Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Having My Baby

Spock woke more slowly than he usually did. Like most Vulcans, he tended to be either awake or asleep. His internal clock also told him that it was 1327 hours, an odd time of day for him to have been asleep. His senses told him that he was lying in Jim’s arms, his head on his bond mate’s shoulder. Even more odd. Was he sick? Then Spock’s brain kicked into high gear. The child. Of course.

One of Jim’s hands was lying lightly on Spock’s stomach as if even in his sleep, Jim wanted to maintain contact with their newly conceived child. Spock felt his heart swelling with the knowledge that Jim was pleased about this turn of events, that Jim wanted this child as much as he did. It was most illogically gratifying.

Just then, Jim’s eyes opened and met Spock’s. He smiled, that golden smile that always pulled Spock in, and his hand gently caressed Spock’s stomach, stroking in slow circles across the Vulcan’s hard abs.

“Hi,” Jim whispered. “Are you feeling better?”

Spock nestled closer to his love. It was odd; he always found physical contact with Jim pleasurable, but now he craved it with a deep longing he had never felt before. “I am quite well,” he replied gently, almost purring as Jim’s hand left his stomach and began to stroke his hair. “I was simply fatigued, and Dr. McCoy suggested that I rest.”

“And of course, you always do what Bones tells you,” Jim teased gently, still letting his fingers play in Spock’s hair.

“I may have to start,” Spock replied, pressing closer to Jim’s hand.

“Yes, you will,” Jim said. He slipped his hand around Spock’s head and pulled him into a kiss. To his surprise, Spock tasted the salt of tears as their lips met and lingered. He pulled back slightly.

“Jim. Thee weeps?” he asked tenderly.

“Humans cry when they’re happy, you know.” Jim blinked back a few salt drops. “And I’m so happy. Oh, Spock.” He kissed him again, and Spock abandoned himself to the feel of Jim’s arms around him, his lips on Spock’s, the feelings of love and joy that were surging through them both.

After a time, they drew apart, Spock once again laying his head on Jim’s shoulder. “Are you not supposed to be on the Bridge?” he asked.

“I suppose I should check in.” Jim replied, feeling slightly guilty. He let go of Spock long enough to roll over and punch the comm. link on their bedside stand.

“Kirk to Bridge.”

“Sulu here, Captain,” his helmsman replied promptly.

“Ship’s status?”

“No problems, sir. Star mapping continuing as per Starfleet’s orders.”

“Very good.” Jim hesitated. He probably should go back on duty, but he decided, not today. If there was an emergency, that would be a different matter, but it wasn’t every day he found out he was going to be a father. “You have the con until my relief comes on at the end of Alpha shift,” he told Sulu. “If there are any problems, contact me in my quarters.”

“Very well, sir. Sulu out.”

Jim snapped off the con and turned back to Spock, letting Spock wrap himself around his t’hy’la. “Snow day,” he murmured, burying his face in that tender bend where Spock’s neck and shoulder met, letting his lips glide across the warm flesh.

“Snow day?”

“Yeah, you Vulcans probably never had those,” Jim chuckled. “When I was growing up, if there was a bad snowstorm, they would cancel school, and we’d get to stay home. It was always a wonderful surprise, an unexpected day off.”

“So,” Spock’s voice was thoughtful but Jim could hear the humor in it. “This is—Seahorse Day?”

“Yeah,” Jim chuckled, squeezing his love tightly. “Oh, Spock. This is such wonderful news.”

“I am glad,” Spock replied tenderly yet tentatively. “I...I was not certain you would be pleased.”

“Huh?” Jim lifted his head, startled, and his eyes met Spock’s worried gaze. “Love, why would you think that? We’ve been talking about this for more than a year, and we agreed that you would go ahead and try to conceive, see if our physiologies were able to do the job.”

“True, but I have read that sometimes human males pretend they want a child because their partner does, but then when it happens...I felt that you were sincere, but I wondered if perhaps you were agreeing simply because I want to help my people rebuild our race.”

“Spock.” Jim laid a tender hand on his bond mate’s cheek. “I can promise you, I am thrilled. I think it’s vital that a child have two parents who want it, and I would have never agreed if I didn’t want to be the best father I can be.” He looked deep into Spock’s eyes. “Do you remember when we first talked about this, what you said about wanting a child?”

“Of course.” Spock’s voice was hushed. “I said it would be a most precious symbol of what I feel for you.”

“Yeah,” Jim whispered. “Well, that goes for me, too, love—in spades.”

“T’hy’la.” Spock was moved almost to tears. For the first time, he could understand why humans wept when they were happy.

For a while, they lay together, gently kissing and caressing, talking about the future.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Jim asked.

“I believe the appropriate and traditional answer is that I want a healthy child,” Spock replied.

“Yeah, but that’s bullshit. Every parent-to-be I’ve ever known had a preference.”

“Do you?” Spock looked at his love.

Jim shrugged. “Truthfully? Well, I definitely want that whole healthy thing—but if I could pick?” He paused for a moment, not sure if he should say. What if Spock was upset? His t’hy’la’s arms tightened around him reassuringly.

“It is all right, ashaya,” Spock said tenderly. “I would not ask if I did not wish to know.”

Jim took a deep breath. “Then—yes. I want a little girl.” He looked pleadingly into Spock’s eyes. “If we have a boy, I’ll love him every bit as much, and don’t you ever tell him I said I wanted a girl, but—yeah. A little girl. A little pointy-eared girl with straight black bangs, big dark eyes, and a superiority complex from birth—that’s what I want.”

“How odd,” his love replied. “I want a little girl as well—a little girl with golden hair, large blue eyes, and all of her father’s charm.”

“Oh, Spock.” Jim blinked back tears. “Damn it, am I going to leak for the next nine months?”

“Nine months?” Spock looked puzzled.

“Um, yeah; that’s how long you’re going to be pregnant, isn’t it?”

Spock looked thoughtful. “I do not know,” he finally replied. “The standard gestation period for a Vulcan pregnancy is six months, but I suppose it is possible that my human blood may influence that. It is something I will need to discuss with Dr. McCoy.”

“McCoy. Oh, God. He’s going to kill us both, you know.”

“Why?” Spock asked, puzzled.

“Obstetrics is not his thing,” Jim chuckled. “Oh, don’t get wrong, love; he’ll do everything he can; you know that.”

“Of course I do,” Spock replied. “Dr. McCoy is an excellent physician, and if you ever tell him I said that, I will claim you are delusional.” Jim chuckled. “However, I can see where he might not be completely comfortable with the responsibility for a Vulcan-human hybrid baby.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Jim thought for a moment. “Do you...want to go back to New Vulcan for the birth?”

“And leave you? Of course not!” Spock was almost horrified.

“I—I could quit Starfleet and go with you,” Jim said in a low voice, not looking at his mate

“T’hy’la, no.” Spock tipped Jim’s head up to look at him. “I do not want you to feel you have to sacrifice your career for me or our child,” he said firmly. “Whatever adjustments we need to make, whatever challenges we have to face, we will face them together, and we will make decisions that are good for both of us. This is not all about me, and I will not let you do that to yourself.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Jim thought again. “You know, we’re supposed to get another doctor on staff here. Why don’t I talk to Chris Pike and see who’s available? Maybe there’s someone with the type of experience Bones doesn’t have. He can still be our main doctor, but this new one could make sure everything is going all right with you.” He put his hand back on Spock’s stomach. “I don’t want anything to happen to this baby—or to you.”

“T’hy’la, the baby and I will be fine,” Spock assured him. “Vulcans have a very low rate of miscarriage or other complications.”

“But you are half-human,” Jim said in a low voice.

“True, but I am confident that everything will be all right.” Spock paused; he wanted to get Jim’s mind off this unhappy subject.

“There are many people we will need to tell,” he said. “Do you wish to keep this a secret for now?”

Jim shook his head. “Hell, no. I want the whole galaxy to know,” he said positively. “We’ll need to tell your father, first, and my mom, of course. Then we’ll have to let Chris Pike know. He’ll help us with Starfleet brass; they’re gonna raise holy hell, I have a feeling. And we need to tell the crew eventually; we’ll have to figure out duty roster changes; I don’t want you working so hard. Bones said you’ll be more tired than usual, so you need to get extra sleep, and we’ll have to make sure you get the right nutrition, and we’ll need a crib—thank God Scotty can build anything—and I need to read a baby book or two—or six, and do we want the baby to speak Vulcan first or Standard, because you know my Vulcan is crappy....”

“Jim.” Almost laughing, Spock put two fingers over his t’hy’la’s lips. “Snow day, remember?”

“Sorry,” Jim replied ruefully. “You’re right. It doesn’t all have to happen today.”

“Indeed not,” Spock replied.

“However, you do need something to eat,” Jim said firmly. “You’re eating for two now, and...”

“Jim, the embryo is only 5.2 centimeters long at this point; it does not need a huge meal.” Just then, Spock’s stomach growled. “However,” he conceded, “I am somewhat hungry.”

Jim rolled out of bed. “Stay here; I’ll get you anything you want,” he promised, reaching for his shoes.

“Do not be absurd.” Spock rose as well. “I am perfectly capable of going to the mess. You do not need to wait on me hand and foot, at least not yet. I can promise you, there will be time for that when I am nesting.”

“Nesting?”

“Traditionally, a Vulcan about to give birth retires to bed for the last ten days or so before labor begins,” Spock explained. “It is important to meditate and prepare one’s body for the experience, as well as establish a link with the child in order to guide it as it is born, to reassure it that the experience is a positive one.”

“I can see that,” Jim said thoughtfully. “Telepath and all that, it would probably be freaked if it doesn’t know what was happening.”

“Precisely.”

“All right,” Jim said, resigned. “I won’t hover—yet.”

“T’hy’la, I promise you. When the time comes, you can hover all you wish.”

Jim slipped his arms around Spock and stole one last kiss. “You can bet on it,” he whispered.

Late that night, after Spock had fallen asleep, Jim put in a call to New Vulcan. He and Spock had agreed that there was one person they wanted to tell right away, even before they told Sarek. They knew he’d keep the secret.

The link connected, and slowly, a face came on the screen, a beloved, craggy face with twinkling dark eyes. Selik of New Vulcan, Spock of Vulcan in another time, looked out at Jim.

“Jim, what a pleasant surprise,” Selik said warmly. “How are you?”

“Better than I’ve ever been in my life,” Jim replied, that damned smile that kept breaking out creeping over his face again.

Selik tilted his head inquiringly. “Indeed; you look most—gratified. I assume you have called to tell me why this is so?”

“Yeah.” For a minute, Jim felt almost reluctant to say it. It was as if saying it might make it go away, but he fought back the impulse. “Spock and I—we’re having a child.”

“Jim.” The old eyes lit up like stars. “Truly? How wonderful.” Selik looked closely at Jim. “Am I right in assuming that Spock is carrying the child?”

“Yeah, he’s got that Vulcan seahorse thing going on.”

Selik actually chuckled. “I have never heard the Vulcan male’s childbearing ability described that way, but I suppose it is apt.” He looked tenderly at Jim. “I do not need to tell you how happy I am for you both.”

“No, I know.” Jim paused. “Except for Bones, you’re the first one who knows, so when Sarek tells you, try to act surprised.”

“Jim. How thoughtful of you. Yes, I will endeavor to use all of my thespian abilities when Sarek comes bearing the news.”

“Selik,” Jim hesitated.

“Yes, ashaya?”

“Did you and your Jim...were you ever...?”

“No.” Selik shook his head sadly. “No. Oddly enough, we each had a child, but both were with other partners. Jim and I were older than you and Spock when we bonded, and our lives were different. We talked about it briefly, but it never happened for us.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim said gently.

“Do not be,” Selik replied. “Some things are simply not meant to be. But I am gratified that I will live to see your child with Spock.”

“You’d better,” Jim warned him laughingly. “Selik, I have a favor to ask.”

“Ask.”

Jim explained what he wanted, and Selik nodded. “I will do my best, my friend. You are most considerate of your t’hy’la to go to such trouble.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him; you know that.” Jim hesitated. “I only hope I’m as good as he and our baby deserves.”

“You are, ashaya; never doubt it.” Selik lifted his hand in the traditional salute. “Bear my congratulations to Spock. Good night—papa.”

“Good night, old friend.” Jim shut down the link. He sat for a long time in the dimly lit cabin, hugging himself.

“Papa,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Not Everybody is Happy

McCoy gave the two of them his patented sour look. “Well, you’ve done it now,” he grumped. “You had to go and put a bun in the oven.”

Jim and Spock were meeting with him for their first pre-baby check-up, or as McCoy called it, “My nightmare come to life.” They were sitting in McCoy’s office with the privacy lock on. Now was not the time for interruptions.

“Doctor, neither Jim nor I am currently engaged in baking any kind of bread products,” Spock said calmly.

McCoy glared. “You know what I mean.” He turned to Jim. “And didn’t I tell you that I thought you were too young to complicate life with a baby? Jesus, Jim. You still sleep with a teddy bear and now you want to raise a kid?”

Jim flushed. Tiber (his bear) was supposed to be a secret. And he hardly ever slept with him anymore—only when he and Spock were arguing, which luckily wasn’t as often as they once had. “Yes, you told me, but that was over a year ago!” he retorted. “Spock and I weren’t even bonded then. And furthermore, you’re my doctor and my friend, not Jiminy Cricket.”

Dr. McCoy,” Spock interjected. “This discussion is moot. The child is a fact, and we will need expert medical care in order for this to be a successful outcome. And while your bedside manner leaves much to be desired” Jim snickered, “your medical skills are without peer. So let us discuss the next steps.”

McCoy’s jaw dropped. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”

“Indeed.” Spock was as serene as an Italian Madonna. “The pregnancy-generated hormones are in all probability affecting my emotional equilibrium. No doubt I will be giggling next.”

“Wait a second.” Jim gave him a panicked look. “Pregnancy hormones?”

Spock looked faintly uncomfortable. “Indeed.”

“Yeah, Jim; welcome to fatherhood,” McCoy said. He didn’t...quite...snicker.

“Getting back to important matters,” Spock really, really wanted to get off this subject, “Jim and I were talking last night, and he mentioned that human females are pregnant for nine months. On the other hand, Vulcan pregnancies, whichever gender is carrying the child, only take six months to come to full gestation. Do you have any estimate on how long my gestation period will be?”

McCoy was all business now. “I think it’s too early,” he replied. “Based on my tests, you’re only about 4 weeks pregnant, so we’re going to have to see how the fetus develops before I can make a better estimate of gestation, especially giving the variable of your human half. I’m going to want to see you once every two weeks for now, and that will turn into weekly visits when you get closer to delivery. And obviously, if you experience any kind of unusual symptom, or even if you just feel that something is ‘off,’ I want you in here immediately.” He looked at Jim. “In the meantime, Captain, I want him on something that approaches a normal work routine. These 16-hour days he insists on putting in have to stop now.”

“Agreed.”

“Jim, I do not need to be coddled and...”

“It’s not open for discussion,” Jim said firmly. “I want you on 8-hour shifts for now, and if that’s too much, I expect you to tell me honestly. Chekov can take over some of the Science Officer’s duties, and I know he’ll be glad to do it; he wants the experience. And I need you as my First Officer more than I need you in the labs.”

Spock looked mutinous. “I am perfectly capable of handling both sets of duties at this time. There is no reason to penalize me.”

“I’m not penalizing you; I’m assigning you a reasonable number of duties instead of the unreasonable number you’ve been doing. Damnit, Spock, are you going to argue with me about everything for the next nine damned months?”

“Six months.”

“There you go again.”

“Hey!” Both heads swiveled towards McCoy. “The two of you are not going to start this shit in here. I know how it always ends; you’re sorry, Spock’s sorry, and you have hot make-up sex. Well, not in my office.” He turned to Spock. “If Jim didn’t put you on light duty, I would. You can do an 8-hour shift, and if you really, really feel wonderful, I might let you do 10 hours. But that’s it. If you want a healthy baby, you need to rest more and work less.” He swung on Jim. “And you need to realize that this is the same stubborn hobgoblin you fell in love with, only now he’s knocked up and completely irrational. So you need to be the grown-up and figure out a way to deal with him that doesn’t involve chewing his ass—at least not that way. I don’t want to know about anything else.”

The two looked at each other. Jim took a deep breath.

“He’s right, ashaya.” He leaned over and gently placed his hand on Spock’s cheek. “Please, love. I don’t want you to think I’m penalizing you; you know I’m not. You do too much for me and this ship; you always have. Please, ease up a little. Nothing is more important than your health and our baby. We’ll make it work; we’ve got a great crew, and they’ll all pitch in.”

Spock somehow managed to simultaneously lean into Jim’s touch and glare at McCoy like a cat getting a flea bath. “Thank you, t’hy’la. And Doctor, I am not completely irrational.”

“You will be,” McCoy replied cheerfully. He got to his feet. “I’ll draw up a list of supplements I want you to take, and we’ll keep an eye on the little Kirk/Spock in there for now.”

Their second appointment of the day was almost as much fun as the first. They put in a call to New Vulcan and asked to speak to Sarek.

In a few moments, Spock’s father came on-screen. Sarek looked like he always did—handsome, dignified, holding a titanium rod firmly up his ass at all times...Jim checked that thought. He didn’t think Sarek could read his mind from this distance, but it never hurt to be cautious.

Actually, Sarek and Spock looked a lot alike, but Spock’s features had a certain gentleness, a certain sensitivity, that Sarek’s would never have. At the same time, Jim thought Sarek looked a little happier since he had remarried. Jim knew that Spock hadn’t been one bit happy about that, and Jim couldn’t blame him. He remembered all too well how he’d felt every time Winona Kirk dragged home a new ‘father’ for him and Sam. But T’Saaria, Sarek’s new wife, was actually quite nice, and Jim could guess how lonely Sarek had felt after Amanda’s death, so more power to him.

Sarek inclined his head. “My son.” He turned to Jim. “My ak’ghar.”

“I hope we didn’t interrupt anything important,” Jim said.

“My work will wait. Is there something wrong?”

Jim and Spock glanced at each other. You tell him. No, you tell him. He’s your father. He will be more polite to you. Ok, Goddamnit, you win.

Jim Kirk, mighty warrior, who had faced down Klingons and psychotic Romulans and all of Starfleet Command, swallowed hard and forced out the words. “Spock and I are having a child.”

There was a long silence, a very long silence. Then Sarek looked at Jim.

“Interesting. I was not aware that you were planning to have an artificial womb installed.”

“He did not,” Spock informed his father. “I am carrying the child.”

Another very long silence ensued. Sarek stared at Spock.

“The auxiliary uterus,” he finally said.

“Indeed.”

“It is not commonly used.”

“Perhaps not, but it is viable.”

“Many people will find it—peculiar.”

“That is their problem.”

“Hey,” Jim broke in. “How about ‘congratulations; that is excellent news;’ or ‘I hope you and the child are well;’ or ‘Way to help rebuild the race.’ You know, Sarek, something positive and diplomatic?”

“Jim...” But it was too late.

“There is no reason to indulge in human sarcasm,” Sarek said with complete dignity. “Your news is interesting, and obviously I hope for Spock’s continued health. However, as the child will be only one-quarter Vulcan...”

That tore it.

“Commander, kindly go to the bridge and check ship’s status.”

“Jim...”

“That was not a request.”

No, of course not. Spock rose. Please do not fight with him, t’hy’la. He left. Jim turned back to Sarek, leaning into the screen as if they were nose-to-nose.

“You listen.” He spoke softly, but there was note in his voice that promised volume if needed. “That child is your grandchild, Amanda’s grandchild. Whether it’s one-quarter Vulcan or one-eighth Horta, it’s a miracle and a blessing. Now, I know you weren’t happy that Spock and I decided to bond...”

“Vulcans do not feel happy...”

“Don’t interrupt. I know you weren’t happy, but I’m here, and now my child will be here, and if you don’t quit making Spock feel like a failure, I’m going to convince him to quit trying to reach out to you. It wouldn’t take much; he’s already discouraged by the fact that you disapprove of everything about him. Is that how you think Amanda would want you to behave? I never knew her, but I’m sure she was better than that. She had to have been; she raised Spock, and he’s not an utter asshole like you.”

Brown eyes stared into blue. Blue eyes won.

“You just broke at least three of Surak’s Principles of Behavior,” Sarek informed his son-by-marriage. However, there was no heat in his voice.

“I’ll break them all if I have to, if that’s what I need to do to protect Spock.”

Sarek nodded. “I cannot fault your loyalty.” He sighed. “My words were ill-chosen. If you will excuse me, I will break off and then send a new transmission directly to Spock, wishing him good health and a successful conclusion to the pregnancy and offering my congratulations.”

“Good. We’ll keep you informed—grandpa.” Kirk ended the call.

As long as he had a full head of steam (and Spock was safely out of earshot), Jim decided to beard the next dragon, Admiral Bullock. He asked Uhura to put in a call (not telling her why, of course) and then waited for the 14 minutes it took for Bullock to return his call. The jowly face scowled out of the screen at him.

“Captain.”

“Admiral.”

“What is it, Kirk, and make it quick. I have a busy day ahead.”

Yeah, sucking up to your superiors and fucking over the rest of us. “In accordance with regulations, Admiral, I am calling to inform you that First Officer Spock is expecting a child.”

“He’s a male.”

I know that, you dumb fuck—I’m sleeping with him, and I can tell you more about his junk than you’d ever want to hear. “Apparently Vulcan males have the capacity to become pregnant,” he informed Bullock respectfully.

“I suppose you’re going to try and tell me it’s yours?”

Jim saw red. Calm. Control. You need the salary; you have a family to support.

“Admiral, it is fortunate that Commander Spock did not hear that, because if he had, he would be entitled under Vulcan law to sue you for slander, and he would win,” Jim said coldly. “He is my legal bond mate, and bond mates do not cheat on each other. So to answer your question, yes, the child is mine.”

“Kirk you’ve really done it this time,” Bullock said, disgusted. “I don’t know what you think you’re trying to pull, but if you think this little stunt is getting you cushy assignments...”

“Admiral, under regulations, we have to be re-assigned; we cannot go on high-risk missions as long as the top two members of the command crew are expecting a child.” Jim took a deep breath. “Both Commander Spock and I will do everything we can to serve Starfleet, but the reality of the situation is...”

“The reality of the situation is that you’ve just selfishly yanked the Fleet’s best ship off the front lines,” Bullock snapped. “I will formally acknowledge your news through channels, Captain, and I will notify you of our decisions regarding missions. Bullock out.”

FUCK.

After that charming call, Jim decided to make one more, to Chris Pike.

“He said what?”

“He implied the child wasn’t mine, and then he informed me that I had single-handedly yanked the best ship in the fleet off the front lines.” Jim was still steaming.

Pike was just as mad. “Ok, I’ll admit this news isn’t ideal, but Bullock has got no business making cracks about paternity. I can promise you, Jim, he’s getting reamed for that. The old bastard never has had any cultural sensitivity, but he’s going to get some.”

“Just as long as Spock never hears about it.” Jim hesitated. “Look, Chris. You need to know that if it’s a choice between the Enterprise and Spock and our child, you know who will win.”

“I know.” Pike looked grim. After the Narada incident and the near-genocide of the Vulcan people, both Starfleet and the Federation Council had enacted laws to protect Vulcans—and their mates. Thanks to those laws, Jim and Spock could resign from Starfleet and go home to New Vulcan with full benefits.

“Look, Jim,” he said. “I appreciate you letting me know about this. Let me see what I can do to work on the issue. Yes, there are some challenges here. We need the Enterprise, and frankly, we need you. There’s got to be a sensible solution. You’re obviously capable of handling the Enterprise and doing more than milk runs, while still protecting Spock and the baby. And I apologize for Bullock, because he’ll never do it.”

“Thanks, Chris,” Jim said, mollified.

“Keep me informed.”

“You’ll be the first call I make.”

At the ass-end of a very long day, Jim crawled into his bunk, pleased to see that Spock was actually there and actually asleep. Jim tried not to jostle the mattress as he climbed in; no sense in waking his bond mate. Jim stared at the ceiling, thinking back over the day. McCoy was worried; Sarek was dismissive, and Starfleet was pissed. Great. Just fucking great. If it weren’t for the fact that Selik was over the moon about this, they’d be batting .000 for people taking the news well. Jim was frankly rather hurt. This was a fucking miracle, and everybody was treating it like a fart at a diplomatic dinner. Jim rolled over and sighed. I hope every day for the next six months won’t be like this.

A pair of warm arms somehow found their way around his body, and Spock drew Jim close, burying his lips in his mate’s neck.

“I thought you were asleep,” Jim murmured, feeling the tension magically ooze out of him from that simple caress.

“I was, but I felt you,” Spock replied. Jim rolled over, wrapping his arms around his love.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should have made sure I was calm before coming in here.”

“No.” Spock gently kissed his brow. “I do not want you to hide concerns from me. You are still my bond mate, the most important person in my life. A child will not change that; nothing will change that. I wish to know what you are thinking, how you are feeling, and I wish to help whenever I can. I am not so fragile that I need to be sheltered from your feelings, however illogical they are.”

Jim snuggled close, amazed as always by the contentment that he felt in Spock’s arms. “Thank you, t’hy’la,” he whispered. “I’ll try not to fuss too much over things we can’t change. I guess I just thought that everyone would be as thrilled as I am.”

Spock held his love close, letting the waves of love wash over Jim until he felt the human drift into sleep. “Not everyone has your loving heart,” he murmured, letting himself drift back to sleep as well.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Unexpected Benefits

Jim stretched, feeling the delicious tremors running through him. Ohhh, so good. Spock was lying on top of Jim, his hands stroking Jim’s sides, his mouth worrying Jim’s left nipple, licking and sucking gently, then strongly, then nibbling lightly, sending pulses of sensation right through Jim’s body. Jim murmured sleepily as Spock switched sides, giving his right nipple the same treatment, leaving both tender nubs stiff and throbbing. Jim had no idea where his pajama top had gone, but his cock suggested he not worry about that right now.

Jim moaned softly as Spock’s mouth traveled lower, kissing and nipping its way down Jim’s stomach, his hands moving as well, caressing Jim’s flanks and thighs, massaging the hard muscles with long, smooth caresses. Jim blinked, coming fully awake. He didn’t know what time it was, but the atmosphere had that it’s-so-late-in-the-night-it’s-early-in-the morning feel to it.

“Spock?” Jim murmured. “What...” he tried to sit up, only to be pressed back down.

“Shhhh,” Spock whispered from beneath the blankets. “Lie still, t’hy’la.”

Jim was puzzled but willing to go along. His cock wasn’t puzzled at all, just happy.

With his hot, strong hands holding Jim’s hips, Spock slid lower, his mouth level with Jim’s groin. I know what’s coming next, his cock crowed happily. It was wrong.

Spock began to lick him, not the long strokes he usually used but tiny, random flicks to the head, the shaft, that tender spot right under the crown, the base, then back to the head again. Between licks, Spock blew gently on each wet patch, the cool air on Jim’s hot flesh quickly swelling his cock until it was rock-hard and weeping with eagerness. The sensations were incredible, but they were not enough.

“Spock,” Jim keened, pushing up with his hips, trying to capture that hot mouth. But Spock held him down easily, continuing that random pattern of oral caresses. Then suddenly, he moved lower still and sucked Jim’s balls right into that hot, wet embrace.

Jim cried out, arching his back as he felt Spock’s mouth and tongue on him, rolling his balls in his mouth, the heat and pressure setting Jim insane. He was so hard; he was so close...

He moaned as Spock’s mouth pulled away. He felt those powerful hands grab his legs, lifting them, pulling them over Spock’s shoulders until Jim was open and...

“Ahhhh....oh, God, Spock, what are you....” Jim writhed as Spock buried his face in Jim’s cheeks, licking, sucking, nipping, eating Jim out with all the dedication that Spock brought to any task, using that long, flexible Vulcan tongue to set Jim on fire. Oh, God, it felt so good! Even Jim’s cock wasn’t complaining, even though it wasn’t getting direct action. Jim reached down and wrapped his hand around his dick, stroking himself in time to the thrust of Spock’s tongue inside him, ready, so ready to come.

With yet another sudden shift, Spock dropped Jim’s legs, pulled himself up and over Jim’s shuddering body, and with one long, smooth, plunge, pushed his way into Jim’s passage, his shaft dripping with its natural lubrication. He batted Jim’s hand away from his cock and began to stroke him, rocking into Jim as his mate wrapped his arms around Spock’s neck and hung on for the ride. Spock was moaning now, moaning as loudly as Jim, frantically kissing and nipping Jim’s neck, his breath hot in Jim’s ear as he cried out.

With an echoing cry, Jim came, feeling himself spill between their bodies just as Spock erupted inside of him.

Jim lay in his arms, trying to catch his breath, still feeling both their orgasms rolling through him. Wow. It’s not like our sex life is ever boring, but...wow.

“Is it my birthday?” he joked softly.

Spock just cuddled closer, drowsily rubbing his cheek against Jim’s shoulder. “Your birthday is not for another three months, fourteen days, eight hours,” he replied.

“All right, then I give up. What’s with the mind-blowing three a.m. sex? We didn’t have a fight and I missed it, did we?”

Spock kissed the shoulder he was using as a pillow. “As Dr. McCoy warned you, my hormonal levels are adjusting to help my body proceed with the pregnancy. While some of these fluctuations may produce—not all together pleasant results, one of the most striking effects is a marked increase in the libido.”

Increase? Jim’s head swam at the thought. The two of them were already burning up the sheets to such an extent that the quartermaster had complained about the laundry bills.

Increase? His dick asked. Hot damn!

“How long does this—side effect last?” he croaked.

“For the duration of the pregnancy.” It was hard to tell, of course, but Jim would have sworn that Spock sounded—smug.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Jim sighed, then gasped as he felt Spock’s hand cup his balls. His cock immediately lifted its head, forgetting all abut that nap it had planned.

“It would be illogical to kill the father of my child.” Spock’s hands were busy. “But if you are in danger of expiring, please let me know.”

“I’ll....ohhh, t’hy’la, yes, right there!....let you know,” Jim gasped, arching into Spock’s grip.

Shut up, his dick suggested.

Jim obeyed.

Amazingly, both of them were up and dressed on time. Apparently hormone-fueled sex was as refreshing as a full night’s sleep. Jim felt great and Spock looked—amazing. Jim paused, sitting on his bunk with one boot in his hand, filling his eyes with the sight of Spock in his blue tunic and black pants, carefully combing his glossy hair in front of the mirror, a faint flush on the high cheekbones, that stern, beautiful mouth soft and tender. Jim slipped off the bed and padded over to Spock, standing behind his mate and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Have I mentioned lately that I love you?” he asked softly.

Spock turned in his arms, pulling Jim into his embrace and kissing him. “I believe you declared those sentiments at approximately 0413 this morning; however, you were gasping somewhat incoherently, so I may have misunderstood,” he teased.

“Well, in that case...” Jim kissed him, letting his lips linger on Spock’s, feeling that tender mouth yielding against his, feeling Spock lean into him as if he could never get close enough.

“I love you,” Jim whispered, breaking the kiss. “I will always love you.”

“As I do thee, t’hy’la,” Spock whispered back. He stepped back, keeping his hands on Jim’s arms.

“We had best go, or we will be late.”

“Yes, and we can’t have the Captain and First Officer letting down the discipline,” Jim chuckled. “Come on, love. Let’s go see to our ship.”

Jim often worked through his lunch, sipping a cup of coffee and maybe eating a sandwich that some yeoman brought him. However, he resolved that this practice was going to end. As long as he was on the Bridge, Spock stayed as well, and he usually didn’t even bother with the coffee and sandwich, since he didn’t drink coffee and he didn’t like sandwiches. However, Jim was going to make sure that he ate more and more regularly. From now on, they were both eating lunch, unless there was a Klingon warship hanging off the bow at noon.

Jim rose. “Ms. Uhura, you have the con,” he said to Nyota. She looked up, surprised.

“Certainly, sir.”

“Come on, Spock. Time for a bite to eat.”

Spock looked up from his post. “Captain, I am analyzing the latest wave patterns from the last sensor readings we made of that quasar in Sector C-17.”

“And you can tell me all about it over a bowl of soup and a salad,” Jim replied firmly. He jerked his head towards the elevator. “Come on.”

With a mental sigh, Spock rose and followed his captain and nutritionist.

“Really, this is not necessary.” Spock was in their cabin, sitting on their bed, propped up with a mound of pillows, boots off, as Jim worked the replicator and got them some lunch. He brought Spock’s tray over to him then grabbed a small side table and wheeled it closer, setting on a chair next to Spock and attacking his own chicken salad sandwich and coffee.

“Just relax and eat your soup,” Jim said gently. “Bones meant what he said yesterday, and I’m reinforcing the message. You need to rest more, and the universe is not going to end if you take an hour to eat lunch and put your feet up.”

Spock, resigned, spooned up some soup. He would never had admitted it, but it felt good to be so cared for, to have someone notice whether he ate or if his feet hurt from those elegant, narrow, torturing boots Starfleet issued them.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome.” Jim’s gaze was tender. They ate in a silence for a few minutes. Jim was pleased to see that both the soup and salad were disappearing fast. After a time, he chuckled. “Do you suppose we’re going to get along this well for the whole pregnancy?”

Spock looked suddenly serious. “I am afraid not.” He took a deep breath. “Jim, what Dr. McCoy said about the hormones—he was not indulging in one of his usual poorly-chosen jests. The chemical changes in my body will produce some...unfortunate mood swings. I will meditate more and do everything I can to control them, but...”

“Hey,” Jim said softly, getting out of his chair. He sat down on the edge of the bunk and lifted Spock’s empty tray off his lap, setting it on the table. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his mate, gently stroking the glossy black hair.

“It’s all right, love.” He kissed the pointed ear next to his mouth. “You’ve put up with all my emotional bullshit for more than two years, and I don’t even have hormones as an excuse.” He leaned back, letting Spock see the love and sincerity in his eyes. “I don’t doubt we’ll fight at some point, and I’ll almost certainly say something fucking stupid in the next six months. But I hereby apologize in advance, and I hereby forgive you for anything you say back. Fair?”

Spock reached out and ran his fingers down his t’hy’la’s check, loving the feel of that soft, warm skin against his fingertips, savoring Jim’s bright smile as he leaned into the caress. “More than fair,” Spock replied.

That evening, Spock left Jim doing paperwork in their quarters. He needed to pay someone a visit, and he might as well do it now.

Nyota opened the door and blinked. Spock stood there. It was the first time he’d been to her quarters since they’d broken up. Nyota felt a twinge. She and Scotty were getting along well, and Spock was obviously mad for that cocky farm boy who ran the ship, but once in awhile, Nyota couldn’t help but think of what they had shared.

“May I come in?” Spock asked.

“Of course.” Nyota stepped aside and Spock walked in.

Nyota looked at her former love. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, not at all. I apologize for my unannounced visit.”

“Spock, you’re always welcome here.” Nyota indicated a chair. “Sit down.” She settled in across from him. “What can I do for you?”

Spock took a deep breath. “I felt you should know this before the rest of the crew finds out.” He looked at her. “Jim and I are having a child.”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. A child. Spock’s child.

“The Vulcan auxiliary uterus?”

He nodded. “Indeed. You remember your xenobiology well.”

She shrugged. “You know me—top of my class.” She looked at him closely. “How far along are you?”

“Perhaps a month. Dr. McCoy knows, of course, but we have not told the rest of the crew at this time. As I said, I felt it appropriate that I tell you directly, rather than have you learn it through ship’s gossip, or even through a general announcement.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I appreciate that.” She looked at him. “You know, of course, that I wish you the best.”

“I know.” For a few moments, they sat in silence.

“Nyota,” Spock said tentatively, “Jim tells me that it is a human custom for newborns to have what are called ‘godparents,’ individuals who act as surrogate family members as the child grows up.” He dropped his eyes. “I would be...honored if you would consider such a role.”

“Oh, Spock.” Nyota laid her hand on his. “It is I who would be honored.”

“Thank you,” he replied. He rose. “I will leave you to resume your evening activities. Good night, Nyota.”

“Good night, Spock.” The door swished shut. Nyota sat silently for a moment. Then the tears came, the tears for what might have been.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Green-Eyed Monster

They were eating breakfast the next morning in their quarters (and Jim was pleased to see Spock was having oatmeal and fruit and toast, while Spock was resigned to see that Jim was having Belgian waffles and bacon), when Spock said, “I went to see Nyota last evening.”

“Oh?” Jim tried to keep his tone casual. He tried to fight it (and he never let Spock see it), but Nyota Uhura was one of his least-favorite people—not as bad as Admiral Bullock, certainly, but hardly a bosom buddy either (even though she had really spectacular bosoms, and if Jim wasn’t totally committed to Spock, and if he wasn’t afraid of Scotty slicing his dick off with a dirk, he would have loved to make a play for them). But the fact remained that A. Nyota had started her relationship with Jim by brushing him off at a bar (and in the process earning him an ass-whooping from several Starfleet cadets), and B. Nyota had been Spock’s girlfriend for almost two years. Jim knew that letting B. matter was childish and immature, but he found it hard to look at Uhura and not imagine her in Spock’s arms, her lips planted on that gorgeous mouth, her fingers playing in that shiny black hair or tweaking those elegantly-pointed ears, or....Jim took a deep breath. Stop it, boy. Quit torturing yourself—that’s Bones’ vocation. He looked inquiringly at Spock.

“I’m sorry love; I missed that. What did you say?”

“I said I asked Nyota if she would stand as one of our child’s godparents, and she told me she would be honored to do so.”

“You did what?” Jim was on his feet, Belgian waffles forgotten.

Spock looked at him, mild consternation on his face. “I asked her to be the godmother to our baby; you told me about the custom, and I think it is an excellent one, especially when our child may grow up in space and have few family members available...”

“I don’t fucking believe this!” Jim was livid.

“T’hy’la, what is wrong? Nyota is a person of good character.”

“Oh, yeah, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? You spent two goddamn years in close contact with her character.” Jim laughed, but there was no happiness in the sound. “Jesus, Spock, what the hell were you thinking? Asking your ex-girlfriend to be my child’s godmother? That’s the dumbest goddamn thing I’ve ever heard.”

Spock was on his feet now as well, breakfast forgotten. “It is my child as well, and she is my ex-girlfriend,” he stressed, his voice cold. “There is no need for your childish display of jealousy—at least, I assume that is what this is. I have such a difficult time keeping track of all of your emotional variations that I sometimes mislabel one.”

“Oh, yeah? You don’t mind my emotional variations when I’m protecting you from your dick of a father. You don’t mind my emotional variations when I’m sucking you off at 4 a.m. You don’t mind my emotional variations when I’m comforting you over your mother’s death. But now they’re inconvenient? Well, fuck that. Nyota is not going to be a godmother, and don’t you dare do anything like this again without asking me first!”

“Jim,” Spock tried to get his temper under control. “I have already asked Nyota, and I will not hurt her feelings by withdrawing the invitation...”

“Oh, yeah, her feelings matter, don’t they? Well, then, fine. Let her fetch you lunch and rub your back. Hell, for all I care, she can be your fucking Lamaze coach, too.” Jim turned and walked out. Spock sank down into his chair, feeling unusually weak. He stared at his half-eaten breakfast. His appetite was gone.

Alpha shift that day was an unpleasant experience for all concerned. Jim sat in the center chair like Henry VIII on his throne, glaring at everyone who crossed his line of vision. Spock sat at the Science Station like an iceberg, staring at his screens, reading the same data over and over and not understanding a bit of it. Everyone else tiptoed around and hoped they would live to see another day. Spock refused to leave the Bridge for lunch, and when Jim tried to insist, Spock stood up and said, “If that is your order, Captain, I will leave for an hour. However, I will not be consuming any nourishment; it would not remain in my stomach.” With that, he stalked away. Jim didn’t eat lunch either; he spent the hour worrying about Spock and mentally kicking himself for their argument. What the fuck was wrong with him?

At the end of shift, Jim girded up his loins and walked up to the Science Station, pausing next to his board-stiff First Officer. “Spock,” he said, very quietly, “would you please go and eat some dinner? You...you need your strength. Come on.” He placed a light hand on Spock’s shoulder, where it was promptly shrugged off.

“I will eat, sir—alone.” With that, Spock rose, yielding his chair to his relief, and stalked off the Bridge. He didn’t look back. Jim stood there, feeling like the biggest turd in the universe. Judging by the look Nyota, seated at her station, gave him, Jim figured she was thinking the same.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?”

With nowhere else to go, Jim ended up in Sickbay. It didn’t take long for McCoy to worm the whole story out of him, and it took less time than that for McCoy to tear him a new one.

“Didn’t I tell you that you needed to be the grown-up? Didn’t I tell you that you needed to quit arguing with Spock? This wasn’t even an argument! It was a pissy fucking tantrum, and you threw it!”

“I know, I know.” Jim dropped his head in his hands. “There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t told myself, Bones.”

“Wanna bet?” McCoy was still in full stride. “You pull this kind of shit again, Captain, and I may make a medical recommendation that you keep away from Spock all together. He’s my patient, and I’ll protect him any way that I need to.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Jim gasped.

“You want to try me?” McCoy glared at him. “This whole baby thing is going to be tough enough on Spock without you acting like a goddamn princess. He needs you strong and loving and supportive, not all wigged out because he asked a woman he hasn’t so much as sneezed on for a year and a half for a favor.”

“He had no right to ask Nyota to be a godmother.”

“Oh, Jesus, Jim, who else would he have asked? Except for you and Nyota, how many real friends, people he really feels for, does the hobgoblin have? He lost his mother; his father treats him like a defective computer, and now you, the one person he should always be able to count on for emotional support, especially now, you’re throwing a performance-art-piece-quality snit fit because he asked the one other person who’s always been there for him to be part of his child’s life?” McCoy shook his head. “You’re being a prick, Jim, and it stops now, or I may have no choice but to file a report and charge you with emotional abuse.”

Those two words hit Jim like a punch in the kidneys. For a second, he looked ready to flare up again, then the fight went out of him.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, shoulders slumping as the full magnitude of his actions hit him. “Oh, God, Bones, you’re right. He...he didn’t finish his breakfast because I screamed at him. I’m not sure he ate lunch. Oh, Jesus, what’s the matter with me? How could I act that way?”

Bones sat down in the chair next to Jim and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What’s the matter with you is that you could never count on anyone to love you,” he said softly. “Your childhood left you with scars, Jim; it does that to most of us, but yours are worse because your childhood was worse. I get that, and I know Spock does, too. But Spock loves you, loves you with all his heart, God help him, and he always will. And you need to trust that and love him back just as hard, just as faithfully, or you’ll damage him and your relationship. And I’ll cut out your tongue if you ever tell him I said this, but he’s too fine an individual to be hurt that way.”

“You’re right.” Jim raised his head, his eyes meeting Bones’. “Please don’t file any reports. I’ll go find him; I’ll make it up to him. And I’ll try harder.”

