ii.

The nervous cough woke Flack up.

He growled low in his throat, peeling one eye open. That one eye swiveled to the side to glance at the clock on the side table.

Three in the morning! Again?

Flack growled again, clambering to a sitting position. Okay, tonight was not a good night to annoy Don Flack, Jr. He had a dreadfully long, unpleasant day separated from his other half thanks to being assigned different cases by Mac. He was not going to be happy even if it was Danny who'd woken him up so early in the morning.

And … it wasn't.

The homicide detective blinked. Danny was slumbering soundly on his side next to him, all swathed in their dark red blanket and utterly oblivious to the world. Flack blinked again. Heeeey, wait a minute. He was certain he heard somebody cough.

This time, the sound of someone clearing their throat rang clear in the bedroom.

Flack squinted in the dark, then swiftly turned on the lamp on the bedside table next to him.

Holy crap. There were two humanoid-shaped creatures, about three feet tall, standing at the foot of the bed. They looked just like the aliens Danny described in his dream so many months ago. Green-skinned. One-eyed. Wearing white, disco-ball-shiny spacesuits. Huge heads. And they had no nose. Merely a big mouth with buck teeth. And eight wriggling tentacles with hands at the ends. And boy, were their legs stumpy.

Flack was torn between wanting to scream his head off and getting out of bed to shake their multiple hands in this historic event. Or do the Star Trek Spock fingers thing.

One of the creatures, the one with a purple iris, coughed once more, then announced in a squeaky, accented voice, "Greetings, fleshy one of the Third Planet of the Teeaaggaaakkkkt solar system! We are the Deeediifriicks, from the Toookseeeaas-Ai galaxy!"

Flack craned his head at a forty-five degree angle. Huh. Danny never mentioned the little green men spoke with a British accent.

"We have come to repossess an object of greaaaaaaat significance to our race, a gift of cosmic proportions and -"

"Oh, for the love of Geeeemehyrbuuty." The other alien, who owned an eye with a gold iris, rolled its single eye and smacked his pal on the see-through, glass helmet he wore around his big head. "Stop with the pretentious words and just talk normally with the fleshy thing!"

While Purple-Eye rubbed at its helmet and moped, Gold-Eye coolly approached Flack by waddling to his side of the bed, all eight arms up in a diplomatic sign.

"My apologies for my companion's behavior. He has a tendency to be the ultimate drama queen."

"I am not!"

Seated on the bed, Flack crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged nonchalantly. "I can relate."

"As he was saying, we're here to … take back something that was given by mistake to your companion."

Right on cue, Danny moaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing at his eyes as he woke up. "Don? What's goin' on?" Danny sat up and looked around with sleepy, nearly closed eyes.

Then his gaze fell on the one-eyed, green-skinned alien in a spacesuit beside the bed.

"AaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" The CSI virtually leapt onto Flack and clung onto his lover like an octopus. "OHMYGOD, IT'S THE ALIENS FROM MY DREAAAAAAAM!"

Danny's terrified scream provoked the two aliens into screaming in terror as well, their squeaky voices climbing so high Flack winced at the pitch. Their screaming made Danny scream even more, crushing Flack's lungs in the ferocity of his panicked squeeze. The cacophony of screeching from both human and Deeediifriicks went on for half a minute until Flack threw up his hands, inhaled deeply and bellowed, "ENNOOOOOOOOUGH!"

Everyone clammed up their mouths. A profound silence befell the occupants of the bedroom.

Danny was the first to break it.

"Don … what are they doin' here?" Danny whispered worriedly into his ear.

Gold-Eye cleared its throat, even placing one of its hands in front of its large mouth as it did so. "My, that was an awkward moment, wasn't it?" The alien chortled nervously and rotated on its short legs to face Danny. "Ah, I see you remember us from our previous meeting. That was quite an intriguing experience, I must say -"

Flack began growling menacingly, teeth bared.

"Uhm, we, uh …" Gold-Eye surreptitiously tiptoed away from Flack to a safer distance with his purple-eyed companion, still addressing Danny. "We appear to have made an error in our … shipment and installation of the Uubbbrbbyymmkeer."

"The what?" Danny asked, mien contorted in a bewildered expression.

"The -" Purple-Eye leaned over and said something in an indecipherable language to Gold-Eye, who said, "Ah, in your Third Planet language, it is called the Uber-Baby-Maker."

The homicide detective immediately moved his body in front of Danny, shielding the other man from the aliens. "Ooohh no, you're not takin' away our baby."

The two Deeediifriicks glanced at each other. "By Toooutaaathish, they've already made a baby with it!"

Purple-Eye was agitated, if the lowered brow over its one eye was any indication. "Look, we need to take back the Uubbbrbbyymmkeer, it's supposed to belong to someone else, who is, I might add, a very important person in our galaxy -"

"Not my problem," Flack interjected.

"But …" Gold-Eye waved its eight arms about. "We can remove the apparatus and whatever it created out of your companion in mere seconds! And it'll be as if you never made a baby with it in th -"

Flack had his gun drawn. He cocked it.

The two, space-suited aliens gawked at the weapon with large eyes, and screamed to the point the water glass on the side table on Danny's side shattered. The next moment, a strange sparkly, pink shower flowed over the two green-skinned creatures.

And they were gone.

The next instant after that, the bedroom was filled with a blinding light from outside the window. Flack charged out of bed and ran to it, seeing upclose a metallic, round spaceship lifting off and heading for the night skies. He flung open the window. The homicide detective was so pissed off he had half the mind to shoot it down with his gun just to see it crash and burn.

"GO BACK TO ROSWELL, YA GREEN FREAAAKS! WE DON'T NEED YA HERE IN NEW YORK CITY!"

Before Flack could properly aim his gun, the spaceship zoomed off into space in a blazing trail of glittery, pink light. Glaring at the spot in the sky where the spacecraft disappeared, Flack grunted and slammed down the window. He stomped back to bed, where a disorientated and shocked Danny sat. The CSI continued to stare at the window as Flack settled himself into bed.

When Danny remained in the same position for over five minutes, Flack pulled him down onto the bed and tucked the blanket around his shoulders. The smaller man's blue eyes were still wide as the space saucer that left moments ago.

"Don?"

"Hmmm." Flack enveloped his arms around Danny's shoulders, nestling his face against the other man's.

