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Adam never expected to be present at the birth of a baby. (Songs, yes, even albums, music that came bursting out of the soul, torn from the heart, emerging exultant from throat and band and speaker to be caught up and cherished by the listener. Not an actual real, live baby.) Of course if Danielle or Alisan or any of his women-friends were pregnant and wanted him there, he'd be there for them, but this is different. This is in a galley on an airplane ("Nobody's getting drinks now," Tommy quipped, before Monte quelled him with a glare), not a hospital; she's got a death-grip on his hands (they're both going to have bruises from his rings) and is muffling her cries in the front of his favorite sweater-jacket. Roger looks a little green, but Lane is quietly and efficiently helping the guy with the nose who obviously knows what he's doing. It's also obvious that it is way too soon for this kid to be coming, but coming he is. Adam breathes with her, murmuring, "It'll be ok, sweetheart, breathe and push." He doesn't realize he's crying until they hear the tiny, breathy squall of life over the engine-roar.