“You’d better try a lot harder, Jim.” McCoy’s voice and face were serious. “I mean it; he needs love and support, and I expect you to give it to him.” He jerked his head towards the door. “Now scoot, and make sure he eats before you two start that whole make-up sex marathon that I don’t want details of.”

“Thanks, Bones.”

“Hi.” Jim’s voice and smile were tentative.

Spock looked up from his padd. “I assume your duties are finished for the day.”

“Yes.” Jim edged into the room, watching Spock like he was a le-matya and Jim was a nervous sirloin steak. Spock returned to his reading, ignoring Jim as only a pissed-off Vulcan could. Jim decided to let him alone for the time being. He went into their bath and got ready for bed. When he came out, a full half-hour later, Spock was still reading—reading the same damned line as far as Jim could tell. In addition, his face bore that pinched look it got when Spock was unhappy and trying desperately not to show it. That tore it.

Jim walked over to the desk and took hold of the arms of Spock’s chair, swiveling it until Spock faced him. Jim then dropped to his knees, laying his head against Spock’s legs with a tired sigh.

“Do you remember when I said I’d probably say something fucking stupid in the next six months?” Jim asked softly.

“Since I have an eidetic memory, and you made that statement less than 24 hours ago, it would be logical to assume that I do remember,” Spock replied. His voice was cold, but his hand crept down until it was resting on Jim’s head.

:”Did you ever dream it would take me less than 24 hours to come up with something fucking stupid?” Jim asked plaintively.

There was a long silence. Then, “Yes.” Spock’s voice was tender and amused. “I expected it. You are an extraordinarily gifted individual, and an over-achiever. You accomplish more in less time than anyone I know.”

Jim burst into laughter. He rose and settled himself on Spock’s lap, welcoming the warm embrace that greeted him.

“I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, tucking his face into Spock’s neck. “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t begin to cover it. I was totally out of line, and I’m so sorry I upset you, sorry I was such a selfish ass. Of course, Nyota can be our child’s godmother. She’ll be fantastic.”

“Thank you, t’hy’la,” Spock replied, caressing the head on his shoulder. “I am sorry as well. I should have asked before making that offer. It was wrong of me to make a decision about our child and not even mention it to you first.”

Jim shook his head. “You don’t have to clear everything with me like you don’t have a brain in your head or a right to your own opinions,” he said positively. “I was being a jealous ass, and I’m sorry.”

“T’hy’la, why did it make you jealous?” Spock asked softly, still stroking Jim’s head, feeling the pain of the day fading now that his beloved was close again. “Surely you know that Nyota is nothing more than a friend?”

“I know, and I have no right to be jealous of her. Hell, it’s not like I was a virgin when we met.”

“No, and you know that I never expected you to be.”

Jim sighed. “I guess...Bones thinks it’s because my mom spent her life running from me, and everyone else I ever loved went away,” he admitted, trying to speak around the sudden tightness in his throat. He looked up at Spock.

“I’d die if you ever quit loving me,” he said quietly. “I don’t mean that metaphorically. I’d fucking lay down and die.” He blinked back sudden hot tears. “Oh, Hell, here I go again, and you’re supposed to be the one with the hormones.”

“Jim,” Spock voice was so tender it made Jim blink harder. Spock gently kissed both cheeks, brushing away those bright drops. “Do you not know what you mean to me? If I could, I would go back to the day you were born; I would spend every minute of your childhood loving you, protecting you from those who hurt you, ensuring that you were always loved.” He kissed Jim again. “But since I cannot change the past, I can only promise you that I will love you for as long as we live. I would not leave you for Nyota or a thousand like her.”

“I know,” Jim whispered. “And I’m sorry I ever forgot that, even for a moment.”

“You already apologized in advance,” Spock reminded him, nuzzling Jim’s cheek with his lips.

“Yeah, but I want to hold that one in reserve for when I really fuck up,” Jim murmured back. He got to his feet and pulled Spock up as well. “Come on,” he said gently. “If I know you, you’ve eaten two crumbs and a cup of tea today, and that’s not enough.”

“Food was not...particularly appealing today,” Spock admitted.

“Oh, God, t’hy’la, please don’t ever let me do this to you again.” Jim gathered Spock into a close embrace. “Please, the next time I upset you, you not only have my permission but a standing order to nerve-pinch me and eat a giant salad over my limp, worthless carcass.” He held Spock close for a moment, rubbing those knots of tension he could feel in his bond mate’s shoulders, hating the fact that he had put them there.

Spock gently kissed the top of Jim’s head. “It is all right, ashaya,” he murmured. “I know you are sorry, and I know it is hard for you to accept my friendship with Nyota.”

“No, it is not all right, but I’ll make it ok,” Jim said. He stepped back, keeping his arms loosely around Spock. “Come and sit down. You need a hot meal, and then I’m going to put you to bed and rub your back until you fall asleep. I’ll bet I can do it at least as well as Nyota.”

Spock gently cupped Jim’s face in his hands. “I would much rather have you than Nyota,” he murmured. “Her hands were always cold.”

After a meal that Spock declared was much too large but which Jim noticed with relief that he ate every bite of, Jim got Spock settled in and gave him that promised back rub, working out the knots until Spock lay relaxed and almost purring on their bunk. Jim reached down to the foot of the bunk and pulled up an extra blanket and covered Spock warmly. But when he tried to rise, Jim was stopped by Spock’s hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Where are you going?” Spock murmured sleepily.

“I thought maybe you needed space to stretch out,” Jim whispered.

Spock wrapped himself around his mate, shaking his head, the large dark eyes looking into Jim’s with infinite love. “I do not need privacy or space. I need you,” he murmured.

“You’ve got me, love. I promise.”

They went to bed. Eventually, they went to sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Full Service T’hy’la

Over the next couple of weeks, Jim and Spock settled into their new routine, which Jim mentally labeled, “Making Sure Spock Has Everything He Needs and Making Sure I Don’t Act Like a Dick.” This involved Jim watching over Spock’s eating habits (still not ideal), as well as making sure he got enough rest, spent less time working, and got back rubs (and hormone-fueled sex) as needed. Jim was fine with all of that (especially the sex), but he wanted to do more, and Spock was beginning to resist.

“Jim,” he finally said one evening, “I am fine. You d not need to hover over me so.”

“I know you’re fine, but your feet are hurting you,” Jim replied firmly. “I saw you limping on the Bridge today.”

“I was not limping.” Spock was on his dignity. “My ankle twisted slightly on a rough patch of flooring.”

“On the Bridge?” Jim wasn’t buying it. “Your feet are bothering you; those boots are probably too tight because your feet are swelling. So get them off and propped up on some pillows.” He turned away to program a cup of tea into the replicator. Then he turned back.

Spock stood in the middle of the room, his feet still encased in those shiny black boots. Jim looked at him, amazed. Spock wasn’t exactly crying—but there was a shine in those dark eyes that Jim didn’t like one bit. He forgot all about the tea.

“Hey,” he said gently, moving forward and putting his arms around Spock, “what’s wrong?”

Spock ducked his head against Jim’s shoulder; Jim could feel the tiny shiver that went through Spock as he fought for control. “My feet are....they are misshapen and ugly,” Spock replied in a low, sad voice.

“Ugly? Spock, I didn’t say that.” Jim guided him to the bed and sat him down, kneeling and pulling off Spock’s boots and socks, despite Spock’s flinching. Jim rose and piled some pillows at the foot of the bunk, swinging Spock’s legs up and placing his feet on the pillows. He sat down at the bottom of the bed and took one foot into his hand, examining it. It was slightly puffy, but no worse than Jim’s might be after a long day. He began to rub it gently, using his thumbs on the arch and the top, moving up to the ankle, which was also slightly swollen, then back down to the toes. After a few minutes, he looked up at Spock, who was leaning back against the headboard, still trying to keep from tears.

“It’s ok,” Jim said tenderly. “I think your hormones have decided to make themselves known, and that’s all right. You want to cry, go ahead. I’ll just keep rubbing your feet—which are not ugly, by the way.” He laid the left foot back down on its pillow pile and picked up the right, beginning to massage it as well.

“I...I am sorry.” Spock drew a deep breath. “I am being most illogical.”

“Yep, and enjoy it, mister, because once this is all over and our little Kirk-Spock is here, I expect my logic machine back and running full-throttle,” Jim teased gently. “In the meantime, you have a free pass to cry, scream, and throw things. Just don’t throw Tiber; his stitching won’t stand for it.”

“Jim, will you be...repulsed by my body when I start to...” Spock didn’t seem to know which word to use.

“Show?” Jim supplied. “Oh, Spock, that’s the very last worry you should have. I love you; I’ll love you if you get as big as a shuttlecraft—which you won’t. You need to gain weight; if you don’t start eating like Bones says you should, you’re going to produce the skinniest baby in history.”

“Dr. McCoy is overestimating the amount of food I need to consume.”

“I doubt that.” Jim looked at his love, his eyes serious.

“Nothing about you is ugly, and having a baby won’t change that,” he said gently. “Yes, your body is going to change, but do you think I’ll look like this for the next 70 years?”

“The chances of that are minuscule,” Spock acknowledged, his face less sad.

“And will you think I’m ugly when I lose all my hair and gain a gut?”

“You will never be ugly.”

“Well, then, you can quit worrying about your feet.” Jim set the second foot down on its pillow. “Does that feel better, love?”

“Yes,” Spock admitted.

“Good.” Jim rose and fetched the forgotten tea. “Here. Drink this and rest for a bit. I’m going to shoot a message to the Quartermaster and order you a pair of boots that are a half-size larger.”

Spock set aside his cup. “Could you do that...later?”

Jim grinned. “Of course.” He sat down again. “Do you want to cuddle, or are you in the mood for something more aerobic?”

Spock looked at Jim from under that fringe of black bangs. “Do I have to choose only one option?” he asked softly.

Jim grinned again, toeing off his own boots and climbing into bed, letting Spock pull him close.

“Of course not,” Jim murmured. “Full service t’hy’la, that’s me.”

After some discussion, they had decided to tell the command crew about the baby, and let shipboard gossip—the most powerful force in the galaxy—do the rest. Anyone who knew them personally could come and ask questions, offer congratulations, or just pat Spock’s stomach (Jim warned him that would probably happen once he started to show. McCoy doubted that anyone on board ship would have the balls to pat a pregnant Vulcan).

After further discussion, they had decided to ask Chekov to be the baby’s godfather. Bones was already an honorary uncle, and Sulu frankly found children to be just the tiniest bit creepy. Besides, Jim was longing to hear Chekov teaching their baby how to say “Wulcan.” Spock was seriously concerned for the baby’s language development, but he conceded that if Chekov taught their child half of what he knew about higher mathematics, the kid would be in good hands.

It was dinner time, and Jim had gotten Spock to go to the mess. They were seated at a table in the officers’ dining area, an alcove that was partitioned off from the rest of the crew mess. There was no law that said anyone couldn’t sit there, but by tradition, it was reserved for members of the command crew. Jim often ate with the crew, especially at breakfast, but right now he wanted to focus on Spock and have a relaxing meal, keeping one eye on Spock’s plate and making sure he ate enough. So they settled in, and Jim was pleased to see Spock eating his f’lavika (a kind of Vulcan pasta) with enthusiasm.

“Your appetite seems to be picking up,” Jim noted.

“Yes; my digestion has resumed its maximum level of efficiency.” Spock forked up some more noodles, while Jim ate his mac ‘n cheese and secretly wished for a hamburger. However, in deference to Spock’s still chancy stomach (as well as McCoy’s latest lecture about the evils of red meat) he abstained.

While they were isolated from the crew, they could still hear conversations, especially those at the table closest to the partition. This explained why Spock suddenly dropped his fork as a voice drifted around the partition.

“Well, I think it’s freakish.” Jim recognized the voice—Lt. Goebbels in Engineering. Jim didn’t like him; the man was the product of 300 years of selective breeding, and he looked it—tall, skinny, icy-blond hair, cold gray eyes, and a long nose that seemed to always be sniffing at something. Jim froze as he heard Goebbels continue.

“I mean, it’s bad enough that the pair of them are cohabitating, but now—a pregnant Vulcan male? Another Vulcan-human hybrid?” Goebbels snorted. “The last one was no great success; I wouldn’t think anyone would want another.”

“Just a minute.” Jim recognized the second voice as well—Ensign Laveran, also from Engineering. “That’s incredibly inappropriate.” There were murmurs as others at the table apparently agreed.

“No one asked you,” Goebbels informed her. “I have a right to my opinion, and I think it’s disgusting. If Captain Kirk wants to prove what a stud duck he is, he ought to be knocking up a human female.”

Jim was on his feet. Spock rose as well, putting out a hand. “T’hy’la, please,” he murmured. “Do not create a scene.”

“Try and stop me,” Jim hissed. He took one step then froze again as another voice sounded.

“On your feet, mister.” It was Uhura. Jim and Spock’s eyes met.

“You don’t outrank me, Lieutenant,” Goebbels said with a sneer. Oh, bad strategy.

“Lieutenant Commander as of next week when the promotions list comes out, and I’m still command crew, which means I outrank you right now. Now on your feet, mister, or I’ll knock you on your ass.”

Jim heard the scrape of a chair as Goebbels rose.

“Now,” Nyota’s voice was lower but still clear. “No one on this ship cares if you’re a Nazi three hundred years after they went out of style. No one cares if you do or don’t like Vulcans, or same-sex couples, or brown people for that matter.” There was a pause; Jim and Spock could both imagine the look on Uhura’s face. “No one on this ship gives a damn about what passes for thought processes in your mind. However, when you start voicing your half-baked ideas, especially when they involve your superiors, you had better make sure they’re respectful, and what you just said is about as disrespectful as you can manage without putting on a white hood and setting up a flaming cross in the middle of the mess.”

Spock looked at Jim. Flaming cross?

I’ll explain later. Jim didn’t want to miss a word.

“I have the right to my opinion,” Goebbels retorted.

“You have a right to an opinion that isn’t a pile of xenophobic shit,” Uhura retorted. “What you just said violates regs six ways to Sunday, and if I choose, I can have you off this ship before you can pack your collection of beer steins.” There was the sound of footsteps as Nyota moved closer to Goebbels.

“I’m not going to report this little conversation to the captain,” she murmured. “You get to have the fun of doing that. I’ll give you 24 hours to ask him for an appointment and tell him exactly what you said, or I will do it. I’m guessing he won’t leave enough of you to blot up with a sponge, but that’s his call to make. But, if I ever, ever hear you say anything like this again, I will personally see to it that you’re cashiered out of the service. Understood?”

“Yes.” Goebbels sounded like he was choking on a slice of meatloaf.

There was a pause as if Uhura was looking around. “I would suggest that the rest of you pick your friends more carefully. This asshole will pull you all down with him if you’re not careful.” Her heels went clicking away, followed by the scrape of a half-dozen chairs as everyone as Goebbels’ table made haste to get away.

. Jim sank back into his chair as Spock resumed his seat as well. For a moment, the two of them looked at each other. Then Jim spoke.

“You know something? I really, really like Nyota.”

Goebbels did ask for an appointment with Jim, and he did give a (slightly edited) version of his statements. As Nyota had warned him, Jim left behind little more than a spit wad by the time he was done chewing Goebbels. The lieutenant found himself on gamma shift for the next four months, as well as required to attend three classes a week in cultural sensitivity and diversity training, taught by Lt. M’Ress, who thought that all humans were as civilized as chimps. Goebbels also had a blistering notation placed in his permanent file, warning all future commanders that he did not work well with other races or species. His Starfleet career was derailed, perhaps permanently. Kirk felt it couldn’t happen to a more deserving bigot.

“Incoming transmission, Captain, from the cargo ship Volta,” Lt. Commander Uhura reported a few days later.

“On-screen, please.”

The view screen lit up. Captain Alice Nesbeth looked across at Jim. “Good morning, Captain,” she said. “I have a great deal of cargo for you from various shippers, almost four metric tons of supplies.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Kirk replied. “Please contact our people in Cargo Bay One, and we’ll get it taken care of.”

“Very good, Captain. Safe travels.”

“You as well. Kirk out.” Jim got to his feet. “Mr. Spock.”

Spock turned from his station. “Sir?”

“You have the con. I’m going to the cargo bay.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose. “Yes, sir.” He moved down to the center chair as Jim headed to the lift. I wonder why he wants to oversee supply shipments?

At the end of his shift, Spock made his way back to quarters. He was tired, as usual lately, and slightly chilled from another day in Earth-normal temperatures. He was also hungry, but he was having a hard time thinking of anything in the ship’s food system that sounded good. Perhaps I should rest for a time and then consider some food.

Spock stepped into his quarters. Jim was already there, and the thermostat was already cranked up. Jim turned as Spock came in the door.

“Hi there,” Jim said. “I was just putting some stuff away.” He gestured towards the table, which was piled high with parcels.

Jim? What is all this?”

Jim waved a hand. “Take a look,” he invited, a smile on his face.

Spock stepped closer and began to read labels. It was amazing. There was a jar of t’vakh powder, a supplement to mix with milk (“sort of like Ovaltine,” Jim had commented when he’d had it on New Vulcan). There was spimikan porridge powder, very high in protein. There were containers of at least six types of Vulcan soups in concentrate form. There were various other bottles, jugs, boxes, and jars, all containing easily reconstituted Vulcan foodstuffs.

Spock looked at Jim. “You...you got me all this?”

“Yep.” Jim was beaming. “I talked to Selik and had him figure out what items would be best, and he sent them out to me. I also got a selection of seeds. Sulu says they’ll grow in his hydroponic beds, so in a few weeks, you’ll have fresh native greens for salads.”

“Jim, I...” All of a sudden, Spock’s eyes were wet.

“Hey.” Jim hugged him. “Hormones acting up again?”

“No.” Spock hugged him back. “I am just happy, happy and grateful.” He looked at all the packages again. “To think that you did all this for me.”

Jim placed a gentle hand on Spock’s stomach. “I did it all for both of you,” he whispered tenderly. “And it was worth every credit.”

That night, Spock had a very good dinner.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Names and Other Considerations

“T’hy’la.”

“Yes, love?” It was 0630, and they had another half-hour before they had to get up and start their day. They were taking full advantage of the opportunity to cuddle.

“We cannot call our child Kirk-Spock.”

Jim giggled. “I never thought we would; it just seems like a good temporary designation, you know, like the number they put on a ship before they christen it.” He shifted in Spock’s arms, reaching up to run his fingers through the Vulcan’s hair. “So, do you have any thoughts on names?’

“I have not yet considered it,” Spock replied, leaning into Jim’s touch.

“Well of course, it will depend on if it’s a boy or a girl.” Jim paused. “If it is a girl,” he asked softly, “do you want to name her Amanda?”

Spock was silent. Jim looked to see the dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding Spock close to his heart. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You did not,” Spock reassured him. “I was simply taken aback by your thoughtfulness—as I so often am.” He gave his love a quick kiss.

“Well? It’s fine with me if we name her after your mom—unless she is a he, of course. Amanda would be a lousy name for a boy.”

Spock shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I appreciate it so much, but Vulcans do not believe in naming children after deceased relatives. They feel that a child should have a name with no unhappy associations.”

“That makes good sense, actually,” Jim replied thoughtfully. He rubbed his cheek against Spock’s neck. “I’d be willing to risk it, though, if you want.”

“No,” Spock said again. “There must be a name that is right for our child.”

“Well, I guess we have to find out if we’re getting a boy or a girl before we make a final decision.” Jim hesitated. He didn’t want to sound like a complete moron or worse, a bigot, but it would make a difference.

“What is it?” Spock asked, seeing him hesitate.

“Ummm, I may have to use that ‘fucking-stupid-saying free card’ I arranged,” Jim said.

“I doubt that,” Spock replied with a tender look.

“Well, then...I think we ought to see him or her before we decide on a name. I mean, if the baby looks Vulcan, a name like Skippy might not fit. And if the baby looks human, Surak would be a damned dumb name.”

Spock was quite obviously controlling a desire to smile.

“I am not sure I favor the name ‘Skippy’ for any child, no matter what his or her appearance,” he noted. “However, your point is a valid one. Actually, I would suggest that no matter what the child’s appearance—and I sincerely hope he or she is a blue-eyed blonde...”

“Dark hair, big brown eyes, pointy ears,” Jim retorted.

“Whichever, I think the child should have two given names, one Vulcan, one human. After all, it will be a child of two worlds.”

“A child of two worlds,” Jim repeated. “I like that. So we need two pairs of names, one set for a boy and one for a girl, a Vulcan one and a human one.” He thought about it. “I suppose we could have a ship-wide contest.”

Spock looked like he wanted to choke. “T’hy’la, I do not think that is the most efficient way to choose a name for...” he broke off as Jim burst out laughing.

“Got you,” Jim chuckled. “God, you should have seen the horrified look on your face.” He laughed again as Spock rolled him over, pinning him to the mattress.

“T’hy’la, you should not tease me so,” Spock growled. “After all, I am in a delicate condition....”

“Oh, yeah,” Jim whispered. “I forgot. Let’s see how delicate you are.” He reached up and began to tickle the petal-soft skin behind Spock’s ears.

Spock’s breath caught, and Jim felt the instant erection against his thigh. “Ashaya, do not torment me...”

“Why not?” Jim let his fingers stroke up the sides to the very tops of Spock’s ears, gently pinching the points, feeling Spock thrust against him, shuddering helplessly as Jim shifted, letting his own hard cock press just there...

Their alarm went off.

“Shit!”

Spock slumped against him. “I echo those sentiments,” he said faintly.

“We could be late for work.”

“No; we must set a good example.” Spock leaned down and gave Jim a deep, regretful kiss. “Tonight, however...”

“It’s a date.”

Just after lunch, a call came through from Chris Pike. Kirk excused himself and took it in his ready room.

“Jim.”

“Admiral; what’s up?”

“I have new orders for you.” Chris actually looked pleased.

“Which are?”

The New Vulcan colony needs a ship to ferry equipment, supplies, and personnel from Earth to the colony and back again, starting next week,” Pike explained. “There will be at least three trips in all, maybe as many as five. In between trips, the High Council has requested that Fleet personnel engage in ‘stopovers’ to work with colonists on such issues as a new library system, a better irrigation system, a new medical facility—oh, they have a whole list of wished-for items, everything but a disco.” Pike grinned. “The Federation Council has agreed and pretty much issued us a blank check. And I’ve arranged for the Enterprise to be the ship that does the job.”

“Chris.” Jim was stunned. “How did you do that?”

Pike grinned wider. “I didn’t do it all by myself,” he informed Jim. “Sarek put some pressure on the right people, and lo and behold, everyone agreed that the Enterprise was the only ‘logical’ choice. Actually, it’s a damned good choice. It’s useful work, but it’s lower-risk than most of what you’ve been doing. It will take at least five months, probably closer to seven. You’ve got some great people, especially in Engineering, who can work with the Vulcans as needed. Mr. Scott can probably build them a planet-wide irrigation system with a teaspoon and a rubber band. And you and Spock can check in with Vulcan healers—as well as your loving father-in-law.” Pike shrugged. “Despite his public position”—Jim had told Chris about Sarek’s reaction to the pregnancy—“I think he wants to be within easy reach when his grandchild is born. Plus, I told Bullock to ok this, or I’d haul his ass up before the Interspecies Relations Committee at Headquarters, and he’d have to answer a few questions under oath about that crack he made regarding the paternity of Commander Spock’s child.” Pike’s grin was absolutely feral now. “So amazingly enough, Bullock thought this was the absolute best use of our resources, and he’s cutting the orders today. You’ll have them by tomorrow.”

“Chris, I owe you big time.”

“No, you don’t.” Pike was suddenly serious. “In case you’ve forgotten, Jim, you’re the reason I didn’t end up as a corpse under Nero’s loving hands. So consider this payback. Besides, I didn’t lie when I said it is important work. You don’t always have to get shot at to earn your pay, you know.”

“Thanks, Chris. I’ll let you know as soon as the orders come through.”

“Great. Pike out.”

Jim couldn’t wait to tell Spock over dinner about their new orders. As he had hoped, Spock was pleased.

“I think that is ideal.” Spock spooned up the last of a bowl of d’nantin, a soup that looked a little like split-pea, one of the soups Selik had sent from Vulcan. Jim privately thought it looked like something that should be covered in pink sawdust then mopped up from the floor, but it smelled good, and Spock seemed to love it, since theis was his second bowlful. Jim made a mental note to pick up some more when they reached New Vulcan. In fact, he was composing a long list of items he was planning to sneak on-board. He knew Spock would fuss over the cost, but Jim had plenty of savings, and he was determined that Spock was going to have whatever he needed.

Spock looked at him. “I must admit, t’hy’la, I am grateful and relieved that you will not be going on landing parties to unexplored planets.”

“I know, and I get that.” Jim deliberately looked wistful. “I’ll sure miss it, though. Gee, no exotic plants to give me allergy attacks, not alien warriors to kick my ass...”

“No alien females to try to seduce you, no exotic drinks to get you intoxicated...”

“Now, love, when was the last time I let an alien seduce me?”

“Two nights ago, I believe.” Spock stood up, raising one eyebrow at his mate. Jim rose hastily as well.

“You’re right,” he murmured, moving into his love’s arms. “That’s far too long ago.”

“I can...correct....that.” Spock bent and kissed him slowly, thoroughly, taking up where he had left off when the alarm went off. They made it to the bed in record time.

Spock pulled Jim down with him, still kissing him, letting his lips and tongue stroke Jim’s, his hands creeping down to cup Jim’s ass and pull him in tight. Jim moaned as he felt Spock’s hard length pressed into his belly.

“You haven’t been carrying that around all day, have you?” Jim gasped, grinding himself into that delicious hardness.

“T’hy’la, I am...ohhh, there, please Jim...a Vulcan.” Spock was writhing as Jim reached down and grasped his cock, stroking with that long, smooth motion that Spock loved. “I have total...ohhh, so good!...control.”

Yeah, right, Jim thought with a grin that evaporated as Spock’s mouth and hands tore his control to shreds. Spock knew just where to touch, just how hard to press, just when to caress, to drive Jim right out of his mind, and Jim loved every minute of it.

Jim wiggled under Spock, spreading his legs. “Please, love,” he gasped, “now.” To his surprise, Spock rolled them over until he was under Jim.

“Ashaya,” Spock whispered. “I want you inside me, please.”

Jim hesitated for a moment. “Love, I don’t want to hurt you or the baby...” he began then moaned as Spock took hold of him, pressing their cocks together.

“You will not. Please, t’hy’la. I need to feel you,” Spock begged, rubbing against Jim, his silky natural lubrication making Jim moist as well.

“Yes, love, oh yes,” Jim moaned. He rubbed his fingers along Spock’s hardness, gathering more of that creamy moisture and then gently stroking that tight ring of muscle until he felt Spock relax, until he could slip two fingers in and out easily, feeling Spock’s sudden quivering when Jim’s fingers brushed his prostate, feeling his passage try to hold onto those caressing fingers, feeling Spock’s hunger echo through his own body.

Jim gently pulled out and slid his hands underneath Spock, lifting him. “Are you sure?” he whispered one last time.

“Please, t’hy’la, now.”

Jim eased into Spock, gasping at the sensation. Spock was so hot, his channel folding itself around Jim like a velvet glove. Spock shuddered as Jim pressed into him, pushing up, letting Jim sink all the way inside in one long, luxurious stroke.

“Ohh, please, Jim, harder, more.” Spock was moaning as Jim moved inside him, as Jim took his hardness into his hand and caressed in time with his thrusts, as Jim brought him to a perfect climax and then followed him over the edge, crying out his love as he felt himself erupt again and again deep inside Spock.

They lay together panting, feeling the aftershocks roll through them, kissing and fondling each other, enjoying the feeling of completeness, of oneness, that followed their love-making.

At last, Jim got up and went into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself then bringing a warm, wet cloth to the bed and tenderly sponging Spock’s body, making him comfortable for the night. He brought his t’hy’la a glass of water and then climbed back into bed, settling in Spock’s arms.

“I know I’ve said this once or twice,” he murmured, “but I love you.”

Spock pressed a kiss to Jim’s temple, letting him feel Spock’s love and contentment through their bond. “You can never say it often enough, ashaya,” he whispered as they drifted off to sleep.

Jim woke slowly, wondering why he was so chilly. Sleeping with Spock was like sleeping with an oversized thermal teddy bear—Jim was never cold; in fact, he had pretty much given up wearing sleep attire—although, if he was truthful, not just because of heat issues. It was a lot easier not to have to take everything off right after he’d put everything on, especially when Spock had one of his middle-of-the-night frisky spells. I wonder if the heat’s on the fritz? He thought fuzzily. I would have thought Scotty would call, though...He rolled over to nudge Spock.

“Hey, love, I think there’s something wrong with the environmental controls,” he murmured. “I’m going to go down to Engineering and...”

Jim stopped as he laid a hand on Spock’s arm. The room was warm. The Vulcan was cold. Icy cold. Deathly cold.

“Spock!” Jim shot bolt upright, hit the com. beside his bed. “Sickbay.”

“McCoy here.”

“Medical emergency, my quarters, now! It’s Spock, Bones. Oh, God, it’s Spock!”

“On our way.” McCoy was gone. Jim rolled back over, gathered Spock into his arms, checked for signs of life. Spock was breathing—slow, shallow breaths. Jim wrapped himself around his love, rubbing the icy arms, holding him as close as possible, murmuring to him.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It’s ok, ashaya. Help’s coming. Hold on, do you hear me? Oh, God, love, don’t leave. Don’t you dare leave me.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: A Bump in the Road

Within minutes, Jim’s quarters were filled with Sickbay personnel, including both Bones and Christine Chapel. Along with two orderlies, they quickly transferred Spock from the bed to a stretcher, wrapping him in a heated blanket and taking quick readings.

Jim hovered at the head of the stretcher, stroking Spock’s forehead, unwilling to give up contact with his mate.

“It’s OK, love,” he whispered. “Bones is here. You’re gonna be fine. It’s all right.”

“Nurse, start a saline drip,” McCoy said, looking at the readings on his medical tricorder. Chapel quickly and efficiently obeyed. “All right, 10ccs of stimulant.” Chapel pressed a hypo into Spock’s neck. Jim, watching closely, saw Spock’s eyelids flutter. McCoy checked the readings again and nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s get him to Sickbay.” They moved quickly through the halls, Jim still keeping his hand on Spock’s head every step of the way. The few crewmembers they met got out of the way quickly.

Once in Sickbay, McCoy had Spock placed in a private room, where he could keep the temperature higher without making other patients uncomfortable. He turned to Jim.

“Go wait in my office,” he said gently. “I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve run all my tests.”

Jim glanced at Spock. There was faint color in his face, and he seemed to be breathing better. “Bones,” Jim pleaded.

“Out. I’ll be there in a bit.”

Jim was pacing the length of Bones’ office, not a particularly generous space. His mind was replaying the last 24 hours over and over again. Had he let Spock work too much? How much lunch did Spock have the previous day? Maybe he wasn’t getting enough sleep. Maybe...Jim stopped in mid-stride. Oh, God. Last night. We made love. I took him. I knew I shouldn’t have done that. Oh, God, I injured him or the baby or both of them. What the hell was I thinking?

The door opened and McCoy came in. He promptly grabbed Jim’s elbow and pushed him into a chair.

For Christ’s sake, Jim, sit down before you collapse,” he barked, his gruffness hiding his affection as it often did. “Spock’s gonna be fine; relax. The baby’s fine, too, better than you are at this point. I want Spock to stay in Sickbay until the latest saline drip is complete, but then he can go back to your quarters and get some rest.”

Jim slumped into the chair, hearing only that Spock was out of danger. He didn’t want to tell McCoy what had happened, but he had to. Bones needed to know. “This is all my fault,” Jim whispered. Bones sat down next to him, putting a hand on his arm.

“What do you mean, Jim?” he asked gently. “How is this your fault?”

Jim looked up, his face drawn and pale from the stress of the morning’s events. “We....we made love last night,” he muttered.

Bones looked at him blankly. “Jim,” he at last with careful patience, “I happen to know, not that I ever wanted to know, that you and the hobgoblin make love all the time. Why would last night be any different?”

“He....wanted me to take him, so I did.” Jim’s face was crimson. These were not the kind of details he normally shared with Bones.

“All right, I get it...you topped.” Bones looked at Jim closely. “It wasn’t the first time, was it?”

“No.”

“OK, then we’re right back to my original question—why are you blaming yourself for what’s happened?”

“He’s....he’s going to have a baby, and I was rutting on him like....”

“Whoa, wait a second.” McCoy held up one hand in the universal stop gesture. “Jim, you didn’t force him to have sex; I know you better than that. Besides, he’d knock you through the wall if he wasn’t in the mood and you tried to insist.”

“No, of course I didn’t force him! He asked.”

“Well, then, there’s no problem. The whole myth of no sex during pregnancy went out of fashion a long time ago.” Bones gave Jim a kindly look. “You didn’t hurt him, and you definitely did nothing to cause this problem. As long as you don’t tie him up and beat him...”

“Bones!”

McCoy chuckled. “Yeah, he probably ties you up.”

By this time, Jim was redder than a red dwarf. He made a mental note to hide the fur-lined handcuffs Spock used on him in a very deep drawer in the dresser.

“Jim, Spock’s got a sodium deficiency, not orgasm-induced shock. Since the baby is part human, and since Vulcans don’t have much sodium in their blood, your little Kirk-Spock is sucking the sodium out of Spock’s system as fast as he can put it in. He’s going to need supplements, and I want him to wear a monitoring bracelet for the next few days so I can keep an eye on his blood pressure, make sure it doesn’t drop too low again.” McCoy chuckled again. “Frankly, sex is probably a good idea in his condition, keeps the blood pumping.”

“BONES!”

“Oh, stop the blushing virgin routine, you tom cat, you.” Bones got to his feet. “Now, I want Spock off-duty today, and if his blood pressure remains steady, he can go back to work tomorrow. Make sure he takes the salt tablets, and stop worrying about you doing something to endanger him. As far as I can see, you’re all but carrying him around like a Persian cat on a silk pillow.”

Jim drew a deep breath. “OK. Thanks, Bones.” He grinned, his sense of humor coming back to the fore. “So we have your blessing to keep working our way through the Kama Sutra?”

“Don’t make me gag,” McCoy said sourly.

Jim went into Spock’s room. His mate was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his shoes. Apparently Christine or someone had fetched him some clothes. He was wearing a wafer-thin medical monitoring band on his right wrist as well.

“Hey,” Jim said softly, going over to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I am quite well.” Spock’s voice was clipped; he never liked admitting that he wasn’t at 100% capacity. “I will report for duty as soon as I have returned to our quarters and obtained a uniform. Ms. Chapel refused to...”

“Damned right she refused,” Jim said firmly. “You’re going back to our quarters; you’re off-duty for today. If everything is all right, you can go to work tomorrow.”

“Jim, it was a minor issue, and I have several experiments in critical stages...”

“No,” Jim said even more firmly. “Bones wants you off for today, and I’m not going to try to override him.” He put one hand under Spock’s elbow. “Come on, love. Time for a nap.”

Spock went with him, reluctantly.

Once Jim got Spock settled in, he went on duty, going to the Bridge and checking with various department heads on ship’s status. He also took care of some paperwork, including (he was pleased to see) the orders from Bullock confirming the Enterprise’s assignment to the Earth-New Vulcan runs. He also spoke briefly to Chekov, discussing the various Science duties he hoped the young navigator could assume.

“I vill do whatever you need, Keptain,” the earnest Russian youngster assured him. “I vill be happy to help Meester Spock with his vork. He does too much.”

“Indeed he does, Pavel, and thank you,” Jim said gratefully. “You are an asset to this crew.” Chekov beamed; praise from Jim Kirk was better than a raise.

Everything else was well under control, so the rest of the shift was nothing more than routine work. When Jim’s relief arrived, he said good night to various crew members and hurried back to his quarters, hoping Spock was still asleep, planning to wake him and make sure he ate some dinner.

He walked in to find Spock not in bed but in front of his computer. From the look of the pile of padds next to his elbow, he’d been there most of the day.

“Spock,” Jim said, dismay clear in his tone. “I thought I told you to get some rest.”

Spock looked up. “I rested until 1300 hours,” he informed Jim. “Any more time in bed would have been an indulgence, and there is important work that cannot wait while I nap and lounge around.”

“Now just one second.” Jim was quickly exasperated. “You had a very serious medical incident only this morning. Bones wants you to rest more; that’s not lounging around, that’s obeying medical orders. And I’ve told you before, Chekov will be happy to help with some of the science work. I just talked to him this afternoon, and he’s ready to take over several of the lab experiments.”

“I do not need Mr. Chekov to ‘take over’ my work,” Spock said stiffly. “I am perfectly capable of performing my duties, and I do not appreciate attempts to make me into an invalid.”

Jim took a deep breath. He didn’t want to fight with Spock, not now, not after this morning’s scare. “Ashaya,” he said quietly, reasonably, “No one is calling your competence into question. I know you can do the work and do it brilliantly. But for the sake of the baby, you need to...” He got no further. Spock shot to his feet, padds clattering to the floor as he bumped the desk.

“And that is all I am to you now, a vessel for your child!” Spock spat out. For a second, they looked at each other. Then Spock’s face crumpled. He turned and almost ran from their cabin.

For a moment, Jim didn’t know what to do. On the occasions that they did argue, he usually let Spock cool down before approaching him, having learned that his mate was much more willing to listen once he’d had time to process painful emotions. But this was different. Jim could still feel the echoes of Spock’s hurt and confusion reverberating through their bond. Getting them both through this pregnancy was obviously going to involve more than hormone-fueled sex and some Vulcan soups. He decided that letting this fester would be a huge mistake. He went after his bond mate. Fortunately, he had a very good idea of where to look

Apart from their quarters, the small observation deck was Jim and Spock’s favorite spot on the ship. It was quiet and private; the crew had caught onto the fact that the two of them liked to spend time there together, so they made sure to stay away. Jim had first told Spock he loved him while standing on that deck; Spock had kissed him for the first time in front of that view port. Jim punched in the override that kept the door locked and slipped inside. Sure enough, Spock was there, his back to Jim, his hands clenched at his sides, staring blindly at the stars. He didn’t turn around when Jim entered, even though Jim knew quite well that Spock was aware of his presence.

Jim approached slowly, warily, not sure how Spock would respond. He put a light hand on Spock’s shoulder.

“Love, what you said before isn’t true,” he said quietly. “Yes, I want our baby to be all right; I know you do, too. But if I had to choose between you and our child, and I pray I never do, I would choose you a thousand times over. Our baby is a...a wonderful possibility. But you’re my reality, Spock; you are everything to me. When I woke up this morning, and you were lying there next to me, so still, so cold...” Jim stopped for a moment, fighting back his memories of that terrible discovery. “For an instant, I thought....I thought I’d lost you, love. I thought you were gone. I can’t risk that. Whatever I need to do to keep you safe, I’ll do it. Even if it means pissing you off on a daily basis, even if it means getting all captain on your ass and confining you to quarters, I won’t lose you, t’hy’la. I can’t.”

Spock still stood with his face turned away from Jim. After a moment, Jim slipped his arms around his mate’s waist. He could feel the tremors running through Spock’s body, but his mate didn’t pull away, so he decided to go for broke. He turned Spock around, pulling him closer, gently pressing the dark head onto his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” he murmured, stroking that glossy hair, rocking Spock in his arms. “We’re going to be all right. It’s just a bump in the road, love. We’ll make it; I promise.”

“Jim.” Suddenly, Spock’s arms were around him, holding onto Jim desperately. “Oh, Jim, ashaya, I am so sorry. I was so rude, so selfish....”

“Shhhh,” Jim whispered. “You’re the least selfish person I know. You’re tired and sick and stressed, and those damned hormones are playing havoc with your emotions and your control. It’s ok, sweetheart; it’s ok.” Jim glanced around and spotted a cushioned bench. He gently guided Spock over to it and sat them both down, still holding his mate close, still sending waves of reassurance and love across their bond. He could feel Spock shivering, whether from cold or stress, so after a moment he crawled into his lap, draping himself across Spock like a blanket. He let his hands rub circles of warmth into Spock’s back and shoulders, feeling his mate relaxing gradually under his touch. They sat together for a long time while Jim whispered loving nonsense and provided physical reassurance. At last, Jim cupped Spock’s chin in his hand and raised his head so they could look at each other. Jim leaned forward and gently kissed Spock’s forehead.

“Are you all right, love?”

Spock nodded, swallowed hard, and sighed. “I truly loathe hormones,” he said in a low voice.

“I don’t,” was Jim’s surprising answer. He chuckled at the look on Spock’s face. “Ashaya, I’m sorry they’re making you miserable, but there’s nothing I loathe about you, right down to your pointy-eared DNA and your rampaging baby hormones. I love you, just as you are and just as you’ll become, just like you love me.” He kissed one pointed ear. “Now, I think we should get you back to our quarters and tucked under a warm blanket. OK?”

Spock dropped his head onto Jim’s shoulder, looking for just a moment like a tired child. “Yes,” he murmured. “I would appreciate that, ashaya.”

“Come on,” Jim replied gently. He got Spock to his feet and walked him back to their quarters. He would have like to keep an arm around Spock as they walked, but he knew and honored his mate’s feelings about public displays of affection. However, he did walk as close as possible to Spock, wanting to feel his mate as near to him as he could manage.

Once they were back in their quarters, Jim dialed up a cup of hot milk and mixed some of the t’vakh powder into it, handing the cup to Spock.

“I want you to drink this, please,” he said quietly, “and take two of those salt pills McCoy gave you. Then go get yourself ready for bed, and I’ll tuck you in.”

Spock was drained enough not to argue. He drank his milk, took his supplements, and padded into the bathroom for his cleansing ritual. While he brushed his teeth and washed his face, Jim dug in the very back of their closet for the surprise he’d placed there a few days before.

Spock walked out of the bath and into their sleeping area. He stopped in his tracks at the sight that met his eyes. There on the bunk was a beautiful coverlet, shimmering in the light in shades of subtle greens and blues. Jim was perched on top of it. He smiled happily when he saw Spock’s reaction.

“Come on.” He hopped off the bunk and patted the cover. “Come try it out.”

Spock walked over and laid a hand on the comforter. “It is...it is so beautiful,” he said softly, stroking the cool, satiny fabric. “Is this...”

“Andorian spider silk,” Jim confirmed, beaming. “Strongest, lightest, warmest material in the known universe. You could sleep on an iceberg wrapped in this, and your feet would still be toasty warm.” He shrugged. “I was going to give it to you for a Valentine’s Day gift, but that’s only a week away, and I thought you could use it now.”

“But Jim,” Spock was still compulsively stroking the cover, Jim noticed with deep satisfaction (and a bit of hidden amusement. No one knew better than Jim just what a closet sensualist his Vulcan was). “This must have cost...” Spock shook his head. “It’s much too expensive.”