"Did we just get visited by … aliens?"

"Uh huh." Flack closed his eyes, burrowing into the pillow.

"And … did you just try to shoot at an extraterrestrial spaceship?"

"Uh huh."

There was no verbal adjoinder from Danny, so Flack presumed the guy had fallen asleep. The firmness of the body in his arms said otherwise. The taller detective wriggled his legs around Danny's.

And his thigh brushed against something quite unmistakable.

"Don ... I am so turned on right now."

Flack's handsome face split into a broad grin, his large hand sneaking down to the other man's groin.

Yep. Don Flack, Jr. still had it.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 8:

i.

Mac furtively observed Danny working before a computer set in one of the laboratories, one that was close to his office and in plain sight from his desk. Danny was attired in a loose, black Henley top and dark blue jeans with a white lab coat on top, buttoned up to the sternum. He typed something via the black keyboard, blue eyes alit with eagerness while he gazed at the monitor.

The CSI supervisor smiled to himself. It'd been a long time since he saw the younger detective as serene and sanguine as he was now. After what happened to Danny's older brother Louie, Mac had been inwardly anxious about his protégé's wellbeing for some time, especially when Louie's condition suddenly turned for the worst two weeks after his severe beating. But, against all the odds, the older Messer brother fought hard, and eventually awoke and recovered from his injuries. Danny's vivacity revived along with Louie's recuperation.

Mac angled his head, hazel eyes studying the younger CSI who was unaware of his boss' scrutiny. There was something different about Danny lately. Mac couldn't quite put his finger on it. It wasn't just the way Danny had calmed down lately, or that he was more amenable with the others. It was … something. Something right there in front of his eyes. New haircut? No, it was the same. Maybe the hair was thicker. Change in weight? No, he didn't see any acute changes in Danny's size and form. Then again, the lab coat and loose clothes Danny wore often these days was making it difficult to deduce that. He simply couldn't see it yet. Mac was sure there was a good reason for the positive improvements in Danny's character.

Stella appeared at the open glass door to Danny's laboratory, rapping her knuckles on it and smiling brilliantly. She held a big plastic container in one arm. Mac's own smile broadened at Danny's cat-like grin. It'd been even longer since he saw the younger detective smile like that. Stella sauntered into the lab and closed the door behind her. Hmm. Mac silently wondered what his Greek partner wanted to chat about with Danny. They weren't paired up for any cases this week. Mac tapped the blunt end of the pencil in hand on his table, curious to see what unfolded between his two CSIs.

Danny swiveled his chair around on its wheels to face Stella, still grinning and saying something to her. Probably the usual greeting. She walked up next to him and wrapped an arm around Danny's shoulders in a semi-hug, mouth moving in reply. Her sculpted eyebrows shot up in excitement, and she handed him the plastic container. Stella said something else that made Danny's rosy face brighten up tremendously. Immediately, the bespectacled CSI yanked open the red cover of the container and looked inside. The open-mouthed grin on the young man's visage made Mac perk up in his seat.

Hmmm. This was interesting.

Stella playfully ruffled Danny's spiky hair while he reached inside and took out what appeared to be a rectangular piece of … food. Mac unconsciously leaned forward over his table, squinting at the tidbit in Danny's fingers. Wait. He knew what that was. It was that sweet dessert made of nuts, spices, and phyllo, topped with honey syrup. Baklava. Stella's specialty. He clearly recalled the taste of the last batch Stella made for him a while back. They were delicious. Mac's eyebrows shot up. He never expected Stella to make such a whopping big batch of baklava for Danny. Was there some special occasion Mac was forgetting?

Danny chucked the morsel of food into his gaping mouth, chomping happily on it. Stella appeared to be waiting for a verdict on how her baklava tasted. The bespectacled CSI's grin at her and his hand already digging into the container for more was obviously the answer she expected. They laughed together, chatting animatedly for a while. Danny closed the container and left it on his lap, hands gesticulating in the air as he described something dramatic to her. It must have been something thrilling, since Stella's jaw dropped a few times, and she even slapped a hand over her mouth once.

Then, Stella made a motion that caught Mac's whole attention. She reached down and gently stroked her hand over Danny's abdomen. Mac's eyebrows had to be at his hairline by now. Now that was odd. It wasn't sexual in the least, but … something was off about it. Mac was even more surprised by lack of any flinching on Danny's side. The younger man never liked being touched, even by people he was familiar with. In fact, it seemed to Mac as if Danny totally expected Stella to do that. And in fact, Danny was doing it himself now, rubbing his hands over his stomach.

Alright. Mac had to find out what the two CSIs were talking about.

He quietly stood up and slowly walked out of his office, heading for the laboratory where Stella and Danny were. The direction he took permitted him to sneak up on them from behind. Luck was with him, for their backs were facing the door. He pushed at the door bit by bit until there was a small gap, letting the conversation within leak out to his ears.

"Have you been taking the prenatal vitamins I bought?" Stella asked Danny.

Danny shifted his head in such a way that told Mac he was rolling his eyes. "Yes, mommy."

A muscle in Mac's temple began spasming. Prenatal vitamins?

Stella smacked Danny on the thigh. "I'm serious, Danny! They're good for you and the baby."

Now the muscle twitching was accompanied by an oncoming headache. BABY?

Danny shrugged. "I know that, Stel. But Don doesn't like 'em." The younger man cackled affably. "Says his mother never took any while she had him, so he kinda thinks our baby doesn't need 'em either."

What? DANNY is having a BABY? With FLACK?

Mac's brain broke.

The lab door opened with a thud. Stella and Danny jumped at the sound. The plastic container on Danny's lap almost fell off. Both of them gaped at Mac at the doorway with gigantic eyes.

"Hey, Mac! What's up?" Stella flashed a toothy grin at him. It was the one she displayed whenever she was up to no good. Or had something big to hide from him. Either option was bound to give him a migraine.

Danny merely stared at him with nervous, pursed lips. The younger detective had also unconsciously pulled his coat closer around his body.

" … what is this about prenatal vitamins and … a baby?"

Stella glanced at Danny with a mock oblivious expression. "Danny! What is Mac talking about?" When Danny kept quiet, she added, "See? Danny has no idea what you're talking about either."

Mac glowered at Stella until she curled up one edge of her lips in a contrite smirk. He entered the lab and shut the door, turning his intense gaze onto his protégé.