“Nonsense,” Jim replied firmly. “First, I’d spend every credit I have to make you comfortable; you know that; you have the same bad habit where I’m concerned. Second, I didn’t pay for it by myself. Selik insisted on paying half.”

Spock looked up. “Selik?”

“Yeah, your counterpart is tickled green over this baby, and he wanted to do something nice, so he told me he’d split the cost of this elegant blanket if I promised to wrap you up in it and hold you every night.” Jim looked mock-regretful and heaved a stagey sigh. “It will be a real sacrifice to do that every night, of course, but...” The rest of his speech was lost in Spock’s fierce embrace.

“T’hy’la, thank you,” Spock whispered. “This is the most thoughtful, beautiful gift you have ever given me.”

“Not as special as the one you’re giving me,” Jim whispered back. He freed himself from Spock’s arms and pulled back the coverlet. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s test this out.” They settled under the comforter, Jim cuddling into Spock’s arms.

“Am I cheating if you hold me rather than the other way around?” he asked sleepily.

Spock kissed him. “I will not tell Selik,” he promised solemnly.

With Spock holding Jim and Jim holding Spock, they drifted off to sleep, cocooned in spider silk.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: This Magic Moment

When Jim woke the next morning, he was alone, still snugly wrapped in the Andorian silk blanket, which he had to admit was really, really comfortable. However, Spock was nowhere to be seen.

OK, don’t overreact; don’t panic, and don’t nag. He got plenty of sleep last night, and as he pointed out, he’s not an invalid. Jim glanced at the chronometer: 0645. He decided to get up and see if he could find his bond mate.

A quick check of the closet revealed Spock’s uniforms were all present and accounted for, and Jim doubted that he was wandering around the corridors in his sleep pants. After a moment, it came to Jim where Spock was likely to be. He went through their bath and into what had been Spock’s quarters. When they had bonded, they’d had their quarters remodeled, with Spock’s rooms being used as an office for him and a living room/rec room set-up. Spock had kept his Vulcan artifacts there, and he frequently went there to meditate, although he hadn’t been doing it much lately. This was where Jim found him.

Dressed only in a pair of sweatpants, Spock knelt in front of that pot-bellied idol of his, Vulcan incense perfuming (or saturating, depending on your viewpoint) the air. His eyes were closed, and he looked quite serene, more so than he had yesterday, that was certain.

Jim padded over and dropped a quick kiss on the top of Spock’s head. I’ll get breakfast, love, he said silently, knowing that Spock would hear him but not respond. He went back into their quarters and worked the replicator, setting out a selection on the table and then popping into the bath for his morning shower. By the time he came out, golden hair damp and morning breath eradicated, Spock was seated at the table, eating fruit and drinking another cup of milk with t’vakh powder mixed in. Jim sat down and reached for the cereal (Space Berry Crunch, his favorite. Bones pitched a fit every time he saw Jim eating it, which was ridiculous. After all, it was fortified with 10 vitamins and minerals).

“Good morning, love.”

Spock looked at him. “Good morning, t’hy’la,” he responded.

“Did you sleep well? I didn’t hear you get up in the night.” Jim spooned up some more Space Berry Crunch.

“I slept wonderfully, thanks to you,” Spock said. He hesitated for a moment. “Jim...I would like to apologize again for what I said yesterday.”

“Ashaya, you know you don’t have to,” Jim replied gently. “I know you didn’t mean it, just like you know I don’t think you’re nothing more than a vessel for our child. I’m just glad that little health scare was nothing serious.” He decided to change the subject. “I’m glad you had time to meditate this morning.”

“Yes; I must make time in the future, I think, even if I have to rise an hour earlier than I normally do.” Spock looked thoughtful. “It seems to center me, and with the hormone issues, I think that is vital.”

Jim took a deep breath. “Love, I want you to start work at 0900 from now on, instead of 0800 hours,” he said firmly. “That way, you can get your sleep and still have time to meditate.”

“Jim...”

“Spock, meditation will do you no good if you’re too tired to apply the benefits.” Jim shook his head. “You’ve worked enough overtime in the past year to start work at noon every day for the rest of your life. Now, please, love, for me.”

“For you?”

Jim grinned. “Sure. I don’t want a grumpy Vulcan in my bed.”

“I am not...” Spock caught the teasing glint in Jim’s eye. “Very well,” he said with all the dignity he could muster. “For your sake, I will do it.”

“Thanks, love.” Jim got up from the table.

“Jim, you have consumed two bowls of Space Berry Crunch and no other sustenance of any kind,” Spock noted sternly.

“But, Spock, you know I love Space Berry Crunch, and besides....”

“If I have to eat regular and nutritionally-balanced meals, then you should too,” Spock said firmly. “Please, t’hy’la, do it for me. I do not want a grumpy human in my bed.”

Jim glared at his mate. “That was low.”

“I know,” Spock replied serenely. “That is why it is effective.”

Jim sat down and had some fruit.

There was a meeting of the command crew scheduled that morning, so Jim and Spock headed to the main briefing room first. Everyone was there but Bones, who came rushing in just before Jim was going to have him paged.

“I’m sorry I’m late, captain,” he said (McCoy was always formal when the crew was around). “Ensign Crusher in Engineering dropped an anti-grav unit on his foot. I had to regenerate three toes.”

“Doctor,” Spock said severely, “how does one drop an anti-grav unit? By its very definition, it defies gravity.”

Scott chortled. “I can tell ye that, Commander,” he said. “The boy is wee idiot, and he fo’got to switch on the power. The unit dropped like a stone in Loc Ness.”

Jim just rolled his eyes. Crusher was the most hopeless crew member he’d ever worked with.

“I’d say put him on report, but I expect the three broken toes are punishment enough,” he told Scott. “All right, everyone. Department reports?”

They went around the table and each department head gave a summary of current work load, problems, triumphs, and expected needs in the weeks to come. Everything was well under control. Jim wasn’t surprised; he had a terrific crew and he knew it.

“All right,” he said when the last report had been made. “Please call up the new orders that have been delivered to your padds.” Everyone did so. There were a couple of surprised gasps when they read the latest orders.

“Yes, we’re going to Earth,” Jim said, pleased. “We will of course be taking shore leave there before we take on supplies and passengers for our first trip to New Vulcan.” He turned to the Chief Engineer. “Scotty, I understand from Admiral Pike that the High Council has a number of specific requests and concerns, most of them engineering problems that need to be solved if the colony is to thrive. I’m counting on you to work closely with them and do everything we can to help them solve these problems. Put together a team that can be assigned to New Vulcan as needed.” Jim paused for a moment. “I would suggest leaving Ensign Crusher off the roster.”

The room erupted in laughter.

“Aye, sir,” Scott chuckled.

Jim turned to Uhura. Ms. Uhura, please work with the various departments to coordinate shore leave schedules for all personnel who wish to take their leave on Earth. Ditto for those crew members who wish to take leave on New Vulcan.”

“And for those who want to take leave on Risa?” she asked, straight-faced.

“They’re out of luck this time,” Jim replied. “Tell them to hit Vegas when we’re on Earth. It’s the same thing, except they water the drinks more on Risa.”

“Yes, sir.” She grinned.

Jim looked around the table. “All right, everyone. Please advise your departments of the new orders, and let me know if there are any questions. We start back to Earth tomorrow.” He stood. “Dismissed.”

The command crew filed out slowly. McCoy stayed behind. “Spock, I want to see you in Sickbay at 1400 hours,” he said.

“IS something wrong?” Jim was instantly alert.

“No, Jim, nothing’s wrong,” McCoy said reassuringly. He nodded towards the monitoring bracelet Spock was wearing. “I checked all your readings this morning, Spock, and everything looks good. I just want to do a baseline ultra-sound, gather some preliminary readings on the fetus. I’ve been reading up on Vulcan male pregnancies, and it seems that the fetus develops pretty rapidly after the first month.”

Spock nodded. “Indeed. This is one reason why gestation is only six months.”

“Yeah, and as we’ve discussed, we don’t know if you’re going to go six months, nine months, or somewhere in-between, so I want that baseline information before you’re any further along.” McCoy gave Spock an appraising look. “We’ve estimated that you’re maybe six weeks along at this point, perhaps even seven. If I do an ultra-sound now, even if nothing much shows up, I’ll be able to compare it with another one in say three weeks, and we’ll have a much better idea of the fetus’ growth rate.”

“Eminently logical,” Spock said.

McCoy grinned. “Those hormones must be acting up again; you’re being nice to me.”

“Do you want me along?” Jim asked Spock. “I have a couple of meetings, but...”

“No, ashaya, that will not be necessary,” Spock said. “It is a very simple procedure and will take very little time. Do not interrupt your duties for this.”

“You know I will if you want me to,” Jim said gently, reaching for his Vulcan’s hand.

“I know, t’hy’la, and thank you.” Spock lifted Jim’s hand to his lips.

“Oh, good God, you two are going to give me diabetes,” Bones moaned. He got up. “I’ll see you at 1400 hours, Spock, without your lip-lock buddy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go see if Crusher has lost any toes.” he hurried out.

Jim grinned at Spock. “You’re getting awfully good at PDA’s, love,” he said softly.

Spock pulled him into his arms and kissed him again, on the lips this time. “Hormones are a most convenient pretext, ashaya,” he replied.

“Thank God for hormones,” Jim sighed as his lips met Spock’s.

Uhura met her friend Christine Chapel for lunch. They sat down at a corner table and discussed ship’s topic A—their expecting officers.

“How are you doing, Nyota?” Chris asked.

Uhura shrugged. “Well, it’s not everyday that one of my ex-boyfriends gets pregnant,” she said wryly. She sighed. “But there’s no sense pretending that Spock and I were going to get back together. He and Jim and in it for the long haul, so they might as well have a baby if they want one—and it’s pretty damned obvious they’ve both over the moon about this child.” She stiffened suddenly.

“What is it, Nyota?”

“Goebbels just walked in, and he’s glaring at me.” Uhura raised her chin and glared back.

Chris didn’t turn around. “That prick.” Goebbels’ words had been widely reported by ship’s gossip. “He’s lucky the captain didn’t drop him out an airlock in his swastika jock strap.”

Nyota snorted. “That may happen yet.” She kept her eyes on Goebbels until he got his tray and sat down. She noticed that the two or three crewmen at that table promptly got up and left. “He looks pretty damned isolated.”

Chris nodded. “No surprise. Jim Kirk’s a damned good captain, and Spock is an outstanding first officer. Furthermore, even if they were both wildly unpopular, most people on this ship don’t subscribe to the kind of garbage Goebbels was spouting, or they wouldn’t be in Starfleet.”

Uhura shook her head. “Makes you wonder how he got through the Academy, doesn’t it?” She shrugged, visibly dismissing Goebbels from her mind. “Now, on to more enjoyable topics...”

The two of them put their heads together, planning a surprise for their captain and first officer.

Jim hurried back to their quarters at the end of his shift. He was always eager to see Spock; he had been almost from the first, even before he knew how he felt. But now he hated every minute they were apart, even when it was necessary. After his appointment with Bones, Spock had spent the rest of his shift in one of the labs, and Jim had been on the Bridge. Jim knew there was no bad news; Bones would have called him at once. At the same time, Jim was eager to hear what the ultra-sound had revealed.

Jim walked in just as Spock came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of those long velvety robes Jim loved to see him in and (Jim was pleased to notice) with soft black slippers on his feet instead of Starfleet-issue boots. His face lit up at he saw Jim come in.

“Ashaya, I am so glad you are back,” Spock said with that smile that lit up his eyes instead of his lips.

“So what did Bones say?”

“Come here,” Spock told him.

“That was the general idea.” Jim walked across the room. Spock placed both hands on Jim’s shoulders.

“Kneel down,” he said softly.

Jim raised one eyebrow (Spock could do it better, but after this much time with a Vulcan mate, Jim was getting fairly good at it). “Before dinner?” he quipped.

“That is not what I had in mind.” Spock pressed down gently. “Please, t’hy’la.”

“Anything for you, love.” Jim sank to his knees, telling his dick (which recognized this position immediately) to shut up. Now was not the time.

Spock slid his hands up and around Jim’s head. He gently pressed the side of Jim’s face to his midsection.

“Listen,” he whispered.

Jim did. At first, all he could hear was the soft, regular sound of Spock’s breathing. Then, he caught it, a tiny thumping noise, like a silver hammer hitting a pillow. Tip-tap, tip-tap, tip-tap.

Jim pulled back and looked up at Spock, who was looking down at him, the dark brown eyes filled with joy. “Spock,” Jim whispered, “is that...”

Spock nodded. “The heartbeat,” he murmured.

“Oh, t’hy’la!” Jim threw his arms around Spock’s torso and pressed his ear to his love’s body again, hearing that soft, reassuring tip-tap echoing through his very soul. “Oh, love. How wonderful.” They stayed like that for a long time, just savoring this moment. Jim rubbed his cheek against Spock’s still-flat stomach, breathing in the wonderful scent of his love. Gradually, he noticed something else, something more familiar than that tiny heartbeat. He let one hand move from its position at Spock’s waist and drift downwards, working its way into the opening of the robe and finding a very dear, very eager friend stirring beneath his touch.

Jim gave his ‘friend’ one long stroke. Shifting slightly, he looked up at Spock, who stood with his eyes closed, a faint flush on his cheeks.

“Tell you what,” Jim whispered. “As long as I’m down here...” His head disappeared inside the robe's open flap.

Yes, hormones were truly wonderful. Jim's dick agreed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Homeward Bound

“Ashaya,” Spock murmured, “you need to stop indulging me constantly.” Jim, having reacquainted himself with his very dear friend, was snuggled under the spider silk comforter with his love, gently stroking Spock’s stomach.

“Sorry, no can do,” Jim murmured back. “You’re too damned appealing, and I love you too much.” He drowsily rubbed his cheek against that warm shoulder, feeling Spock’s lips brush his brow.

“Your sentiments are returned,” Spock whispered.

“Good thing Bones isn’t here; he’d be making gagging noises.”

“Yes, for an emotional human, he seems to have great difficulty dealing with feelings.”

“Spock?”

“Yes, t’hy’la?”

“I forgot to ask, what did the ultra-sound show?” Jim cuddled closer, tucking his head under Spock’s chin with a contented sigh.

“I cannot imagine how you ‘forgot’ to ask that question,” Spock teased gently.

“Oh, no; you can’t imagine.” Jim felt his cheeks heating as he remembered the past hour. Those pregnancy hormones were going to kill him, but what a way to go.

Spock took pity on him. “Dr. McCoy indicated that there are no problems with the growth and development of the fetus.”

“Please, Spock, don’t call her that,” Jim begged, only half in jest. “It makes her sound like some kind of mutant.”

“Her?” Spock’s eyebrow went up.

“Ok, him or her, little Kirk-Spock, whatever. Just not fetus.”

“Very well, t’hy’la. The pre-infant,” Jim choked with laughter, “is in excellent health and growing at a rate that would indicate my gestation period will probably be close to the Vulcan norm.”

Jim had been drifting, listening to Spock’s soothing voice wash over him, only halfway tuned into the conversation. Now he shot bolt upright, narrowly missing his Spock’s chin with his head.

“But...but that means she’ll be here...”

“In approximately three months, twenty-six days,” Spock replied calmly. “Of course, that date is not exact; the child may arrive up to one week afterwards or even eight to nine days before that date, depending on various factors, including gender, since if the infant is indeed female, which I must point out, we do not yet know, that raises the possibility of an earlier due date...”

“Oh, my God.” Kirk was halfway out of bed. “I’ve got to talk to Scotty and the quartermaster; we’ve got to get a room ready with a crib, and...and...oh, what the Hell does a baby need besides a crib? A desk? No, not a desk; what the fuck am I thinking? Maybe a chair...yeah, a rocking chair, and a teddy bear...or two or six...and one of those mobile thingies. And clothes; the kid can’t wear a uniform; they’re too big. And I haven’t started my reading yet...is there anything in the ship’s library on baby care?”

“T’hy’la.” Spock grabbed Jim around the waist and drew him back into bed, holding him tightly. “Calm yourself, please.”

“Calm myself? Easy for you to say; you’re not...” Jim stopped. “Oh, shit. That was dumb.” He subsided into Spock’s embrace, kissing his mate’s ear in apology. “Sorry, love. Of course you’re concerned, too.”

“I am, but not about the number of teddy bears or mobiles the child has,” Spock said with barely restrained amusement. “I have no doubt that this child, like me, will be thoroughly spoiled by you before it has been here a month.” He tucked Jim’s head back under his chin, gently massaging the back of his mate’s neck. “I am sure we will obtain all of the necessities before the child arrives; indeed, if I understand human customs correctly, we will receive some of those items as gifts.”

“Yeah,” Jim brightened. “A baby shower. I bet someone on the crew will throw one for us.” Jim made a mental note to make sure of it, backed by the captain’s authority if necessary. But he doubted that would be necessary. No doubt Nyota was already planning one. Then his face fell.

“But Spock,” he said softly, “a baby needs more than a crib and a mobile. It needs care, all the time, and I don’t know anything about taking care of an infant. I never had what you’d call a normal family life; shit, I never had any family life, unless you count Frank beating my ass and a series of babysitters ignoring me. What if...what if I’m a flop at being a parent? What if I let you down?”

“T’hy’la,” Spock whispered, moved almost to tears, “you have never let me down. Ever since I told you about this child, you have supported and cared for me, done everything you could think of to ensure my health and comfort, endured my emotional outbursts and pandered to my hormonally-enhanced sexual desires.”

“Like that was a chore,” Jim muttered, hiding his face against Spock’s neck for a moment. Praise was never easy for him to hear, and Spock knew it.

“Jim, look at me.” Jim looked up, meeting Spock’s eyes, which were shining with love. “You will not be a ‘flop’ as a parent. If you give our child one-tenth of the love and devotion you have offered me, it will be the luckiest infant in the known universe.”

Jim blinked hard. “Thank you, love,” he murmured. He pulled himself up to meet Spock’s lips with his own. “All right; I’ll stop worrying about being a lousy father.”

“Please do.” Spock hugged him reassuringly. “As far as supplies are concerned, I think we should make a list. We can obtain most of the items when we are on Earth, and as you pointed out, Mr. Scott will not doubt be delighted to craft some sort of sleep unit.”

“It’s called a cradle, love, or a crib, depending on whether it rocks or stands on four legs,” Jim giggled, equilibrium restored.

“See? You are already an excellent parent; you know what a baby sleeps in.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Jim looked at the chronometer. “Oh, God, look at the time. It’s past 1900 hours, and you haven’t even had dinner.” He attempted to get out of bed again, held back by a pair of strong Vulcan arms.

“Jim,” Spock murmured, drawing him close. Jim could feel his very special friend stirring where it was pressed against Jim’s thigh, which gave Jim’s dick an instant shot of adrenalin. “Before we eat, could you...indulge me again?”

Jim dived under the covers. A bond mate’s work was never done.

Jim unlocked the door to their San Francisco apartment and stepped inside, dropping the bags of groceries onto the floor. The place was stuffy; no surprise, since he and Spock had not been here for more than a year. Jim had a woman in the building who checked on the apartment occasionally, but she was obviously not a believer in fresh air.

Jim opened all the windows, silently blessing the planetary EPA for the improvement in air quality in the past 100 years. He flopped down on the agreeably overstuffed couch in their living room. He was, to put it mildly, wiped. Getting the Enterprise back to Earth was a picnic compared to all the shit he had to do to get her into Spacedock. Paperless society, my ass, he thought sourly. Oh, well. He and Spock had two glorious weeks off ahead of them, time to buy tiny booties and read up on how to change a diaper at 0300 in the dark with Klingons firing on the ship—Jim frowned at that morbid thought. The damned Klingons had better not fire on his baby—he’d kick their asses.

Jim glanced at the old-fashioned grandfather clock that stood in one corner. Spock never could understand Jim’s affection for that relic—it was highly ‘illogical’ to keep a timepiece that didn’t tell time in the modern parlance. But Jim didn’t care. He loved the old relic, and he was pleased to see that Mrs. Simpson, his apartment-minder, had kept it wound and running.

Almost 5 o’clock, he thought. I might as well make some dinner. Spock had stayed at Starfleet Headquarters to meet with some of the Vulcans who were planning to go to the new colony; they had wanted to talk over supply issues. But he had promised to be home by 6 p.m. Jim shoved himself off the sofa and gathered up the groceries, heading into the small kitchen. He quickly unpacked their supplies and pulled his wok out of the cupboard. San Francisco didn’t have a lot of Vulcan foodstuffs, but the markets had plenty of fresh vegetables, and Jim, while he was no Iron Chef, was a whiz at making stir-fries that even Spock would eat. He started chopping and dicing, opening a bottle of soy sauce and putting some rice in the steamer. Just as everything was ready for him to slide the mix into the wok, Jim heard the door open.

“Hey!” he called out cheerfully. “I’m making little Kirk-Spock my famous stir-fried green stuff. How did the meeting go?”

There was no response. Then Jim heard the bedroom door close—no, he heard the bedroom door slam. That was damned odd, even for a hormonal Vulcan. Jim wiped his hands on a towel, turned off the wok, and headed to their room. He knocked softly on the closed door.

“Spock?”

No answer. Jim tried the door. It was locked.

“Spock? Ashaya, are you all right?”

“Please leave me alone,” Spock’s voice came through the door. Even slightly muffled, the pain in it was palpable.

“No way.” Jim rattled the door knob again. Come on, Spock. Whatever’s wrong, I’m not going anywhere. Now let me in, or I’ll get my phaser and vaporize the door, and you know what that will do to our damage deposit.”

There was a long silence—so long that Jim began to wonder if he was going to have to get his phaser. Finally, there was the sound of soft footsteps, and the door opened. Spock looked at Jim for a moment. His face was paper-white, and it had that dreaded pinched look around the mouth.

“Hey,” Jim asked softly, touching Spock’s arm, “what’s wrong? Are you feeling all right?”

Spock didn’t answer. He just turned and walked back across the room, curling up in the window seat and staring blindly out the window at the rain that was beginning to fall. Jim quickly crossed the room and sat down next to him, not touching his mate, but concentrating on sending out wordless waves of love and reassurance.

“Ashaya, please,” he said as gently as he could. “Something is wrong, and I need to know. Are you sick? Did something happen at Headquarters? Whatever it is, tell me, and we’ll deal with it together.”

Slowly, Spock turned away from contemplating the rain. He stared down at his hands loosely entwined in his lap. Jim scooted closer and put one arm around his mate’s shoulder, not really hugging him, just offering a soothing touch.

“Love, what happened?” he asked again.

Spock sighed. He looked up at Jim, his soft brown eyes filled with pain. “While I was at Headquarters,” he said quietly, “I encountered your mother.”

“Mom? She’s back planetside?” Jim hadn’t known that. The last time he’d heard from Winona (they didn’t talk much), she’d been on Starbase Four, doing some kind of geological research. Jim hadn’t really known and didn’t really care. Ever since he’d been born on the day of his father’s death, Jim had been a reminder to Winona Kirk of what she had lost, not what she’d gained. As a result, they had almost no relationship. Jim’s bonding with Spock had done nothing to mend fences. Raised by an old-fashioned Baptists preacher father, Winona Kirk still could not accept that her son’s spouse was not a blonde, blue-eyed human female.

“Yes,” Spock said. He looked down again, staring at his fingers which were knotted together so tightly the knuckles were bone-white. “I told her...about the child.”

“You did what?”

Spock nodded. “Perhaps I was speaking out of turn; I realized later that it would have been more appropriate for you to tell her. However, I thought...” Spock’s voice shook. “I thought she would be pleased.”

Jim’s heart sank. “And she wasn’t,” he murmured.

Spock shook his head. “No,” he said simply, sadly. “She indicated that it was an...unnatural event.”

That fucking bitch!” Jim sprang out of the window seat, enraged. “How dare she? I’m going to find her, and when I do, I swear to God I’ll...” he was halfway out of the room when he stopped and looked back. Spock was still on the window seat, huddled in on himself like a chilly cat. Jim stopped abruptly. No. There was something more important than wringing his mother’s neck.

Jim came back across the room, snagging an afghan from the foot of the bed as he walked. He climbed back into the window seat and pulled Spock into a fierce embrace, wrapping the afghan around them both, burying his lips in Spock’s hair, holding on to his mate with all his strength.

“I’m sorry, ashaya,” he whispered. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. You know that, but I know it doesn’t help. All I can say is I’m sorry—sorry my mother is an ass, sorry I don’t have the kind of family I should have, the kind of family our child deserves. Spock, say the word, and I will never speak to her again. Hell, say the word, and I’ll go over there and break her jaw.”

Spock held onto him. “There is no logic in landing the father of my child in jail,” he murmured. Jim laughed. Then he blinked back hot, angry tears.

“It is all right, t’hy’la.” Spock laid his head on Jim’s shoulder. “It is not your fault. And your mother’s words upset me, but not in the way you think.”

“Huh?” Jim looked down at Spock. “You don’t care that my mother called her own grandchild an unnatural event?”

Spock shook his head. “No. Her prejudices are her problem. It simply struck me...” Spock stopped, obviously fighting for control, “it simply struck me how different her response was to what...to what my mother’s would have been.”

“Oh, Spock.” The pain in his mate’s voice broke Jim’s heart. All he could do was pull him even closer and hold on. “I’m sorry, love. You’re right. Amanda would have been so happy for you, for us.”

They sat together for a long time, Spock grieving, Jim seething. At last, Jim pressed his lips to Spock’s cheek.

“Come on,” he said tenderly. “I think you need to get some sleep. You’re almost out cold on your feet.”

“I am not on my feet, ashaya,” Spock protested mildly, but he let Jim herd him over to the bed, reclining while Jim removed his shoes and covered him with a warm blanket. Jim dropped a quick kiss on Spock’s forehead and curled up next to him on the bed.

Rest,” he murmured. “We can have dinner later.”

Spock nodded, and his eyes fell shut. Jim stayed beside him until he was sure Spock was deeply asleep. Then he rose and left their bedroom, stopping to grab his keys and a jacket. He needed to pay someone a visit.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: The Waltons They Aren’t

Commander Winona Kirk finished the last of a large pile of paperwork and stretched before starting on the next pile, looking around her borrowed office at Starfleet Headquarters. She sighed. There was a time when she’d thought she would have her own office here, when she was convinced she’d be on the fast track to a captaincy, maybe even a ground posting in the Admiralty. She’d worked hard for Starfleet, and she’d given up more than many others had—including losing her husband. She deserved better; she deserved one of the plum jobs that others seemed to get without even trying. But, no. Here she was, still shuffled from one dead-end assignment to another, all but ignored by the powers that be in Starfleet. Oh, they paid lip service—George Kirk’s widow, James Kirk’s mother. She was famous for the men in her life, a shining symbol of a loyal wife and mother who gave her very best to the Service. But nothing she did earned her what she craved—recognition for her own abilities. No, she was another Starfleet drone, only valued when the brass wanted a symbol. And now her son, her famous, galaxy-saving son, was back on Earth, his freakish, pregnant spouse in tow. Winona’s lips tightened, and for a moment, she looked a hundred years old. Imagine the nerve of that...that creature, to stroll up to her and inform her that she was about to become a grandmother by means of the most disgusting accident of biology she’d ever encountered. Winona had nothing against Vulcans, even though she could never warm to them; she’d served with several of them during her career, and they did their jobs with a minimum of problems. But that...half-breed who had somehow brainwashed Jim—Winona didn’t even consider him a Vulcan. He was an experiment, a mutation, and now he was breeding with her son.

The door opened. Winona didn’t even glance up from the pile of padds. Probably some secretary worried because she can’t go home and watch the vid-screen until I’m done. “I will be through in just a few minutes,” she said.

“You’re through now, Mommy dearest.” The voice was low and filled with fury.

Winona’s head came up with a jerk. “Jim!” She rose and walked around the desk, arms extended. “I’m so glad to see you.” She stopped dead at the look on his face.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Mother, don’t bother. Spock came home more than an hour ago. He told me. He told me everything!” Jim snapped.

Winona recoiled. I thought he’d keep his mouth shut. I thought his so-called Vulcan pride would do that, at least. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, letting a touch of injury creep into her tone. “I only saw Spock for a moment today, hardly even enough time to say hello.”

But enough time to tell him our baby is an unnatural event!” Jim yelled. “What the Hell is the matter with you? Don’t you care for me at all? I know I’m your life’s disappointment, the living, breathing symbol of your heartbreak or what the fuck ever you tell your therapist, but I’m your son. Spock is carrying your grandchild—Dad’s grandchild. Don’t you have any feeling about that?”

“Don’t you dare bring your father’s name into this,” Winona hissed. “Your father was the finest man who ever lived, and you’ve dragged his name through the mud with your bar fights, your delinquency, the endless string of women you’ve chased. And then, just when I thought you might amount to something, you start this...this degrading relationship with a Vulcan, a male Vulcan, and not even a pure Vulcan, but a half-breed freak!” Winona was shouting now, not caring if someone heard. “And you think I should be proud of that? You think I want a grandchild from that?”

Jim backhanded her. For the first and only time in his life, he raised his hand to a woman and hit Winona hard enough to split her lip.

“You...you...I’ll have you arrested. I’ll see you in jail!” she gasped.

“Go ahead,” Jim replied coldly. “Go right ahead. My record can stand another arrest, but when I tell the authorities and the press and Starfleet brass why I hit you, when I tell everyone who will listen that you’re nothing more than a xenophobic fossil, your career will be over. So walk right over to your borrowed desk and pick up the link. Hell, I’ll go turn myself in. It will give me time to get bailed out before Spock wakes up in the morning. And it will give me time to get booked on the morning talk shows. You worried about me dragging George Kirk’s name through the mud? By this time tomorrow, we’ll be more famous than the Manson Family.” He turned and started towards the door.

“Jim! Jim, wait!”

He stopped and turned.

“You...just get out. Get out of my life. Take your half-breed ‘wife’ and your mutant baby and just get out. I don’t want to ever see you or hear from you again.”

He nodded. “How nice,” he said coldly. “We finally agree on something. We’re done.” He walked out, leaving Winona standing in the middle of the room, still holding a tissue to her split lip.

The Enterprise was cozily ensconced in Spacedock, being checked from stem to stern for any problems resulting from more than a year in deep space. In theory, the ship’s ‘check-up’ was the responsibility of the highly trained fleet of mechanics and technicians who maintained and upgraded all Constitution-Class ships. However, in the case of the Enterprise, no one was going to work on his baby unless Montgomery Scott was there to supervise. For that reason, unlike the rest of the crew, Scotty stayed on board the ship during the refit, sparing only a day to go home to Scotland and pick up some decent, un-synthesized booze and a box of proper, un-reconstituted oatmeal. That made him easy for Nyota to track down.

“Ah, there’s me favorite lass,” Scott said as he looked up from the pile of refit specs and supply lists to find his ‘lady friend’ as he called her, standing in the doorway of his office.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She leaned across his desk and gave him a quick kiss. They had been dating for nearly a year, and they had a comfortable, warm relationship.

“And what be ye doin’ here instead of dirt-side spendin’ a year’s pay on shoes?” He asked.

“Two years’ pay,” she replied smartly, “and I’m going shopping with Chris Chapel all day tomorrow.” She looked at him. “I want your help.”

“What with?”

“You know that Jim and Spock are going to keep their baby onboard,” she said.

“Aye, and I think it ‘tis a good thing. The wee one needs its da—or in this case, its da and its da,” he chuckled, “and ‘twill be nice to hae another wee one on the ship.”

“Well, the ‘wee one’ is going to need a room of its own,” Nyota said. “And you know Jim and Spock—they won’t want to appropriate any space that is supposed to be available for officers, and they won’t want to ask anyone to do anything special for them, for fear of raising issues of favoritism.”

“Aye,” Scott agreed.

“That’s where you come in.” Nyota drew a data chip from her pocket and handed it to Scott. “Look this over, and tell me what you think.”

He put the chip into his padd and perused it carefully. Finally, he looked up, beaming.

“Ah, lass, being wi’ me has rubbed off on ye,” he said fondly. “Are ye sure ye dinna want to transfer to Engineering?”

“And work with Crusher?” she exclaimed in mock horror. They both laughed. “So, can you do it? More important, can you do it quickly and quietly, while the refit is being done?”

He nodded. “Lass, I can promise ye, the bureaucrats will nae know what hit them.”

She gave him another quick kiss. “Just for that,” she murmured, “I’m going to buy you a pair of argyle socks.”

“Make it two,” he replied cheekily. “It gets wicked cold in space, even wit’ a pretty lass to keep me feet warm.”

Jim headed home in the cool evening fog. He thought about taking a cab; Spock might wake up, and Jim wanted to be home when he did. However, he was still so angry that he decided it would be smarter to walk home and calm down before he saw his bond mate.

Jim still couldn’t believe the conversation he’d had with Winona. How could anyone in this day and age hold such outdated, narrow, stupid opinions? Half-breed? Spock was a finer human than Winona Kirk could claim to be. As for what George Kirk would have thought—Jim felt a moment’s regret that he would never be able to ask his father that question. However, based on everything he’d ever heard about his father, Jim had a feeling that George would have been far more open-minded than Winona gave him credit for. Jim sighed. Losing his father had certainly seemed to twist and warp Winona in ways that Jim didn’t even understand. He felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered backhanding her, but the insults had been intolerable. If that was how she truly felt, then Jim and his family were better off without her. His family. Suddenly Jim felt warm in a way that no San Francisco fog could affect. He had a family, a mate who loved him and a child who Jim knew would be as wonderful as Spock. And he had his crew—Bones, Scotty, Chekov, Sulu, even Nyota, who had certainly come to his and Spock’s defense with that ass Goebbels. When weighed against that, Winona Kirk’s opinion was worth less than a ball of spit. Jim picked up his pace, eager to get home quickly and make sure Spock was okay. He glanced across the street, where the lights shone in the window of their apartment. Jim came to the corner and headed across the street to the front door of his building.

He never saw the car that hit him and sped away.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: Healing New and Old Wounds

The baby was dead. Something had gone terribly wrong, and the baby died before it ever had a chance to be born. Spock was dying, too, bleeding to death internally.

“I’m sorry, Jim,” McCoy said helplessly. “I can’t stop it. I’m sorry, Jim...Jim...Jim...”

“Jim! Damnit, Spock, wake him up or he’s going to hurt himself thrashing around like that.”

“No,” Jim moaned. “Spock, no! You can’t die. Don’t leave me!”

Warm fingers caressed his temple; a soft voice spoke in his ear. “Jim, it is all right.” The same voice spoke in his head. T’hy’la, you are safe. I am not in danger. The baby is fine. Open your eyes, t’hy’la. I am here.

Jim shot bolt upright, a moan wrenched from his lips as injured flesh protested. He was caught and held in a gentle embrace. Spock. Spock was here. He wasn’t dying.

“Spock,” Jim whispered, collapsing against Spock’s shoulder. He felt Spock’s lips brush across his brow, then his mate gently lowered him back onto his pillows, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking Jim’s hand in his. Jim looked up at him. Spock’s eyes were weary and shadowed with worry, but he was here, and he was all right.

“Jim.” It was McCoy’s voice. Jim turned his head to see Bones standing on the other side of the bed, a nice-looking older man in a white doctor’s coat standing next to him. The man smiled at Jim.

“Captain Kirk, I’m Dr. Piper. Can you tell me where you are?”

Jim blinked. “I’m in...San Francisco.” He looked around again, noting the sterile atmosphere. “I’m in a hospital?”

Dr. Piper nodded, satisfied. “Yes, you’re in San Francisco General. I was in the ER when you were brought in last night; since Dr. McCoy is not on staff here, I am your doctor of record, but I’ve allowed him to be kept in the loop on your condition.”

“Bones?” Jim focused on his friend. “Aren’t you in Georgia, seeing Johanna?”

McCoy shrugged. “Spock called me and I came back.” He looked at Dr. Piper. “Is Jim stable? Is there anything else I need to know?”

Piper consulted the chart in his hand. “No, everything is taken care of. The injuries have been regenerated, and all his vitals are good. I’ll be releasing him later today.”

McCoy nodded. “All right.” He looked at Jim. “I’m going to head out, but I’ll stay in town another day or two if you want.”

Jim looked at Spock. The Vulcan shook his head. “No, Leonard, that will not be necessary. I regret interrupting your vacation with your daughter.”

“No problem; plenty of shuttles between here and Atlanta.” McCoy patted Jim’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Jim. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, Bones.”

Dr. Piper sat down in a chair next to the bed. “Captain, do you remember anything about last night?”

Jim frowned. His head hurt, and his ribs throbbed, but he thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I was walking home; I was right across the street from our building.” He looked up at Spock. “I saw the lights from our windows; I knew you were waiting for me.”

“Yes,” Spock said gently. “I woke up and you were gone, so I was waiting for you to return.”

“I was crossing the street. It was foggy; I think I looked both ways, but I was so eager to get home...” Jim trailed off. “That’s all I remember.”

Piper nodded. “You were hit by some kind of a vehicle,” he said quietly. “Luckily, the impact threw you clear, onto the sidewalk, instead of leaving you in the middle of the street to get run over. You came in with a concussion, two broken ribs, and a cracked left wrist, plus an assortment of contusions. We’ve regenerated the bones, of course, and patched up the scrapes and bruises. You’ll be sore for a few days, and you’ll need to rest and not strain the regenerated injuries, but you’ll be fine.” He stood. “I’m going to write you a script for some pain pills, and then I’ll get your discharge paperwork in order. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and then you can get out of here.”

“Thank you, Dr. Piper,” Spock said. Piper nodded and left them alone.

“I felt something was wrong,” Spock said in a low voice. “I thought I heard you cry out. I came downstairs and outside, and you were lying on the sidewalk.”

“Oh, Spock,” Jim whispered. He could imagine how his mate had felt, seeing Jim lying in a heap. “I’m so sorry, t’hy’la. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Spock lifted the hand he still held to his lips. “You did nothing wrong, ashaya,” he replied. His eyes darkened. “But the person who tried to kill you will pay. I promise you that.”

Jim blinked, confused. “But, Spock, it was an accident.”

Spock looked grim. “I am not so sure,” he replied. “If it was an accident, why did the motorist not stop and assist you? You could have died if I had not come out and found you.”

Jim smiled slightly. “Love, you forget that not everyone is a logical, ethical Vulcan. Whoever hit me probably panicked and ran. I’m not saying they should have, but it doesn’t mean they were trying to kill me.”

Spock shook his head. “I am not convinced that this is what happened,” he replied.

“Well, let’s not worry about it right now. I’m fine, and I promise I’ll be more careful when crossing the street.” Jim looked at his mate, seeing the signs of stress and fatigue. “I suppose you’ve been here all night?” he asked, already resigned to the answer.

“There was nowhere else I could be,” Spock murmured, smoothing Jim’s hair back with a tender hand.”

“I know.” Jim sighed. “I can’t scold you, love; I would have done the same. But when we get out of here, we’re going straight home, and you are going to bed.”

“We are going to bed,” Spock corrected him. “To sleep,” he amended as he saw Jim’s grin.

“All right, to sleep.” Jim reached up and pulled Spock down to him for a kiss. “For now,” he whispered against his mate’s lips.

Once they arrived home, Jim had to convince Spock not to carry him up to their apartment. Actually, except for residual aches and bruises, Jim felt pretty good. However, he was still tired, and he definitely wanted Spock to rest, not fuss over him, so they put privacy notices on the door and their links and climbed into their bed.

Jim shifted, trying to get comfortable. Regeneration worked wonders in healing broken bones, but the ache lingered for a few days afterwards.

Spock cut short his fidgeting by taking Jim into his arms, arranging the still-tender limbs around him and holding Jim gently yet firmly, letting his warmth and reassuring presence soothe the remaining bruises and strains. With a sigh, Jim laid his head on his bond mate’s shoulder.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked softly. “I don’t want you or the baby all cramped up because of me.”

Spock kissed his temple. “I am comfortable as long as I have you near me,” he replied tenderly. “Sleep, t’hy’la, and I will rest as well.”

“M’kay,” Jim murmured, closing his eyes. “Spock?”

“Yes, ashaya?”

“I love you, you know.”

“And I you, t’hy’la.”

The buzzer sounded again. Spock had ignored it the first two times, reasoning that whoever it was would see the privacy block on the door and go away. However, that was not happening. Spock glanced at Jim, sleeping peacefully in his arms. He gently shifted Jim’s body and laid him down on the bed. Spock then walked out into the living area and opened the door. Winona Kirk stood in the hall. Surprised, Spock stepped back and she walked into their apartment before he could close the door.

“I want to see Jim,” she said, looking around.

“Jim is asleep,” Spock replied. “He was in an accident last night, and...”

“Why wasn’t I called?” Winona snapped at him. “I had to find out through a news broadcast that my son was in San Francisco General.”

“Why would you have been called?” Spock asked. “Jim is of legal age; you are no longer his guardian.”

“Don’t give me that garbage,” Winona hissed at him. “Jim is still my son, and I have the right...”

“You have no rights,” Spock informed her coldly. “I am Jim’s legal spouse under Federation law and his bond mate under Vulcan law. In both cases, that makes me his next of kin, and his welfare is my responsibility, not yours. Frankly, madam, you should have been more concerned about his welfare twenty years ago than you are now.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Winona asked angrily.

Spock was equally furious; he simply hid it better. “It means that your husband, Jim’s stepfather, systematically abused him, and you neglected him. It is amazing that he became the man he is. It was certainly not the result of your care and attention.”

“Man?” Winona laughed shrilly. “Don’t use that word when you’re talking about my pansy of a son. You’ve made sure he’ll never be a man, haven’t you?”

Spock went cold. He knew that if he spent one more minute in the same room with this woman, he would do violence on her. He strode to the door and opened it.

“You will leave now, and you will not return,” he informed Winona.

“You can’t throw me out!”

“But I can.” They both turned to see Jim standing in the doorway leading to their bed room, one hand holding onto the door frame. He looked at his mother with complete loathing.

“What part of ‘we’re done’ did you not get?” he asked, coming slowly into the room.

“Jim...”

“No, don’t start. I may be a ‘pansy,’ but I can still knock you on your ass.” Jim motioned towards the door. “Get out. Take your hatred and your blind stupid prejudices and get out.”

“You can’t treat me this way. After all I did for you...”

‘The only thing you ever did for me was give birth to me, and you wouldn’t have done that if the Sickbay crew on the Kelvin hadn’t dragged you into a shuttlecraft!” Jim smiled at her sudden intake of breath. “It’s true, isn’t it?” he said softly. “You would have stayed on board the ship and died with Dad.” He nodded. “I get that; I’d do the same for my spouse. And I’m sorry they didn’t give you that choice all those years ago. The only difference between us, Mother, is that if I lost Spock, I wouldn’t hate our child. That child would mean more to me if Spock was taken from me, not less. But that’s not how you think. I never meant anything to you, and you mean absolutely nothing to me. Now get out, and don’t bother trying to crawl back and fix us. There’s no fix for this.”