"Lift up your shirt."

Stella gasped. Danny stared at him for a couple more seconds, then unperturbedly spread his lab coat and clasped the hem of his Henley shirt.

The black cloth rose up.

Mac abruptly felt lightheaded. The protruding, smooth belly made Danny look like … he … was …

"Oh shit, Stella! Catch 'im!"

There was a heavy thump. The last thing Mac saw was the fluorescent lighting on the ceiling and Stella's beautiful, concerned mien.

ii.

Mac had never been this tongue-tied in his existence.

He moved a quavering hand across the warm skin of Danny's round belly, overwhelmed by the enormity of the phenomenon that was under his touch.

"So, let me get this straight," Mac said. "Two one-eyed, green-skinned aliens in spacesuits paid you a visit at your apartment about eight months ago, and did something to you that … enabled you to get …" Mac swallowed visibly. "Pregnant."

Danny nodded, face crimson. He gazed at his supervisor with apprehensive, cerulean eyes.

"And the father of this baby … is Flack."

Danny nodded again, chewing on his lower lip. The bespectacled detective glanced imploringly at Stella, who sat next to him on another lab chair. She could only grimace and shrug her shoulders.

Mac had jolted awake from his black out mere seconds after he fell over like log, scaring the daylights out of Stella who was still kneeling over him. The instant he got to his feet, he ordered the other two detectives to follow him to a more private laboratory to … talk. The more appropriate word Mac might have used was interrogation.

"May I ask how Flack came to be the baby's father?"

Stella stayed silent, tapping one foot on the floor. Danny, with his hands holding up the edge of his shirt above his abdomen, sighed heavily, shoulders slumped.

"We've been together for over a year."

Mac pinched his temple with his thumb and forefinger. Oh, that migraine was thundering in full force now.

"Mac, this isn't a joke like you think," Stella said. "I thought it was one too when I first found out … but I've seen the proof for myself. It's for real."

The ex-Marine, seated next to Danny, moved his hand the opposite way over the swell. Heh, the other two CSIs were scared stiff he was pissed off over the whole situation, especially Danny. But, he wasn't. Truth be told, he'd always suspected there was something going on between Danny and that homicide detective. C'mon, waving hands at each other and staring at one another like nothing else was present? People would have to be blind to not suspect something was up. And how trivial a same-sex relationship in his office was compared to one of his male employees and friend being pregnant.

"I'm not angry that you're with Flack, or that you're … well, with child."

Danny's mouth was in an 'O' shape. So was Stella's.

"I'm angry you kept on working in the field for this long when you could be endangering your baby. And that you hid this from me all this time."

The younger male detective ducked his head in penitence. "I didn't know how to break it to ya … I mean, how do ya tell yer boss you got pregnant with your co-worker's baby thanks to aliens?"

Mac struggled not to laugh.

"Alright, you're forgiven. I'm glad you requested for full-time desk duty last month. Shocked me, but at least I understand now why you did." Mac let his hand drop away. "Effective immediately, you're on paid leave for the next two months."

"Wha, two months? What am I gonna do for two months?"

Mac rubbed a hand over his hazel eyes and chortled. "Danny. You're eight months along. In a month's time, you'll be wishing you had even the smallest amount of free time to yourself."

Danny looked nervously at Stella, who had one hand over her mouth. She appeared to be trying not to smile.

"I never - I never thought about that." The blue-eyed man's breath quickened. "Oh my God, how's the baby gonna come out? And how am I gonna feed her? I don't have -"

Danny suddenly winced. "Ow." The CSI looked down at his belly, frowning. "Hey, stop that. It hurts, ya know."

"She's kicking?" Mac asked with an amazed smile.

"Yeah. I'm thinkin' she's gonna end up a soccer player instead of baseball." Danny's lips twisted. "Uh oh, I think she's gonna kick again. She doesn't like it when I get all melodramatic."

Mac's smile widened into an amused grin. "I like her already." His hand hovered over his protégé's bulging stomach. "May I?"

Danny motioned in consent with his head. He liked that Mac always asked for permission before touching him.

The moment Mac's palm connected to skin, the CSI supervisor felt the evident kick vibrating through. Danny hadn't been jesting about the baby having powerful legs.

"Incredible." Mac was dumbfounded for a few moments, then laughed cheerfully.

Danny had a tender, pleased smile on his face. "Yeah. That she is."

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 9:

i.

There were very few things in the world that made Stella more infuriated than a rabid pit bull.

One of them was seeing someone she cared about despondent and crying their eyes out.

Even worse, when that particular person was a pregnant man who ended up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, weeping because he caught his partner making out with some blonde bitch.

Danny was inconsolable.

"I don't … I dunno what … happened, Stel." Danny sobbed, rubbing at swollen and brimming eyes. His voice was all husky from so much crying. "I thought … I thought he - he came home alone … saw his car outside … and I - I thought … I could go down and … greet him."

The crying man wiped his nose with a tissue paper or two. "So - so I go downstairs … outside … a - and there's this blonde -" - Danny sniffled moistly - "Blonde bimbo all over him -"

Stella hugged him tightly, stroking his hair as he wailed. Oh, she was seriously pissed off at a certain homicide detective.

"And - and they were … kissin' … and they d - didn't see me -" Danny's following words were too garbled by his sobs.

"Sshhh, it's okay. Let me deal with him, okay?"

Stella and Danny sat huddled together on her couch in the living area of her apartment. She was wearing a silk nightgown and a thick robe. Danny was in a long-sleeved v-necked sweater, baggy khakis and a long coat.

She had been getting ready for an early night in bed and was washing up in her bathroom when her doorbell rang. As gregarious as she was, there weren't many people who knew where she lived. Her boyfriend definitely didn't. It was her unwritten rule that she never brought any home. Only her tremendously trusted friends knew her address. Which was, to be exact, her colleagues whom she spent nearly everyday with. She rinsed her mouth and went to her door.

And got a major shock at the sight of a bawling Danny standing before her, shivering with cold.

"How did you get here? By cab?" Stella looked over Danny's feet. They were curled up in a pair of purple flip-flops. From what she could see, the soles were soiled.

Danny wiped at his damp cheeks, breath hitched. " … I dunno." He sniffled. "Maybe I w-walked for a while. I dunno."