For a long moment, they stared at each other, blue eyes meeting blue. Then Winona turned and walked out the door without another word. Spock took quite illogical satisfaction in slamming the door behind her. He turned back to see Jim swaying on his feet, his face white.

“Jim.” Spock moved forward and quickly gathered Jim into his arms, lowering him onto the couch and holding him close. Jim was shaking with rage and weakness.

“That....that miserable....”

“Hush, ashaya, it is all right,” Spock soothed, gently stroking Jim’s head. “It is all right; she is gone.”

Jim closed his eyes, fighting the tears. “I went and saw her last night, you know.”

“I suspected as much,” Spock told him.

“She...she called you a freak,” Jim whispered. “Oh, God, Spock, how could she?”

“My love, to borrow a phrase of yours, I do not give a ‘flying fuck’ what your mother thinks of me,” Spock replied gently. “I am grieved that she cares so little for you, but that is her loss. I am grieved that she cares nothing for your child, but that is her choice. She will live and die alone, because she cannot love. I do not grieve for her; she had brought that fate on herself.”

Jim pressed closer, as if he was trying to burrow into Spock. His mate simply pulled him closer, still feeling the shivering that ran through Jim’s body. “Spock, do you think I’m a...pansy?”

“T’hy’la, you bear no resemblance to any Earth flower.” Spock’s voice was serious, but his eyes were smiling.

Jim chuckled weakly, but then his eyes filled with tears. “Why do people hate us so? What are we doing that is so wrong? Is it wrong for me to love you? Is it my fault that the one person in the universe who completes me isn’t a blue-eyed girl?”

Spock tipped up Jim’s face and kissed away the tears that were trickling down his cheeks. “No, ashaya, we are doing nothing wrong. Love is nothing to be ashamed of; I did not always know that, but you have taught me. We will not let people like your mother ruin what we have. We will keep our love, and she can keep her hate.” He looked at his mate. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

Jim shook his head. “No, let’s just stay here awhile. I just want to be close to you.”

“Very well.” Spock shifted Jim’s weight until the human was lying on the couch, his head in Spock’s lap. The clever Vulcan fingers started a gentle massage, smoothing away the lines of pain and grief on his t’hy’la’s face. “Rest now, ashaya. Just rest.”

Jim drifted off to sleep with Spock’s touch and his love soothing the wounds his mother had left.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: How Can Something So Little Need So Much Stuff?

Jim woke slowly. He was still lying on the couch, his head in Spock’s lap. The room was very dark. Jim was very aroused.

He gasped softly as the sensations swept through him. It was as if whisper-soft invisible fingers were caressing him everywhere, brushing against his lips, stroking across his chest, teasing his nipples, running up and down his thighs, fondling his shaft and cupping his balls. He squirmed, reveling in the feelings but wanting more. He opened his eyes, realizing that Spock was gently rubbing his temples, tapping into Jim’s psi points, stimulating the pleasure centers of Jim’s brain. He’d done this before on occasion, and it was indescribable, like an orgasm of the soul. It wasn’t as intense as a physical orgasm, but it was an exquisite pleasure that demanded nothing of Jim but his enjoyment.

Jim moaned, trying to sit up, planning to take Spock into his arms and kick this whole process into high gear. But Spock pushed him back down, resuming his massaging of Jim’s temples.

“Hush, ashaya,” he said softly. “Just relax. Let go, my love. Let go.”

With a sigh, Jim lay back, letting the feelings wash over him, panting softly as his arousal built yet did not burn, luxuriating in the soft waves of pleasure that lapped at his flesh, bathing him in warmth and love.

Finally, he lay still, every inch of his body tingling as the crest slowly receded. “Thank you, love,” he whispered. Spock bent over and kissed him tenderly.

“You are quite welcome,” he replied. “I felt you could use the relaxation, but your regenerated bones are not yet strong enough for anything—too aerobic.”

Jim sat up slowly, Spock’s arms supporting him. He relaxed into that strong embrace, feeling better than he had since they’d returned to Earth.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You gave me love,” Spock whispered.

“I’ve gotten more than I’ve ever given,” Jim murmured back. For a time, they rested together. Then Jim realized it must be very late, and he hadn’t eaten anything since that bowl of gruel they’d fed him at the hospital. Knowing Spock, he hadn’t eaten, either. Jim rose, extending his hand to Spock, pulling him up from the sofa.

“Come on,” he said. “Dinner time for you, me, and little Kirk-Spock.”

For the next three days, they lazed around the apartment as Jim’s injuries healed and Spock got some extra, much-needed rest. Jim was touched to discover that at least 30 crew members had heard about his accident and sent messages to his link. He returned the calls and let everyone know he was fine. He was amazed that even Sarek had sent a message of concern and support. Of course, after Jim’s encounters with Winona, Sarek seemed like grandfather of the year in contrast. Jim also talked briefly with McCoy, assuring him that he was healing well and thanking his friend for making the trip out to San Francisco.

“That’s all right, Jim. I had to do something. The hobgoblin was so panicked he was almost hyperventilating.” McCoy shook his head. “He really loves you, you know.”

“I know.” Jim grinned. “And stop calling him a hobgoblin.”

“Never.”

“All right,” Jim said at breakfast, four days after his accident. “I’m perfectly healed, and I’m about to go stir-crazy. We need to get out of here and buy baby stuff.”

“I concur,” Spock said, spooning up the last of his third bowl of Vulcan porridge, “provided I can stay with you at all times.”

“Spock,” Jim said patiently, “no one is trying to kill me.”

“You do not know that for a certainty.” Spock had that stubborn look in his eyes, and Jim decided to capitulate gracefully.

“T’hy’la, if you want to put yourself through a day of shopping with me, you’re welcome; you know that. But I want you to tell me honestly when you’re tired and we need to come home. And don’t think you’re going to carry a ton of items around like a pack mule. Anything bigger than a bib, we’re having it sent directly to the ship. Agreed?”

“That seems like an equitable compromise.” Spock rose from the table and went to his padd. “I have researched the equipment requirements...”

“Equipment requirements?” Jim burst out laughing. “Spock, it’s a baby, not a landing party member.”

“Equipment requirement for both human and Vulcan newborns,” Spock continued in full Science Officer mode. “They are similar but not identical. Vulcan babies require more intellectual stimulation, which can be furnished by various interactive devices, while human infants apparently need at least a metric ton of mammal-shaped toys covered in various soft fabrics.”

“Stuffed animals,” Jim chortled. “Yeah. I’m not sharing Tiber.”

“At a minimum, in order to be properly cared for, our child needs the following.” Spock handed Jim his padd and let him read the list, feeling secretly gleeful when even his shopping-addicted t’hy’la looked frightened.

“All this?” Jim whispered.

“All that,” Spock confirmed.

“Well,” Jim said after a very long pause, “we’d better get started.”

They had a wonderful day. Somehow, actually buying items for the expected baby made it more real to them both, even though Spock, of course, knew there was a child inside him. He could faintly feel the first dim mental links forming between himself and the child’s mind. He had decided not to mention that fact to Jim just yet; he was hoping that the emanations would indicate which gender the child was, but so far, it was unclear.

Jim, on the other hand, had only a faint heartbeat and a sometimes moody Vulcan as proof that he was about to become a father, so the reality of buying tiny socks and a dozen teddy bears, one in every color available (Spock groaned silently, but Jim would not be deterred) made it all very real to him. After getting the basics, they stopped for lunch at their favorite place in Chinatown, where Spock ate enough dim sum to establish once and for all that he was indeed carrying a child.

“Thank God Starfleet feeds you most of the time,” Jim teased as he watched Spock go through yet another serving of spring rolls. “Otherwise I’d have to get a second job.”

“You are exaggerating.”

“No, I’m watching you eat like a warp engine going through dilithium crystals.” Jim gave his mate a fond smile. “It’s all right, love. It’s called eating for two.”

The waitress who was serving them, as perfect as a porcelain doll in her silk tunic and long braid, kindly black eyes twinkling in a face that reminded Jim a bit of his bond mate’s grandmother T’Pau, scurried up with another pot of tea, bowing. She said something in Mandarin to Spock, and he replied. Jim looked at him inquiringly.

“What did she say?” He hadn’t turned his translator on since they’d been back on earth. Spock, of course, spoke both Mandarin and Cantonese, no surprise. For anyone who could manage to speak Vulcan, Chinese dialects were a snap. Even with their bond, Jim could only manage enough Vulcan to order a meal, find out where the bathroom was, and ask for various sexual favors, hardly the breadth of fluency he wanted, but the damned language was hard.

Spock blushed slightly. “She offered me her best wishes for a healthy child,” he admitted.

“She can tell?”

“She said that she has served here for 57 years and that only those individuals with “happiness in them”—an ancient Chinese euphemism for pregnancy—can eat so many dragon’s egg pot stickers at one sitting.” Spock was fast turning jade-green.

Jim just laughed and poured his bond mate more tea.

After lunch, they checked the list Spock had compiled, noting with satisfaction that they had managed to locate many of the necessities (as well as the completely superfluous dozen teddy bears).

“Do you want to go home?” Jim asked.

“Not unless you are fatigued,” Spock replied. “I am feeling quite well.”

“Invigorated by all those spring rolls, huh?”

“Jim...”

“OK, love, we’ll press on. Where to next?”

“We have obtained sufficient clothing and bedding, as well as more toys than the child will need for the remainder of its life...”

“Ha! Wait until her first birthday.”

“Or his first birthday, and Jim, I will not allow you to spoil our child.”

“Just her father?” Jim sneakily caressed Spock’s fingers with his own, the Vulcan version of a kiss.

Spock sighed. “Point taken. I can hardly complain if you lavish the same attention on our child that you do on me.”

“I promise, love; no shuttlecraft of her own until she’s 16.”

“Jim....”

Oh, all right. 17. Now, what else do you want to buy?”

“I believe we should visit the Baby Einstein store.”

“Spoooock.” When it was appropriate, Jim was perfectly prepared to whine. However, his bond mate was firm.

“The child needs more intellectual stimulation than can be provided by poly-silk-covered imitation bears in pastel colors. I wish to obtain some educational items appropriate to various stages of the child’s growth and development. Baby Einstein specializes in such items.”

Jim heaved a huge sigh. “Spock, this child has you and me for parents. I’m a genius, and you’re twice as smart as I am. Why would she need any educational items? She’ll probably pop out speaking better Vulcan than I do...”

“Not a great achievement.”

“You shut up, smarty-pants ambassador’s son who spent his childhood jetting around the galaxy. It’s not my fault I grew up in Iowa, where the only languages were Standard and Hick. And she’ll probably be navigating the ship before she’s six months old.”

“If she—or he—has the proper intellectual stimulation,” Spock replied firmly.

“All right. We will go to Baby Einstein. You may purchase as many intellectual items as your genius little Vulcan heart desires. But...” Jim held up one finger, “for every Mozart-playing busy box you buy, I’m getting her another stuffed animal. There aren’t just bears, you know. She needs a stuffed dog, a stuffed monkey, a stuffed cat, a stuffed sehlat—do they make stuffed sehlats?”

Spock blushed. Jim caught it.

Ah, ha! So you had one, didn’t you? What was its name?”

Jim, I do not think a public sidewalk is the place to...”

“Come on, spill. What was the name of your stuffed sehlat?”

“Mr. Cuddles,” Spock said in a low voice. Jim howled.

“I foresee we will have a poly-silk menagerie before we are done,” Spock said, regaining his dignity as he hailed a cab.

Once they were actually in Baby Einstein’s, Jim got caught up (as Spock knew he would) in all of the educational toys available. They decided to concentrate on an assortment of items to help with coordination and language development, and they soon had an impressive pile waiting for them at the check-out.

“Spock?”

The soft voice startled them both. Jim and Spock turned from their perusal of classical music-playing stuffed animals (Baby Einstein’s did have a sehlat). A tall, willowy Vulcan woman stood in the aisle. Unlike Spock, it was instantly apparent that she was pregnant. In fact, she looked like she might be delivering the child in the next ten minutes or so. Jim hoped not.

Spock’s eyes lit up. He looked as happy as he ever allowed himself to look in public. “T’Lira,” he said with a slight bow. He turned to Jim. “James, this is T’Lira, the bond mate of my cousin, Solkar, who works at the Vulcan embassy here in San Francisco.”

Jim bowed slightly, knowing enough about Vulcan culture not to offer his hand. “It is my honor to meet one who is of the blood of my mate,” he said quietly, giving the traditional response to meeting a distant relative for the first time. Spock looked at him, pride shining in his eyes.

T’Lira bowed in return. “You are James,” she said. “I am honored to finally meet you. Allow me to formally welcome you to our clan, as I have not had the opportunity to do so before.” Although her words were formal, her tone was warm by Vulcan standards, and Jim got the distinct impression that she meant what she said. She turned to Spock. “I see you are purchasing educational recreational items,” she noted. “I hope they are for the purpose I suspect?”

“Indeed,” Spock confirmed. “James and I will welcome a new clan member within the six-month. I see that you have the same fortune.”

She placed one hand on her stomach. “Yes, but I will not last a six-month,” she said with gentle humor. “Spock, this is wonderful news. Please let me know when the child arrives.”

“Thank you, and I ask the same from you.”

“I will have my bond mate inform you.” She lifted her hand in the traditional salute. “Live long and prosper.” With a nod to Jim, she was gone.

Jim looked at Spock. “Is it my imagination, or was she genuinely happy for us?”

“Jim, happiness is an emotion.”

“Yep. So, was she?”

“Yes,” Spock said quietly. “She was indeed.”

Jim was glad to meet someone who didn’t think their baby was a mistake. He was also thrilled that Baby Einstein’s sold stuffed sehlats. Before they left the store, Mr. Cuddles the Second had been bagged up and shipped to the Enterprise. Jim could tell that Spock was illogically thrilled at the thought of a stuffed sehlat waiting for their baby to arrive. There was no doubt about it--Jim was just as thrilled.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: Sudden Fear

Jim woke abruptly. He was alone in their bed. For a moment, he thought fuzzily that maybe Spock had slipped off to the Science Lab as he often did in the middle of the night, checking on the growth of some microbe or the movement of an asteroid, but then Jim remembered that they were in their San Francisco apartment, not on the Enterprise. He listened for a moment and then heard soft footsteps in the living room. He got out of bed and headed towards those steps.

“Spock?” he asked, standing in the doorway, seeing his bond mate pacing back and forth. “What’s wrong?”

Spock jerked and turned around, obviously surprised to see Jim. “Why are you out of bed?” he asked.

“Because you are,” Jim said simply, coming further into the room. “Are you all right?”

“I am quite well,” Spock said, a statement quickly proved false as a spasm of pain crossed his face. In an instant, Jim was at his side.

“T’hy’la, what’s wrong? Computer, call 9...”

“Jim,” Spock put a hand over his bond mate’s mouth. “It is all right. I do not need a doctor.” He breathed deeply, trying to control the pain. “I am suffering from brief, involuntary muscular contractions of the lower latissimus dorsi muscles.”

Jim sorted his way through that statement, wishing it wasn’t 3 a.m., so his mind might actually be working. “You’re having back spasms.”

“Affirmative.” Spock’s face was tight with pain; Jim suspected that the pregnancy hormones were interfering with his body’s normal ability to control discomfort.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I do not expect you to...”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Spock, don’t start that,” Jim snapped, then recoiled. “I’m sorry, love,” he said in quieter tones. “That didn’t come out right.” He snagged a pillow off the couch and slipped his arm around Spock’s waist. “Come on. Lie face down on the floor.” He helped Spock lower himself down and then tucked the pillow under his bond mate’s head. “Computer, raise temperature 3 degrees Celsius.”

“Affirmative,” the house computer responded, and warm air began to circulate through the room.

“Here. Jim coaxed Spock up just enough so he could unbutton and slip off Spock’s sleep shirt. “Now just lie flat for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, Jim was back in moments with a jar of muscle salve. He knelt on the floor next to Spock, coating his hands with the gel. “Just relax,” he murmured and began to work the salve across the middle of Spock’s back. His bond mate hissed with pain for a moment then started to relax beneath Jim’s fingers.

“Now,” Jim said quietly after he had rubbed the sore muscles for a few minutes, “we need to get something clear. If you wake up in the middle of the night and you’re sick or in pain, I need to know. You have got to stop this whole ‘I’m the toughest Vulcan in the universe and I don’t need anything’ shit. You’re carrying my child, which makes you the single more important person in my world. This process is probably going to get worse before it gets better, and I want to be there for you, Spock. I need to be there for you. So, please, t’hy’la; stop shutting me out.”

Spock sighed. “I know,” he said into the pillow. “I was...ashamed.”

“Why?”

“I am a Vulcan. I should be able to regulate and disperse the pain.”

“Spock.” Jim stopped rubbing long enough to bend down and kiss the back of his bond mate’s neck. “Your logic doesn’t fail you very often, love, but I think it’s falling apart this time. Sheer common sense tells me that if the hormones are messing with your emotional controls, they’re probably messing with all your controls, including your ability to manage pain.”

Spock was silent for a long moment. “I did not think of that.”

“Well, since I did, do you think it is a logical hypothesis?”

“Indeed,” Spock admitted softly.

“All right, then. So when you’re in pain, you need to do something about it besides sneak out of bed and suffer in silence,” Jim said sternly. “You need to let me know so I can help you through it.”

“But, Jim, oftentimes there will be nothing you can do.” Spock sighed as Jim’s talented fingers unknotted a particularly tense muscle. “Granted, this treatment is most efficacious, but if there is nothing you can do to help, there is no logic in you being awake as well as me.”

“No logic, huh?” Jim moved his hands a bit lower, continuing to ease the spasms. “Spock, how many times have I woken up in Sickbay to find you dozing in a chair next to me?” Spock was silent. “Well?”

“Seventeen times in the last 2.4 years,” Spock admitted softly.

“I would have bet it was more than that, but you’re the numbers expert.” Jim got more salve and went back to soothing Spock’s muscles. “How many of those times could you do anything to help me? Did you get an M.D. degree when I wasn’t looking?”

“You are my bond mate and my captain. It is logical for me to provide emotional support and caring when you are injured or...” Spock’s mouth snapped shut as he saw the trap he had just walked into.

“Exactly.” Jim finished rubbing Spock’s back, resting his hand for just a moment on his bond mate’s shoulder. “Are you feeling better?” he asked gently.

“Yes, t’hy’la; thank you.” Spock started to lift himself off the floor, only to be stopped by Jim’s hand.

“Stay there,” Jim suggested. “The bed is probably too soft for your back right now; the floor will actually be easier on it.”

He got up and went into their bedroom, returning with their warmest comforter bundled into his arms, as well as an extra pillow. He got down and laid his pillow next to Spock’s head, then lay down and pulled the comforter over both of them.

“Jim, there is no need for you to...” Spock stopped as Jim rolled over, snuggling next to Spock’s prone body, providing warmth and love. He reached out and gently stroked his bond mate’s hair, feeling Spock’s contentment.

“Go to sleep,” Jim said softly. “I’ve slept in worst spots than this, and I’d rather sleep here with you and our little Kirk-Spock than alone on the most expensive mattress made.”

“Understood,” Spock whispered. “Good night, t’hy’la.”

“Good night, love.”

The next day, Spock was quiet, even by his standards. He denied that he was still in pain, and Jim believed him; when confronted directly, Spock didn’t lie to him. (Avoiding a question was something else all together, of course). However, Spock was definitely... “off” was the only word Jim could think of. Jim truly didn’t want to pry; Spock was a very private person, and Jim accepted that. At the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those solemn sable eyes. He decided to give Spock his space and hope his bond mate would eventually confide in him.

It was almost sunset. After their shopping trip the previous day, they’d decided to stay home and take advantage of the chance to rest, since it would disappear once they were back on the ship. Jim was sitting on the couch, going through some of the specs for the updates on the Enterprise. The last thing he ever wanted to do was try to dash through a door that was no longer where he remembered it.

“Jim.”

“Yeah?” Jim looked up to find Spock standing in front of the couch.

“May I sit down?”

“Of course, ashaya.” Jim moved a pile of padds and Spock sank into the couch cushions. Jim looked at him, noticing Spock’s hesitation.

“Something on your mind, love?”

“Yes.” Spock glanced down then back at Jim. “Last night...you ask me to stop shutting you out. Do you really feel that I do that?”

Now it was Jim’s turn to hesitate. “Sometimes, yes,” he answered quietly. He put down the padd he was holding and took Spock’s hand in both of his. “I know why you do it; you don’t want to worry or burden me, and for almost 28 years, you were pretty much on your own, especially once you joined Starfleet, so you’re used to having to take care of yourself. But Spock, a relationship like ours doesn’t work that way. I need you; you know how much I do. I want you to need me too, and I think you do, but you seldom show it. I know you’re the one doing all the work with this baby....”

“That is not true. You are shouldering many burdens.”

“Yeah, but it’s not my body that’s getting the hormone blitz.” Jim rubbed Spock’s fingers between his own. “But last night was a perfect example of what I’m talking about. I want to be there for you while you’re carrying our child; I want to rub your back and brew you tea and hold you when you’re too tired to sleep. I don’t want to wake up and find that you’ve been pacing around in pain for hours while I’ve been snoring away. This whole parenting thing is for both of us, and I don’t want to miss any of it, even the awful parts.”

Spock looked down at the hands holding his, their fingers intertwined. Slowly, he nodded.

“I had not considered that, but you are correct, t’hy’la,” he said. He raised Jim’s hand to his face and held it against his cheek. “As always, I am taken aback by your generous spirit.”

Jim blushed. “Don’t be too quick to make me father of the year, love; wait until we’re arguing over who gets the change the diapers.”

Spock’s eyes twinkled. “I understand that since I will need extra sleep for a long time after the child’s birth, diaper duty will be your responsibility.”

“Rotten Vulcan,” Jim said lovingly. He glanced at the clock. “Almost time for dinner,” he noted. “Do you want me to cook, or do you want to go out?”

Now it was Spock’s turn to blush. “Do you suppose we could...go back to Mr. Ling’s establishment?”

Jim chuckled. “Still on that spring roll kick, huh?” He got to his feet. “Let’s hope the same waitress is there. I don’t want to have to explain your appetite to a new one.”

When they returned from the restaurant (the same waitress had been there, and she had giggled and brought Spock double portions of everything without being asked), Jim noticed a message light blinking on their link. He checked it; it was a message from Scott, asking them to call him back. Jim glanced at Spock.

“I wonder what Scott wants. I hope there’s nothing wrong with the ship.”

Spock shook his head. “Mr. Scott sounded far too...jocular for something to be seriously amiss.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Jim punched in the code and was connected almost immediately to Scott on the Enterprise.”

“Good evenin’ Captain,” Mr. Scott said. “I hope I am nae disturbing ye or Mr. Spock.”

“No, Scotty. We were just out for a bite to eat. Are you still on board the ship?”

“Aye, sir, and a bonnie lady she is,” Scott confirmed. “The new bits an’ pieces are all bein’ installed on schedule.”

“Good to hear.” Jim grinned at Spock. Starfleet might think the Enterprise was their ship, but everyone who knew Scott knew better. “Well, then, what can I do for you?”

“I was wonderin’ if ye and Mr. Spock could come aboard tomorrow, just for a wee bit, no more than half an hour. I need your opinion on something.”

Jim glanced at Spock and got his silent assent. “Sure, that’s no problem. 1400 hours?”

“Aye, that would work well.”

“We’ll go to Headquarters and signal you from there for a beam-up. Good night, Scotty. Get some rest.”

“Aye, sir. See ye tomorrow.”

Jim terminated the call and looked at Spock. “Any guesses as to what that’s all about?”

“No doubt Mr. Scott feels he needs your expertise,” Spock replied.

“Yeah, sure. Scotty thinks I don’t know which end of a monkey wrench is up. Oh, well. We’ll find out.” Jim yawned. “I think all that MSG is putting me into a coma. What do you say to an early bedtime?”

Spock slipped his arms around Jim’s waist, pulling him close. “I think that is an excellent idea—provided we do not sleep immediately.”

Jim grinned as he felt the part of Spock that was not tired pressing into him. “I think we can arrange that.”

Spock awoke with the sun shining in his face. He felt wonderfully rested, and his back was no longer hurting him. Apparently, the combination of a night on the floor and sufficient—aerobic exercise was a sure cure for back spasms. He rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty—not a surprise; it was quite late in the morning by their standards. Spock listened, but he could hear no sounds of Jim moving around in the apartment. He decided to get out of bed and investigate.

Spock walked through the living room; no Jim. He walked into the kitchen; no Jim there, either. However, there was a message cube on the counter. Feeling illogically relieved, Spock picked it up and pressed “play.” Jim’s smiling face appeared.

“Good morning, t’hy’la. I’m going to pop down to that Bakery on Canal Street and pick up some of those croissants you like so much. I should be back in about 30 minutes. Love you.” The message ended. The message cube hit the floor as Spock felt the cold chills run through him.

The message had been recorded at 0713 hours. According to Spock’s always-precise time sense, it was now 1037 hours. Jim was missing.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: Terror and Determination

“Spock, we’ll find him. I promise,” Chris Pike said. He’d come to the apartment as soon as Spock had notified Starfleet’s law enforcement division of Jim’s disappearance. Fortunately, Starfleet didn’t subscribe to the civilian nonsense about waiting 24 hours to file a report. At the same time, the detective assigned to the case, Lt. Commander O’Donnell, plainly thought Spock was over-reacting. Just as plainly, Pike did not.

Spock took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it was all but impossible. “I know you will do all you can, Admiral,” he said, “but someone tried to kill Jim less than a week ago, and now he is missing. I have to assume he is in real danger.”

“Commander,” O’Donnell said diffidently, “I have to ask. Have you and Captain Kirk been having...difficulties...in your relationship? It wouldn’t be the first time that one partner has....um...stepped out on another.” He visibly paled as both men rounded on him. Spock opened his mouth, but Pike beat him to the punch.

“You obviously know nothing about bond mates or about Captain Kirk,” Pike said witheringly. “Jim Kirk isn’t out picking up some yeoman to bang in a no-tell motel. If you can’t take this seriously, O’Donnell, then get the Hell out and send me someone who will do his job.”

Spock sank into a chair, shaking. He silently cursed the hormonal reactions that were bombarding his system. Pike sat down next to him.

“Spock,” he said quietly, “Can’t you feel Jim through your bond? Don’t you have a directional link?”

Spock raised his eyes to Pike’s, sorrow in their depths. “Normally, that would be true, Admiral,” he responded. “However, due to my condition, my abilities are being compromised.” He took another deep breath, finding his center, willing himself to think clearly. “I know Jim is alive; the link is still there. But I cannot tell where he is or what is happening to him.”

Pike ran a hand through his hair, frowning as he too tried to think this through. “Who would want to hurt Jim? Spock, do you know of anyone here on Earth who has a grudge against him?”

Spock hesitated, but Pike shook his head. “I know you don’t want to accuse anyone unjustly, but we’ve got to figure this out. Anyone, Spock.”

“Jim and his mother...had words several nights ago, right before he was stuck by that vehicle,” Spock replied. “She came to the apartment the next day, and they argued again.”

“About what?”

Spock dropped his eyes. “About us and our child. Jim’s mother was not...pleased at the news.”

Pike rubbed his forehead. “I can’t imagine Winona Kirk doing this, but we’ll check it out.” He looked at O’Donnell. “Find out where Winona Kirk is, and have someone question her about her movements for the last 12 hours,” he ordered. He turned back to Spock. “Is there anyone else you can think of? What about Jim’s bastard of a stepfather?”

Spock shook his head. “The last Jim knew, he was incarcerated. I am sure your people can easily confirm that.”

“All right. Anyone else?”

“Yes.” Spock hesitated, but he knew he’d have to mention it. “There is a crew member, Lt. Goebbels.” Spock quickly explained the incident that had occurred on the Enterprise. “The captain formally reprimanded him and placed a negative evaluation in his permanent file.”

“That asshole’s lucky Jim didn’t maroon him on the nearest rock,” Pike growled. He turned back to O’Donnell. “Find this jackass and detain him. I want to talk to him personally, but only after your people have checked his alibi.”

“Yes, Admiral.” O’Donnell looked at Spock. “I apologize if I offended you before, Commander,” he said quietly. “It was not my intention. I assure you we’ll do all we can to find Captain Kirk.”

Spock nodded. “Thank you.”

O’Donnell and his people left. Spock rose from his seat.

“Admiral, I will understand if you need to leave.” Pike shook his head.

“No way,” he said positively. “I’m not leaving you here alone, not until we know something.”

Spock felt a wave of gratitude. “That is...very kind of you and beyond the call of duty.”

“Spock, you were one of my very best officers,” Pike replied, “And I like to think we’re friends as well. Furthermore, you shouldn’t be alone right now. If I left you here by yourself, Jim Kirk would tear my hide off in strips as soon as he got back and found out, and rightly so.”

To his horror, Spock felt tears welling into his eyes. He turned away, trying to fight back the emotions. He heard the faint mechanical “clank” of Pike’s walking system as the admiral approached him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I know how worried you are, and I don’t blame you a bit. But I know Jim Kirk, too, and he’s a fighter. Whatever’s happening, he’ll face it and kick its ass.”

Spock fought—and won—his battle for control. He turned back to Pike. “Thank you...Chris.”

Jim opened his eyes. His head hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, and as his mind cleared, he realized that he was tied up, lying on a very cold cement floor. It took a minute or two, but Jim quickly remembered the events of the morning.

Goebbels. That fucker.

Jim’s mind was clearing rapidly. He remembered walking the six blocks to the bakery, enjoying the early morning sun and the fresh air. As much as he loved life aboard the Enterprise, Jim got tired of recycled air. It was probably why he insisted on going along with as many landing parties as possible.

He’d bought a full dozen croissants, figuring Spock’s increased appetite would do justice to them. When he’d come out of the bakery and started home, he’d been surprised to run into Goebbels before he’d gone more than a block. The crewman had hailed him.

“Captain, I’m pleased that I bumped into you,” Goebbels had said. Jim had stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, floored at the sight of the crewman.

“Goebbels, I’m on leave,” he’d said. “I can’t imagine what you have to say to me that can’t wait until we’re back on duty.” The crewman had spread his hands wide.

“Captain, I just wanted to take this opportunity to apologize,” he’d said earnestly. “My remarks were completely inappropriate. I thought that if I apologized on the ship, you’d just think I was doing it for the sake of my record.” He’d extended a hand. “I hoped that if I did it here, you’d realize I was sincere.”

Jim didn’t want to shake his hand; he wanted to put his boot up Goebbels’ skinny ass. But part of command was working with all types of people, and Jim knew he had to at least attempt to mend fences whenever possible. So he’d nodded and held out his hand in return.

“I accept your apology,” he said, shaking Goebbels’ hand.

He’d felt the prick of the needle hidden in Goebbels’ sleeve just before everything went black.

Fucker drugged me. I swear to God when I get free, I’m gonna...

Jim rolled and managed to get himself into a sitting position against the wall. However, that was all the further he was able to go. He was tightly-tied and virtually immobile. He was cold, too, and thirsty, but he ignored the discomfort, yanking at his bonds. He had to get out of here. He had to get back to Spock.

Spock. Jim stopped, feeling inside himself for their bond. Once they’d bonded, Spock had been able to “feel” Jim at all times, to know where he was and what he was doing. He didn’t constantly ‘spy’ on his bond mate; he gave Jim as much privacy as any human spouse would. But in an emergency, Spock would be able to find him. At least Jim hoped he would. Now that he was concentrating on their bond, Jim could feel a faint discordance in its resonance. Shit. More baby hormones, I suppose. Jim tried to stay calm and concentrate on the bond, focus his mind on calling for Spock. Come on, Spock. I know you’ll find me, t’hy’la. Hear me. I’m here. I need help.

Jim looked around the dimly-lit room, trying to see clues as to his location, trying to find something to work with. It was a small, dingy-looking room, with one bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. There were some dusty-looking boxes piled in a corner, and one straight chair pushed against the wall. There were no windows and only one door. It looked like a storage room perhaps. Jim called out several times, but he heard nothing in response. Either there was no one to hear, or whoever did hear him didn’t give a shit. Frankly, Jim suspected the latter. He gave up yelling for help and concentrated on calling out mentally, hoping that sooner or later, Spock would hear him.

Spock, t’hy’la. Hear me. Help me. Find me.

Spock and Pike stayed in the apartment, talking with various law enforcement officials via the link and fielding calls from concerned Starfleet personnel. As part of standard procedure, an alert had gone out to all active duty Starfleet personnel with Jim’s picture and description, advising them of the situation and asking anyone with information to come forward. So far, there were no leads, just a lot of calls from concerned Enterprise staff. Nyota had called in and offered to come to the apartment. Spock thanked her and refused. He didn’t want to see her, not now, not with fear and worry for Jim all but tearing his emotional controls to shreds. All he could think about was Jim, alone, in danger, maybe hurt, maybe....Spock squeezed his eyes shut and mentally commanded himself to calm down. This wasn’t helping Jim, and it wasn’t doing Spock any good either. Jim wasn’t dead; Spock knew that if he’d died, the bond would have snapped. No hormones in the universe could blunt that kind of mental pain.

The link rang. Pike leaned forward and answered it.

McCoy’s face filled the screen. “Admiral, this is Dr. Leonard McCoy of the Enterprise. I just checked the messages on my link. Is there any news on Jim?”

Spock stepped behind Pike’s shoulder so McCoy could see them both. “No, Leonard. There is no news,” he said.

McCoy frowned. “Have you tried tracing him through his transponder?”

Spock blinked. “He does not wear one, Doctor.” Jim and Spock had argued about this more than once. A transponder was an optional piece of equipment; Starfleet didn’t mandate it except for very specific situations, because of privacy concerns. Jim had refused to be “permanently tagged like a goddamn homing pigeon,” even though Spock had asked him more than once to reconsider.

McCoy grinned tightly. “Oh, yes, he does. I thought I’d told you, Spock. I snuck on in with his last allergy shot. It’s in his neck, and as far as I know, it’s still operating perfectly.”

Pike leaned forward. “Doctor, that is devious and unethical...and brilliant.” A huge smile spread over his face. “Do you have the bandwidth coordinates for his signal?”

McCoy nodded. “Transferring it from my padd now.” He looked at Spock. “Do you want me to come back to San Francisco?”

Spock shook his head. “No, but I thank you for the offer—and for this information, Bones.”

McCoy blinked. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me Bones.” He grinned. “I like it. Let me know when you find Jim.”

Pike hit the link and called O’Donnell. “Lt. Commander, I have fresh information on James Kirk....”

Jim’s head jerked up as the door opened. No surprise; Goebbels walked in, shutting the door behind him.

“Goebbels, you are so deep in shit right now that it’s leaking out of your ears,” Jim hissed. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish, but I promise you, you have fucked yourself with this little caper.”

Goebbels crossed the floor in two strides and yanked Jim off the floor, pushing him onto the chair. Jim fought to maintain his balance as Goebbels sneered at him.

“I’m not trying to accomplish anything, Captain,” Goebbels spat. “It’s already happening. I’m going to wait until your Vulcan ass-licker comes to get you, and then I’m going to kill him in front of you. Then I’m going to kill you.”

Jim stared at him, aghast. He’d figured Goebbels had taken him to try and get the black mark removed from his file, maybe even planning to ransom Jim, knowing that Sarek’s clan would pay to get him back. But to kill him? To kill them both? “You really are bat shit insane, you know that? You think you can kill a starship captain and his First Officer and get away with it?”

“I don’t expect to get away with it,” Goebbels replied, an unpleasant light in his eyes. “But I’ll be proud to martyr myself for the cause, to ensure that you and your half-breed mate, as well as your mutant offspring, will never pollute our race again. You’re a traitor, Kirk, a traitor to the human race, and you’ll be executed like one.”

Jim fought to keep his cool. “Goebbels, you need help,” he said. “You need...” he broke off as Goebbels backhanded him once, twice, a third time, splitting Jim’s lip and leaving his head ringing from the blows.

“Just shut up,” Goebbels hissed. “Shut up and wait for your husband to come rescue you.” Goebbels drew a phaser from his pocket. “And when he walks through that door, I’ll kill him. Then I’ll kill you. Then they can kill me, but the world will know what I’ve done. The true humans will honor my memory for a thousand years to come.”

Jim shook his head, sick and dizzy from the drug, the blows, and Goebbels’ overwhelming hatred. “You poor bastard,” he said quietly. “Spock’s not coming; he can’t. Our bond has been muted; he doesn’t know where I am. You can kill me, but Spock will live. Our child will live. And the authorities will throw your ass in a cell and let you rot. You think you’ll be immortal? By next week, the only person who knows your name will be your cell mate, your new ‘husband.’” Jim’s bloody lip curled in a mirthless grin. “Go ahead, you little prick. Shoot me. I’ll still be better off than you.”

Goebbels’ face froze in a mask of hate, and he lifted the phaser in his hand. “So be it,” he said. “I’ll kill you now and hunt down your partner later. I’ll get him, Kirk, if I have to kill him at your memorial service. Go wait for him in Hell.”

Jim braced himself, his mind going to Spock. Oh, love, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you. Be safe, Spock, please...

Jim, get down!

The mental shout was clear. Jim twisted, falling off the chair and hitting his head on the floor just as Goebbels fired the phaser. The door blew in. Half a dozen officers rushed in, quickly subduing Goebbels, who was screaming in anger.

“No! Let me finish! I’ve got to kill him! Don’t you understand; his kind will destroy us all!”

Jim lay on the floor, dazed, coughing slightly from the smoke that had filled the room when the door blew. He could still hear Goebbels shrieking as he was dragged away. Suddenly, Spock was there, kneeling at his side, snapping the ropes that bound Jim as if they were made from rice paper.

“Jim, t’hy’la.”

Jim coughed, looking up into Spock’s frightened brown eyes. “It’s ok, love; I’m fine,” he whispered, just before he fainted. He never knew that Spock carried him up the stairs and out of the building. He never knew that Spock held him in his arms all the way to the hospital, refusing to let anyone touch him. He didn’t know anything more until he woke up in the same hospital bed he’d been in a week before, Spock still holding him even as the Vulcan slept in utter exhaustion.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: Possession

“Well, Captain,” Dr. Piper said pleasantly, “if you were on Earth a little more often, I could make a living off you.” It was the following afternoon, and Piper was checking on his perpetual patient.

The ER doctor looked at his chart. “I’ve checked you out, and you’re in reasonable shape,” he said. “That nasty drug your assailant gave you is pretty much out of your system, and except for a slight concussion to match the one you got last week, your other injuries are minor, no more than a few bumps and scrapes.” He made a note or two. “I’m discharging you, but I highly recommend that you go home and stay there for the next few days. Lots of rest, a few cold compresses on that hard skull of yours, and small frequent meals, since your stomach may be a bit queasy from the drug and that blow to your head.” He gave Spock, standing silently at Jim’s bedside, a shrewd look. “As for you, Commander, you’re not my patient, so all I can offer is friendly advice. You look like you’re ready to collapse. I want you to go home and do nothing but rest and eat for the next three days. If you don’t, you may be back here sooner than Captain Kirk is.” He looked at Jim. “Message received?”

Jim took a good long look at Spock. The Vulcan was as drawn and tired-looking at Jim had ever seen him. He nodded. “Received and understood. Thank you, Dr. Piper. I’ll make sure he rests.” Jim waited until Piper had left the room before he reached out and took Spock’s hand in his.

“Love, talk to me,” he implored softly. “Don’t shut me out.” Spock had been all but silent since Jim had awoken in the hospital. He stuck to Jim like static cling, but he said almost nothing.

Spock—flinched was the only word for it. “I...I cannot,” he said in a low voice. “Not now.” The dark, suffering eyes met Jim’s. “Please. Not now.”

Slowly, Jim nodded. “All right, love. We’ll drop it.” For now, he added to himself as he got out of bed and began to dress with Spock’s efficient assistance. But something’s bothering you, and we need to get to the bottom of it.

Once home, Jim did as Piper suggested, napping for an hour or two and then getting up and eating some soup and bread. He managed to coax Spock into eating some soup as well, but he noted with sorrow that his mate’s former healthily-increased appetite had disappeared. Goddamn Goebbels, Jim thought, concerned about his mate. He couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong. Yes, the whole experience had been frightening and stressful, but they’d had plenty of those without Spock going all clam-mouthed on him. Jim decided to leave it alone until tomorrow and then pin Spock down if he had to.

After he ate, Jim went into their bedroom and spent time returning calls to his link. He checked in with McCoy first.

“Pike called me when they found you, and Piper contacted me and sent your test results along,” Bones told him. “You’re damned lucky, Jim. That psycho Goebbels could have killed you.”

“He was planning on it,” Jim replied wryly. He looked through the screen at his friend. “I understand you tagged me the last time I got an allergy booster. That breaks a dozen different regs, you know.”

“Fine, have my ass court-martialed.” McCoy was completely unrepentant. “It’s a good thing I did it, or they’d still be looking for you.” He paused a moment. “How’s Spock?”

Jim glanced over his shoulder, but Spock was still in the living room. “He’s shook, Bones,” he said in a low voice. “He’s barely spoken to me since the hospital, keeps saying he ‘can’t’ discuss it. I’m worried.”

“Well, he is a Vulcan, and he does process emotions and experiences differently than you or I,” Bones replied. “Give him some time and space, and if he doesn’t come around pretty soon, get his ass drunk on chocolate and make him talk to you.”

Jim grinned. “I’ll buy a carton of chocolate milk just in case. Oh, and Bones?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Jim said quietly. “Thanks for breaking those regs.”

Hey, I learned from the best,” McCoy grinned. “Take care, Jim. See you in five days.”

Kirk signed off and tagged Pike next. As he expected, the Admiral was still in his office.

“Jim, good to see you.” Pike noticed the background on the screen. “You’re home?”

“Yes, sir. The hospital discharged me this afternoon.” Jim replied. “I wanted to thank you for all you did.”

“Hey, Starfleet’s got too much invested in you to let some whack-job kill you,” Pike said.

“Where is Goebbels?”

“His lawyer insisted on a psych examination, so he’s at Starfleet Medical,” Pike replied. “I’m sure his mouthpiece is going to argue diminished capacity.”

Jim felt a twinge of unease. “He’s not going to walk, is he?”

Pike snorted. “Jim, he’s facing charges of kidnapping, assault on a superior officer, carrying an unlicensed weapon, and two counts of attempted murder.”

“Two?” Jim frowned.

“Yes. The authorities found a rented vehicle they think he got under an assumed name and then abandoned. It’s got damage on the grill. They’re still testing for DNA and building the case, but they’re sure he’s the one who hit you outside of your building.”

Oddly enough, Jim felt relief at the news. At least there weren’t two psychos out there gunning for him.