Stella scowled. Ohh, a certain six foot tall homicide detective was going to die. Very slowly.

"Then … I think I hailed a cab, I dunno … maybe it was just a regular car." Danny's sobs were diminishing. "Yeah, it was some nice old lady. She saw me walkin' alone by the road and cryin' … felt sorry for me and wanted to help … drove me here."

"You don't have your mobile phone with you? Your wallet?"

The blue-eyed man shrugged listlessly.

"Where are your glasses, hmm?" Stella asked gently, still stroking the younger man's head.

Danny shrugged again. "Dunno. Back at the apartment."

Stella's concern grew at Danny's sudden emotional shutdown. In any other circumstances, he'd be storming around the place, throwing things everywhere and yelling his head off. The lethargic resignation wafting off Danny was so unlike the guy. Stella was also worried for the baby. This unexpected quandary surely wasn't doing anything good for Danny or his unborn child. And the birth time was very soon.

The Greek woman tightened her hug, then said, "I'll go make some tea, okay? Something hot will be good for you."

Danny didn't respond.

She stood up.

Her doorbell rang.

Stella's green eyes narrowed perceptibly. Oh hoh, she knew precisely who was at her front door.

Danny did too. He grabbed hold of her hand, gazing at her with pleading, moist eyes. "Don't answer it, please, I don't wanna talk to him."

The doorbell rang a second time. The person pressing the button over and over was quite frenzied.

Stella soothed Danny with more pats to his head and face, telling him it was going to be alright. She sent him a reassuring smile, then stomped to the apartment front door, flinging it open.

Sure enough, Flack was there, panting slightly and looking disheveled.

Like he'd just made out with some disgusting blonde slut.

"You've ten seconds to explain yourself, bitch."

Stella audibly cracked the knuckles on one hand, glaring hard at the flustered homicide detective.

Flack instantaneously held his hands up in surrender. "Stella! Stel, I swear I didn't do anythin' wrong, you gotta believe me!"

Her face crinkled in a phony grin. "Ohhh, is that so?Gee, then I guess there must be another reason why Danny's crying his eyes out in my living room. After walking all the way here from Queens in FLIP-FLOPS."

Flack's big, blue eyes widened in unadulterated shock. "WHAT!"

"Yeah, Flack, he would have walked all the way here alone and nine months pregnant, with no cel phone, no money, no ID and no glasses, if it wasn't for a good Samaritan who picked him up and drove him here to my apartment building!" Stella's voice rose with each word.

She poked him severely in the chest with her finger. "All because YOU thought sucking face with some blonde BIMBO was some kind of fun on the side for you!"

Flack sputtered, hands wigwagging everywhere. "N-n-noooooo! That's NOT what happened!" He attempted to quiet down to properly elucidate things. "Look, you - you remember that blonde reporter who's always showin' up at our crime scenes? Ya know, short blonde hair with spectacles? Always askin' fer me to get the scoop on things?" He laughed nervously. "Yeah well, I just found out tonight that she's got some kinda crush on me or some shit like that!"

He sped up at Stella's renewed glare. "And - and, I swear, I was on my way home and I was lookin' forward to bein' with Danny again … and she - she just came outta nowhere and jumped on me!" Flack slapped at himself as if he was endeavoring to get rid of whatever he felt when the blonde woman did that. "And I swear to God, I tried to push her off and I didn't even let her get near my mouth, but she was like a fuckin' leech or somethin'!"

Stella simply continued to glower at him.

"Please, ya gotta believe me, Stella. Why would I cheat on Danny? I love him. I go fuckin' crazy without him." Flack smacked a palm on his temple, eyes closed. "Which is why she's probably gonna sue me for punchin' her in the face."

"You punched her in the face."

"Well, yeah! What, ya think I like havin' random women jump on me and molest me?"

Stella didn't smile, but her eyes were. "Get inside, you dumbass."

Flack huffed a sigh of relief, stumbling in after Stella stepped to one side. The homicide detective rushed to Danny's side the minute he laid eyes on his friend sitting on the couch.

"Danny! I was so worried 'bout y -"

Flack somewhat anticipated a violent reaction from his hot blooded lover. It still hurt inside and out when Danny forcefully shoved at his shoulders and sent him falling right on his ass.

"You lied to me." Danny's voice was rasping from too much crying.

"What? No, nooo, it's not what you think, honest!" Flack scrambled back onto his knees and scuttled on them towards Danny. "That blonde broad is nobody, a'right? Nobody. Just some reporter who's got a crush on me." He held Danny's hands, tightening his grip as the CSI tried to wrench them away. "And whatever ya saw, believe me, I did not want to a part of it at all. Ya know, I kinda get the chick thing 'bout havin' somebody takin' advantage of ya that way, 'cos I sure didn't feel guilty 'bout sockin' her one in the face."

Danny kept his tear-tracked face turned away. At least he wasn't recoiling anymore.

"I was so worried when I went up to our place and ya weren't there. I thought - I thought for a sec maybe you went to the local grocer's to stock up the fridge or somethin'. And then I saw your wallet and phone and spectacles on the coffee table, and … my mind went everywhere." Flack bit the inside of his cheek. "Hell, I thought those crazy aliens came back and abducted ya, so I went nuts and called up everybody. And Mac didn't see ya, Hawkes didn't see ya, Montana didn't see ya either … so I guessed you had to be at Stella's."

The homicide detective let out a shaky laugh. "Thank God I was right." Flack caressed one damp cheek. "C'mon, Danny, look at me, please?"

After some nudging on Flack's part, Danny finally pivoted his head to face the taller detective. Eventhough what occurred technically wasn't his fault, Flack wanted to beat himself on the head with his gun at the anguish in the blue eyes that stared into his.

Flack grunted at the sudden punch aimed at his shoulder. Then there was another, on his other shoulder. And another and another until there was a flurry of half-hearted punches raining down on his shoulders and chest. Flack didn't make an effort to block them. Danny was releasing the pent up frustration in the fastest way he knew, and Flack took every single one like the genuine tough guy he was.

The outburst ended as swiftly as it began. Flack crushed the smaller man in a snug embrace, his own blue eyes stinging. It was only starting to hit him how much danger Danny could have encountered on the city streets the entire time he was out there on his own, with nothing except the clothes he wore. The homicide detective would never forgive himself if something terrible had happened to his significant other. Or their baby.

"S'good thing I got muscles of steel, ah?" Flack joked in a husky tone.

Danny was too busy weeping silently into his neck and holding onto his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Flack whispered into the other man's ear.

They stayed in their poses for some time, Flack on his knees between Danny's legs and Danny burrowed into Flack's sturdy chest. Stella was sitting on her bed, not far away from the living area. Her apartment was an open structure, so she could still hear the two men's conversation. She had a bittersweet smile on her lips. Sure, she was in a relationship right now, but the love in hers paled in comparison to what Flack and Danny had together. She fervently hope those two boys knew what they possessed.

On the couch, Danny suddenly called her name.

"Stel?"

From her position, she couldn't see Danny's face, but she could see Flack's. He had a curious frown on his handsome visage.

"Yeah?" She got up and ambled over to her sofa. Danny was sitting upright, an odd look on his face. Flack was still on his knees, hands on Danny's thighs.

"Uhm … is this couch … one of yer favorite furniture?"

Stella chuckled. "Well, I like it, but no, I won't feel sad if I have to change for a new one."

"Okay. That's good."

Danny gazed at the other two detectives with panicked, round eyes.

"I think my water just broke."

ii.

Flack bit back a yelp. Danny was squeezing his gloved hand so strongly his fingers were crackling audibly.

"Ow. OwowowowowOOOOWWWWW." Danny's pale was contorted into an agonized wince. His cerulean eyes were teary and scrunched up.

Flack enveloped Danny's bare hand with his other one, forming a two-handed fist around it. The homicide detective was becoming more and more distressed by Danny's groans and whimpers of pain. People had the general assumption Danny was the type who whined and complained non-stop whenever he was in pain They were right, to an extent. If he got a superficial wound, Danny's mouth was like a motor. It went on and on until somebody smacked him. If it was a moderate injury, he wasn't as noisy, but the bitchiness was still there. However, if Danny ended up in severe pain, he fell silent, the only sounds made soft moans or whimpers.

And if it got seriously bad, crying was thrown into the mix, along with a whole lot of limb and bone crushing.

In this case, Flack's right hand.

"Doc, can't ya do somethin' for the pain?" Flack asked Hawkes in trepidation.

"Don't worry, Flack, Ibiza and I are on it right now."

Ibiza was Dr. Ibiza Adama, the same gynecologist friend of Hawkes' who'd been nice enough to lend them her 3D-4D ultrasound machine. She glanced up and sent Flack a supportive smile, and he smiled back. She was a very beautiful African woman.

Flack, Danny, Hawkes and his friend Ibiza were in an operating room at the gynecologist's clinic, robed in scrubs. She'd opened it in the middle of the night at Hawkes' request. Man, Flack and Danny owed the former ME big time. Stella had driven them straight to the place after she phoned Hawkes to tell him the news. Once Flack and Hawkes got a whimpering Danny out of her car, she headed immediately for Mac's after telling them she'd be back with their boss. She still hadn't returned as Hawkes and Dr. Adama prepped Danny for an urgent caesarean section. Most likely traffic jams on the roads.

Ibiza's reaction to operating on a pregnant man was momentous in itself. She had gotten into a temper at Hawkes as soon as she set eyes on Danny carried in Flack's arms, taking for granted it was all a joke Hawkes thought up. Then Danny screamed at a particularly intense contraction. She was all business after that. She was forced to inquire Flack about Danny's medical history instead, and was surprised at how much Flack knew about it. Of course, seconds later, seeing the way Flack held Danny's hand and comforted the suffering man, she figured out why.

Now, less than four hours since they departed from Stella's apartment, Danny was lying on his side in a semi-fetal position on the operating bed, hunched over his contracting belly. There were wires attached to his arm and fingers to beeping machines displaying numbers and moving lines. When he wasn't moaning or whimpering, the brown-haired man was panting through his mouth. His high forehead was beaded with sweat. The CSI had gotten progressively ashen since they first arrived at the clinic, and it upset Flack terribly.

Flack caressed Danny's forehead with his left hand. He wasn't sure if Danny even knew he was there anymore. "It's gonna be over soon, 'kay? Hawkes' gonna do somethin' 'bout the pain."

Danny's answer was a high-pitched whine through gritted teeth as another contraction hit. A tear trickled down his grimacing face.

Dr. Adama was brandishing a needle. The gynecologist moved behind Danny, gently pulling up Danny's scrub to bare the man's lower back. "Danny, I'm going to inject some local anesthetic in your lower back. It'll numb the region so you won't feel the next needle we'll need to use to inject the anesthetic medication, okay? Try and keep still."

The homicide detective instinctively wrapped his free hand over the back of Danny's neck, stroking his friend's cool cheek. He averted his eyes from what Dr. Adama was doing, keeping his gaze on Danny. He hated injections, whether it was getting one himself or watching someone else get one.

Less than a minute later, the muscles in Danny's face and body started to relax. Flack smiled in relief, elated to see his buddy wasn't suffering as much as before. After a couple more minutes, Hawkes came up next to Ibiza, wielding what Flack felt was one giant needle. The gynecologist took it from the former ME.

"Danny?" she said soothingly. "I'm going to insert the second needle into your spinal canal now, okay? Please, don't move."

Flack averted his eyes again. Danny was staring up at him with huge, glossy eyes. Flack smiled the best he could at the reclining man, tenderly running a hand through Danny's sweaty hair.

Five minutes passed.

By the sixth minute, the tension in Danny's body had eased significantly. The CSI had stopped wincing, his face slack. Flack literally felt the agony leave Danny under the hand still around Danny's neck. The smaller man's eyelids fluttered. His grip on Flack's hand loosened.

One of the machines' beeping noises decreased. Hawkes frowned as he glanced at it. "Blood pressure is dropping."

Flack felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I'll get an IV going."

Danny's eyes were closed.

Dr. Adama was frowning too as she examined the readings from the machines. "We need to operate now."

Flack suddenly felt like a lost, little boy trapped on a rock in the middle of a vast ocean.

"Flack." Hawkes was on the opposite side of the operating bed, touching his forearm. "Please help me turn Danny on his back."

Flack soundlessly complied, assisting the other CSI in the task. Flack was terrified by Danny's sudden lack of response and pallor. His consternation increased when Danny barely reacted to him rubbing the other man's neck and jaw. The blue eyes remained shut.