“In addition, what he did was a hate crime, which just adds to the seriousness of the charges,” Pike continued. “Even after the psych evaluation, even if the ‘experts’ do agree with diminished capacity, he’s not going anywhere with those kinds of charges against him. He won’t bother you again, Jim. I can promise that.”

“Thank you.”

“How’s Spock?” Pike asked as McCoy had.

“He is...somewhat concerned about these events,” Jim replied simply. The corner of Pike’s mouth twitched.

“A nice way of saying your bond mate is frantic but you don’t want to tell the brass that, huh? I get it, Jim. I saw him when you were missing. I saw him when they found you. He went through that door like it wasn’t there. He carried you up three flights of stairs like you were a box of tissues. I thought he was going to kill the first paramedic who tried to lay a hand on you.” Chris shook his head. “Don’t worry; I don’t think less of him because his Vulcan facade cracked.”

But maybe he does, Jim thought suddenly.

“Thank you for your help, Chris,” he said.

“I’ll talk to you later. Get some rest, Jim.” Chris signed off. Jim called a few more people, letting his key crew members know he was all right and out of the hospital. Then he decided to see what Spock was doing—and more important, how he was doing.

Jim walked into the living room. It was dim; only the lights from outside the window and a small lamp on one table provided any illumination. But that was enough for Jim to see Spock sitting on the sofa, face buried in his hands, shaking in every part of his body.

In a moment, Jim was across the room and at his bond mate’s side. “Spock,” he said gently, sitting down and trying to pull his mate into his arms, “It’s ok. I’m here; I’m safe. I know you were worried, but it’s ok now. It’s over.” He tried again to wrap his arms around Spock, but the Vulcan pulled away, lifting his head and facing Jim. His face was drawn; his mouth was trembling.

“It is not all right!” he cried, rising to his feet. “You nearly died!”

“Spock, I know.” Jim rose as well, once again attempting to put his arms around Spock. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“I could not feel you.”

Jim stopped dead. “Yes, I know, love,” he admitted quietly. “When Goebbels had me, I tried to reach you. I could feel there was something wrong with our bond; I knew you couldn’t ‘hear’ me like you normally can from a distance. I figured it was probably the hormones...”

“Yes.” Spock all but hissed the word. “The hormones that have made me useless, made me unfit to protect you, to fight for you. You would have died, and I would not have been able to stop it.” He slumped back down on the sofa as if all strength had left his body. Jim knelt down before him, laying a gentle hand on Spock’s knee.

“Spock, stop this,” he begged. “It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you...”

“No, you never blame me, do you?” Spock shook his head. “I failed you; you could have died because of my incapability, yet you never blame me.” He buried his face in his hand again. “It was a mistake,” he said, voice muffled. “It has all been a mistake.”

The words hit Jim like a sledgehammer. They echoed through his skull. Oh, God. He’s sorry he’s carrying the child.

“You’re....you’re going to get rid of her,” he breathed. He got to his feet, cold sweat breaking out all over his body. “You’re...you’re going to kill her.” Suddenly, the stress, the head injury, and the remnants of the drug in his system hit Jim together. He whirled and ran to the bathroom, where he lost the soup he’d eaten.

Jim lay on the bathroom tiles, chills racking his body, dry heaves still coursing through him. Gradually, he became aware of a pair of arms around him, a voice in his ear.

“Jim, no,” Spock whispered, gathering him off the floor and holding him close. “No, ashaya. I did not mean that. Forgive me, t’hy’la. Please believe me. I did not mean that at all.”

Sick, miserable, and confused, his head pounding, his heart aching, Jim simply closed his eyes and clung to the one source of warmth in the universe. Spock gently picked him up and carried him to their bed, wrapping him in a spare blanket and holding him tightly, stroking his head and neck as the spasms still racked his body, murmuring softly in Vulcan, words Jim didn’t understand but didn’t need to. He could hear the love and reassurance in the sounds.

“You...you said she was a mistake,” Jim whispered at last. He felt Spock press his lips to Jim’s brow.

“No, t’hy’la. Please believe me, Jim. That was not what I meant. I forgot what ‘mistake’ means to a human in the context of a pregnancy.” Spock somehow managed to pull Jim even closer. “I would not harm our child. I would not rid myself of it. I meant that it was a mistake to let anyone know about this child. We should not have told the crew, or my father, or your mother. I wish we had kept it a secret between ourselves. Then perhaps none of this would have happened. It is my fault that you are in danger, that Goebbels tried to kill you.”

Jim let his weary head drop onto Spock’s shoulder. “It is not your fault, and you have to quit blaming yourself,” he sighed. “It’s Goebbels’ fault. You’re not responsible for his insanity, and neither is our baby.”

Spock kissed his hair. “No, but because of this pregnancy, I cannot protect you as I should. I cannot be what you need.”

“Oh, Spock.” Jim looked at his love, weariness warring with love in his gaze. “I don’t need a bodyguard; I don’t need a superhero. I need my mate; I need my t’hy’la. Please, quit tearing yourself apart. For me, love. Please.”

Slowly, Spock nodded. “I understand. I am sorry, Jim. I did not mean to add to your burdens.”

Jim shook his head. “No; I meant what I said before. I want to be here for you. If your hormones keep messing with your abilities, we’ll face that fact together, and we’ll find a solution—together.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry, too. You warned me that getting hit by that car was no accident, and I thought you were being paranoid.” He sighed again, tired to the very depths of his soul.” I should have known better.”

Spock saw the fatigue in Jim’s face. He rose and laid Jim down on the bed against his pillows, passing his hand over his love’s face in a tender caress. “I will be back in a moment.” He went to the bathroom and returned with a cool cloth, one of the pain pills Dr. Piper had given Jim, and a glass of water. He bathed Jim’s face and helped him drink, settling him back on his pillows and pulling off his boots.

“You need to rest,” he murmured.

“I will if you will,” Jim replied sleepily. Spock toed off his own shoes and crawled into bed, not bothering to undress either of them. Jim pressed his body close to Spock’s, feeling his mate’s arms come around him as Spock slipped one arm beneath Jim’s neck and let Jim lay his head on his shoulder.

“Sleep now,” Spock whispered. “We will deal with everything else tomorrow.” Jim’s eyes closed, and he went limp in Spock’s embrace as his injuries, the release of tension, and the pain pill all worked together to pull him under. After a time, Spock slept as well, still holding Jim close.

Jim woke just after dawn, feeling much better. He gently slipped from Spock’s arms and padded into the bathroom to take care of business. While he was there, he splashed his face with cool water and brushed his teeth. Feeling like the cobwebs were gone, he was just about to return to bed when he heard Spock cry out, calling Jim’s name. He hurried back into their room, where Spock was tossing against the pillows, eyes closed. “Jim,” he cried softly. “Jim.”

Jim sat down on the bed and reached for Spock, putting his hands on his mate’s shoulders and shaking him gently. “I’m here, love,” he murmured. “Open your eyes. I’m here.”

Slowly, Spock’s eyes opened, his gaze taking Jim in as he sat next to his mate, his hands now stroking Spock’s shoulders and arms. “Jim,” he whispered. “Jim. I...I dreamed. I was dreaming. You were gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jim slipped back into bed and nestled into Spock’s welcoming embrace. “See? I’m right here.” They lay together for a few minutes, Spock slowly caressing Jim’s head, Jim letting his presence chase away the last of the dream.

“Jim.” Spock’s voice was hesitant. “May I...” He tilted Jim’s face up and kissed him, pressing close. Jim felt Spock’s hardness against his thigh. He pulled back just far enough to smile lovingly at his mate.

“Need you ask?” he murmured, kissing Spock in return.

“I do not want...if you are unwell...”

“I’m never too unwell for this.” Jim suited his actions to his words, quickly losing his loose shirt and pants, unbuttoning and slipping Spock’s short from his torso while the Vulcan somehow wiggled free of his own pants. Jim sighed as Spock’s hands began to work their magic, running up and down his back, cupping and kneading his buttocks, stroking his sides, coming around to pinch and torment his nipples, as Spock’s mouth browsed along Jim’s jaw, finding all those tender places to tease as Jim gasped and arched against his mate’s lips, his hands now cradling Spock’s head, his thumbs running slowly, teasingly up the tender ridges of Spock’s ears, stroking along the hollows and just lingering on the tips, letting the pads flick back and forth against those points as Spock moaned his appreciation.

“Jim, Jim...” Spock seemed incapable of saying anything else, but it didn’t matter; his mouth was too busy. He slid lower, kissing and licking along Jim’s collarbone, nipping and sucking first one nipple and then the other, his mouth moving lower, still lavishing deep, open-mouthed, sucking kisses on Jim’s flesh as if he was trying to absorb Jim into himself, bring him safely inside Spock where no one could ever reach him again. Jim could feel arousal, both his and Spock’s running through him. Spock’s hands and mouth were insistent on his flesh, so different from his mate’s usual slow, tender loving, but Jim didn’t mind. Instinctively, he felt Spock’s need to be sure of him, his need to hold Jim, to take him, to claim him.

“Oh, oh God, Spock...” Jim cried out as his mate’s hot mouth swallowed him, as Spock licked and sucked strongly, almost to the point of pain, yet with a fierce eagerness that stoked Jim’s fires, that caused him to tremble and gasp in Spock’s embrace, that made him melt and yield before Spock’s urgent need. Jim found himself thrusting into Spock’s mouth, unable to wait, unable to hold back, crying out as his pleasure washed through him, as Spock’s hard hands held him down, a bruising grip on his thighs, pinning him to the bed even as Spock’s mouth brought him to his peak.

Jim moaned as Spock’s mouth left him, as those hard, hot hands turned him over, pulling him up on his knees as Spock’s body settled over him. Jim cried out softly as Spock thrust into him, giving him no time to prepare, offering none of the careful, gentle caresses that always opened Jim’s passage to him. Spock’s natural lubrication eased the way, but again, this was so different from their usual lovemaking. Spock plunged into him as if Jim was a fountain and Spock was dying of thirst. Jim felt his arousal return under those hard, demanding thrusts, felt himself stiffen as Spock’s hand curled around him, as his mate began to milk him with long, hard strokes timed to his thrusts, as Spock’s other arm came around him like a band of iron and pulled Jim tight to his body, as Spock began to lick and bite the back of Jim’s neck, as Spock’s mind reached for his.

Jim, Jim, never leave me, never lose you, keep you, claim you, mine, t’hy’la, never leave, oh, please, never leave....

“Yes,” Jim moaned, riding Spock’s arousal, his desperation. Yes, his mind returned. Yours, only yours, don’t fear, I’m here, love; I’m here; I’m yours....

Both men cried out as Jim spilled from between Spock’s fingers, as Spock shuddered and flowed inside Jim’s body, as each clung to the other as the only fixed point in a hateful universe.

Spock collapsed on Jim, pressing him into the mattress, covering Jim’s body with his own, shaking with the intense storm of feeling that was sweeping through him. As Jim felt Spock slip free from his body, he managed to turn himself in Spock’s embrace, cradling his love in his arms, feeling Spock tremble as he buried his face in the crook of Jim’s neck.

“I am sorry; I am so sorry,” Spock whispered, still shivering as he tried to come back to himself.

“It’s all right,” Jim whispered, rubbing Spock’s back soothingly as he held him tight. “I understand, love. It’s all right.” Gradually, both of their breathing returned to normal. Gradually, Spock stopped shaking.

“Did I...hurt you?” Spock finally whispered. “Oh, Jim, I am so sorry. I did not want to hurt you...”

“Shhh.” Jim kissed one pointed ear. “You didn’t hurt me, love, just the opposite.” He softly stroked the satin-smooth hair. “I felt your pain, your fear. I know what was driving you. It’s all right. I meant it. I am yours, no matter what happens, no matter who tries to tear me away from you.”

Spock sighed. “I felt...I had to take you, to possess you with all that I am.” He reached up and gently touched one purple mark on Jim’s neck. “I am sorry, t’hy’la; I marked you.”

Jim caught his hand in his own and kissed Spock’s finger tips. “It’s a mark I’m proud to wear,” he said gently. He pressed Spock’s head back down onto his shoulder. “Rest, love. It’s all right. We’re all right.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: Everything in Its Place

The next few days were both happy and unhappy. They stayed close to home as Dr. Piper had advised, resting and doing very little, loving the chance to be together with no interruptions or other obligations. The few times Jim left their apartment, Spock insisted on coming with him. Each of them was walking on eggshells—Spock was still trying to work through his fears, and Jim was trying very hard not to resent being smothered. The idea that he couldn’t walk to the bakery by himself was ludicrous, but Jim was afraid as well—not for himself but for Spock and their baby. He didn’t know how much more stress his mate could take. Finally, he knew he had to broach the subject.

“We need a moratorium,” he announced on the morning of their third day back from the hospital.

Spock tilted his head in that inquiring way he had. “A moratorium?”

“Yeah.” Jim sank down on the couch next to Spock. He took Spock’s hand, letting their fingers twine together. “For the next 24 hours,” he continued quietly, “you are to quit worrying. You don’t get to worry about anything or anyone, all right?”

“I am not...”

“Love, you are,” Jim replied gently. He reached up and traced that vertical line that only appeared between Spock’s brows when he was running on empty. “You are worrying so much I can almost see it hanging in the air like cobwebs, and you have to stop, for your sake and the baby’s. It’s not good for you, and it can’t be good for little K-S there.” He laid one hand on Spock’s stomach, feeling the slight thickness that had started developing there.

Spock looked down at his hands. “I know that I am failing in my emotional controls, failing at...” he stopped as Jim put a gentle finger on his lips.

“Nope, no worrying. That means no worrying about whether I’m safe; no worrying about whether you’re reacting ‘properly’; no worrying about whether I think you’re a failure because you’re not reacting ‘properly’; no worrying about your emotional controls and how they’re functioning; no worrying about that hickey you gave me last night or whether you should have given me two; no worrying about whether the baby will have enough math flash cards.” He put both arms around Spock’s neck, leaning until he could rest his head on his mate’s chest, sighing in contentment as he felt Spock’s arms go around him.

“Love, you’ve got to let it go,” he murmured. “Let Goebbels go. Let my mother go. He in jail, and she’s in Siberia as far as I’m concerned. And let go of your desperate struggle to be strong for me, or for Vulcan, or for whoever you’re trying to impress. You’ve had a terrible ten days, and I want you to admit that, and more important, accept it. Stop trying to stuff all those feelings into a little box labeled ‘inappropriate,’ and just accept that you’re changing, that you may have a whole new set of emotions to deal with, and you may have to develop a whole new set of coping skills. You’ll figure it out, but even if you don’t, I will always love you. And our baby will, too.” He knew he had finally tapped the real source of Spock’s unease when he felt his bond mate go almost boneless in his grasp. He squirmed until he sitting in Spock’s lap, stroking his mate’s hair and pressing his cheek to Spock’s, feeling the wetness there, knowing that Vulcans never cry, but half-Vulcans do when they’re pushed to their limit.

“It’s all right, love,” he murmured as he had a few days before. “It’s all right. We’re all right.”

Everything was better after that. Spock’s appetite came back with a vengeance, and Jim soon put Mr. Ling’s establishment on speed-dial on his link (he’d discovered they delivered). Spock started sleeping better, and while their sex life was still off the charts (thank you, hormones), their love-making was no longer frantic. Spock started meditating in the mornings again, and that crease between his eyebrows faded away. He even let Jim walk to the bakery by himself. Jim made the trip in record time, and Spock ate six croissants for breakfast, with strawberry jam and a whole pot of green tea.

“Did I tell you I’ve thought of some names?” Jim asked in a sleepy voice. Spock caressed the head that lay on his shoulder.

“No, you did not mention it. What names are you considering?”

“Now, we don’t have to use these names...”

“I understand, t’hy’la.” Spock almost smiled. “Do not worry; they cannot be that terrible, unless you are still considering ‘Skippy’ for a boy.”

Jim chuckled. “No, I’ve dumped that idea. And to tell the truth, I’ve only come up with girls’ names so far. I still think our little Kirk-Spock is a she.”

“Well, we should know at the next ultra-sound. In the interim, what names do you propose?”

“For the human name, I’d like to use Marie,” Jim said.

“Marie.” Spock tasted the syllables on his tongue. “That is quite pleasing. Is it a name in your family?”

Jim shook his head. “Nope.” He grinned shyly. “Actually, it’s the name of the first girl I was ever in love with.”

Spock felt a momentary twinge. “I...I see.”

Jim burst out laughing. “Oh, love, don’t sound so jealous.” He kissed Spock’s cheek. “We were five,” he explained. “She loved me as long as I gave her the cupcake out of my lunch. Once I decided that baked goods meant more to me than she did, she ignored me, and I moved on to Janet—or maybe it was Molly, or—yeah, that’s right. It was Emily. Oh, I loved Emily for at least a week. She had the most gorgeous green eyes—ouch!” He rubbed his butt where strong Vulcan fingers had just administered an admonitory pinch.

“T’hy’la, I think I have done human females everywhere a great service by—what is the human phrase—ah, yes, taking you off the market,” Spock said with mock-severity. “You are an incorrigible, fickle flirt.”

“Yes, but I’m your incorrigible, fickle flirt,” Jim murmured seductively, moving in for several more kisses. The subject of names was temporarily tabled.

“Did you decide on a Vulcan name?” Spock asked a good while later.

“Yep.” Jim looked a bit unsure. “I wondered—could we name her T’Lira? Would your cousin’s wife be all right with that? I know you said Vulcans didn’t name children after dead relatives, but after she was so nice about our baby...”

“I think that is an excellent choice,” Spock assured him, “and T’Lira will be honored. Marie T’Lira Kirk. It is a pleasing combination of names.”

Jim shook his head. “Nope, T’Lira Marie Kirk,” he said firmly. “The Vulcan name goes first.”

Spock hugged his mate, touched by the gesture. “Very well,” he whispered, starting yet another round of kisses. “T’Lira Marie.”

The next morning, they packed and got ready to return to the Enterprise. The ship was scheduled to leave orbit just before midnight local time.

“Oh, Hell.” Jim stopped in the middle of his packing.

“What is it, t’hy’la?” Spock asked, looking up from his own suitcase.

“I forgot to call Scotty. We were supposed to meet him on board the day...” Jim stopped. He hated to even say it, but Spock finished the phrase easily, more evidence of his increased emotional control.

“The day Goebbels took you.” Jim nodded.

“Yeah, he wanted us to come on board, said he needed my input on something. Damn, I forgot all about it.” He looked and felt guilty; Jim Kirk took his responsibilities seriously.

“Ashaya, do not worry.” Spock crossed the room and hugged his mate reassuringly. “I contacted Mr. Scott and let him know what had happened. He indicated that the input could wait until we returned to the ship.”

Jim sighed. “Thanks, love. I’d hate to have Scotty think I was neglecting him.” He returned Spock’s hug.

“You know,” he murmured, “I’m almost done with my packing, and we’re going back to those regulation bunks, so what do you say to giving that nice king-sized bed one more workout?” He felt Spock’s instant enthusiasm through their bond.

“You are an excellent time manager,” his mate whispered as he backed Jim towards the bed.

Despite the regulation bunks, it was good to be back on board. Jim and Spock stepped off the transporter platform to be greeted by Chief Kyle.

“Welcome back, Captain, Mr. Spock.” Kyle nodded to them both.

“Thank you, Mr. Kyle. Did you have a nice shore leave? How are your parents?” Jim remembered that Kyle had planned to go to Minnesota and visit his folks. His memory for that type of detail was just one of the reasons why Kirk’s crew would follow him anywhere.

“They’re both well, sir; thank you. I’m glad you’re all right, too,” Kyle said seriously. Like most of the crew, he had heard about Jim’s kidnapping.

“That makes three of us, Chief,” Jim said, feeling Spock’s silent agreement.

Neither Jim nor Spock made it to their quarters until just after departure time. Jim had been on the bridge, overseeing the departure from Spacedock and signing off on the myriad of forms that were necessary to keep Starfleet happy. Spock had escorted the dozen or so Vulcan passengers to their quarters and checked on all the supplies that had been beamed aboard for the colony. Both men were finished for the night at the same time and ended up meeting right outside the door of their joint quarters.

“Are you all right?” Jim asked. Spock nodded.

“I am a bit tired, but nothing out of the ordinary,” he replied. They stepped through the open door into their quarters.

“Are our Vulcan guests settled in?” Jim asked, going to his desk and checking his link for messages. He scrolled through them quickly, seeing nothing that couldn’t wait until the next day.

Spock nodded. “All are in their assigned quarters, and the inventory of supplies has been double-checked.”

“Good.” Jim yawned. “Time for bed. You go ahead, love. I’ll be there as soon as I check with the Bridge.” Spock nodded and proceeded into the other room.

“Jim!”

Jim hurried into their living area. Spock was standing in the middle of their bedroom, looking at the far wall. Jim stared over his shoulder.

“I don’t believe it.”

Jim’s sleeping quarters had been completely re-designed. The regulation bunk was gone; a double-sized bad on a storage platform stood in its place. The bulkhead that had filled one wall was also gone. Beyond that space-waster had been a tiny room that was supposed to be used for small meetings, but Jim had never liked it. Now, with the bulkhead gone, the whole area was larger and accessible through an open arch. As one, Jim and Spock stepped into the room.

Unlike the battleship gray of most of the walls, this room was painted a very soft, tender green, the color of new leaves. It was carefully and cleverly planned with built-in storage everywhere. The visible shelves were filled with teddy bears and educational toys from Baby Einstein, the same items Jim and Spock had shopped for and sent to the ship. Other wall spaces plainly held drawers and a closet for clothes and supplies. There was a large braided rug on the floor in shades of green and blue. In one corner stood a genuine wooden rocking chair with a plump blue and green plaid cushion and a soft green afghan draped over its back. A tag tied to the chair read “with Mr. Scott’s compliments.” Against the far wall was a beautiful crib, complete with bedding. Mr. Cuddles II sat proudly in the middle of the crib, waiting patiently for his soon-to-arrive playmate. A card tied to the crib’s post read, “From the godparents, Nyota and Pavel, with best wishes.” Hanging over the crib was a mobile of tiny stuffed starships, including, Jim noticed, one labeled ‘Enterprise.' The whole room was perfect in every detail.

Jim just stood there, feeling the tears coming to his eyes. He felt Spock put his arm around his shoulder, and he turned to look at his mate. Spock’s eyes were damp as well, but he didn’t seem to care.

“They did all this in two weeks,” Jim whispered.

“Indeed,” Spock replied softly. “Mr. Scott must have worked day and night to ensure that everything was completed.”

“Oh, Spock, it’s...it’s wonderful.” Jim couldn’t get over it. There was a place for everything their baby needed, and their child would be near them all the time.

For a long time, they just stood and looked at the room, visualizing their child there. At last, Jim turned to Spock.

“I’m glad we told people about the baby,” he said softly.

Spock gently kissed his mate’s temple. “I concur,” he replied, a smile in his eyes. “I definitely concur.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen: Vulcans, Vulcans Everywhere

The ship was full of Vulcans.

At least, that’s how it appeared to Jim. The Enterprise already had 38 Vulcan crew members, more than any other ship in the Fleet. Many Vulcans in Starfleet had resigned after the Narada disaster and gone ‘home’ to the new colony in order to help the remaining population rebuild their culture. Spock himself had toyed with that idea, only to be dissuaded by his elder counterpart (Jim made a mental note to thank Selik for that, again, the next time he saw him. He reminded himself to check the ship’s store for Godiva chocolates; Selik deserved only the best). Many Vulcans remaining in Starfleet had requested transfer to the Enterprise, feeling it was only ‘logical’ to serve under the man who had helped to defeat Nero. Thus the 38 Vulcans currently serving in every capacity from yeoman (T’Rina, the most efficient yeoman Kirk had ever known. She managed McCoy so beautifully he didn’t even realize it) to First Officer. Now, with 14 Vulcan passengers on board for the trip to New Vulcan, Jim felt like the ultimate Vulcan wrangler. He only hoped none of them gave Spock any shit about the baby, or Jim was going to be the first officer in the history of Starfleet to toss a Vulcan out an airlock.

He need not have worried.

Jim walked into the officers’ mess, dinner tray in hand, to find Spock sitting at a table with three of their Vulcan guests. He rose as Jim approached, as did the men with him. Jim quickly waved a hand.

“No, please. Don’t get up,” Jim said.

“Captain,” Salok, the eldest of the three, said, “I hope you will forgive this usurpation of the officers’ eating area. It is quieter here, and we wished to converse.”

Jim nodded. “You and your companions are free to use any non-restricted area of the ship,” he replied. “You are our guests, and we wish you to be comfortable.” He looked at Spock. “May I join you, or do you wish to continue your discussion in private?”

Spock shook his head, as did his companions. “By no means, Captain. Please, sit down.”

Jim made himself comfortable and glanced around the table, noting with secret pleasure that Spock was working his way through a generous plate of his favorite pasta. The other three Vulcans were enjoying some kind of bean-and-grain dish that looked a little like jambalaya without the seafood.

“Captain,” Salok said, “I understand that it is customary among humans to offer congratulations to both parents on the impending birth of a child. Therefore, I tender mine, with the hope that the child will be well and strong.”

“Indeed,” Ra’Vesti, one of the other men, chimed in. “All of us offer our congratulations upon this event.”

“Ummm....thank you,” Jim said. He glanced at Spock, who looked perfectly calm. Apparently their guests had already let Spock know they knew about the baby. “I am grateful for your good wishes.”

“And somewhat surprised by them?” Ra’Vesti asked with gentle humor.

Jim grinned. “Yeah, to tell the truth, I am.”

“We understand that the news was not greeted by universal rejoicing,” Salok said. “That is unfortunate. Life should always be welcomed.” He gestured at his companions. “At the same time, we are more inclined than some to be interested in this event, because we have all carried children ourselves.”

“Really?” Jim was again surprised. “I was given to understand that this process was fairly rare.”

The third man—Jim now remembered his name, S’Jenes—spoke up. “At one time that was so, Captain, although throughout our history, there have always been males who chose this path. Now, however, with the loss of so many of our people—” he waved aside Jim’s murmured sympathy. “Please, Captain, I did not bring up the subject in order to bring sorrow to the table. But the fact remains that all Vulcans who can do so have an obligation to help us preserve our race.’

Ra’Vesti nodded in agreement. “Indeed. I gave birth to my first child 14 standard months ago, and I am again carrying, although I am only a few weeks into the process.” He laid one hand on his stomach. “I am grateful that our biology allows us to help bring more Vulcan children into being.”

Yeah, but I’ve already been informed this child isn’t ‘really’ Vulcan, Jim thought before he could stop himself. A raised eyebrow let him know that Salok, at least, had caught that thought.

“The child will be Vulcan by law and by heritage,” he said simply. “Those who wish to quibble over how ‘Vulcan’ one needs to be should remember that it is not blood that makes an individual. It is the heart and the katra. You yourself are Vulcan, Captain, without a single drop of green blood.”

“You honor my bond mate, Salok,” Spock said quietly.

“As it should be.” Salok turned back to Spock. “Now, let us talk of other things.”

The wall comm. spoke. “Engineering to Captain Kirk.”

“Excuse me.” Kirk got up and answered the link. “Kirk here, Mr. Scott.”

“Sir, ye need to come down here. We hae a wee problem.”

Kirk exchanged glances with Spock, still seated at the table. “Something serious, Mr. Scott?”

“Nae, sir. Tis a...personnel problem.”

Oh, Christ, what did Crusher do now? “On my way. Kirk out.”

Spock rose. “Captain, do you wish me to...”

“No, Spock. There’s no need,” Kirk replied reassuringly. “Finish your meal and your conversation.” He inclined his head towards the Vulcans. “Gentlemen, thank you for your good wishes.” With that, Kirk was gone to do his duty as he always did.

By the time Jim had helped Mr. Scott chew Ensign Crusher a new one (for God’s sake, even a first-week cadet should know that a red indicator light means “something-is-fucking-wrong”), it was almost 2200 hours. Jim headed to his quarters, hoping Spock was there instead of in a lab or holed up with their Vulcan passengers.

His luck held. Spock was curled up on the sofa in their living area. He rose to greet Jim with an embrace. “Ummmm,” Jim said appreciatively as he once again enjoyed the feeling of ‘home’ that Spock’s arms around him always produced. “Good evening, ashaya.”

“Good evening,” Spock replied with a kiss. “I am glad you are back, t’hy’la.”

“I know; I missed you, too. I got spoiled being with you all the time when we were on Earth.”

“I am always with you, t’hy’la; you know that.”

“Yeah,” Jim whispered, nibbling on a pointed ear, “but not like this.” He could feel Spock’s barely restrained arousal wash through him, adding to his own desire.

“No, ashaya. Not like this.”

Talking—or at least intelligible talking—ceased for a time.

“So,” Jim asked as they lay tangled together in their wonderful new bed, basking in the afterglow, “what did you discuss with the Stork Club?”

“T’hy’la,” Jim could hear the laughter in Spock’s voice, “birds do not bring babies—not even on Earth and most certainly not on Vulcan.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me that Vulcan parents don’t have a story to tell little kids about where babies come from.”

“Jim, there would be no logical reason to create a fictional anecdote to explain a perfectly normal biological function...”

Jim rolled over and pinned his bond mate to the mattress. “Tell me or I’ll tickle your ears,” he threatened, loving the flush that spread over Spock’s face. Jim knew just how horny ear-tickling made his Vulcan.

“Jim...”

“T-minus 10 seconds to a tickle war.”

“Jim....”

“9, 8, 7, 6....”

“My parents told me a sehlat left me in the garden,” Spock capitulated and confessed.

Jim collapsed on top of his love, laughing his head off.

“Jim, it was a quite logical explanation,” Spock protested. “After all, sehlats are known for their love of infants, and...”

“Oh, my God,” Jim gasped. “You, the Vulcan scientist, taken in by that story.”

“I was only three years of age,” Spock replied with dignity. “By the time I was five, I had hacked into my parents’ computer and found the relevant information, since I was concerned that I-Chaya, my pet sehlat, was going to leave me to go into the desert and bring me back a sibling, which I did not desire to have.”

Jim chuckled, but then he stopped. “Spock,” he said gently, stroking back the hair from his bond mate’s brow, “why didn’t you want a sibling? Most kids I knew did. I know I asked Santa to bring me a little sister.”

Spock looked faintly uncomfortable, but he knew Jim would press him for an answer. “When I was a child, other children were not....friendly towards me,” he admitted. “In my childish logic, I reasoned that a sibling would not like me, either.”

“Oh, Spock.” It was again brought home to Jim just how lonely his mate had been. He bent down and kissed Spock’s forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you when we were kids,” he said. “I would have been your friend; I promise you that.”

Spock reached up and traced the contours of his love’s face. “I doubt it not,” he replied tenderly.

Jim laid his head down on Spock’s chest with a sigh. “So, what did you and the other Vulcan parents talk about?”

“They wished to offer their advice and assistance, since they have all been through this experience and I have not,” Spock explained.

Jim felt a warm glow of thankfulness towards his passengers. “That’s very thoughtful of them,” he said. He rolled off of Spock and snuggled close to his side. “I’m glad you’ll have someone with experience to talk to.”

“Grrrrr.”

Jim sat bolt upright in bed. “What the Hell was that?”

‘Grrgggullge.”

“Spock?”

Spock looked as embarrassed as he ever did. “That was...my stomach,” he finally admitted. “I seem to be hungry—again.” He sighed with patient resignation.

Jim burst into laughter again. “I’ll give you this, t’hy’la; living with you is never boring.” He hopped out of bed. “Stay put. I have a surprise.” He hurried into their living area and was back in moments with a small plate and a napkin.

“Here.” Jim climbed into bed and fluffed the pillows behind Spock’s back as his mate sat up.

Spock looked at the plate’s contents. “Jim...are these...?”

Jim nodded proudly. “Mr. Ling’s spring rolls,” he confirmed. “I ordered a boatload of them, had them flash-frozen, and had the quartermaster ship them on board and mark them for our replicator only. There should be enough to hold you for a month or so,” he teased.

Spock looked at him. “Jim...that is the kindest, most thoughtful...You are the very best bond mate in the universe,” he finished softly.

Jim shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I have the very best bond mate in the universe.” The tender moment was broken by another ungodly noise from Spock’s midsection.

Jim chuckled. “Eat your spring rolls, ashaya, before it’s too late. Your stomach sounds like it’s ready to go to war.”

Jim and Spock were in Sickbay, where McCoy was about to do a second ultra-sound. Jim had insisted on coming along this time, because McCoy was confident that the “pre-infant” as Jim insisted on calling it, would be developed enough for various features to be readily visible—perhaps even the child’s gender.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally getting a bit fatter,’ McCoy said as he ran the scanner over Spock’s midsection as he reclined on an examining table.

“Doctor, I am not getting fat,” Spock snapped. Jim looked at him, surprised. McCoy just chuckled.

“Yep, hormones working great.” He actually patted Spock’s shoulder. “You’re not getting fat, but you are gaining some weight, which is as it should be, and it’s beginning to show in your midsection, which is also as it should be,” he explained. “Now don’t start dieting on me, Spock; your baby needs the nourishment.”

Jim stroked the hand he was holding. “You look wonderful, ashaya,” he said tenderly.

“You still find me...appealing?”

Jim leaned down and caressed Spock’s cheek. “Didn’t I just prove that last night?”

“Oh, sweet mother of God, could you two manage to go five minutes without making me nauseated?” McCoy asked the ceiling. “Spock, you’re beautiful. Jim thinks so; I think so; the whole ship thinks so.” He decided to quickly change the subject. “Here; look on the monitor.”

Jim and Spock peered at the screen in fascination as McCoy kept scanning. The images were crisp and vivid.

“There’s the head—nice and big, lots of room for brains. There’s—yep, you get your wish, Jim, pointed ears. Arms look good; torso looks like it’s developing well.” McCoy paused for a moment. “Do you two still want to know the gender?”

Jim looked at Spock; Spock looked at Jim. “Yes,” they said simultaneously.

“OK, here we go.” McCoy moved the scanning wand and looked into the screen. “um...hmmm,,,yes, I can see every evidence that...”

“Oh for God’s sake, Bones, quit stalling,” Jim said.

McCoy looked up and grinned at them both. “To coin a traditional phrase—congratulations, you two; it’s a girl.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen: Unbelievable Revelations

“Jim, I’ve got a problem.”

It was late, at least 2100 hours, and Bones had contacted Jim in his quarters and asked him to come to McCoy’s cabin. Spock was off bonding with the Vulcan Seahorse Society, as Jim now insisted on calling it, so Jim was free. And scared half to death. What did McCoy want?

“Problem?” Jim’s stomach fell right through the floor. “Oh, God. Is it the baby? Is she all right? Is Spock all right? Oh, God, Bones, what aren’t you telling...”

“Jesus, Jim, calm down. Everything in the universe is not tied to Spock’s belly.” McCoy rolled his eyes. “Your little—what are you calling her? T’Lira? Thank God; at least I can pronounce that—is fine. Spock is fine. Actually, Spock is better than I expected, considering all the shit you put him through when you two were on Earth.”

“All the shit I put him through? I didn’t ask to be run over or kidnapped, or...”

“Ok, ok. Calm down, Jim.” McCoy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry; I started this conversation all wrong. The baby is fine. I asked you down here because I have a problem.” Bones looked—bashful? Since when was he bashful? “It’s a....personal problem.”

Jim sank into a chair. “Sorry, Bones. You’re right. It’s not all about me. But Jesus, you scared me out of a year’s growth.” He sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any of that sippin’ whiskey handy, do you?”

McCoy grinned. “Picked up a fresh supply during my leave.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle and two glasses, pouring them each a measure. He pushed one glass across the desk and raised his own. “To T’Lira Marie Kirk, future genius repeat offender—or future matriarch of New Vulcan, depending.”

Jim raised his glass as well, his eyes damp. “Thanks, Bones.”

They drank in companionable silence for a moment, enjoying the whiskey’s mellow bite. Then Jim set his glass back on the desk.

“All right. Now, what’s this ‘personal problem’ you need help with?”

Bones looked down at his glass. “It’s....Oh, Jesus, I never thought anything would be this hard...”

“Bones? Hey, it’s me—Jim. You know, the guy you barfed on after your flight simulator, the guy you’d had to nurse through a dozen allergy attacks, the guy you had to treat for five kinds of alien STDs you’d never even heard of, the guy you had to use forceps on to get that glass dildo from Risa out of my...”

“Oh my sweet God, don’t drag me down memory lane.” Bones laughed, equilibrium restored. “You’re right. Compared to that, this is nothing.” He took a deep breath. “The thing is, Jim—I’m in love.”

Jim sat, waiting for the punch line. It didn’t come.

“You’re in love.” Bones simply nodded. “Um, Bones, last time I checked, you hated women.”

“I never hated women,” Bones protested. “I just hate my bitch of an ex-wife, and I don’t really hate her; I hate her fucking lawyer.”

“Point taken,” Jim laughed. “Ok, so you’re in love. Why is that a problem?”

“Because...it’s T’Rina.”

Again, Jim waited for a punch line that never came. “T’Rina.”

“Yep.”

“Your yeoman.”

“Sho’ nuff.”

“Your Vulcan yeoman.”

“Last time I checked her ears.”

“You hate Vulcans.”

“I do not hate Vulcans; I hate Spock.” They grinned at each other, both knowing Bones didn’t mean a word of that.

“Well, then, what’s the problem?”

“Oh, Jesus, Jim, where do I start?” McCoy ran a hand through his hair. “For one thing, she’s a yeoman. Our ranks are too far apart.”

Jim shrugged. “Granted, but as of the next promotions list, she’ll be a lieutenant. She’s too damned smart to keep washing your test tubes and organizing your padds. I’m promoting her and giving her a new job in Xenobiology. Since you’re a lieutenant commander, your ranks will only be one grade apart. Besides, the fraternization rules only apply if one party is being coerced or pressured into a quid pro quo situation, and I’d like to see you do that to any Vulcan.”

McCoy breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s what I thought, but I wanted to hear it from my commanding officer.” He looked at Jim inquiringly. “So you’re promoting her?”

“Yeah,” Jim grinned. “I should warn you, Bones, in a year she’ll probably be running this ship. So if you’ve always dreamed of sleeping with your captain but just never had the opportunity...” He batted his eyelashes at McCoy.

“Oh, please. If I wanted to nail you, I’d have done it at the Academy.” Bones drew another deep breath. “The thing is...I haven’t approached her. She doesn’t know I’m interested.” He looked at Jim pleadingly. “You managed to bag yourself a Vulcan, Jim. What the Hell do I do?”

“You’re asking me?” Jim laughed. “Bones, I got Spock. He and T’Rina are nothing alike. He’s male; she’s female. He’s half-human; she’s uber-Vulcan, as far as I can see.”

“Well, you’re the only one I can think to ask. I’m certainly not asking the hobgoblin how you caught him. He’d probably give me a 2-hour lecture on your sexual kinks, complete with diagrams.” Bones shook his head in total frustration. “Come on, Jim. There has to be something you can tell me.”

Jim took pity on his friend. “Look, Bones, all I can tell you is, don’t play games, the kind of games humans play, none of the whole ‘I’m pretending I don’t like you’ or ‘I’m flirting with someone else to make you jealous’ games. If you pretend you don’t like her, she’ll assume you don’t. If you flirt with someone else, she’ll either ignore it, or if she is interested, she’ll nerve-pinch whoever you’re flirting with, and I’ll have to throw her in the brig. You’ve got to be honest and direct about your feelings and patient with her while she figures hers out.” Jim grinned. “Or you can do what I did with Spock—get her to almost kill you, play chess with her for six months, and then get her drunk out of her mind on cocoa and jump her. Just a note: the points of their ears are really sensitive. And their hands. And their nipples—at least Spock’s are. And their....”

“La, la, la, la!” Bones had his hands over his ears. “Enough, Jim. I didn’t ask for a manual.”

“Well, if you need one, you’re welcome to borrow my Kama Sutra...”

“Jim!”

“Ok, enough said.” Jim got to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to my Vulcan. Oh, and Bones?”

“Yeah.”

“Good luck.” Jim said it without a smile. “I think she’s wonderful, and I think you deserve some happiness.”

“Thanks, Jim.”

“And the Kama Sutra is on the third shelf in my bedroom, right next to the...”

“Never mind!”

“So, what did you and the Seahorse Society do last night?” Jim asked over breakfast. They were eating in their quarters. Spock was having porridge, fruit—and six spring rolls. Jim just smiled to himself and made a mental note to order more from Mr. Ling the next time they were back on Earth.

“We discussed various child-raising theories, both Vulcan and human.” Spock took another spring roll. “Did you know there was a 20th century human child care expert named Dr. Spock?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I am not.” Spock swallowed one spring roll and reached for another. “I intend to look at his findings, but I will probably rely heavily on T’Nara’s thoroughly-researched instruction manual on raising a Vulcan child with Surak’s precepts.”

“That sounds....like a good idea,” Jim said dubiously, “but Spock, she will be part human as well. You’re not going to try to raise her wholly Vulcan, are you?”

Spock gave his mate a reassuring glance. “Of course not. T’Lira will be unique, and she will require unique methods in order to successfully raise her to adulthood. I simply wish to have reliable information to draw on as I experience parenthood. Of course, her thought processes are already strikingly Vulcan in orientation, so...”

“Her what?”

“Her thought processes. They are non-verbal at this point, but my contacts with her mind have revealed that the basic structure and content of her thoughts...”

“You are talking with our child.” Jim’s voice was flat. Spock looked up, surprised.

“Talking is a misnomer,” he replied. “She does not yet have words, and of course, her only frame of reference is her environment, which is limited at this time. I am simply developing our mental links, developing...”

“Developing a relationship with our child, and not only am I locked out, but you didn’t even think to tell me about it.” Jim got to his feet slowly, wearily, moving as if he were in pain.

“Jim, that was not the intention...”

“Save it,” Jim interrupted. “Just save it. You’re shutting me out again, like you always do, only now you’re doing it for our kid, too.” He looked at Spock in total bewilderment and deep hurt. “I’m beginning to wonder if you need me for anything except orgasms.” He turned and walked out, leaving Spock sitting alone.

It didn’t take long for half the ship to know that the two of them were fighting—again. Bones tried to talk to Jim and got told to fuck off for his pains. The Bridge crew became incredibly interested in their instrument panels while Jim and Spock were both on duty. At the end of shift, Jim stalked off the bridge like a pissed-off Persian, and Spock slipped off the Bridge like an alley cat who had been caught digging in the garbage. Everyone left on the Bridge let out a collective sigh of relief. It sounded like someone had fired up a dozen tea kettles.

Salok hesitated as he walked into the officers’ mess and saw Spock alone at a far table, punishing whatever was on his plate by stabbing it repeatedly with his fork, but eating nothing. Salok looked at him, noting the pallor and tense shoulders. There were privacy strictures that should be observed, of course, but in this case, they would have to be left on the shelf. Salok walked over and stood in front of Spock’s table.