Ibiza inserted an intravenous line into one of Danny's arms, then pulled up surgical drapes over Danny, covering everything except his head and now exposed abdomen. Then, she washed the skin with some dark liquid that Flack guessed was an anti-bacterial solution. It was really surreal to see the two doctors progressing with the procedure like it was something that occurred every day. Well, sure, babies were born everyday, Flack ruminated. But his baby? Now that didn't happen everyday.

The silver scalpel in Dr. Adama's gloved hand glimmered sharply under the stark lights.

The homicide detective quickly turned his head away, directing his attention solely onto Danny's face. He might be used to seeing death and grisly murder victims, but there was something about seeing a blade cutting into live flesh that freaked him out on too many levels.

As the scalpel opened up an incision across the underside of the distended abdomen, Danny's eyelids flickered. Flack fervently prayed that Danny wasn't feeling any pain. He placed a hand on one side of Danny's face, maneuvering the CSI's head away so Danny was blocked from seeing the operation.

"My God, what is that?" Ibiza's accented voice was low in amazement.

"My guess is that's the womb," Hawkes said, sounding just as awed.

"It's … pink and purple … and glowing. It's … extraordinary. I can see the baby."

Silence. Then, a weird sound, like hands digging through a mass of watery, slick substance. Danny's eyes snapped open. Flack dredged up the courage to look at what Hawkes and Dr. Adama were doing.

Seeing the crying, kicking baby pulled out from the wide slit on Danny's abdomen was something the homicide detective was never, ever going to forget. Her potent howls reverberated in the chamber, drowning out Hawkes' pleased and delighted laugh. Flack's handsome visage broke into a huge smile. Wow, those were some powerful lungs his little girl had.

Flack's eyesight was suddenly distorted. Damnit, there was something in his eyes. He rubbed them, and blinked rapidly. Hawkes already had the cleaned baby and swaddled her in a cozy towel. He was also counting the newborn's fingers and toes and checking her over. The umbilical cord had been removed. Ibiza was probing Danny's insides, looking precisely like Hawkes when he was onto a breakthrough. She was most likely studying the implanted alien womb. Flack remotely wondered whether the gynecologist was going to remove it or leave it inside. He didn't even dare to mull over what the doctor might say or do when it was all over. He and Danny were going to be in deep trouble if she decided to blab to the world that she'd operated on a pregnant man and found some alien womb.

"Yes … all there!" Hawkes laughed joyously, then approached Flack with the bawling bundle in his arms. "Would you like to hold her, dad?" Hawkes grinned at him, holding out the infant.

Flack had eyes only for his pinkish, squealing baby girl. She was a million times more beautiful in reality than she was on a computer screen. The homicide detective cradled his daughter with care. The moment she was in her father's embrace, the baby's cries lessened. This time, Flack didn't bother to wipe his eyes dry.

"Hi, darlin' ... I'm yer daddy," Flack cooed. He traced the chubby cheeks and little nose with a shaky finger, chuckling moistly when she made happy, gurgly noises at the sound of his voice. Her big eyes were half-open, the light blue irises nearly translucent in the lights.

Flack meandered over to Danny, settling the bundled baby next to the other man's head. Danny had shifted the surgical drapes covering his shoulders down to his chest, freeing his arms. The reclined man still appeared dazed, but he gazed at their newborn infant with wet, overjoyed eyes. He nuzzled one small, round cheek and softly stroked her head. She was making more gurgly, faint sounds, peering at her surroundings with alert eyes.

The grinning homicide detective leaned forward, one hand behind Danny's head and the other caressing their daughter's cheek. "This is your daddy too … well, technically, he's your mommy, but same diff."

"Don't make me punch ya," Danny rasped with a tiny smirk.

"I forgot to mention yer mommy's very violent too. Hopefully you'll keep yer kicks and punches to boys who aren't good 'nough for ya." Flack received a weak punch to his shoulder. "See what I mean?"

The baby smiled.

"Wonder if she understands us," Flack murmured. He tore his eyes away from the baby to see what the two doctors were up to. He was just starting to realize how quiet it was.

" … Doc?"

Hawkes and Dr. Adama were … frozen. That was the only way Flack could describe it. Frozen in time. Hawkes was stuck in a posture of turning away from Flack and Danny, saying something to Ibiza who was standing not far away over a tray of surgical instruments. She was also stock-still, her lips parted in a freezed reply. The homicide detective stood up and cautiously walked around the operating bed to Hawkes, tentatively poking the CSI in the arm. Whoa. Hawkes didn't even budge an inch when Flack jostled him with both hands. It was as if some invisible force was holding the guy in place.

Danny's startled shout made him swivel around in alarm.

Oh fuck, those aliens were back!

"Now, now, my good man, no need to be frightened! We're not going to hurt you, fleshy one."

They were the same green-skinned, one-eyed extraterrestrials in their psychedelic spacesuits, except these appeared to be different from the ones who previously visited them. The one who spoke was bigger and taller, with a bright rainbow sash pinned around its waist. And sported a damn bushy Colonel Sanders moustache. The other was a lot more like the ones Flack and Danny met before, but also had a smaller rainbow sash tied around its short body.

The two aliens hovered in the air beside the operating bed, a dazzling pink halo surrounding them. Danny looked absolutely petrified, cuddling his baby close to his chest. She had begun wailing again. The CSI couldn't move because he was still numb from the chest down to his toes from the anesthesia.

"Get the hell away from my family, ya little green FREAKS!"

Flack charged at them … and found himself suspended in the air, thrashing his lanky limbs helplessly. He roared, face red from exertion.

"By George, Myydikishot and Aiimmztupik were serious about these fleshy ones being avid fans of screaming, weren't they?" Colonel-Sanders said to the other alien.

"Oh yes, sir, certainly, sir," Rainbow-Boy replied.

Colonel-Sanders patted a trembling Danny on the head with one of his eight gloved hands. "I'm not going to take your offspring away. Believe me, fleshy one, I have no interest in transforming my life into a living hell rearing up one of you." The alien stuck out its blue tongue in a grimace. "Blaaargh, the horror!"

The detectives' baby girl stopped crying, and actually burbled in amusement at the hilarious-looking alien's facial expression. Her daddy-mommy, however, was no less frightened and could merely stare at the aliens with wide blue eyes.

The mustached extraterrestrial and its attendant floated over to look at the incision on Danny's belly.

"Sir, it appears the Uubbbrbbyymmkeer has passed it test run with flying colors!" Rainbow-Boy said with a flourish.

"Indeed it has, old chap! Why, her Majesty will be extremely pleased. Finally, she'll have aaaaaaall the little royal Deeediifriicks she wants!"

Flack gave up struggling against the invisible force holding him prisoner up in the air and bellowed, "You did this to Danny on purpose!"

"Well, it's not like we were going to install such a complex invention into our queen without giving it a test run first!" Rainbow-Boy uttered haughtily.

"Now, now, Bootlehjiiffs, let's not be rude. We're far too civilized for that." Colonel-Sanders snapped the fingers of four of its hands.

The force lifting Flack up in mid-air abruptly vanished, and he plummeted to the floor face first with a painful thump. The homicide detective was on his feet instantaneously, his face in a furious rictus.

"You little shits! Then the least ya could do is change Danny back to his old self and heal him up! He never asked for any of this!"

The mustached alien waved its eight hands. "Weeeell, why didn't you just say so, my good man?"

Flack felt something probing his mind, like vines going into his brain. He shook his head to get rid of the feeling, but it merely became stronger. What the hell?

"Ah." Colonel-Sanders' one eye was narrowed. "Danny's apartment, is it? Righty-ho, then."

"Sir, perhaps a memory wipe for them all would be good measure."

"Hmmm." Flack felt more tendrils poking his mind. "Alright … but not for these two fleshy ones. They want to remember."

The lights in the operating room was becoming brighter and brighter. Flack squinted his eyes, shielding them with his hand. "Wha -"

"Don't worry, lad, I'll make sure you'll have a small scar left," The rainbow-sashed, mustached alien was speaking to Danny. "Sentimental creatures, aren't you?"

"Dan -"

The intensifying light was overpowering everything.

"And congratulations on this auspicious day! I do believe the next eighteen years of your life will never be boring."

A bizarre, humming sound filled Flack's ears.

"Toodle-oos, fleshy ones!"

Everything turned white.

iii.

Danny, Flack and Hawkes were side by side on Danny's battered, black sofa.

Flack was on the left, attired in a mauve-colored suit, his hair in a mess and his tie askew. Hawkes was on the right, wearing a white turtleneck and jeans. Danny was in the middle, a chubby baby girl wrapped in a blue cloth cuddled in his arms. He was in his original v-necked sweater and baggy trousers and purple flip-flops.

They sat there in a daze for a while, staring forward at the television set before them. It was showing a cartoon full of peculiar-looking babies crawling around and talking to each other in broken English.

Hawkes broke the reverie. The guy jolted with a shout and bounded to his feet, head swinging around in shock and stupefaction as he took in his environment.

"Okay. Where am I?" The former ME peered at the other two detectives on the couch with a suspicious expression.

Danny and Flack gazed at each other. They looked into each other's blue eyes and knew they remembered everything that happened that night. They turned to peer at Hawkes with carefully blasé expressions.

"This is my apartment," Danny said casually. The baby cooed. One of her tiny hands reached up towards his goateed chin.

"I … you … she … I was sure I was … somewhere. Stella called me up and …" He slapped one hand over his mouth. "I don't remember."

Hawkes stared at the baby in Danny's arms with humongous eyes.

"Wait … the last time I saw you, you were still … how did -" Hawkes' arms flailed about in bafflement. Then he said, "Okay. Somebody tell me what is going on. Right now."

The two detectives on the couch glanced at each other once more. Oh well, it couldn't hurt to see whether the aliens' memory wipe actually worked.

"We were at your friend Dr. Adama's clinic. You guys performed a c-section on Danny, and then those one-eyed, green-skinned aliens popped outta nowhere and healed Danny up and wiped your memory and took their magic womb thingy and then teleported us here." Flack reflected on the evening's events. "Oh, and Danny can't have anymore kids."

Flack got a glower from Danny for his final statement.

Hawkes' mien was blank. "What?"

"Yeah, that's the truth!"

"If aliens came along … I'd remember," Hawkes said, then frowned. "Wouldn't I?"

Flack shrugged. Well, Hawkes' memory of the night was definitely erased.

The baby began to cry, her plump face scrunched up and flushed. Danny tugged the folds of the towel around her, making comforting sounds and not knowing much of what else to do. There was no way he could feed the baby. Those aliens kept their word and changed his body back literally the way it was before the whole pregnancy fiasco started. They even gave him back his chest hair.

"Uh, Don? Is there any … milk?"

Flack looked at Danny's chest and grimaced. "I, uh, I'll go look in the fridge or somethin'. I don't think there's any though."

The homicide detective lurched into the kitchen. Hawkes returned to sit next to Danny on the couch, a smile spreading on his visage at the sight of Danny cuddling and cooing at a baby. It was quite surreal. In a really sweet, heart attack-inducing way.

"You know, I am not happy my memory got wiped. I think I would have loved to chat with those aliens. Do you know what would happen to the world if they found out aliens really existed?"

"Trust me, Doc, ya wouldn't. And no, I got no interest in turnin' into a freak show, thank you very much."

Hawkes chuckled.

The baby's sobs halted once Danny let her suckle on his forefinger. She was so small, but she already had a strong bite. Danny grinned when she gripped his hand with her tiny hands. She had strong hands too. Wow. She really was the most lovely thing he ever saw, all pink and smooth and chubby rolls. She had big, blue eyes just like Flack and himself. And she was his baby. And all he had to show for it was …

"Doc … do you mind liftin' up my sweater?"

After a moment's hesitation, Hawkes did. Danny twisted his upper body a little so Hawkes could get a clearer view of the bared skin.

"Do you - do you see a scar anywhere?"

Danny felt the other CSI peel down the waist of his trousers an inch or two, exposing one side of his abdomen down to the hips.

"Yeah … yeah, there's a three-inch scar on the left side. Above the groin and close to the hip." Hawkes touched the scar. "It's still a bit inflamed, but it's healing well. What Flack said … all that really happened … didn't it?"

"Heh, if that scar's not good enough proof to ya, Doc, maybe ya wanna hold this wriggling, hungry one instead," Danny said.

Hawkes' whole face lit up. "Really? You don't mind?"