“Spock? May I sit down?”

Spock looked up and attempted to give a polite response. “If that is your wish.” Even to him, his voice sounded utterly sad.

Salok settled in and glanced at Spock’s plate. “It would seem that your appetite is not optimal this evening.”

“Indeed.” Spock pushed his plate away.

“Spock, I will not indulge in small talk,” Salok said. “It has come to my attention that you and your bond mate have had a disagreement.” He gave the younger man a kindly look. “It is true that I have very little experience in dealing with humans, especially in an intimate setting, but I will listen if you wish to talk.”

Spock hesitated for a moment, but misery won out over pride. “I am grateful,” he said and explained to Salok what had happened at breakfast. The older man was silent for a moment.

“Spock,” he said at last, “I can understand why you had not mentioned your newly formed bond with T’Lira to your bond mate. I remember when I first felt S’Tarok, my son, in my mind. It is a very special moment. At the same time, James’ concerns are valid even if he expressed them in a somewhat inappropriate fashion. As a human, he does not have, and most likely will not have, the easy access to his daughter’s mind that you enjoy merely as an accident of biology. I think that you must make a greater effort to bring him in, so to speak, and as much as possible allow him to share in the link between you and your child. What if after T’Lira is born, you were ill or injured? Would you wish her to be alone in her mind because you had not helped James make the necessary mental connections?”

Spock dropped his head, sick at heart as the truth of Salok’s words hit home. “You are correct,” he said quietly. “I have been selfish.” He knotted his hands together, trying to hide the way they were shaking as his feelings of sorrow and regret for hurting Jim swept through him. He was startled when Salok’s hand settled over his.

“Spock, you are too hard on yourself,” the older Vulcan noted gently. “This is a difficult time, and yet you expect to perform just as you would if you were not carrying.”

Spock looked up to meet Salok’s gaze. “I...I feel that my control is inadequate.”

Salok’s lips twitched. “On the contrary, based on what I have seen, your control is exceptional.” He patted Spock’s hand and sat back. “Spock, when I was carrying my son, I once threw a bowl of spimikan porridge at my bond mate because I felt it was over-salted. If I remember correctly, I also informed her that it was obvious that she cared for neither me nor our child, since she was trying to poison us with an abundance of sodium.”

Spock looked at him. After a long moment, one corner of his mouth twitched. “I have yet to throw anything at my bond mate.”

“See? As I said, exceptional control.” Salok’s cool tone belied the humor in his eyes. “Spock, for those of us who choose to carry, this time is a bit like pon farr, except that it lasts longer than two to four days. Our emotions are close to the surface, and no matter how we try, we cannot always keep them in check. You have erred with James in the matter of the link, but it does not mean that you are a failure, and as for your feelings, the cause is sufficient.” He looked at the congealing mess on Spock’s plate. “Now, may I suggest that you obtain some more palatable food, consume it, and then go find your mate?”

Spock nodded, feeling the stress of the day recede. “Thank you, Salok. Your suggestion is quite logical.”

Spock slipped into their quarters, wondering if Jim would even be there. The lights were dim, and as he moved into their bedroom, he could see Jim’s form under the blankets. Spock quietly got ready for sleep and then eased himself into bed. Jim’s back was to him, but Spock felt that he was awake. Steeling himself, Spock laid a hand on his bond mate’s shoulder.

“Jim?”

For a moment, there was no response. Then Jim spoke. “I wasn’t sure you’d be back tonight.” He sounded as unsure as Spock felt, and all of Spock’s residual unhappiness melted away. He moved closer to Jim, spooning the human’s body and softly kissing the nape of Jim’s neck.

“There is nowhere else I could be,” he replied gently. “I am sorry, Jim. You were right.”

Jim rolled over abruptly, pulling Spock into a desperate embrace and burying his face in his bond mate’s neck. “No,” he said, his voice choked with the tears Spock could feel dampening his neck. “No. I was wrong. I was so angry and selfish and stupid. Oh, God, Spock, why do I keep hurting you? Why do you put up with it?”

“Hush,” Spock murmured tenderly, cupping Jim’s head in his hand and tilting his mate’s face up to his own. “Hush.” He gently kissed the tears from Jim’s eyes. “You did not hurt me, ashaya; I hurt us. You are right; I was selfishly hoarding our daughter to myself, reveling in our new bond without even thinking of you. You have been so good to me all these weeks. You have no reason to reproach yourself and every right to feel hurt. But believe me, t’hy’la, I need you; I need you for so much more than orgasms.” He let a hint of humor color his voice. “Not that you do not give spectacular orgasms, of course.”

Jim choked out a laugh through his tears. “I’m still sorry,” he whispered, his hand beginning to stroke Spock’s stomach. “I was awful to you, and I’m sorry.”

“You were honest, and I am the one who is sorry.” Spock kissed Jim’s temple. “Go to sleep, my love. Tomorrow, we are going to meld, and I will ‘introduce’ you to our daughter.”

“Truly?”

“Of course. I....” Spock stopped as he felt it. Jim’s hand stopped too as he caught the sudden flutter.

“Spock,” Jim’s voice was hushed. “Did she...?”

“Yes,” Spock murmured, smiling in the darkness. “Yes, ashaya. She kicked.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen: Stranger Things Have Happened

Jim woke early the next morning, still wrapped in Spock’s arms. Jim was pleased to see that Spock was still asleep, his body curled up comfortably next to his bond mate’s. Jim felt a warm glow all the way through his body. He remembered when they had first become lovers, how Spock had slept on the very edge of the bed, never touching Jim unless they were actually having sex. Jim had thought it was because Spock didn’t like cuddling, and frankly, Jim had been hurt. It was only when he discovered that Spock loved cuddling, but he hadn’t wanted to burden Jim with his “illogical” need for physical contact, that they had started sleeping in each other’s arms. Thinking about their argument the day before, Jim suddenly realized just how far their relationship had come. They still fought; God only knew that they would probably always fight, but they were both willing to reach out, just as Jim had once reached out to Spock and pulled him into the center of the bed. As long as they were willing to reach, they would be all right.

Gently, not wanting to wake his bond mate but still craving the contact, Jim let his fingers trail across Spock’s stomach, noting the newly rounded shape. It was still quite subtle, but for someone who knew Spock’s body as well as Jim did, the slight curve was apparent. Jim caressed that slightly oval curve, still amazed that a baby—his baby—was growing inside Spock’s body, that in a few months, they would have a daughter, their own child, Silently, Jim resolved then and there that his daughter would never feel unwanted, that T’Lira would know from the moment of her birth just how very much Jim loved her.

“She will know that long before her birth,” said a sleepy voice in Jim’s ear.

“Good morning, t’hy’la.” Jim kissed his mate’s cheek. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You did not,” Spock assured him, returning the kiss. “I had mentally prepared myself to awaken by 0630 so that we could meld. Since you are off-duty today, it seems like the logical time to meld, as you will require extra sleep afterwards.”

Jim hesitated. “Spock,” he said softly, “if you do not want to meld right now, I’ll understand. I can see why you would want to form a close bond with T’Lira; after all, you’re the one carrying her, and if her thought patterns are really Vulcan, perhaps a human will just confuse her or short out her wiring, or mess her up in some way...” he stopped as Spock placed two fingers over his lips.

“Jim, your thoughts will not ‘mess up’ our daughter, and you will assuredly not short-circuit her in any way,” he said tenderly. “I am sorry I ever gave you the impression that I was trying to keep her mind from yours. As Salok pointed out to me, she needs to know both her parents. In case anything should ever happen to me, she will need to be able to bond with you mentally as she grows.”

Jim felt a cold chill run through him. “Don’t say that.”

Spock gently stroked his bond mate’s cheek. “I am not planning on anything happening to me, but you should have the opportunity to get to know her now, not wait until she is here and then try to establish a relationship. Even if I were simply asleep or on duty, she may need mental contact that I cannot supply at that moment, and it is only logical that she be able to get that from her other parent.”

Jim nodded. “Makes sense.” He sat up. “All right. Let me get some coffee into me, and we’ll do that meld thing.” He knew that Spock preferred to meld on an empty stomach; he claimed that gave hiss thoughts greater clarity and focus.

“I will be ready when you are, ashaya.”

One large mug of coffee later, Jim and Spock were facing each other, sitting cross-legged on Spock’s meditation mat, Vulcan incense burning and the lights turned low. Spock had placed privacy blocks on both the door and the comm. links. A meld required quiet and privacy, especially one this significant.

Spock reached out and laid his fingers against Jim’s face in the ancient position, lightly touching the psi points. “My mind to your mind,” he intoned softly. “My thoughts to your thoughts...”

It took very little time; their bond had made melding almost as easy and natural as embrace. Within moments, Jim’s mind was joined with Spock’s.

T’hy’la? What am I looking for? Jim ‘glanced’ around Spock’s mind, but he did not see anything he had not encountered before. Spock was beside him, appearing as he always did in the over-world, a slight blue glow surrounding his astral body. Jim’s glow was a light gold.

Wait, ashaya. Spock’s mind voice was amused. She is sleeping. I will let her know we are here. There was a pause and then Spock ‘spoke’ again.

Look ashaya. Look down.

Jim ‘glanced’ down, to see a small, vaguely egg-shaped form at his ‘feet.’ It was glowing a soft lavender color.

Is that....is that T’Lira?

Indeed. She does not yet have a physical form, because she has never seen an infant and does not know what they look like. Try to touch her. Spock’s mental voice was encouraging.

In this world where thoughts shaped actions, Jim ‘knelt’ down and ‘reached’ out a hand to the glowing oval. Its glow brightened as he gently ‘touched’ it with his mental hand.

Hello, little one, Jim mind-spoke. Hello, T’Lira. I am James. I am your father.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Jim felt it, the faintest brush against his mind, curiosity and a vague friendliness mingling together. He remained silent, letting the consciousness brush against this mind, feeling the indistinct thoughts flash across his own brain. For what could have been minutes or hours, he drifted, letting this new soul explore him as she wished.

Finally, Spock ‘touched’ him on his shoulder. She tires, he said gently. We should go now.

All right. Jim gave one last mental ‘pat’ to the glowing oval. Good-bye, little one. I will see you again.

With that, the meld dissolved. Jim found himself back in their quarters, kneeling opposite Spock, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes.

Spock reached forward and brushed away Jim’s tears. He folded Jim into his arms, and they knelt together for a time.

“Thank you,” Jim murmured. “Thank you, love. She’s beautiful.”

“Of course she is,” Spock murmured back. “She is just like her father.”

Two nights later, Spock was alone in their quarters while Jim sat in his ready room and dealt with yet another call from Admiral Bullock, who seemed determined to make Jim’s life as miserable as he could from several light-years away. Secretly, Spock hated the fact that he could not sit in on those calls, but he understood that doing so would give the impression that Jim could not handle the responsibilities inherent in being captain of the Enterprise, and Spock would do nothing to undermine his authority. He knew that some people at Headquarters still felt that he, Spock, should be captaining the Enterprise. Spock did not agree. Jim had talents Spock would never have, and he had proved time and again that his success in defeating Nero had not been a fluke. So Spock let Jim deal with Bullock alone, simply standing ready to soothe the inevitable migraine headache that these calls produced.

The door chime buzzed. “Enter,” Spock called, looking up from his padd. Yeoman T’Rina stood in the doorway.

“Good evening, Commander,” she said. “Is it convenient for you to speak with me at this time?”

Spock rose to his feet and gestured for her to enter. “Indeed, Yeoman.”

“Thank you.” She inclined her head and entered the room. T’Rina was small and fine-boned, looking far more delicate than she actually was because of Vulcan strength. Her most outstanding features were her eyes, a vivid green, quite rare among Vulcans.

Spock motioned T’Rina to a seat. “May I offer you refreshment?” he asked politely.

“No, I thank you,” she replied with equal politeness. “I wish to seek your advice on a personal matter.”

One eyebrow rose. “Indeed. What advice can I offer?”

She sat calmly, hands folded in her lap as she regarded Spock from across his desk. “Dr. McCoy has indicated a desire to pursue a personal relationship with me.”

“A personal relationship.”

“Yes.” T’Rina didn’t fidget; that would be illogical. “He has informed me that he finds me both physically compelling and intellectually compatible, and he wishes to frequently interact with me socially with a view to eventual physical and emotional intimacy, possibly leading to sexual intercourse and/or a semi-permanent or even permanent state of cohabitation.” T’Rina paused for a moment. “In human terms, he wishes to date me.”

The eyebrow was getting a workout. “That is...unexpected news.”

T’Rina nodded. “It was to me as well, although now that I consider his previous actions in light of this proposal, many formerly incomprehensible gestures make sense.”

“I see.” Spock wasn’t sure what to say next, so he went with the obvious. “Would your family object to you forming a relationship with a human?”

T’Rina shook her head. “My parents did not survive the attack on our home planet,” she said quietly.

“I grieve with thee,” Spock replied softly. He had suspected that this was the case, but he had never asked, and she had not volunteered the information.

T’Rina inclined her head. “Thank you, Commander. My parents would most likely have been content with whatever choice I made; they did not bond me as a child. They believed that I had a better chance of finding a compatible partner if I chose that individual rather than letting them do so.” She paused. “My clan mother is actually T’Pau; my family is of a distant branch, but they are part of your Clan.”

“I did not realize that; my apologies.” Spock felt faintly guilty. “I should have explored our kinship before now; T’Rina; I was remiss.” Since she was part of Spock’s Clan, using her name now seemed appropriate. They spent a few minutes exploring their familial links, discovering that T’Rina’s father and Sarek had been fifth cousins.

“In any event,” T’Rina continued, “it would be illogical of T’Pau to object if I did take a human consort, since the precedent has already been set.”

“Indeed.” Spock decided it was time to mention the other possible difficulty.

“Is the captain aware of this situation?”

Now T’Rina’s eyebrow got the workout. “It is not precisely a situation, Commander, but yes, Captain Kirk and I have already spoken, and I have signed Form 447-E-52, indicating that Dr. McCoy’s advances to me do not constitute harassment or a hostile work environment.”

“I see,” Spock said again. “Very, well, T’Rina. What assistance do you need from me?”

T’Rina hesitated. “I should state at the outset, Spock, that if any of the questions I ask overstep the bounds of privacy, I of course will understand if you decline to answer.”

“Acknowledged,” Spock replied. “What information do you seek?”

“While I have worked with humans and even interacted with them on social occasions, I have never spent time with one for the possible purpose of mating,” T’Rina explained precisely. “Since you are bonded to a human, I anticipated that your knowledge and experience may assist me in understanding the human male’s courtship rituals.”

Spock was glad his controls were still sufficient to prevent him from breaking into hysterical laughter at the thought of assisting Leonard McCoy in developing a romantic relationship. “I see,” he replied, noting that his conversational gambits were surprisingly monotonous this evening. “So this assistance will be on-going?’

T’Rina tilted her head and regarded her superior. “It may be,” she agreed. “I had not thought of that. However, I can assure you that I will not make a nuisance of myself.”

“I have no fear of that,” Spock assured her. He rose. “I find that I am in need of tea,” he announced. “Are you certain that I cannot offer you a drink as well?”

T’Rina considered for a moment. “Since you are preparing tea for yourself, I would enjoy some as well.” She sat quietly while Spock dialed up the tea and returned to the desk with two mugs.

“Very well,” Spock said. “What questions do you have?”

“I am puzzled by many of Leonard’s mannerisms,” she responded promptly. “For example, when we work together, he is constantly insisting that he should carry items for me or open heavy drawers in the lab, when the truth is that my strength and ability to carry heavy weights is considerably superior to his.”

“The answer to that is simple,” Spock replied, glad that it was simple. “Dr. McCoy was raised in a culture that viewed women as fragile and in need of protection. Even though that concept has long since been outmoded, remnants of it are present in his interactions with all females, no matter what species.”

“Ah. He is being chivalrous.”

“Indeed.”

“I do not like it.”

Spock smothered a smile. It would never do to let this youngling know just how amusing she was.

“Then you need to tell him so.” Spock paused for another sip of tea. “I have found that honesty is a very important component of a relationship, and that problems frequently arise when one party is being disingenuous.”

T’Rina thought about that for a moment. “But...will that not hurt his feelings?”

“You are concerned about that?”

There was a faint green flush on her cheekbones. “It would not be logical to do so.”

Another hidden grin. Spock found it quite encouraging that she was already concerned about McCoy’s feelings. “I think you will find, T’Rina, that humans, while possessing emotions that are easily upset, are also quite resilient.” Spock thought for a moment. “Humans are not all of a piece, of course. While I will be willing to offer advice where I can, I believe that if you are interested in pursuing this relationship, you will have to do so and, as humans might say, let the chips fall where they may.”

T’Rina looked puzzled. “Snack foods are involved?”

“You may also wish to research human idioms, Yeoman.”

“Very well, Your advice is sound.” T’Rina rose from her chair. “Spock?”

“Yes?”

She hesitated for a moment. “A relationship with a human...is it worth it?”

Spock allowed a smile to reach his eyes. “That is an individual decision, T’Rina, but I have found it to be so.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Spock.”

“You are welcome, kinswoman.”

“I understand Dr. McCoy is attempting to woo Yeoman T’Rina.”

Jim lifted his head from Spock’s shoulder. “Did Bones tell you that?”

“Indeed, no. The young lady came to me earlier this evening. She wished advice on how to deal with an emotional human.” Spock punctuated his words with a tender pinch to Jim’s butt.

“Owww. Rotten Vulcan,” Jim chuckled, returning the pinch. “So, did you tell her that human males are paragons of sexual prowess?”

A raised eyebrow in the darkness. “Why would I tell her something so patently untrue, t’hy’la?”

“Why, you....” Jim was trying to sound tough even as he smothered his laughter. “Those are fighting words, you know.”

“Indeed? Then prove me wrong.”

Jim did so—thoroughly.

“I take back what I said about human sexual prowess,” Spock murmured a very long time later.

“Good.” Jim yawned and shifted, making himself comfortable on his Vulcan pillow. “So what did you actually tell T’Rina?”

Spock kissed Jim’s hair. “I told her that a relationship with a human was...worth it.”

“Well, that’s almost an endorsement.” Jim chuckled. They were silent for a few minutes, drifting towards sleep.

“Do you suppose they’ll end up bonding?” Jim asked sleepily.

Spock kissed his love’s brow once more. “Stranger things have happened, ashaya.”

“Yeah.” Jim’s words were cut off by a huge yawn. “Look at us. You courted me by trying to....YAWN....strangle me...” He was asleep.

Spock pulled his mate closer and allowed himself to drift as well. Yes, stranger things had happened.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20: Welcome to Vafer-Tor

“Love, I hate to say it, but you’re going to need new tunics,” Jim noted as he watched Spock get dressed the next morning. The baby was making her presence known, and Spock’s tunics were riding up just a bit in front, showing the bottom edge of that outward curve. Jim privately thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, but Spock probably would not want to let his tummy hang out for all the ship to see.

Spock turned around from the mirror. “Why would you hate to say it?” he inquired.

“Um, because you almost took McCoy’s head off the other day when he said you were getting fatter?”

“That was McCoy,” Spock replied calmly. “I do not care if you think I am getting fatter. It indicates that you are observing me closely and monitoring the health of our child.”

Jim shook his head. He hoped that by the end of this process he would actually understand Vulcan baby-making hormones. “Well, I’m glad you’re not offended,” he replied. He wrapped his arms around Spock’s waist and slipped his hand under the tunic edge, gently caressed the baby bulge, loving the feel of that smooth, warm skin beneath his palm. “You’re so gorgeous I can hardly keep my hands off you,” Jim murmured, kissing the back of Spock’s neck.

“Why should you have to?” Spock leaned back into his love’s embrace.

“Because we’re arriving at New Vulcan today, and I’ve got to go play starship captain, diplomat, and—oh, yeah—ak’ghar to Sarek.” Jim used the word for “son by bond not blood.”

“T’hy’la, you know that custom demands that we stay with him while we are at the colony,” Spock said.

“Oh, I know, and I’m fine with it, as long as he doesn’t start a lot of shit about the baby,” Jim said firmly. He brightened. “On the other hand, I’ll get to see Selik again.”

Spock spoke hesitantly, “You are...very attached to Selik, are you not?”

Jim’s eyes met his t’hy’la’s in the mirror. He tightened his embrace. “Oh, love, you know you’re first in my life,” he said fondly, “but yes, Selik will always be very dear to me. How could he not be? He’s you, or at least a version of you, and even more, he persuaded you to stay on the Enterprise. If you’d left and joined the colony, we never would have gotten together.” He patted Spock’s middle. “And we wouldn’t have T’Lira,” he added softly. He could feel the tension ease from Spock’s body.

“You are right, ashaya,” he responded. “And I am being a jealous fool.”

“No,” Jim corrected, sneaking one more stomach pat before the day began. “You are being a Vulcan bond mate, my possessive Vulcan bond mate, my beloved Vulcan bond mate.” He kissed the back of Spock’s neck. “I’m yours, love, forever. Never doubt it.”

The planet popularly called New Vulcan was nine days away from Earth at warp 6. It was in the Frendi-3 system and had been uninhabited when the Federation had scouted it as a possible home for the (few, so pitifully few) Vulcans who had survived the destruction of their home world. The new planet was as similar to the old as the Federation authorities could manage. It was approximately the same size, and the climate was similar—no polar regions, a great deal of sand and old mountain ranges, and warm temperatures across much of the planet’s surface. There was some more rain (approximately 14-18 inches a year as opposed to the 8-12 inches that had fallen on much of Old Vulcan), and there were a few more rivers and a small sea. The soil was actually more fertile than it had been on the original planet, which meant that growing food was easier. The Vulcan High Council had inspected the planet thoroughly and declared it “satisfactory,” which was a ringing endorsement by Vulcan standards. The Federation had promptly deeded it to the Vulcan people for the traditional one dollar and valuable considerations. The new colonists (only 4,000 at first, but that number grew rapidly) had christened the planet “Vafer-Tor,” the Vulcan word for “resurgence.” However, most outsiders (even those like Jim who knew better) persisted in calling the colony New Vulcan. The Vulcans did not care. A name did not make a home. They would create a new world for themselves, whatever it was called.

Jim and Spock prepared to beam down to the planet. Jim had several meetings scheduled with various groups, including the High Council. He was here to reassure them that the Federation remained steadfast in its commitment to the colony and the galaxy’s remaining Vulcans. Amazingly, the Federation High Council had actually put its money where its mouth was for once, which was one of the reasons why a multi-billion credit starship was doing ferry duty. However, that was just fine with Jim. He had a vested interest in seeing Vafor-Tor thrive, and he had an even greater interest in Spock’s safety during this particular time. Exploring strange planets and getting shot at was not good for T’Lira.

Scotty and a full engineering team (minus Crusher, Jim noted with some amusement) had already beamed down to the planet, planning to meet with the colony’s builders and administrators to discuss the various projects in hand. The cargo bay crews were using the freight transporters to beam down huge amounts of supplies and building materials.

Jim and Spock stood in the main transporter room, bidding farewell to their Vulcan passengers, including the members of the Vulcan Seahorse Society, who took a few extra minutes to wish them both well.

“Spock,” Salok said, “We would be honored if you would let us know when the child has arrived safely.”

Spock inclined his head gravely. “I will send you a formal announcement of her birth.”

“And before that day,” S’Jenes chimed in, “please feel free to contact any of us if you have questions or concerns about the carrying process.”

“I will do so,” Spock promised.

“That option is available to you as well, Captain,” Ra’Vesti added with a distinct twinkle in his eyes.

Jim fought back a grin. “Thank you, gentlemen. I may avail myself of your services.”

Once the passengers were disembarked, the supplies were well on their way to being delivered, and Spock had eaten a mid-morning snack (spring rolls again, Jim noted with a quiet grin), they were ready to beam down. Just as they were getting onto the transporter platform, the doors opened and McCoy and T’Rina walked in. Jim noticed immediately that T’Rina’s face bore that look of calm smugness Spock’s face displayed whenever he had just won an argument with his bond mate. In contrast, McCoy looked simultaneously disgruntled and besotted.

“Guess who’s spending his leave on New Vulcan?” McCoy asked sarcastically.

T’Rina treated him to the dreaded Vulcan eyebrow of death, accompanied by a look that Jim could only describe as smoldering. “Leonard, I will excuse you if you do not wish to accompany me to my home planet, nor is it my intention to force you to meet my Clan mother. However, if you do intend to persuade me at some point to indulge in carnal copulation with you...”

McCoy went scarlet. T’Rina relented.

“My apologies; this is obviously the wrong place for such an intimate discussion.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Jim said with a grin. The Transporter Room tech was also obviously struggling to keep from laughing out loud.

“I never said I wouldn’t go,” McCoy said stubbornly. “I just don’t know why I have to meet this Clan mother of yours so soon—what did you say her name was, again?”

“T’Pau,” Spock chimed in before T’Rina could speak. Jim would have sworn there was a smirk on Spock’s face.

“T’Pau.” McCoy frowned for a moment then all the blood drained from his face. “Wait a second!” He swung around on T’Rina. “You didn’t tell me you’re the hobgoblin’s cousin!”

“Fifth cousin once-removed, to be precise,” T’Rina said coolly. “And please do not refer to him as an ancient malevolent earth spirit, since he is not one. I believe your culture would describe us as ‘kissing cousins,’ although I do not plan to kiss Commander Spock, and I would hope that you do not plan to, either, even if you do join my Clan, since he is bonded and you are hoping to...”

“Engage in carnal copulation at some point in the future,” Spock finished the sentence for her. Jim would have sworn that they were both smirking at this point.

“Sweet mother of God, what have I gotten myself into?” McCoy moaned.

“In order to know that completely, you need to meet my Clan mother,” T’Rina explained with perfect logic.

“Indeed,” Spock added. “Jim will tell you that bonding to a Vulcan is not something to be entered into lightly.”

“I can deal with bonding to a Vulcan,” McCoy snapped. “I’m just not sure I can stand the idea of looking at you over the potato salad at every family reunion.”

The eyebrows rose in unison.

“Vulcans do not eat potato salad,” T’Rina noted.

“And we have Clan gatherings, not family reunions,” Spock added.

“But they serve a kicking cole slaw,” Jim said helpfully. McCoy glared at him.

“This is all your fault, you know.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah, if you weren’t so happy with the hobgoblin, I never would have thought about...”

“Do not call him a hobgoblin.”

“Sorry, darlin’.” McCoy grinned. “All right. I’ll go down to New Vulcan, make nice to T’Pau, and quit calling Spock a hobgoblin. Anything else?”

T’Rina regarded him for a moment. “Not at this time,” she replied. Turning, she sauntered—there was no other word for it—up onto the transporter platform, turning to give McCoy another smoldering look from those green eyes. “However, I am certain I will think of something later.”

Oh, he’s in deeper than he knows, Jim thought, watching as McCoy’s eyes met T’Rina’s and he swallowed hard at whatever message he saw there. “Come on, Bones,” Jim laughed. “One transporter platform, no waiting.” The three of them took their positions alongside the young Vulcan woman, and Jim nodded to the transporter tech.

“Energize.”

Sarek’s new home was on the edge of the city of Shikahr, the unofficial capitol of the new colony. Like most Vulcan homes, it was fairly spacious; Vulcan privacy needs dictated homes where everyone could have his or her own rooms. It was built somewhat along the lines of an old Roman villa, with the house surrounding a central courtyard where a fountain and hardy plants provided a place to relax and converse. Jim and Spock were there, having a drink with Sarek and his new wife, T’Saaria. She had the appearance of Jim had come to think of as the ‘typical’ Vulcan female—tall, slender, dark hair pulled back into a neat twist, dark eyes with very little warmth or humor in them, always cool and collected. He imagined that even in the worst throes of labor, T’Saaria had simply lay back and meditated on the teaching of Surak. Jim could not help but notice that she was once again pregnant, only months after giving birth to twins. Jim shrugged mentally. He supposed it was only ‘logical,’ given the number of Vulcans who had been lost when Nero destroyed the planet. The original estimates had indicated that perhaps only 10,000 Vulcans had survived the destruction of the home world. A later, more thorough census of all Vulcans living in Federation space had come up with a number closer to 20,000, but either way, it was dwarfed by the billion or more Nero had destroyed. Jim knew he had done everything he could to prevent that tragedy, but it still hurt.

“Spock, it is apparent that you are also experiencing kanashivaya,” T’Saaria said to his bond mate, using the full, formal term for reproduction.

Spock, seated next to Jim, raised one eyebrow as he glanced at his bond mate. “That is so,” he replied. “You were not aware of this?”

“I had not been informed,” she said.

As one, Jim and Spock turned to Sarek. He flushed slightly and looked down at the glass in his hand.

“I thought you would wish to announce it in person,” he finally said.

“Yeah,” Jim said slowly, eyes skewering Sarek to his chair. “Right.”

Then and there, Jim knew that there was going to be at least one ass-kicking during this trip to Vafer-Tor. He wondered if he could get the Vulcan Seahorse Society to participate.

They had begged off dinner in the formal dining room, explaining that Spock was tired and needed to rest. Sarek had not pressed them, perhaps feeling that he had pressed his luck once already that day. T’Saaria, calmly oblivious, had sent a tray to their rooms. Jim had managed to coax Spock to eat some dinner.

“I am sorry, Jim,” Spock said over dessert.

“Love, you have no reason to be sorry.” Jim was still doing a slow burn over Sarek’s attitude. “I would have thought Sarek would at least have the decency to let his wife know that she is about to be a grandmother, but that’s not your fault.”

One corner of Spock’s mouth twitched. “Somehow I cannot see T’Saaria baking cookies or knitting tiny items of footwear.”

Jim chortled as he tried to picture it. “You’re right, ashaya.”

Spock pushed the tray aside. “I am finished.” Jim eyed the tray’s contents with concern. “Truly, Jim. I am fine. I am simply not very hungry tonight.”

“All right,” Jim said gently. “I won’t nag.”

Spock stood and stretched slightly, catching his breath as a back spasm made its presence known. Instantly, Jim was at his side, walking Spock over to the chaise lounge in the living area and pushing him down onto it.

“Take off your shirt,” he ordered. “I thought I heard you gasp earlier. Your back is bothering you again, isn’t it?”

Spock nodded, knowing there was no way to change the subject.

“All right. On your stomach.” Jim disappeared into the bedroom, where their luggage had been delivered. He was back in a moment with the jar of muscle salve. Buy this time, Spock had obediently removed his shirt and was lying face-down. He sighed softly as Jim’s fingers began to work their magic.

“Thank you, t’hy’la,” he whispered.

“Any time, love,” Jim murmured back. He worked on Spock’s back until he could feel his mate relax completely. Finally, Jim stood up and looking around, he found a lightweight blanket that he spread over Spock. He bent down and kissed the tip of one ear.

“Rest, love. I’m going to go pay a visit. I’ll be back in an hour or two, all right?”

Spock nodded. “say hello for me, ashaya,” he murmured, already drifting into sleep.

“I will.”

Once Jim was sure Spock was asleep, he pulled out his communicator and contacted the Enterprise, beaming up to the ship and then back down to another set of coordinates. He found himself at the front door of another home just outside Shikahr, a home both smaller and in some ways more welcoming than Sarek’s. Jim pressed the door chime, his heart filled with happy anticipation.

The door opened. A slender figure stood there, brown eyes lighting up as he took in the sight of Jim Kirk standing on his doorstep. A smile flickered over the noble, lined features. Jim offered an answering smile.

“Hello, old friend,” he said.

Selik of Vafer-Tor, Spock of Vulcan in another time and place, opened the door wide.

“Good evening, ashaya. Come in.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-One: Spilling the Beans, Vulcan-Style

“So Sarek is still acting like a dick,” Selik observed.

Jim choked on his root beer (Vulcans brewed the best damned root beer in the galaxy). “I didn’t say that,” he protested, laughing. Old Spock’s knowledge of human idioms still caught him off-guard on occasion.

“You did not have to.” Selik looked at him lovingly. “I could see that tiny twitch you get at the corner of your eye when you are frustrated and trying to hide it. There is only one individual on Vafer-Tor who could give you that twitch.”

“All right, you caught me. God, I should know by now that I can’t put anything over on any Spock.” Jim set down his empty glass and shrugged. “Yeah, Sarek is being an ass—again. He was less than thrilled when we told him about the baby, and now we get here and find out he didn’t even tell T’Saaria.” Jim sighed. “I left Spock lying on a chaise lounge with back spasms, and don’t tell me those aren’t Sarek-induced.” Jim ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do, old friend. Do I force the issue? Do I pretend not to notice that Sarek is treating Spock like his sixteen-year-old daughter who got knocked up at the prom? I don’t want to add to Spock’s stress, but this strain in his relationship with Sarek can’t be good for him.”

Selik nodded. “Indeed. Let me think on the problem, Jim, and perhaps I will be able to offer an answer in time.” He got up and fetched two more glasses of root beer. “Aside from the issue with Sarek, how is Spock doing?”

“Well enough.” Jim drained his second glass. “He had a problem early on with a sodium deficiency—scared the shit out of me, I’ll tell you that, but Bones managed to catch it before anything serious happened. He’s more tired than usual, and his emotions....” Now Jim hesitated. He didn’t want to seem to be gossiping or complaining about his bond mate, not even to Selik.

Selik gave him an understanding glance. “You need say no more, ashaya. I have been around enough carrying males this past year to know how the hormones affect them.”

“Did you have the same trouble when you were pregnant?” Jim asked, curious.

Spock shook his head. “I am afraid you misunderstood me,” he responded. “When I told you that my Jim and I both had children in our time, I did not mean to imply that I carried a child; rather, I fathered one. So I never dealt with the hormone issue.”

“Oh.” Jim was embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Selik. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You did not, ashaya; you should know by now that there is nothing I would not share with you.”

“Yeah,” Jim said, relieved. “I’ve figured that out.” He looked down into his glass.

“What is it?” Selik asked gently, picking up on Jim’s hesitation.

“I just...I don’t know about trying to raise a Vulcan child,” Jim confessed. “I mean, I love Spock, and I love you, but neither of you seem so.....”

“Anal?” Selik said, lips twitching.

“I was going to say Vulcan, but yeah,” Jim chuckled. “Spock says that our daughter’s thought patterns...”

“Daughter? You are having a girl?”

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t even tell you that, did I? Yeah, a little girl. We’re naming her T’Lira Marie.”

“That is a beautiful name,” Selik responded.

“Anyway, Spock says her thought patterns are quite Vulcan, whatever that means. I suppose she’s doing calculus equations inside Spock to pass the time. It’s just, if she comes out all Vulcan-acting, maybe....”Jim hesitated again. He hadn’t even admitted this to his bond mate, but he needed to say it to someone.

“Maybe what?” Selik asked quietly.

“Maybe...maybe she won’t even want a human father,” Jim said in a low voice.

Selik rose from his chair and sat down next to Jim on the sofa, putting a fatherly arm around his shoulder.

“Jim,” he said tenderly, “your child will love you. I can promise that. She will not care if you are human or Vulcan; she will love you because you are her father and because you will love her so very much.” He gave Jim a squeeze. “I have every confidence in your ability to develop a relationship with your child, no matter how ‘Vulcan’ she is. After all, you already have two Vulcans who love you, and neither one is your blood.”

“You truly think so?”

“I know so,” Selik replied reassuringly. “Remember, I told you that Spock would come to love you, and you did not believe me then, but I was correct.”

“Yeah,” Jim chuckled, mood restored, “After he tried to strangle me. Let’s hope T’Lira doesn’t have to go that far.”

For the rest of the evening, they talked about a variety of subjects, including the new colony and (much to Selik’s amazement) McCoy’s new relationship.

“Leonard is involved with...a Vulcan?”

Jim laughed out loud. “I guess there is something new under the sun. Your Bones never went the pointed-ear route, huh?”

“He certainly did not.” Selik shook his head. “I wonder what T’Pau will think of this?”

“She’ll probably think the House of Surak is being completely invaded by emotional illogical humans.” Jim looked really happy at the thought.

“Yes,” Selik replied, equally pleased. “She will almost certainly think that. Wonderful, is it not?”

When Jim got back to Sarek’s house, it was quite late, almost 0100. Jim was glad that their wing had a guest entrance. He hated the idea of tiptoeing through the house like a delinquent teen-ager. He’d done enough of that when he had been a delinquent teen-ager.

Spock was still lying on the chaise lounge, fast asleep. For a moment, Jim thought about leaving him there, but he decided it might be better for Spock to spend the rest of the night in a bed. So he dropped to his knees beside his sleeping mate and put a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Hey,” he whispered, stroking those glossy bangs, “you want to wake up, t’hy’la?”

Slowly, the dark eyes opened and focused on Jim. “Jim,” Spock murmured, “you came back.”

“Came back?” Jim was faintly confused. “Of course I came back, love. You didn’t really think I’d leave you here by yourself, did you?”

“I thought....” Spock dropped his eyes. “I thought you might spend the night at Selik’s home.”

“Spock.” Jim leaned forward and kissed the end of Spock’s nose. “You should know better than that. Selik is very dear to me, as I’ve said before. In some ways, he’s the father I never had, and he’s been a terrific friend to us both. But you’re my mate, and you’re carrying my child. Unless duty gets in the way, I intend to spend every night for the rest of my life right by your side, where I belong.” He caressed Spock’s head again. “How’s your back?”

“Better, I think.” Spock shifted his body until he was able to sit up. Jim rose as he did so and sat down on the lounge next to him, wrapping his arms around Spock’s torso.

“Jim, I am sorry. I did not mean to sound...”

“All jealous and super-possessive?” Jim gave him a hug. “It’s all right, love. Just don’t nerve-pinch Selik the next time you see him, ok? I promise you, there’s no need.” He rose, pulling Spock up with him. “Come on. Let’s get you tucked into a proper bed for the night. I need to get some shut-eye, too. Remember, we have to meet with the Vulcan High Council tomorrow.”

Once they were ready for bed, Jim climbed in next to Spock, not entirely surprised when his mate burrowed into his arms, pressing his body as close to Jim’s as possible. Jim didn’t bother to ask why. He just wrapped himself around Spock, gently rubbing those misbehaving back muscles and whispering loving reassurance into one ear.

“Don’t worry, t’hy’la,” he murmured, as they both drifted off to sleep. “I’m right where I should be—with you.”

The High Council of the Vulcan People consisted of 14 members—one for each of the twelve original Clans, T’Pau as Matriarch of the People, and Selik because—well, not many people understood exactly why Selik had been appointed to the Council, but T’Pau had decreed it, and most people didn’t argue with T’Pau. Sarek, of course, was a Council member as Head of House for Surak’s Clan. Oh, joy, Jim thought as he and Spock, in full-dress uniforms as Federation representatives, walked into the Council chamber. All of Vulcan in one room. He was everlastingly glad Selik was there. At least there was one friendly face in the room.

Jim stopped before the horseshoe-shaped table, lifting his hand in the traditional salute. “On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I bring respectful greetings to the High Council of Vafer-Tor,” he said. Standing at his right shoulder, Spock saluted the assembled councilors as well.

In the center seat, T’Pau, dressed in full regalia that probably weighed a ton but which she wore as if it were a feather cloak, inclined her head.

“The Council welcomes the representatives of the Federation,” she intoned. She nodded toward the small table and two chairs that were set up in the hollow created by the Council table. “Pray be seated.”

“One moment.” It was T’Zantha, one of the younger Councilors. “May I ask why Spock is not addressing us rather than Kirk?”

T’Pau’s head snapped around like a striking snake, and she skewered the younger woman with a glare that frankly, had been it directed at Jim, would have had him peeing his pants. “Captain Kirk is the Federation’s duly appointed representative. It is not for you to question that fact.”

T’Zantha was undeterred. “Then why is Spock accompanying him at all?” Her lip curled. “Or is he here simply to lend a semblance of legitimacy to the patriarchal demands of the Federation and its mouthpiece...”

“Kroykah!” T’Pau was on her feet. The room was so still that Jim would have sworn he could hear the rocks outside cowering.

“Your words bring shame to this Council,” T’Pau said, still glaring at T’Zantha.

“I may speak if I deem it necessary,” she retorted. “We are equals here.”

“Obviously not equals in courtesy,” Selik said calmly. He too, gave the younger woman a look that would melt stone. “I do not know the reason for this unseemly outburst, but I will not observe it without protest.”

“Nor will I,” S’Tvask, another young Council member said. He turned to T’Zantha. “Your...apathy to the Federation has been noted time and again,” he informed her. “You have more than once brought a motion before this Council to cut all ties with the Federation, and more than once, we have voted against it. Our people need the Federation, and the Federation has offered its help unselfishly....”

“The Federation seeks to assimilate us, to turn us into nothing more than humans with pointed ears,” T’Zantha snapped. Her gaze swung to Jim and Spock. “You need only look at the representatives they send, the arrogant human and his Vulcan pet...”

Jim felt Spock tense at his side. He got ready to grab his mate before he walked across the room and bitch-slapped a High Council member, but he didn’t have to move.

“Kroykah!” T’Pau slapped one hand down on the table, the Vulcan equivalent of a ranting fit.

“As Head of this Council, I hereby dismiss thee for a period of one ten-day for thy lapse of manners and disregard for Surak’s Principles of Behavior,” she informed T’Zantha. “Thee will leave now and will not return to our deliberations until the first day of ta’Krat.”

T”Zantha got to her feet. “I will go,” she informed the Council, “but this matter is not ended.” Without so much as another glance at Jim and Spock, she stalked out, her aide following. T’Pau looked at Jim.

“Captain,” she said calmly, as if the previous five minutes had not happened, “perhaps you would like to present your report at this time?”

Okay, we’ll just ignore the elephant in the room, or rather, the elephant that just left the room, Jim thought. He bowed slightly and took a seat, Spock at his side.

“Madam,” he said to T’Pau, “and honored members of the Council. The Federation has asked me to convey....”

It was a long report. Jim gave the Council updated information on Federation grants and other funding that would be offered in the coming months, as well as a complete run-down on the supplies the Enterprise had brought. Spock informed the Council of Mr. Scott’s presence with an Engineering crew, and they discussed various projects that needed additional input from outside experts. Various minerals had been discovered in the mountains a half-day’s journey away from Shikahr, and the Council needed additional geologists to thoroughly examine the area and determine just how larges the deposits were and if there were ways to mine the area without destroying the surrounding terrain. Jim assured them that three geologists from the Enterprise would be assigned to the mission and would stay on the planet until the ship made its next trip to Earth and back again.

With all of the questions, discussions, and general interruptions (Vulcans were a thorough bunch, and no explanation was ever complete enough), the report took most of the morning. At last, T’Pau nodded.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said. “And please convey our gratitude to the Federation authorities. With your help, the projects we have planned will come to fruition and will assist our people greatly.”

“Madam, I will convey your words.” Jim bowed his head.

T’Pau glanced around the table. “Is there other business to be discussed at this time with the Federation representatives?” Much to Jim’s surprise, Selik rose.

“This is not Federation business,” he said to the room at large, “but it does involve our guests, and this is an appropriate time to bring it forth.” He turned to Jim and Spock and bowed low, the full bow of respect only used in ceremonies.

“I congratulate thee on the advent of an heir to the House of Surak for the next generation,” he said formally.

Jim froze. Spock, next to him, stiffened. Sarek turned several colors of green at once. T’Pau stared at Jim and Spock.

“I was not aware of this news,” she said at last. She turned to Sarek. “I offer my congratulations to the House of Surak,” she said formally. “It is indeed news of great import.” She turned back to Jim and Spock.

“The House will welcome its heir,” she said. That was all she said, but that was all that was needed. With one phrase, the Matriarch of all Vulcan had just put her stamp of approval on T’Lira’s existence.

“Selik, I would speak with thee.”

The Council meeting was over. The various members had offered their congratulations to Jim and Spock. The two had beamed up to the Enterprise to check on the status of various departments, as well as (Selik suspected) get away from Vulcans, both congenial and otherwise, for a short time. Sarek caught up with Selik in the small antechamber outside the Council’s meeting room.

“You have overstepped yourself,” Sarek hissed.

One eyebrow rose. “Indeed?” Selik asked coolly. “I was not aware that offering formal and proper acknowledgement of such an event constituted overstepping my boundaries.”

“I would have made the announcement at the proper time.”

Selik stepped closer to Sarek, suddenly angry. “And just when is the proper time?” he asked. “Were you planning to wait until the child graduated from college before acknowledging her existence?”

“It was not your place,” Sarek insisted.

“No, it was yours, and you did not do your duty.” Selik glared at his not-exactly-father. “Fortunately, Jim does not completely realize just how insulting your conduct has been, but Spock knows full well that the Council should have been informed weeks ago. Sarek, how could you have married a woman of Earth, fathered a child with her, and still be so ashamed of human blood in your clan?”

“I am not ashamed of it!” Sarek hissed. He starred at Selik, and the old Vulcan suddenly saw something in Sarek’s eyes he had never seen before. “I am not ashamed,” Sarrek repeated. “I am terrified.”

Selik simply looked at him. “Terrified.”

“Yes.” Sarek looked around to make sure no one else was near before raising the issue.

“Selik,” he said quietly. “You were in the meeting today. You heard T’Zantha’s words.”

Selik shook his head. “The words of a rash youngling.”

“The words of a movement,” Sarek countered. His lips tightened. “T’Zantha is not the only one who believes that our future lies in maintaining our ‘purity’ as a race. How do you think she and her adherents will react when they learn that the next heir to our people’s most prominent House is three-fourths human by blood?”

Selik shook his head. “I never thought to hear such pekh from my own people,” he said in utter disgust, using the polite term for excrement. “You truly think there are those who would...hurt Spock’s child?”

If Sarek could have shrugged, he would have. “I do not know.” He sighed. “Yet you are correct. The fact cannot be hidden.”

“No.” Selik looked at his companion. “At the same time, perhaps I was wrong to bring it into the light.”

“I pray not,” Sarek said. “I pray not.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Drastic Solution to a Genuine Threat

As matriarch, T’Pau had many responsibilities, both great and small. However, like most Vulcans, she was conscientious to a fault, and a wonderful time manager. Therefore, she found the time between meetings to meet with her Clan daughter, T’Rina, and her suitor, the human. McCoy.

McCoy sat with T’Rina in the courtyard of T’Pau’s home, waiting to be called into her reception room. Despite the thin shade (and his thin tunic) McCoy was sure he was sweating like a pig facing a rotisserie. He wished he’d worn two layers of deodorant. He wished New Vulcan would have a freak snowstorm. He wished he’d have heat stroke right now and get beamed back to the Enterprise.

“Leonard.” McCoy jumped at T’Rina spoke. “There is no logic in your fear of Clan Mother T’Pau.” T’Rina didn’t smile, of course, but there was a distinct uplift to the corners of her mouth. “Despite all rumors to the contrary, she does not bite.”

“She won’t bite you,” McCoy muttered. He mentally cursed happy bond mate Jim Kirk, Starfleet’s decision to put T’Rina on board, and his own weakness for green eyes. He jumped as cool fingers brushed the back of his hand.

“Leonard,” T’Rina said softly. He looked into those green eyes. “Thank you for doing this for me. I am...most grateful.” His heart thumped as those green eyes smiled at him. Suddenly, he felt like he could face ten T’Paus. He relaxed ever so slightly. He suddenly noticed that it was a lovely day, like spring in Georgia, only without peach blossoms.

“You will have to take me to Georgia some day,” T’Rina murmured, “and introduce me to....peach blossoms.” Her lips caressed the words, and suddenly, McCoy felt like he could face twenty T’Paus.

“T’Pau will see you now,” her secretary announced.

Oh my God. McCoy was no longer sure he could deal with twenty T’Paus, or even one.

“She is not a deity,” T’Rina murmured, just as they entered the cool, elegantly-decorated room.

T’Pau looked at her Clan daughter and the human seated before her. If she were human, she would have sighed at the thought of yet more—complications in her life and her House. But T’Pau was nothing if not a realist. The heart could not be dictated to.

“Leonard,” she addressed the human, “does thee know what it is to be bonded to a Vulcan?”

“Elder, we have not spoken of bonding,” T’Rina said respectfully.

“Nonetheless, thee must know where they path will lead if thee chooses to walk it,” T’Pau responded. She looked at McCoy again. “Thee was bonded once before?”

McCoy swallowed hard. He had been afraid that this would come up. “I was married under Federation law, Elder,” he replied. “That marriage has been dissolved under law.”

“Where lay the fault that your marriage did not prosper?” T’Pau asked.

“The fault lay with both of us,” McCoy answered honestly. It had taken him a long time to accept that fact, but he knew it was true. “I did not try as hard as I should, and my wife chose to end the marriage.”

“Are there children of that marriage?”

“Yes,” McCoy answered, surprised by the direction T’Pau was taking. “I have one daughter.”

“Does thee provide for her?” T’Pau asked.

“Of course,” Bones replied simply. “I always will.”

“It is well.” T’Pau thought for a moment.

“Leonard,” she said formally, “Thee should know that if thee bonds with T’Rina, there is no divorce, no ending of the relationship short of death.”

“Yes,” T’Rina murmured sweetly. “I would have to kill you.”

One corner of T’Pau’s mouth twitched; McCoy saw it with amazement. The old girl was almost laughing out loud by Vulcan standards.

“Softly, daughter, or your suitor will flee,” she gently admonished T’Rina. “Leonard, I believe thee to be a person of good character. I know thee has been a friend to my kinsman Spock and his mate. If thee wishes to court T’Rina, I will allow it.”

McCoy bowed his head. “I thank you, Elder,” he said quietly. “I promise you I will treat your kinswoman with respect.”

“There is one more subject that must be spoken of,” T’Pau noted. “Are thee prepared to deal with T’Rina when her Time is upon her?”

T’Rina blushed emerald. “Elder...” T’Pau silenced her with an upraised hand.

“He must know of it,” she said firmly. She turned back to McCoy. “What does thee know of pon farr?”

Females go through pon farr? Oh, my God. McCoy rallied his thoughts.

“Elder, I am a healer,” he replied. “I know of the Time of Fever in Vulcan males. I was not aware that it extended to your women as well, but if that is so, I will be prepared if T’Rina and I decide to continue our relationship.” God knows Jim seemed to enjoy it with the hobgoblin.

“It is well,” T’Pau said. She rose. “I wish you both clarity and harmony.” T’Rina and Mccoy rose and bowed as well. “Oh, Leonard?”

At the door, McCoy stopped. “Elder?”

“What is a...hobgoblin?”

McCoy’s heart stopped. T’Rina stepped into the breach.

“It is a human...endearment, Elder.”

“Ah. So then, I wish you and your...hobgoblin much joy.”

“Thanks,” McCoy murmured to T’Rina once they were outside. “I owe you one.”

She looked at him, humor glinting in her eyes. “I intend to collect.

Oh, my God.

Jim was beginning to worry. He hadn’t seen Spock since they’d beamed up to the ship. He’d known that the attitude of the Council (or more specifically, the attitude of that bitch T’Zantha) had done nothing for Spock’s mood, but he hoped the unpleasantness hadn’t made him ill. Jim checked around the ship, and Spock was nowhere to be seen. He’d been in the Physics lab, but that had been more than an hour ago, and no one else had seen him. He wasn’t on the Bridge; he wasn’t in their quarters. Jim had checked with the Transporter Room, worried that perhaps Spock had beamed back down without him. But there was no record of that. Jim finally decided to check the final logical place Spock might be, before he started on the illogical ones.

“Hey,” Jim said quietly, feeling relieved. Spock was in the small observation lounge, looking out the view port at Vafer-Tor below. He turned when Jim entered. His face was pale and tired-looking, and Jim mentally kicked himself for not making sure Spock had eaten lunch.

“Are you all right?” Jim stepped forward and slipped an arm around his mate’s waist. “You looked wiped.”

He got a raised eyebrow in response. “I was not aware of anyone cleaning me with a cloth,” Spock replied.

“Jim chuckled. “You know what I mean, t’hy’la.”

“I do.” They stood silently together for a few minutes.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” Jim asked.

Spock sighed. “Could we sit down for a moment?”

“Of course.” Jim walked the two of them over to the small couch and settled in, still keeping one arm around Spock. “Now, what’s bothering you?”

“Need you ask?” Spock looked more than tired; he looked totally forlorn.

“You mean your father? Look, ashaya, say the word, and I’ll go down there and put my size ten boot right up his...”

“I hardly think that would qualify as diplomacy or filial behavior, for that matter,” Spock interjected. He sighed again. “It is not my father, Jim. After this morning, I understand why he did not announce that I am carrying a child. You heard T’Zantha.”

“Yeah; the whole Council heard her.” Jim hesitated. “Spock—do you think she’d...do something to you, to T’Lira?”

Spock didn’t answer for a moment. “I do not know,” he said at last, a note of sadness in his voice making Jim’s heart ache for him. “I would like to think that her logic would not fail her so, but we have already seen how hatred warps some minds.” He fell silent again, staying quiet for so long that Jim finally felt he had to speak.

“What are you thinking, love?”

Spock turned and faced Jim, grasping both his hands. “Jim...if I chose to...make a certain decision, would you comply with my wishes?”

Jim felt a frisson of alarm. “That would depend on the decision.” He was being very careful. “For example, if you’re hoping to rid yourself of a human bond mate...” He got no further. Spock caught him in a fierce embrace that removed that idea once and for all.

“Ashaya, you should know I would never do that.” Spock’s voice was full of tender reproach. “My decision is about T’Lira.”

“All right.” Jim sat back and looked Spock in the eye. “Tell me, and I’ll tell you if I think it’s a good idea.”

Spock explained. Jim rose and stared out the screen at the serene planet orbiting below them. He thought about it for a long time. Finally, he turned back to Spock.

“If you think that’s what we should do, of course I’ll support it,” he said.

“Are you certain? It is unfair to you...”

“Love, I told you a long time ago that I love you, not your rank or your Clan. I meant it then, and I mean it now.” Jim’s voice was firm, his gaze level. “If this is what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

Spock felt the relief sweep through him. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I was not sure you would accept this.”

“Spock, there’s no reason to worry about that.” Jim sat down next to Spock and placed one hand on his mate’s middle. “If you believe it’s the right thing to do, then we’ll do it.”

Spock placed his hand over Jim’s. “But will she understand?” he asked.

Jim shrugged. “I think she will,” he said reassuringly. He grinned at Spock. “And since you got to make this decision, I get to buy her a flitter when she turns 16.”

Spock raised one eyebrow, envisioning his daughter flying around in a hot-pink flitter. “Is this what is known as co-parenting?” he asked, resigned.

“No, love.” Jim leaned over and kissed him. “This is what is known as creative compromising.”

“Very well. I will be certain to purchase extra insurance to protect us from lawsuits.”

Jim got to his feet, pulling his mate up with him. “Come on. Let’s get you some dinner. Then we’ll call down and talk to T’Pau. And then we’re going to bed—here on the ship. I’m not spending the night on that concrete slab Sarek calls a bed, protocol or no protocol. I’ll call him and tell him you need to be monitored here on the ship for tonight.”

“But ashaya, that is a lie,” Spock protested mildly, even as he looked more cheerful.

“No, it’s not,” Jim said firmly. He hugged Spock close for just a moment. “I intend to...monitor you....every closely, all night long.”

“Hardly restful,” Spock noted with gentle humor. “But I will risk it.”

T’Zantha walked into the Council Chamber, dressed, as ordered by T’Pau, in full Council robes. She was frankly curious as to why the old woman had changed her mind. T’Zantha had been banished from Council proceedings for ten days; she had fully expected not to see these chambers for that length of time.

“T’Zantha? Why are you here?” S’Tvask walked in behind her. He was also dressed in formal garb.

“I am here at T’Pau’s request,” she replied coldly. She hated S’Tvask; he had refused her offer of a bonding between them, and he was yet another Vulcan who was little more than a lackey for the humans and their Federation.

“I am surprised she allowed you back; I would not have,” he replied, equally cold and then walked to his seat without another glance. T’Zantha found her seat as well. Slowly, the Council Chamber filled. T’Pau entered last.

“I call this Council into session,” she said formally. Sarek rose.

“Elder, may we know the purpose of this meeting?” he asked. “The Council was not scheduled to meet again for two more days.”

“There is one who has placed a petition before us,” she replied, “and it requires an expedient decision.” T’Pau raised her voice to carry beyond the meeting room. “Spock, son of Sarek. James, son of George. Come before the Council.”

The doors opened and Spock walked in, Jim one pace behind him. Both were dressed in their formal Clan robes of blue and silver. They walked to the center of the room and bowed to T’Pau as Head of the Council. Across the table from one another, Sarek and Selik exchanged puzzled looks.

“Spock,” T’Pau spoke. “I have thy petition before me.” She raised a formal parchment that had been written and delivered by hand, as tradition demanded. “Is it thy true desire to renounce thy position as Heir to the House of Surak, for thee, thy bond mate, and thy descendants?”

“It is my desire,” Spock said calmly.

Instantly, the room was in an uproar. Every Council member spoke to his neighbor. Sarek tried to catch Spock’s eye, but his son resolutely refused to look at him.

“Kroykah!” The room fell silent. “This is not a matter for debate,” T’Pau announced. She turned to Jim.

“James, as Spock’s bond mate, thee has a voice as well. Is it thy will to accept thy bond mate’s decision for thee and thy child?”

Jim bowed his head. “I support my bond mate in his decision,” he said firmly. “His will is my will.” Spock felt love for his bond mate well up anew in his heart. To know that Jim always stood beside him, whatever his decisions, made this much easier.

T’Pau nodded. “Spock, has thee reached this decision without threats or coercion?”

You mean, other than a High Council member being a xenophobic bitch? Jim thought, but he was careful to shield himself, grateful for the lessons Spock had taught him.

“My decision is my own, Elder. I discussed it only with my bond mate, as is proper. I make with full knowledge of the consequences and with the belief that it is the best course for myself, my mate, my child, and my House.”

“Sarek.” She turned to him. “Does thee accept Spock’s decision?”

Sarek bowed his head for a moment then looked at Spock and Jim. “Elder,” he said strongly. “My son is my son. His mate is my ak’ghar. Their child is my descendant. They are my blood; my Clan is theirs. All this remains, whether or not he is Heir to my House. No petition can change those truths.” His eyes met Spock’s. “But I will not bind my son where his heart does not lead him. I have other heirs. If Spock desires to be free, I release him with no reservations.” He bowed his head to Spock. “And I commend his courage and foresight to choose his own correct path, untouched by greed or pride.”

Jim could feel Spock’s relief through their bond. Sarek had not used the words, but his declaration told the Council that he was proud of his son, and Jim knew just how much that meant to Spock.

T’Pau nodded. “It is well.” She faced the Council. “Is there any here who would speak against Spock’s petition?” There was a long silence. “Very well.”

T’Pau raised her hand. “Spock, son of Sarek, thee is no longer Heir to the House of Surak. All thy other rights, responsibilities, and privileges remain. Thy bond mate and child enjoy Clan status as is proper. It is so entered into the records of the House on this date.”

“It is so entered,” the Council spoke as one. Spock and Jim bowed to T’Pau.

“This meeting is concluded,” T’Pau announced.

As T’Zantha rose to leave the Council Chamber, a voice spoke in her ear. “I would have words with you.” She turned to see Selik standing at her elbow. Her eyes narrowed. She did not understand why T’Pau had insisted that this old le-matya join the Council. He was regrettably—human in his attitudes, and despite his great age, there was something dangerous about him, an aura she neither understood nor trusted. However, age must be honored, so T’Zantha bowed her head. “Speak.”

“Not here,” Selik replied. He waited until she walked out the chamber, following close behind her. Once outdoors, they stopped in the shade of a tibeki thorn tree. Any onlooker might have thought they were simply two Council members discussing a particularly interesting point of law—until they saw the look in Selik’s eyes.

“You have won a victory this day; the House of Surak will not be ruled by one with human blood,” he said quietly, staring at the young woman with total contempt. “In all honesty, I think Spock’s decision was the right one for many reasons; he would never be happy as the Head of House, and his daughter might be even less so.”

“You are strangely concerned with Spock’s happiness,” T’Zantha sneered. “What is he to you, Selik? Am I to understand that his bond mate has a rival for his affections? Are you not rather—aged to challenge James at the Kal-i-fee?”

Selik went rigid. “I could have your tongue removed for that slander,” he said softly, stepping closer to T’Zantha, uncaring of her personal space, “and do not think I would hesitate to do so, except that knowledge of your words would upset Spock and James.” He locked eyes with her. “Do not make the mistake of underestimating me,” he said even more softly. “I have lived through experiences you could not comprehend, and I have faced foes which make you look like what you are—a small girl having a tantrum.” He laid one hand on her arm; an observer might have thought his grip was friendly, even fatherly.

“I speak to you now so that we may understand one another. If anything happens to James, Spock, or their child, anything, I will know where to look. If they are bruised, I will bruise you. If they bleed, you will as well. And if anything worse happens...” the old hand tightened on T’Zantha’s arm until she bit back a cry of pain. “I am very old man. I have died once to protect those I love; I would do so again in a heartbeat, but if I do, I will not go alone. Remember that, T’Zantha, before you act.” He released her and stepped back. “Live long and prosper—away from James and Spock.”

He gave her one long last look, and then he was gone. T’Zantha stood under the tree for a long time. Despite the mid-day sun, she felt cold to the bone when she remembered the look in those old eyes.

Chapter Text

“I know it’s none of my business,” McCoy said, “but are you sure you made the right choice?”

Sarek was hosting a dinner for the family, which, after McCoy’s interview with T’Pau, apparently included Bones as well. Selik was also there, of course. T’Saaria, Sarek’s wife, did not know exactly who Selik really was; only Jim, Spock, Bones, and Sarek knew that. However, Selik had long ago been introduced as a kinsman, and that was all T’Saaria needed.

T’Saaria seemed almost cheerful tonight. Gee, I wonder why? Jim thought with just the slightest touch of irony. In one day, her oldest child with Sarek, S’Tonor, had become the new heir to the House of Surak. Not bad for a seven month-old baby.

Spock, seated across from Bones and T’Rina, looked serene.

“Yes, I am certain,” he replied. “Our child will almost certainly be raised in space, and while I wish her to know and appreciate her heritage, it may not be appropriate for her to spend her life here. One who wishes to lead the House of Surak must make it a life’s work, as my father has.”

At the front of the table, T’Saaria raised an eyebrow.

“Do you not intend to have us act as T’Lira’s guardians?” she inquired. “She would be welcome in our nursery with her young uncles.”

Jim shot Spock a sudden panicked look. Was Spock expected to leave his child here?

Spock shook his head. “Your offer is most generous,” he replied courteously, “but our child will be raised with her parents, on board the Enterprise, at least until she is old enough to perhaps wish another path.”

“Indeed,” Selik put in. “I see no logic in separating T’Lira from her family.”

T’Saaria looked slightly confused. “Spock, your child’s welfare is of course for you and your bond mate to guard, but is not space a dangerous place to raise a child?”

Jim spoke up. “It is no more dangerous than many other places.” He looked around the table. “Children have been raised in many environments: frontier planets, space stations, even spaceships. While it is true that life on the Enterprise has its share of dangers, there is no absolutely safe environment.” For just a moment, Jim thought of his brother Sam, who had died with his wife on the planet Deneva, a peaceful, established colony. That hadn’t made any difference when the parasites hit. Under the table, Spock laid his hand on Jim’s for just a moment. He knew what his bond mate was thinking.

“I have no doubt that James and Spock will care for their daughter well,” Sarek said. “While my home will always be open to her, she will certainly find her own way.”

“But, to give up all that...... Bones trailed off, warned by the look in T’Rina’s eye. Apparently Vulcans, like certain old Earth dynasties, didn’t talk about money.

Sarek, however, looked un-offended. “As my descendant, T’Lira will be entitled to her share of the family resources,” he observed quietly. “That has not changed with Spock’s change of status.”

“Whew!” Jim gave a stagey sigh. “That’s a relief. I was afraid I’d have to start a college fund.” He grinned at Spock. “I’m glad to hear I can keep wasting my money on old books and sporting equipment.”

“Not to mention poly-silk-covered stuffed animals,” his bond mate teased him right back. It was obvious to Jim that the decision to walk away from the duties of Head of House had lightened Spock’s spirit considerably.

The conversation moved on to other topics. They discussed the various building projects on Vafer-Tor, including the new water purification plant. Sarek had toured it after the extraordinary Council meeting, and he was full of praise for the Engineering crew from the Enterprise, who were working with the Vulcan engineers. He was especially impressed with Scotty.

“He has an extraordinary mind,” Sarek said.

“For a human?” Jim grinned.

“For any sentient being,” Sarek returned, “as you know quite well, since he is your officer.”

“Yeah, Scotty’s something,” Jim said proudly. “I swear he could hold the Enterprise together with chewing gum and spit.”

“Indeed,” Sarek responded. “That is no doubt the reason that the High Council has offered him a permanent position.”

“WHAT?” Jim leaned forward. “Sarek, are your people poaching my people?”

“We are not immersing any of your people in a shallow bath of simmering water, James,” Sarek replied. Jim snorted. “I simply asked Mr. Scott whether he would be amenable to joining us as our Chief Municipal Engineer. Starfleet would no doubt release him, since the Federation is eager to help us in any way it can.”

“No doubt.” Jim was gritting his teeth. Luckily, Sarek took pity on his ak’ghar.

“Do not fear, James,” he said, a sly glint in his eye. “Mr. Scott informed us that under no circumstances will he abandon ‘his ship’ to your tender mercies and the expertise of some named Crusher, I believe it was.”

Tension released, Jim laughed. “Oh, I can believe that,” he chuckled. “Hey, maybe we can give Crusher to you guys.”

“Why would you wish to do that?” Selik inquired.

“Oh, you can’t believe this guy...” Jim began to relate some of the worst Crusher anecdotes, and he soon had both Selik and Sarek begging him not to suggest to Starfleet that Crusher would be an asset to the new colony.

At last, Selik glanced at the wall chronometer. “The hour grows late,” he noted. He stood and bowed to T’Saaria. “I ask your leave to depart your table, lady.” She rose and bowed in return.

“Leave is granted, but please join us at another time,” she responded.

“Thank you.” Selik glanced at Jim. “May I speak with thee alone for a moment?”

Jim was puzzled, but willing. “Of course.” He rose and bowed to T’Saaria as well, and he and Selik walked down the hall and into Sarek’s courtyard. Unlike Vulcan, Vafer-Tor had a moon, a large violet orb that shone brightly on this night, giving a ghostly cast to the trees and plants. Selik sat down on a low stone bench, and Jim sank down at his side.

“What is it, old friend?” he asked quietly.

“Jim, I did not wish to alarm your bond mate or his family, but you need to know of a conversation I had.” Selik gave Jim a blow-by-blow description of his encounter with T’Zantha after the last Council meeting.

Jim stared at him, amazed. “You threatened to kill her?”

“I did not,” Selik replied primly. “I simply indicated that if harm came to you or yours, I would die and take her with me.”

“Oh, right.” Jim blinked, feeling sudden tears well up. “I shouldn’t get misty-eyed when someone is offering to be homicidal on my behalf, but.....” Jim trailed off. He reached over and hugged Selik close for a moment. “Thank you, old friend.” He released Selik and grinned wryly. “I hope you know I’d kill for you, too.”

“Let us hope it never come to that,” the old Vulcan responded. “Spock and your child would miss you.”

“True.” Jim nodded. “I’ll try to stay out of trouble.”

“Jim, I did not bring this up to boast of my heroics,” Selik continued. “I simply want you to be aware and watchful. I do not think T’Zantha would try to hurt Spock or you, but I cannot know that. And she is not the only extremist in our society.”

“I can’t figure that out,” Jim confessed. “I mean, with Surak and IDIC and all that, I would think xenophobia wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Selik sighed. “Once that might have been true,” he observed, “but our people have lost so much. I am afraid that for some of them, logic fails.” He rose. “I must go. Be careful, Jim.”

Jim rose as well. “I will, old friend. I promise.”

When Jim returned to the house, he found the rest of the group in the main sitting room. T’Saaria had brought S’Tonor and his twin, S’Varik, down from the nursery, and both infants were sitting on an exercise mat on the floor. Just as Jim walked in, Spock, who was sitting cross-legged on the mat as well, picked up S’Tonor and placed him on his thigh. The baby immediately reached out and laid a hand on Spock’s middle, cooing softly. T’Saaria, watching, almost cracked a smile.

S’Tonor greets his niece,” she said quietly.

McCoy chuckled. “Oh, come on. He can’t know what he’s.....” he trailed off at the Vulcans in the room all looked at him. “Um, can he?”

“Leonard, Vulcan children are born with a much more developed sense of consciousness, if you will, than human children,” T’Rina explained. “While they are not yet verbal, I can assure you that both of T’Saaria’s children understand who we are, who Spock is, and that he is carrying their kinswoman next to his heart.”

McCoy shook his head. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said softly. He nodded his head to S’Tonor, who turned his head at the movement and looked straight at Bones. “Forgive my ignorance, young man,” McCoy said. The baby looked at him seriously for a moment and then let out a huge yawn.

McCoy laughed. “I stand rebuked,” he said. He rose. T’Rina rose with him. Both bowed to T’Saaria as their hostess. “Ma’am,” McCoy said, “it’s been a lovely evening, but we need to get back to the Enterprise.” He looked at Jim and Spock. “Are you two staying here tonight?”

Jim and Spock did one of their moments of silent communication and then Jim nodded.

“Okay,” Bones said. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” After further pleasantries, he and T’Rina stepped outside and called the Enterprise for beam-up.

Jim looked at Spock. It had been a long day, and he thought his mate looked tired. Jim felt a bit drained himself. So he bade his in-laws good night and steered Spock to their guest quarters. He sat Spock down on the bed and pulled off his boots.

“Go get ready for the night and then I’m going to rub your feet with some of that lotion Salok recommended,” he said firmly. His Vulcan passenger had told Jim about rillan, a lotion made from the juice of a desert succulent that reduced swelling in the hands and feet of a carrying Vulcan male. Jim had promptly visited a pharmacy on Vafer-Tor and purchased an ample supply.

“Jim, you are too good to me,” Spock murmured, bending to kiss his mate as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“No, I’m not,” Jim replied. He waited until Spock had returned form the bathroom and settled his mate into bed, his feet propped up on an extra pillow. Jim scooted down to the foot the bed and proceeded to work the lotion into Spock’s feet an ankles while his mate lay back, relaxed and almost purring under Jim’s hands.

“T’hy’la,” Spock finally said.

“Yes, love?”

“Do you truly accept not being the consort to the next head of House?”

Jim looked up from Spock’s arch, which he was rubbing with both thumbs. “Love, I told you. I don’t give a damn about your rank. If you had wanted to stay as Heir, I would have supported you. But I think you did the right thing for yourself and for T’Lira. She’s going to be our little princess anyway; she doesn’t need to be Heir to the House of Surak, too.” Jim laid Spock’s feet back on the pillow and rose, putting the lotion away. “let your half-brother have all the fun of wearing heavy robes in 110 degree heat. T’Lira can be whoever she wants to be, not what your family thinks she should be.”

Spock leaned back against the pillows. “Thank you, ashaya,” he said softly. Jim moved to the head of the bed and bent down to kiss him.

“Go to sleep love,” Jim whispered. “I’ll join you soon.” He went into the bath and took care of business then came back out and crawled into bed, snuggling up next to Spock and bestowing one last pat on that rounded middle.

“Good night, little princess,” Jim whispered.

“Jim.”

Jim woke abruptly at the sound of Spock gasping his name, but it wasn’t the kind of gasp Jim loved; Spock was gasping for air.

“T’hy’la, what is it?” Jim sat bolt upright and yelled for lights, which, since they were in Sarek’s house and not aboard the ship, didn’t do him a damned bit of good. “Spock! Spock!”

“Medical help, now,” Spock managed to gasp.

Jim shot out of bed and slapped the light plate on the wall. He hit the household link, which was programmed to various services, and asked for an air ambulance at once. Then he grabbed his communicator and called the Enterprise. In seconds, he was put through to McCoy.

“Jim?” McCoy’s voice was fuzzy with sleep.

“It’s Spock; he’s having trouble breathing. Get down here, Bones, now, please!” Jim was almost incoherent as he watched Spock wheezing in their bed. If Spock couldn’t breathe, T’Lira couldn’t either.

“Call for paramedics. I’ll meet you at Shikahr’s hospital.” Bone signed off. Jim hit the house intercom.

“Sarek! Come quick! It’s Spock! He’s having some kind of attack!”

In moments, Sarek was there, as were two healers who worked with medical transport. They worked quickly, getting Spock onto an anti-grav stretcher, putting a breathing mask over his nose and mouth. The elder of the two looked at Jim.

“You are his mate?” She asked. Jim nodded. “Then come. You must be with him.”

Jim didn’t even bother dressing. He ran through the halls of Sarek’s house in his sleep pants and t-shirt, barefoot, not noticing the nighttime chill, noticing nothing except the face of his bond mate, eyes closed, pale beneath the transparent mask.

Spock was loaded onto the transport. Jim climbed in beside him and the machine lifted off. Jim crouched next to the stretcher, holding Spock’s icy hand.

“Come on, t’hy’la. Don’t do this to me. Fight, love. Fight for me. Fight for T’Lira.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four: Moments that Grip the Heart

Still barefoot, Jim paced frantically around the comfortable waiting area right outside of Spock’s room. Seated on a couch, Selik and Sarek watched the human with concern in both their eyes. At last, Selik rose.

“Jim,” he said quietly, stepping up to Kirk and putting a gentle hand on his arm. “This does no good. You are simply wearing yourself out. Spock will want to see you as soon as he is conscious, and he will be worried if you are in so much pain.”

Jim turned on him. “How the Hell can I not be worried?” he yelled. “Spock’s in there, maybe dying, our baby with him, and no one will tell me anything; they won’t let me be with him; Oh, God, what am I going to do if he dies...”

Ignoring the stares of a few passing medical techs who were obviously fascinated by the illogically raving human, Selik simply took Jim into his arms and held on tight as Jim clung to him.

“Jim,” he murmured. “We do not know that Spock is dying. Calm yourself and feel the link between you. What do you feel?”

Jim took a deep breath then another. Part of him knew Selik was right; he was a starship captain; he was bonded to a Vulcan; he needed to be calm and mature. The other part of him was still frantic, however, wanting to shriek and rage at the universe, and it was hard to concentrate, to move past the fear and worry.

“Jim, it is all right,” Selik said gently. “Of course you are worried, but feel the bond. What does it tell you?”

Jim focused on his bond with Spock and the smaller, fainter link with T’Lira. After a moment, he raised his head from Selik’s shoulder.

“Spock’s awake,” he said. “He’s...dizzy, but he knows where he is and what’s going on.” Just then, the door to Spock’s room opened. McCoy stood on the threshold.

“Come on in, Jim,” he said with a smile.

Without so much as a glance at Selik or Sarek, Jim all but ran into the room. With a sigh of relief, Selik resumed his place on the couch next to Sarek, who looked at him with fondness.

“Thank you,” he said. “You seem to be able to reach Jim in ways that I cannot.”

Selik shrugged, a human habit he had picked up long ago and never broken. “He and I have a connection,” he said simply. “You understand what it is. He is not my Jim Kirk, yet he is Jim Kirk, and something in both of us calls to that and always will.” He almost smiled. “Plus, I have had more than 150 years of experience in dealing with humans. It ‘comes in handy,’ I believe is the human term.”

“Indeed,” Sarek noted. “I may have to have you lesson me.”

“Quite possibly,” Selik responded. “Quite possibly.”

Jim walked right by Bones and two Vulcan healers as if they were invisible. All he could see was Spock, looking somehow small in the hospital bed, propped up on a dozen pillows, a thread-thin breathing tube in one nostril. Spock looked exhausted, his face still pale, deep shadows ringing his eyes. But none of that mattered when Spock’s eyes met Jim’s and both hearts gave a bound.

In three steps, Jim was across the room and at Spock’s side, gripping his bond mate’s hand with enough force to bruise a human, his other hand reaching to curve around Spock’s face, heedless of Vulcan propriety or Vulcan healers.

“Ashaya,” Jim breathed. “Oh, God, Spock. Don’t do that to me, love.” He tried to calm himself, knowing that Selik was right; Spock didn’t need his anxieties. But then Spock raised one hand and brushed his fingers across Jim’s lips, a gesture he had used the first time they had ever touched. That did it. Jim leaned over and pulled Spock into his arms, burying his face in his mate’s neck, shuddering as he felt the warm, real presence dispel his fears. The healers and McCoy looked at one another, and in unison, all three left the room.

“Do not grieve so, t’hy’la,” Spock whispered, his lips caressing Jim’s ear. “I am unharmed. T’Lira is fine.”

“Oh, God, Spock. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to ask about the baby. Oh, I’m such a shit...” Jim’s self-reproach was cut off by a pair of warm lips. Spock kissed him long enough for Jim to lose breath then drew back, his hand reaching up to smooth Jim’s hair, which looked like Jim had run a marathon in a windstorm.

“Jim, you are most assuredly not a shit,” Spock said tenderly. “I would have reacted much the same had our situations been reversed.”

Jim settled in on the bed at Spock’s side, keeping one arm around his love. “I doubt it,” he replied with a glint of humor, looking down at his bare feet as he propped them on the bed. “You wouldn’t have run out of the house without shoes.”

“T’hy’la, have you forgotten your last allergy attack?” There was humor in Spock’s voice now as well.

“Oh, my God!” Jim burst out laughing. He had forgotten about that. He and Spock had been having a romantic dinner in their quarters for their anniversary, and Jim had reacted to some spice in the soup, his throat closing. Spock had carried him to Sickbay, running through the halls of the Enterprise dressed only in a pair of black satin boxers. Bones still maintained he had been permanently scarred by the sight.

“Thank you, ashaya,” Jim said softly, leaning his head against Spock’s. “I feel better already.” He drew back and looked more closely at his mate. “Love, you look tough. Do the healers know what’s wrong?”

Spock nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “It is something I should have thought of, but frankly, it escaped my notice. Jim, before we came down to the planet, did Dr. McCoy give you a hypo of tri-ox compound?”

Jim nodded. The atmosphere on Vafer-Tor, like the atmosphere on the original Vulcan, was within Class-M limits, but the air was thinner than that of most of Earth.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “He’s been giving them to almost all the crew who are down here for any length of time. Wait a second...” he looked blank. “That’s what’s wrong? But, Spock, that doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been down here before and the air wasn’t a problem.”

“True,” his mate replied, “but on my last three visits, I was not carrying a child. And T’Lira’s blood chemistry is largely human. Just as she requires more sodium, she also needs a higher oxygen level. She was ‘stealing’ oxygen from my blood.” He laid one hand on his curved middle. “I am grateful that her physiology is ‘smart’ enough to receive what she needs, but unfortunately, her demands drained my own blood of the oxygen I needed.”

“But, Spock, we’ve been here three days now...” Jim began. “Oh, wait. You went back to the ship after the first day.”

Spock nodded. “And spent the night on board,” he replied. “Apparently, the oxygen loss is cumulative, and it reached a critical point last evening.”

“Are you going to be all right? There’s no permanent damage, is there?”

Spock shook his head. “The healers wish me to stay here for 24 hours so they can monitor me and provide oxygen directly,” he said, indicating the breathing line. “After that, I will need a tri-ox hypo every 20 hours that I am on the planet.”

Jim sighed with relief. “Oh, love, you can’t know how relieved I am.” He began to rise, but Spock’s hand stopped him.

“T’hy’la, you look exhausted,” Spock said gently. “Further, I do not wish to be alone. Would you stay with me and get some rest?”

Jim’s heart melted, as it always did when Spock admitted he needed him.

“Of course,” he replied gently. He curled up next to Spock, carefully arranging himself on the bed. He laid one hand on the baby spot.

“Bad little princess,” he whispered. “Don’t be stealing things from your daddy.”

Spock laid his head on Jim’s shoulder. “Do not worry,” he murmured. “I want her to have what she needs.”

“Me, too,” Jim whispered, “but not at the cost of you, love.”

The curled up together and drifted off to sleep. The healers looked in on them once, but it was obvious that both had what they needed. Bones looked in on them once and went back to the ship to see if T’Rina was free for lunch. She was.

The Enterprise stayed in orbit around Vafer-Tor for another ten days, as Scotty and his crew practically re-built the planet’s infrastructure from the ground up, and Jim and Spock dealt with family matters and Starfleet concerns. Jim managed to find a multitude of reasons why Spock needed to be on board the Enterprise; thanks to the tri-ox compounds, Spock’s oxygen levels were fine, but Jim was still scared every time he thought of Spock lying in their bed gasping for breath. Besides, their new bed on the ship was a lot more comfortable than the one in Sarek’s guest quarters.

On the morning of their last day in orbit, Jim woke to find Spock standing in front of their closet, dressed only in those black silk boxers Jim loved. Spock’s back was to him, so Jim couldn’t see the T’Lira bump, but he had noticed over the last few nights that she was taking up more space in the bed than she once had (Jim figurd it was all those spring rolls, and he once again silently blessed Mr. Ling). Therefore, Jim wasn’t completely surprised to see Spock rummaging through the closet and drawers, dumping tunics on the floor with wild abandon. Then again, Spock was such a neat freak that Jim guessed this activity was a bit unusual.

“Good morning, love,” Jim said. Spock spun around. A peripheral part of Jim noticed that his balance was bit off. The rest of him just basked in the opportunity to feast his eyes on his t’hy’la, carrying Jim’s child. The “T’Lira bump,” as Jim now thought of it, was still more oval than a pregnant woman’s stomach, sort of like a Massai war shield, actually. But it was definitely bigger than it had been even a week or so ago.

“It is not a good morning,” Spock said snappishly. He looked—flustered, if a Vulcan could have that look. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was mussed. “It is a very bad morning. I have not one single item of apparel that fits my body, and yet I am expected to go down to Vafer-Tor today and meet with the High Council, dressed in a uniform that is too small, while T’Zantha smirks at me, and...”

“Whoa, whoa,” Jim said, quickly getting out of bed and going over to Spock. This had all the earmarks of a hormonal storm about to break.

“Love, it’s all right,” he said quietly, laying a hand on Spock’s arm. “Go look in the closet in T’Lira’s room.”

“There is nothing in that closet but infant’s clothing, and she is not the one who needs to be dressed,” Spock said, sounding forlorn. Jim bit back a smile.

“Oh, yes there is,” he replied. “Trust me and go look, ok?”

Spock sighed and stomped into the other room, every inch of his body proclaiming that he was a. indulging his completely irrational bond mate, and b. he was the most miserable, put-upon Vulcan in the history of the species. Jim just trailed along behind him, ready to enjoy the show.

Spock stalked into T’Lira’s room like a slightly off-balance Siamese cat. He completely ignored the audience of teddy bears on the shelf and dramatically flung open the closet doors.

“Unless you anticipate that I can wear onesies...” he started to say then stopped and blinked as Jim leaned on the doorframe with a grin on his face.

There in the closet was an entire neat row of blue Starfleet tunics, six for daily wear and one formal tunic as well. There were also six other tunics of various styles and colors, for Spock’s off hours. All were cleverly cut with gathers at the yoke, designed to provide a certain amount of...latitude, without looking like the wearer was wrapped in a tent. Neatly folded on the closet’s top shelf were a dozen pairs of pants all with (although Jim thought this might not be the time to mention it to his sensitive mate) elastic waists.

Spock stared at his new wardrobe, hanging next to his daughter’s clothes. “Jim,” he said softly. “How...”

Jim walked over and slipped an arm around his love. “Oh, come in,” he said. “It’s not like I had to sew them myself. I simply told the quartermaster what I wanted, and he programmed them in. If you need new ones later, we’ll just alter the pattern a bit.”

“But...how did you...”

“Ashaya, I’m hardly blind.” Jim gave him a reassuring squeeze. “If you remember, I told you two weeks ago that I thought you’d need new tunics. I figured you’d be too busy dealing with the colony’s issues to order any, so I took a minute and did it myself.”

“Oh, Jim.” Spock turned, and Jim found himself wrapped in his Vulcan’s arms. “Thank you, ashaya. You are...”

“Yeah, I know,” Jim grinned. “I’m the best bond mate in the quadrant.”

“No,” Spock said softly, giving Jim a quick kiss. “You are the best bond mate in the universe.”

“Can I quote you on that the next time we have a fight?” Jim asked. He got a quirked eyebrow in response.

“It depends on the argument and how wrong you are.”

Jim laughed, glad to see his mate back to normal. “Come on, gorgeous,” he said. “Get that formal tunic on. We’ve got a date with the high Council.”

“Captain,” T’Pau said, “we would ask that you extend our thanks to the Federation High Council for their continued assistance.”

Jim bowed slightly. “I will convey your words,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see T’Zantha, who was back on the Council after her suspension. She looked good and sour, but she held her tongue.

“The Enterprise is leaving for Earth tomorrow,” Jim informed T’Pau and the rest of the Council members. “I know that three Vulcan scientists are traveling with us to attend a seminar on Earth, but if any other citizens wish passage to the Sol system or any other point between here and Earth, we will of course be happy to oblige them. We are scheduled to return to Vaafer-Tor in one month.”

Selik rose. “With the Council’s permission, I would like to travel to Earth,” he announced. Jim and Spock exchanged glances. What was this all about?

T’Pau nodded. “Thy counsel will be missed, but thee are free to go at thy own wish.” She turned back to Jim. “I would also ask that you allow another Council member to accompany you.”

“Of course,” jim said.

T’Pau turned to T’Zantha. “It is our will that you travel to Earth and offer a report on the colony’s progress to the Federation Council.”