"Nah. And hey, you were the first person to hold her, actually."

"I was?" Hawkes' expression fell. "Oh. I don't remember it."

Danny smiled empathetically and slowly handed the baby over to the other CSI. Danny's damp finger popped out of her mouth. She was already nearly asleep, eyelids with long, curved lashes fluttering. Hawkes felt a lump in his throat as he gingerly held the infant. She had Flack's coloring and nose, but Hawkes was certain she inherited her eyes and pixie smile from the man sitting beside him. She was quite active for a newborn, bigger than the normal one too. Then again, she was one of a kind, in all ways. Hawkes clucked at her, delighting in her muted gurgles and sleepy, toothless smiles. After a few minutes, the former ME passed the baby back to Danny.

"I've called Stella. She and Mac are on the way here. Believe it or not, they're still stuck on the roads. They're not far off though, so they oughta be here soon."

Flack was back with a warm bottle of milk in one hand, and a small, rectangular note in the other.

"Don. Where did you get the milk?" Bottles, they got those a while ago, but Danny was positive neither he or Flack had bought any infant formula milk yet.

Flack was smirking. He handed the bottle to Danny. "We got a special message from some folks who were nice enough to stock our fridge to the max with baby milk." The homicide detective cleared his throat, then read the note.

"It says … 'Good luck, fleshy ones. You'll need it.'"

Danny and Flack were still laughing when Stella and Mac arrived at Danny's doorstep.

( Oooo . oooO )

The beginning of another beginning:

Danny scrubbed his teeth with his usual red brush, the mint toothpaste bubbling into white foam around his lips. He filled his mouth with water and rinsed it twice. Brushed some more, and rinsed it another two times. Cleaned his toothbrush. Then he made his face towel wet, wrung it and wiped his face with it.

It was just another weeknight in the Messer-Flack residence, formerly Flack's apartment. Another long, rough day at work assuaged by the each other's presence, both at CSI headquarters and on the streets. And another peaceful, content evening spent together with their six-month-old baby girl, Danielle. Flack was in the bedroom playing with her on the bed at the moment. Danny could hear him talking baby talk with her, and her gurgling and making adorable sounds only a happy baby could.

"Who's yer daddy? Who's yer daddy? Can you say daaaaadddyyyy?"

Danielle giggled and burbled cute baby gibberish.

"Hmm, okay. Close enough."

Flack started blowing raspberries, probably onto her round tummy. It made her giggle even more.

Danny smiled to himself, hanging the face cloth next to Flack's. The CSI never imagined he would find true happiness like this, not with his past and some of the deeds he'd done. But life was funny that way. Just when he thought there was no way he'd get to homebase anymore and was about to give up for good, it threw him one hell of a fast curveball.

And got him that homerun.

Danielle squealed loudly. Ah, Flack was most likely nibbling on her teeny toes again. That always got her laughing and waving her arms about.

Danny wiped the sink and replaced his toothbrush and toothpaste where they belonged, in a plastic container on one side of the sink. He bit his lower lip in a rascally grin. He was already visualizing in his mind what he intended to do with Flack once they put Danielle to bed. The last six months were sorely deficient in proper nookie hours.

Or as Flack would put it, Jackhammer time.

"Uhm … Danny?"

Flack sounded kinda funny.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Uhm … uh … could ya … could ya come out here for a sec?"

Wait. Flack sounded mortified.

Danny frowned slightly, yanking up the waist of his loose, grey track pants then tugging the hem of his black tank top over it. Okay, what mischief had those two imps stirred up this time?

The CSI sauntered into the bedroom, and promptly hollered in disbelief.

Flack was above the bed.

Levitating horizontally five feet into the air.

Below him, baby Danielle gazed up at him with innocent baby blues, gurgling gleefully and stretching out her cute, rotund arms and hands towards her floating daddy.

Danny blinked. Nope. His lover was still hovering in the air, arms spread out and quivering. He anxiously raked his eyes over the bedroom. The aliens weren't back again, were they? If Danny never saw them again for an eternity, it was too long.

"Dan? Can ya … take Danielle away from the bed? I - I dunno how long I'm gonna be … up here." Flack gulped.

Danny suddenly felt like laughing until his sides hurt. This was unbelievable. First, he got pregnant thanks to aliens, then he moved in with Flack to bring up their baby together and now this. He shook his head, smirking quietly.

"Hello? Danny? Anytime this century will be good."

The CSI approached the bed and adroitly picked up his baby girl, resting her against his chest and shoulder. She was dressed in a pink bodysuit dotted with little white and yellow flowers. Her thick, dark hair were spiked in tufts all over. Flack been in the mood to give their daughter a radical hairstyle.

Flack remained in the air, stuck there contrary to his will. He managed to turn his head in Danny's direction, brows lowered in a panicked face. "Those aliens … they're not - they're not back, are they?"

Danny's smirk grew bigger. Danielle flailed her chubby arms and giggled, smiling with a gaping mouth at her other daddy.

"What are ya smilin' 'bout? This isn't funny!"

The homicide detective in polka dots boxers struggled futilely, looking like he was attempting to swim in the air. Danny couldn't keep it in anymore and burst out laughing at the other man's antics.

"It's not aliens, Don."

The six-month-old baby in Danny's embrace winked both her eyes and squeezed her hands into fists twice.

"Then whaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Flack was rotated upside down, now vertical in the air. He was, basically, standing upside down on the ceiling. "Okay, this is not funny anymore! I wanna get doooown!"

Danny laughed until he had tears in his eyes. Oh man, this was more entertaining than the Letterman show and the Conan O'Brien show put together.

Flack griped for about ten seconds, then steadied himself and said, "Heeey. This is kinda cool." He started tiptoeing on the beige, patterned ceiling like a circus star. "Look at daddy, darlin'! Daddy's walkin' on the ceilin'!"

Danielle winked both her eyes again and squeezed her hands into fists three times.

And Flack dropped like a stone straight onto the bed with a yell. Thank goodness it wasn't onto the hard floor.

Danny blew a raspberry on his baby girl's soft cheek. "Ya know, those one-eyed green Martians were right 'bout one thing."

Sprawled face down on the bed, Flack made an inquiring groan.

Danny kissed Danielle on her forehead and smiled tenderly at her.

"Life's never going to be boring with you around, sweetie."

Fin.