T’Zantha just sat there for a moment, mouth open. She looked a bit like a Siamese fighting fish.

“Elder,” she began, but that’s all the further she got.

“It is our will,” T’Pau informed her, and apparently, T’Pau’s word was law. T’Zantha’s mouth snapped shut. After a moment, she looked at Jim.

“Captain. I assume you can...accommodate me?” It was damned hard to speak with one’s teeth clenched, but T’Zantha managed it.

Jim inclined his head in her direction. “Of course, Councilor,” he said politely. The brig is empty, at least. For that matter, so is the cage we use to transport dangerous life forms. He kept his thoughts severely barricaded, but he had a feeling T’Pau could guess their gist. The old eyes gleamed as she looked from Kirk to T’Zantha and back again.

“Very well,” T’Pau said. She gave T’Zantha a look that Jim would have called smug on anyone else’s face. “Do have a ...pleasant journey.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Five: So Pigs Do Fly

“Oh, sweet suffering Jesus; I can’t believe T’Pau did this to us,” McCoy moaned. He’d just found out that T’Zantha was being sent to Earth. The Enterprise had just left orbit and was preparing to warp back to Earth. Bones and Jim were having a drink in Jim’s quarters, and Jim was letting him know about the guest list for the next trip home.

Jim grimaced. “You think I’m happy about it?” he asked. “I’d rather transport a whole herd of Denebian Slime Devils. They’d stink more, but they’d piss me off less. But T’Pau wants her to go to Earth, and we’re the handy taxi that gets to take her.” He drained his drink. “She’s not the first pain in the ass I’ve had to play nice with, Bones, and she won’t be the last. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll behave herself.”

“Yeah, right,” Bones replied, knocking back his whiskey. “When pigs fly.”

“Well, let’s talk about a more pleasant Vulcan,” Jim said, determined to change the subject. “How are you and T’Rina getting along?”

McCoy looked down into his glass. “Now, Jim, you know southern gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”

“No,” Jim retorted with a grin. “They fuck and brag about it.”

“Jim.”

“All right, oh chivalrous soul; I won’t push,” Jim chuckled. He took another sip of his drink. “However,” he said with a sudden change of tone, “you do know I’m here if you want to talk about it, ok? After all, how many other human friends bonded to a Vulcan do you have?”

“Point taken.” Bones sighed. “I think we’re doing all right,” he said quietly. “But, I mean, Jesus, Jim. She’s not like a human woman, I’ll tell you that.”

Jim snickered. “Pulling some of that Vulcan superiority on you, is she?”

“Yeah.” But the smile on Bones’ face told Jim he didn’t mind. “And then, there’s...” and Bones blushed, an honest-to-God blush.

“Oh, yeah, mind sex.” Jim finished his drink. “Better than phone sex, almost better than real sex.”

“OK, that’s it.” McCoy got up. “I’m not spending the rest of the evening letting you guess about my love life, you sneaky voyeur, you.”

Jim just grinned at him. “I don’t have to guess, Bones. I’ve been there.”

The next morning, Jim invited Selik to his quarters for a quiet breakfast. Spock was going to be in the lab, and Jim wanted to spend some time with Selik before he got caught up in all the captain shit that never seemed to end.

“So tell me,” Jim said over a plate of fried eggs, “just why are you coming to Earth with us?” He gave Selik a teasing glance. “It’s not because you want to be around to kill T’Zantha, is it? Because if it is, I’ll have to confine you to the brig—or confine her, which I’d rather do.”

Selik cocked an eyebrow at his friend. “If I kill her in space, we can dispose of the body much more thoroughly.” Jim choked on his orange juice.

“Jesus, I hope you’re joking!”

“Perhaps,” Selik allowed, a tiny smirk at one corner of his mouth. He sipped his tea. “No, Jim. I did not come along to antagonize T’Zantha, or to eliminate her, either.” Selik gazed into his cup as if he were seeing something invisible. “I want to see Earth—one last time.”

The cabin was warm, but Jim suddenly felt cold. He set down his glass very carefully. “Old friend, you’re not...” he couldn’t even say the words, but Selik could read him, just as easily as he’d read another Jim Kirk long ago.

“No, ashaya, I am not ill,” he said quietly. “And I have no plans to depart this plane of existence. On the other hand, I have no control over that, either. And this Earth, while it is not my Earth, still holds many memories for me. I am a sentimental old man, Jim. I want to re-visit those memories now, while I still have the chance.”

Jim rose and walked around the table. Bending down, he hugged Selik close, feeling the wiry strength in the old body, but feeling its fragility as well.

“Please, old friend,” he murmured, “do not leave me yet.”

“I will try not to,” The old Vulcan replied gently. He pulled away so he could look at Jim. “But there is another Jim Kirk out there somewhere, and he still waits for me. Someday, I will find hm. When that happens, Jim, be glad for me, please.”

“I will.” Jim’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “But I will mourn as well.”

Selik nodded. “If you did not, you would not be human.”

The trip back to Earth actually went more smoothly than Jim had expected. Spock spent a good deal of his time with the Vulcan scientists who were attending the Hawkings Institute seminar. Jim didn’t grudge his bond mate the opportunity; serving on a starship, Spock seldom had a chance to spend his time talking about pure theory. Jim simply made sure Spock ate and rested, rubbed his feet every night, and snuggled with him under the Andorian silk comforter when Spock and the researchers were finally finished re-designing the universe at the end of the day.

Jim spent as much time with Selik as he could, touring the Enterprise with the alternate version of Spock, hearing many wonderful stories about that ship and its crew. They also played chess; Selik beat him at least as badly as Spock usually did.

T’Zantha, surprisingly, was no problem. She seemed to be spending most of her time in her cabin, but at least once, Jim saw her in the Main Rec, playing some kind of card game with Wesley Crusher, of all people. Jim shrugged mentally. Maybe Crusher would accidently push her into one of the warp engines. Jim planned to give him a commendation if that happened.

The door buzzed. Jim was having what he called “office hours,” a time when any crewman with a problem could stop by and see him. So without even asking who was there, he called, “Come in.”

The door slid open to reveal Ensign Wesley Crusher, the Enterprise’s official Typhoid Mary of disasters. Wherever Crusher went, trouble was bound to follow. To use an Academy term, Crusher was the ultimate dunsel—completely useless even as ballast.

Yet Jim just couldn’t hate him. God knows Crusher tried—and God knows he was trying. Scotty had threatened to shoot him out of an airlock so many times that Jim occasionally asked the computer whether Crusher was still on board just as a precautionary measure. But despite all evidence to the contrary, Jim kept hoping that some day they would find a niche for Wesley.

“Captain? May I speak to you?” Crusher’s face was redder than his Engineering tunic. Oh God, what did he do now? He must have blown something up and Scotty hasn’t found out yet. Well, if he thinks I can protect him from Scotty’s wrath...Jim knew where he ranked in relation to Scotty’s engines, and it was no contest.

“Come in, Ensign.” Kirk pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Crusher lowered himself into the chair like he was expecting it to explode underneath him. He was still red and now that he was closer, Jim could see that he was sweating as well. What the fuck did he do?

“Is there something you need to tell me, Ensign?” Jim kept his voice gentle. The last thing he needed was Crusher barfing all over his desk or passing out on the floor.

“Um....sir....” Crusher was squirming. He was a nice-looking young man, with light brown hair and hazel eyes, but right now, he was a tomato-red, dripping mess.

“Ensign, whatever you have to tell me, the news is getting old while we wait,” Jim said calmly. And once Scotty calls me and wants to have you keel-hauled, it will be too late.

“Sir, I...I wish to resign my commission,” Crusher finally managed to choke out.

What? “Ensign,” Jim said, trying to sound reassuring, “whatever you’ve broken this time, I’m sure you don’t need to take such drastic steps...”

“I haven’t broken anything, sir,” Crusher assured him. If anything, he managed to blush even redder. “I’m....I’ve had a...proposal.”

“A proposal.”

“Yes, sir. And I...I want to accept, but if I do, I can’t serve in Starfleet.”

“Ensign, I think you need to back up the shuttle for a second,” Jim said patiently. “You’ve had a proposal—I assume you mean a marriage proposal?”

“Well, sort of, sir.”

“Sort of. All right. So someone on the ship has proposed, but you can’t stay in Starfleet because...”

“Well, it’s not really on the ship, sir. I mean, she is on the ship, but she won’t be as of tomorrow, and...”

“Crusher, who proposed to you?”

Crusher took a deep breath. “T’Zantha, sir. The Vulcan High Councilor.”

Jim looked at him for a second. Then he started laughing.

“OK, Ensign. Great joke. Did Bones put you up to this?” Jim wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “You really had me going there...”

“I’m not joking!” Crusher yelled. “Sir,” he added hastily as Jim stared at him.

“You’re telling me,” Jim said slowly, “that a member of the Vulcan High Council, someone you could have only met eight days ago,” and someone who loathes humans, “has asked you to marry her?”

“Well, bond with her, sir. That’s what I meant when I said it was sort of a marriage proposal. I mean, I know you and Commander Spock got bonded and married, but I think she just wants to get bonded, which is fine with me, because it’s life-long, and I don’t ever want to be without her, and she feels the same way...” If Crusher got any redder, his skin was probably going to start peeling off.

“Ensign,” Jim said patiently, “Are you sure you haven’t been locked in a storage closet with an open can of solvents?”

Crusher stiffened visibly. “Sir, I assure you, I am quite sober.” For just an instant, Crusher sounded more Vulcan than Spock. “You may ask T’Zantha if you wish, but we thought I should come and talk to you first, since you are my commanding officer.”

Jim was still trying to wrap his head around this. And I thought Bones and T’Rina were the original odd couple. “Ensign—Wesley,” he said kindly, “I apologize if I did not treat this with adequate seriousness at first, but frankly, it is—unexpected.” Jim decided to be diplomatic in his phrasing. Assuming that this wasn’t some allergy-induced hallucination, he didn’t want Crusher going back to T’Zantha and her getting pissed-off because Jim hadn’t reacted appropriately.

“I know that sir,” Crusher replied, “but we’re serious, and since she’s a High Councilor, I will need to live on Vafer-Tor, not serve in Starfleet.”

“Yes, I can see that.” And frankly, our loss will be Vafer-Tor’s loss, unless T’Zantha can figure out something for Wesley to do that doesn’t involve machinery.

“She has a farm,” Crusher said abruptly.

“What?”

“She has a farm,” Crusher repeated. “A very large farm. I love farming. I always wanted to be a colonist on a new planet and have a farm, sir. It’s why I got into Starfleet; I wanted to see what planets were out there and maybe find one that was accepting colonists.” He blushed again. “I know I’m not much of a crewman, sir.”

“Ensign, it’s not that you don’t try...”

“Oh, I know. But...I just seem to have trouble breaking things,” Crusher admitted.

“Look,” Jim said. “I think I should talk to T’Zantha. I mean, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but are you sure about this? Is she? It’s pretty sudden.”

“I know that, sir, but.....” now Crusher went vermillion. “We...we’ve melded, sir. Mind melded. Her mind has touched mine, and...”

“Yes, Ensign; I am familiar with the process,” Jim said gently.

Crusher turned yet another shade of red. “Well, then, you know,” he said, almost shyly. “She’s serious. She’s not lying to me.” He looked down, suddenly shy again. “And I’m not lying to her.”

Jim looked at the awkward excuse for an Engineering ensign, remembering how he’d felt when he realized that Spock really loved him, really wanted him, and had proved it mind-to-mind.

“I’m sure she’s not lying, Wesley,” he said gently. “But I think I still need to talk to her. After that, if you’re both sure, I’ll sign your discharge papers.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Captain? You asked to see me?” T’Zantha looked as uncomfortable as Jim felt, but it had to be done. He rose from behind his desk and offered her a chair.

“Thank you for coming, Councilor,” Jim said. “May I offer you refreshment?”

“No,” T’Zantha said stiffly. “Thank you,” she managed to add. Jim thought privately that it was a wonder her lips didn’t drop off.

“Captain,” she said abruptly, “why am I here?”

Jim just stared at her for a moment. “You’re here because an hour ago, one of my crewmen, Ensign Crusher, came in to tell me that the two of you are planning to bond.”

“That is accurate.”

“And I’m not supposed to find that—astonishing?”

She turned pine-green. “It is none of your affair,” she responded frostily. “Wesley is of legal age.”

“Granted,” Jim replied, just as cold, “but since I am his commanding officer, I stand in loco parentis for him, at least I like to think I do?”

Her brow was creased. “In loco parentis?”

Jim shrugged. “I’m sort of a father figure, and as such, I need to know; are you serious?”

T’Zantha gave him the dreaded Vulcan Eyebrow of Death, but Jim had gotten that too many times from Spock for it to be effective any more. Seeing his total poker face, she looked down at her lap.

“We...we are t’hy’la,” she said, almost too softly for even Vulcan ears to hear.

“YOU’RE WHAT?”

Now she was angry. “You do not have an exclusive monopoly on the term, Captain.”

Jim took a deep breath. Calm. Diplomacy.

“I never pretended to be.” He regarded the regal figure sitting across from him. “You have to admit, Councilor, that this is one damned unexpected development.”

She looked at him steadily. “Do I not know it?” She sighed. “Let me be frank, Captain. If a ten-day ago, anyone had told me that I would be t’hy’la to a callow human in a Starfleet uniform, I would have had that individual confined under a healer’s care.” She looked straight into Kirk’s eyes, and for the first time, he saw vulnerability there. “But the heart cannot be commanded,” she continued softly. “I do not understand why Wesley is my t’hy’la. I am not even sure I am particularly happy about it. But to lose him, now that I have found him...” she actually shivered at the thought.

“Please, James,” she said, leaning forward. “Believe this. I will not hurt Wesley, any more than I would be willing to hurt myself. I will...cherish him for as long as we live.” Jim knew at that moment just how close she had come to saying the word ‘love,’ because he’d seen that look in Spock’s eyes when he told his father about Jim.

Jim shook his head, still amazed at what the heart could do. Then he reached across the desk, offering his hand. Slowly, warily, T’Zantha took it. Jim held on for only a moment. Then he let go, grinning.

“Welcome to the family,” he said.

“Family?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Jim’s grin grew wider. “The human family.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 26: Deep-Rooted Fatigue

“I don’t know what kind of Love Boat in space you’re running, Captain, but I don’t intend to stand for it.” Admiral Bullock’s face was set in its normal expression, as if he were passing a kidney stone the size of Montana.

Calm. Remember your pension. Remember the cost of diapers. “Admiral, my hands are tied,” Jim responded levelly. “As per the regulations instituted post-Narada, any Vulcan or bond mate to a Vulcan has the right to be released from Starfleet without penalty and with full benefits. Ensign Crusher has been bonded to High Councilor T’Zantha, and therefore, I am processing his paperwork, which I need you to sign.”

“Don’t quote regs, to me, Kirk; you’re the king of breaking them,” Bullock snapped. “Send Crusher’s file over to me, and I’ll review it, and I’ll decide the appropriate course of action. Bullock out.” The screen went dark.

“Dickhead!” Jim sat back and fumed for a few minutes. That fucking dick. What the Hell does he think I’m trying to do besides run a ship to the best of my ability? ‘Love Boat’ my ass. I didn’t ask Wesley Crusher to be fucking irresistible to a Vulcan High Councilor. I didn’t pass the fucking legislation giving Vulcans and their bond mates a ‘get out of Starfleet free’ pass. I’d like to see Bullock try any of this shit on T’Pau. Hey, now there’s an idea. Jim hit his link.

“Kirk to Bridge.”

“Uhura here, Captain.”

“Uhura, see if you can put me through to the Vulcan High Council—specifically, T’Pau. My compliments, etc., and I need to speak with her as soon as possible. When you reach her, pipe it down here.”

“Understood, sir.”

Uhura earned her pay; within ten minutes, T’Pau was on the line.

“James, how may I help thee?”

“I’m not the one who needs the help, elder, but I thank you for the offer.” Quickly, Jim explained the situation with Crusher, T’Zantha, and Bullock. As he expected, T’Pau was ready to go to war.

“The bond of t’hy’la cannot be denied,” T’Pau proclaimed, “and bond mates cannot be separated. That is our law and the law of the Federation as well.” She nodded to Jim. “I thank thee for this information. Be assured that there will be no further issue.”

I’ll bet, Jim grinned to himself. Bullock is about to hit a buzz saw ass first, he thought, and I don’t even have to push him.

The Enterprise’s second trip to Earth and back to Vafer-Tor was designed to be of shorter duration than the first; they would only be in Spacedock for five days, just time enough to load up yet more supplies for the colony, for Jim to make his report to the Federation Council, and for forty-five Vulcans who had been gathered from all over the galaxy to come aboard, ready to be relocated as permanent colonists to Vafer-Tor. In accordance with its “re-build the Vulcan race” policy, the Federation was offering very generous financial incentives to anyone with one-quarter or more Vulcan blood who wished to relocate to the new colony. Not surprisingly, many Vulcans who had not seen the home world for a generation or more were finding it quite logical to move to the new one. So the Enterprise was going to make sure they got there.

Jim didn’t understand. He ought to be happy; the mission (so far) was a success; Spock’s pregnancy was progressing well, and Jim was back on Earth, his home. Yet somehow, nothing was gelling.

He hated to admit it, even to himself, but part of the problem was Spock. For the last three mornings in a row, Jim had awakened alone, minus the warm, comforting body that was usually wrapped around him. In the early weeks of his pregnancy, Spock had been extremely tactile, wanting, craving Jim’s touch. It wasn’t just the sex (although Jim had nothing against sex); it was the feeling that Spock needed him, that Jim was the center of his universe. Realistically, Jim knew that was true, but now all of a sudden, Spock seemed to be off in his own world most of the time. On those three mornings when Jim staggered out of bed and went looking for his bond mate, he’d found Spock sitting on his meditation mat, hand on his stomach, eyes closed, with a blissful look on his face. It was pretty damned obvious what he was doing. He and T’Lira were ‘chatting’ up a storm. Each time, Jim had backed away and left the room, and Spock hadn’t even noticed he’d been there.

Another problem was his mother. Jim had no sooner arrived back on Earth than he’d been bombarded with messages from Winona, trying everything from flattery to pathos to get Jim to respond. He had no intention of doing so, and he was even more furious when Sarek, of all people, contacted him and said he’d been contacted by Winona. Sarek felt that ‘family rights and duties’ obligated Jim to try and mend fences, so T’Lira would not be deprived of her grandmother. Jim had, not so very politely, told Sarek to mind his own business. Spock hadn’t been pleased; Jim had been subjected to a long lecture on Surak’s Principles of Behavior. Jim had ended that discussion by informing Spock that Surak never had to deal with Winona Kirk, and that furthermore, Jim Kirk was not a disciple of Vulcan disciplines. That hadn’t gone well. Spock wasn’t ‘not speaking’ to Jim, but he was speaking as little as possible. Of course, he had plenty of time to talk to his stomach, but then, T’Lira would probably love Surak.

The other problem was Selik. When the elder Vulcan had announced he wanted to come back to Earth “one last time,” it had knocked Jim for a loop. Yeah, he knew Old Spock was—well, old. He got it. But somehow, Jim had gotten used to the idea that having been lucky enough to have two Spocks in his life, he’d be lucky enough to have that continue into some agreeably vague point very far in the future—like maybe 50 years from now. No, it wasn’t logical, but fuck logic. Selik had been the first individual who really believed in Jim Kirk; he’d helped him and Spock end up together; he was always there when Jim needed him. The thoughtof losing him was wounding Jim in a way he hadn’t expected. And he couldn’t talk to Spock about it, because Spock was being an ass where Selik was concerned.

Jim had planned to let Selik stay with them while they were all in San Francisco. It made perfect sense; they had a perfectly nice spare room, and Selik really shouldn’t be alone in the city, even if he was a time and dimension traveler. However, when he’d said as much to Spock, his mate had pitched a fit, at least by Vulcan standards.

“I cannot believe you would propose this,” Spock said coldly, staring at Jim as if he’d suggested a threesome with Selik.

“I can’t see why not,” Jim said, trying to be reasonable. “We’ve got the room, and he won’t be a bother.”

“Oh, no, he is never a bother,” Spock retorted, his tone just one note this side of sarcastic. “I do not wish to entertain when I am in such a condition.”

Oh, yeah, you can work a full shift; you can visit your family, but now you’re too delicate to be seen by a house guest? Damned convenient, isn’t it? Jim bridled his thoughts; he truly didn’t want to get into an argument.

“All right,” he said. “Selik can stay at a hotel.”

“If you have already invited him...”

“No, I wanted to ask you first, and since you’re so opposed, that’s the end of it.” Jim had walked out of their cabin, not wanting to stay any longer for fear he’d say something he’d be sorry for later.

Jim had assumed that would be the end of it, but once they were back on Earth, he found out how wrong he was.

“Selik and I are going to tour the city today,” he’d said as they ate breakfast their second day back dirtside. “Do you want to come with us?”

Spock looked mutinous. “I do not think so,” he said. “I am feeling quite fatigued, and I have no desire to be marched all over the city.”

“All right.” Jim was still trying to be reasonable. “You stay home and put your feet up, love. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“I suppose I am expected to have it ready for you, just like an Earth—what was the old term—oh, yes--housewife.” Now Spock’s voice was no longer on the border of Sarcasm-land. It was broadcasting from it full force.

That tore it. Jim stood up. “I don’t expect you to do a damned thing,” he said. “I can still run a replicator.”

“And I can just sit here alone all day, while you play with Selik.” Spock’s face was flushed and his eyes were glittering oddly.

“Oh, please.” Jim laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Don’t try to manipulate me with the poor little abandoned bond mate routine. You won’t be any more alone than I am every time you talk to our child and leave me out.” With that, he turned and stalked out, leaving Spock sitting at the breakfast table.

Selik knew right away that something was wrong, but if 189 years had taught him anything, it was knowing when to pick his chance, and when Jim picked him up at his hotel, it was obvious by the set of Jim’s chin that he did not want to talk about whatever was bothering him. So Selik simply greeted him quietly, and they started on their tour.

“This was it,” Selik said quietly. They stood in front of a large group of condominiums that overlooked the Golden Gate Bridge. In another San Francisco, another Jim Kirk and Spock had lived in one of these units.

“He loved the view of the bay,” Spock said softly, looking towards it. He turned to Jim, a smile in his eyes. I used to catch him standing on our balcony at dawn, sometimes dressed in very little, drinking the coffee that Dr. McCoy spent years trying to persuade him to give up, watching the morning light on the bridge and the water.”

Vulcan decorum be dammed. Jim gently took Selik’s hand, and the old Vulcan let him do it. “I’m sorry.” Jim didn’t know what else to say. “It still hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” Selik’s voice was gentle. “But it is a pain I would not trade for anything, because it reminds me of just how much I loved him, how I will always love him.” He looked at Jim, seeing the tears glinting in those astonishing blue eyes.

“Do not grieve so, ashaya,” he said. “I did not mean to upset you. Perhaps I should not have insisted on this journey through my memories. Perhaps I am finally becoming a foolish old man.”

Jim gently raised the hand he still held to his lips. “You will never be old, my friend.” At that moment, Selik almost asked Jim what was bothering him, but Jim, determaned to be cheerful, suggested a trip to Chinatown, and Selik agreed. His JIm had loved Chinatown as well.

At the end of a long day both happy and sad, Jim dropped Selik at his hotel, still unhappy that Old Spock couldn’t just stay with them. Jim was very seldom genuinely pissed at his bond mate, but tonight he was.

There’s no Goddamned reason why Selik should be sleeping at a hotel when he could be comfortable at our place. Jim knew how little Vulcans liked staying in places where the very walls reeked of the minds of a hundred others. Selik had been gracious about it, but for Christ’s sake, the guy was 189 years old! He deserved to sleep in a private home, not some hotel. And yes, Spock was pregnant and emotionally fragile, but Jim was beginning to think he was using that as an excuse, not a reason, to have Selik stay elsewhere. Jim knew that Spock had always been jealous of his rapport with Old Spock, and quite frankly, Jim was tired of that, too.

In all honesty, Jim was just plain tired. He loved Spock; he loved his ship. But right now, both were taking more out of him than usual, and he was feeling the drain. Most times when he felt like this, it was because of his job, and Spock was there for bolster his confidence and soothe his anxieties. But now Spock was nothing but a bloated mass of hormones, and he seemed to be spending most of his time talking to his stomach and listening to it answer. Despite Spock’s best efforts to bring Jim in, all too often, it still felt like Spock and T’Lira were wrapped up in their own little Vulcan world, and Jim was left orbiting it in a small, rickety ship, his face pressed to the view screen as he tried to get a glimpse of the wonders his bond mate was experiencing.

Jim reached their apartment building and glanced up at their windows. All were dark. Jim sighed to himself. He had hoped Spock might be awake; he felt like they needed to talk about their little breakfast interlude. On second thought, maybe it was a good thing Spock had gone to bed. Jim was feeling too raw to play nice.

Jim let himself in quietly and got ready for bed. He walked into their bedroom as softly as he could manage, knowing that Spock would probably hear him anyway; Vulcan ears were hard to trick. But on the other hand, there was no reason to come crashing in like a drunken frat boy. By the dim light from the windows, Jim could see Spock was lying on his side, his back to Jim’s side of the bed. Jim lifted the blankets and slipped into bed, jarring the mattress as little as possible.

He needn’t have bothered. The bed was already shaking. Spock was already shaking. Instantly, Jim’s sense of irritation vanished. He sat up and put his hand on Spock’s shoulder, feeling the shaking even more now that he was touching him.

“Spock? What is it? Are you cold? Are you sick? What’s wrong?” Jim asked desperately.

“Just....just leave me to myself,” came the muffled voice from a face buried in a pillow.

“No fucking way,” Jim said firmly. He put both hands on Spock’s shoulder and tried to roll him over, but stubborn Vulcan muscles wouldn’t move. So Jim did the next best thing; he got out of bed and walked around to Spock’s side, sitting down and putting a tender hand on the dark head pressed into the pillow.

“Love, what’s wrong?” he asked, again, keeping his voice as gentle as possible through great effort. “Are you...crying?” Jim didn’t mean to sound incredulous, but Spock never cried. Spock hadn’t cried when his planet got blown to Hell.

“Why should I not?” Came the voice, and yes, it was definitely thick with tears. “It is not just another way for me to manipulate you, for me to get my own way?”

Jim immediately felt like he was one inch high and covered in slime. He did the only thing he could think of. He burrowed into Spock’s side of the bed, pulling his bond mate close and swapping the soggy pillow for his own shoulder. Spock tried to pull away, but Jim held fast. He pressed his lips to Spock’s temple, feeling his misery through their bond.

“It’s ok,” he whispered. “Don’t cry, love. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”

“You...you are leaving me, and...”

“Leaving you?”

“You are tired of me, of our child. You want to be with my counterpart, and he can offer you so much more than I can...”

“Hey now,” Jim said gently. “Come on. I need you to stop for just a second, please, love? You’re tearing yourself apart, and there’s no need. Hush now, ashaya. Just feel me, ok? Feel our bond. You’ll see that none of what you’re saying is real.” He held Spock close, cuddling his head into Jim’s shoulder, one hand stroking his neck. He concentrated on their bond, focused on sending all the love and tenderness he could find within himself, murmuring softly as he gradually felt Spock’s shaking lessen. He held on until he was sure Spock was ‘hearing’ him through their link.

“Love, how long have you been crying?” he finally asked softly.

Spock took a deep, choking breath. He was still trembling slightly, but he was clinging to Jim instead of trying to pull him away, so Jim took that as a win. “It is 11:47 local time,” Spock said, always precise. “I began to—weep at 10:33.”

“Oh, t’hy’la.” Jim felt worse, if that was possible. While he was out eating egg rolls in Chinatown with Selik, his bond mate was lying in their bed sobbing himself to sleep—not even to sleep, just sobbing himself into a state of hysterics.

“You...you were so angry with me,” Spock whispered. “And worse, you are so tired of me, of our child. You no longer want me or our life together. I could feel it this morning, and I knew that when you left, there would be no reason for you to return.”

“Love, that’s not true,” Jim tried again. He sighed. “I was very angry this morning. I shouldn’t have been, but you’re right about one thing. I am tired, but not of you. I’m tired of Bullock and Starfleet brass. I’m tired of my mother and your father and all the other assholes that seem determined to make us miserable. And I’m worried about Selik; I know that’s not easy for you to hear, but I’m not going to lie to you. He keeps telling me he wants to see things here on Earth for the “last time,” and damn it, Spock, he’s you. I look at him and I see you, and I imagine how I’d feel if you were getting ready to die on me, and it closes in on me until I can’t breathe. And then, you and T’Lira are so...so happy together, I feel like you don’t even need me any more, like I did my part getting you knocked up, and now it’s all about you and her, not you and her and me. And I’m worried about you, because one day you seem so happy, and the next day, you’re so miserable, and I’m trying, love, really I am, but I can’t do it; it seems like I’m failing you and our baby; I’m a failure at this like I’ve been at everything...” Suddenly, Jim wasn’t too far from tears himself. He knew Spock could feel it too, because he tightened his arms around Jim, who tried to get himself back under control.

“T’hy’la, how can you think that way?” Spock asked. “You have never failed me.”

“And yet here you are, convinced I’m planning to leave you. Obviously, if you feel that way, I’m fucking up.” Jim shook his head. “I should never have accused you of trying to manipulate me,” he continued softly. “I’m sorry; that was a low blow, and I don’t blame you for being upset. But Spock, what do I have to do to convince you? Even if I’m angry, even if we’re having problems, I will never leave you, not for as long as I live, not for Selik, not for anybody or anything.”

“I am sorry,” Spock whispered, his voice still shaky. “I have been unfair to you, and I do not mean to be. I have made you doubt yourself, and you should not. And I have tried to manipulate you, perhaps not consciously, but that does not excuse me.” He pressed a kiss to Jim’s jaw, feeling his mate swallow as he tried to stay calm. “And now, when I can feel how tired and worried you are, you come home and find that you have to spend emotional energy calming me. I know you will not leave me, t’hy’la; I know that when I allow myself to be calm. But...” Spock’s voice wavered again. “I would not blame you if you did.”

Jim’s heart ached at that note in Spock’s voice. “You know, it’s funny,” he said gently, taking Spock’s free hand in his. “Not laughing funny, but stupid-funny. I think you’re too good for me; you think I’m too good for you, and both of us worry that the other one will leave. Well, fuck that. I’m not leaving you, and if you try to leave me, mister, I’ll hunt you down and...and bob your ears.”

With that, all the grief and pain Spock had been feeling seemed to melt. He didn’t laugh, not on the outside, but Jim felt him relax all the way to his katra, wherever he stored it, and Jim knew they were truly together again.

“Thank you, t’hy’la,” Spock murmured. “If I ever am fool enough to leave you, I will hold you to that promise.”

He shifted himself in Jim’s arms, and his hand reached out and started a slow, soothing massage of Jim’s temple, easing the pain that had throbbed there all day. Jim sighed and relaxed into his arms, feeling some of the tension leave both their bodies.

“Are you all right?” Jim asked quietly, relieved that the storm had passed but still worried about his mate.

“I will be,” came the tender response, “now that you are here. Sleep, ashaya. I love you; never doubt that, no matter what our problems. Sleep.”

“I will if you will,” Jim murmured, pressing even closer and feeling T’Lira kick suddenly. He giggled tiredly. “Even our princess is pissed as me.”

“No,” Spock whispered, still stroking Jim’s head. “She is not, and I am not. Good night, t’hy’la.”

“Good night, Spock. I love you, and I always will, no matter what we have to face.”

“As I do you, beloved.” Spock felt Jim’s body and mind wrap around his, and the two—no, the three—of them, each soothed by the other’s presence, fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Piercing the Veil

When Jim awoke the next morning, he was alone in their bed. Glancing at the chronometer, he saw that it was just after 7 a.m.—practically the middle of the day by a certain Vulcan’s standards, so it was no real surprise that Spock’s side of the bed was empty. But after the previous evening’s issues, Jim had hoped his mate might actually sleep in for once..

Jim padded to the bathroom and then out into the living room. Spock was sitting in their favorite spot, the window seat, wrapped in an afghan. He didn’t look exactly unhappy, but there was an expression on his face that made Jim’s heart sink just the slightest bit. Apparently a crying jag hadn’t solved all their problems.

“Hey,” he said softly, crossing the room and sitting down next to Spock, “how are you feeling, love?” Spock looked at him, the dark eyes weary.

“Ashamed,” he said in a low voice. “I am ashamed of myself, and ashamed that I feel ashamed.”

Jim scooted closer and pulled Spock into his arms. His mate allowed it, but he didn’t hug back. He simply lay there in Jim’s embrace.

“Ashaya, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Jim said reassuringly. “I know you’re feeling ‘off,’ and it’s all right.”

“I was—hysterical last night,” Spock murmured against Jim’s shoulder. “I dishonored my heritage.”

“Love, you were not hysterical,” Jim replied, gently rubbing Spock’s neck. “You cry very quietly,” he teased gently.

“Still, I have no right to add to your worries with my imaginary woes.” Spock closed his eyes and leaned into Jim as if he could never get enough contact. Jim pressed a soft kiss to the top of his mate’s head.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” he pleaded softly. “Yes, you overreacted. Imagine thinking I’d ever leave you. Silly Vulcan.” He rubbed his cheek against that glossy black hair he loved so much. “But I was a shit to you yesterday morning, and I’m sorry. I promise never to accuse you of manipulating me again.”

“And I promise to try and be more attuned to your needs,” Spock replied gently. “You were quite right; I am jealous of Selik, and in that, I shame my heritage as well. I have also been preoccupied with T’Lira; even after promising you that I would let you in, I find myself communing with her and not even thinking of you.”

“Yeah,” Jim said quietly. “I felt that, but you know, I’m willing to bet that at some point, every father feels like he’s on the outside looking in.” His hand went almost automatically to Spock’s middle, patting the T’Lira bump. “You’re the one dealing with the hormonal storm and the weight gain, and the kicking. The least I can do is not whine like a three-year-old because I think you’re not playing with me enough.”

“T’hy’la, thank you.” Spock cuddled into his mate with a sigh. “However, I was still in the wrong—and she has let me know it.”

“She?” Jim looked at his mate. “T’Lira?”

There was a tiny smile at the corner of Spock’s mouth. “Yes. She has been—lecturing for the past hour. She does not like it when we fight, and she really disliked me crying. I promised her I would do better.”

Jim chuckled. “Well, then.” His hand gently caressed Spock’s stomach again. “I guess we’d better both be on our toes.” He let go of Spock long enough to lean down and kiss the bump. “T’Lira, you are one smart little princess.” He sat back up and drew Spock into his arms again.

“She agrees,” his bond mate whispered, laying his head on Jim’s shoulder. Jim hugged Spock again and then gently pulled him to his feet.

“Come on. I think you and T’Lira need a little more sleep.”

The call came just after noon. Jim and Spock (and T’Lira) had spent the morning in bed, despite Spock’s faintly scandalized objections. However, he’d been tired enough that he allowed the decadence of lying in bed at 10 in the morning. Everyone had woken in a much better frame of mind, and Jim had just gone into the kitchen to see what he could whip up for a hungry, hormonal Vulcan when his link buzzed.

“Oh, Hell.” Jim looked at Spock. “I have to take this, love. It might be Headquarters.”

Spock nodded reassuringly. “Of course.”

Jim hit the link. The screen lit up to show the face of a handsome, dark-skinned man dressed in a white doctor’s coat.

“Captain Kirk?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Geoffrey M’Benga. I am a Starfleet physician, but I have been called in to consult by my colleagues at San Francisco General.” He paused for a moment. “I need you to get here as soon as possible.”

“Selik?” Jim whispered through stiff lips.

“Yes.” Dr. M’Benga looked at Jim through the screen, his face calm yet sympathetic. “You are listed as next of kin.”

“I’m on my way.” Jim clicked off the link and turned to Spock, plainly torn. His mate rose and came around the table, taking Jim into his arms.

“It is all right, t’hy’la,” he said. “You must go.” He drew back, his hands cupping Jim’s face. “Do you wish me to go with you?”

Jim shook his head. “Thank you, love, but no. I don’t know what’s wrong, and I don’t know how long I’ll be there.” He hesitated. “I hate leaving you alone...”

“It is all right.” Spock kissed him gently. “Go, and bear Selik my regards. Call me when you can. I will be all right.”

“Thank you, ashaya.” Jim grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

When Jim asked for Dr. M’Benga at the front desk, the nurse in charge did nothing to reassure him by sending him to the ICU. Jim raced to the nearest lift, all but knocking over a skateboarder on crutches.

Dr. M’Benga had apparently been forewarned; he met Jim at the elevator and offered a firm handshake. “Thank you for coming,” he said. He nodded down the hall. “Selik is resting comfortably; I’ll take you to see him shortly. However, I need to talk to you first.” He indicated a small conference room. “Let’s go in here.”

Jim waited until they were in the room and then turned to M’Benga. “You said you’re with Starfleet?”

“Yes; my specialty is xeno-medicine; I interned at a hospital on Vulcan, in fact—the former planet Vulcan, I should say. So when Selik was brought in, the attending physician called me.” M’Benga gestured Jim to a seat and sat down across from him.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jim asked through stiff lips.

“I won’t insult you by lying,” M’Benga said quietly. “Selik collapsed at his hotel this morning. He has had an attack of inter-cranial bleeding—in essence, a stroke. It is very serious. He’s in and out of consciousness.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

M’Benga looked at him compassionately. “If he were younger, there are experimental treatments we could try, but frankly, he is too frail to stand them. He also has a living will on file with the Vulcan Embassy’s officials; it severely limits what treatments he will accept—and he has a ‘no resuscitate’ order on file as well. We can keep him comfortable, Captain; that’s about all we can do.” M’Benga took a deep breath. “I hate to say this about any patient,” he continued quietly, “but Selik is dying. I am sorry.”

Jim had known what he was about to say, but hearing the words was still a punch in the gut. He dropped his head into his hands.

“I am sorry,” M’Benga repeated. “I wish I could offer you hope, but his time is limited. I would estimate another 12 hours or so before he goes.”

Jim straightened, accepting the news as he knew Selik would wish. “Can I see him?” he asked quietly. “Can I stay with him?”

“Of course.” M’Benga rose. “I’ll take you to him now, and I’ll let the staff know you’re to be allowed unlimited access.” He paused at the door. “If you don’t wish to answer this question, I’ll understand, but I must admit, I’m—curious. What is this gentleman to you?”

Jim looked him straight in the eye.

“He’s my father.”

Jim sat by Selik’s bed, holding one frail cold hand in his warm grip, gently stroking the back and the wrist, feeling the cold, fragile flesh as he touched it. Selik had been unconscious when he entered, his face on the pillow lined and white, but peaceful.

Jim simply sat with him, trying to wordlessly pour his love and respect into Selik—Spock’s—soul. Jim was not a praying man, but he prayed now, prayed with all his strength that this Spock would know Jim was here, would know that he didn’t have to face this alone.

His prayer was answered. Sometime that endless afternoon, the tired dark eyes opened and focused on Jim. “Ashaya,” Old Spock breathed, his voice a mere thread. “You are here.”

Jim leaned forward and stroked the wrinkled cheek. “Of course I am,” he said gently, keeping his voice steady with immense effort. “I won’t leave you.”

“But...I must...leave you,” Old Spock murmured. “I am sorry, Jim. I had hoped to see your child before I went.”

Jim blinked back hot tears. “I know,” he replied softly, “but she will know you. I promise.”

The old eyes smiled. “It is well.”

Jim swallowed hard. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what, ashaya?”

“For you,” Jim replied. “I love you—Spock. I want you to carry that knowledge with you, if you can.”

“I will, ashaya. Be assured; I will. And I love you as well.” He fell silent for a moment or two. “I have left...my property to you, ashaya. Use it as you will.” Jim nodded. “And I have a request...two, actually.” Spock almost smiled. “I am...greedy...in my old age.”

“Whatever you wish.”

“Would you...take my ashes into space, set me...free among the stars?”

Jim nodded. Old Spock smiled again.

“I was....buried in space...once before,” he murmured. “I came...back, but this time....I think not.” He turned his eyes to Jim.

Jim leaned forward. “You said, two requests, old friend.”

“Yes.” Old Spock gathered his strength. “Will you...join with me....wait with me?” He raised one frail, shaking hand. Jim leaned forward, letting the gnarled fingers touch his psi points.

“My mind...to your mind,” Old Spock whispered. “My thoughts....” He faltered. Jim placed his own fingers on the Vulcan’s face, completing the circuit as his Spock had taught him.

“My thoughts to your thoughts,” he said steadily.

Jim ‘looked’ around. He was in some kind of room, almost like a waiting room or an antechamber. There was very little furniture, but then, in this mental world, none was really needed. There was some kind of curtain draping the far wall.

“The veil between the worlds,” a soft voice said. Jim ‘turned’ to see Spock at his side—not his Spock, but how he imagined Old Spock had looked when he was thirty-five or so.

“Thirty-six, actually,” the figure beside him said with calm amusement. “Your guess was very good, ashaya. I was thirty-six when Jim and I bonded, and in my mind, I have always stayed that age. You will no doubt find as you get older that you have a ‘favorite’ age as well.”

Jim reached out and mentally took the Vulcan’s hand in his. “What are we waiting for, old friend?” he asked. This version of Spock smiled at him.

“We are waiting for you.”

They did not have to wait long, as least it seemed that way in this world where time didn’t really exist. They stood silently, ‘hands’ joined, until the curtain was suddenly pulled back. Light flooded the room where they ‘stood,’ and a figure stepped forward from that dazzling light.

“T’hy’la!” Spock pulled free from Jim’s hand and stepped forward as the figure moved to meet him. The second figure, a human male, maybe ten years older than Jim, pulled Spock into a close embrace. Jim, standing nearby, could feel the waves of joy and love that poured from one figure to the other. Over the Vulcan’s shoulder, his hazel eyes met Jim’s blue ones.

“Hey, kid.” His voice was rich and warm. “Thanks for waiting with him. Thanks for taking care of him for me. I’ll take it from here.”

‘Spock’ turned and looked at Jim. “Thank you, ashaya,” he said. “I go now, but remember. I go gladly. Do not grieve. Someday, we will meet again.”

With that, he and the older James T. Kirk turned and walked hand in hand into that dazzling light. In a moment, both had disappeared. The curtain dropped. Jim was alone.

With a gasp, Jim found himself back in the hospital, his fingers still resting on the face of his old friend. But his friend was gone. Only a frail shell remained. Spock of Vulcan, Selik of Vafer-Tor, had finally found his way home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Equal Parts Sorrow and Joy

The worst part of death was the damned paperwork, Jim decided. He signed and initialed everything shoved under his nose until he was pretty sure he’d just sold his soul in addition to claiming Selik of Vafer-Tor’s body. However, Dr. M’Benga walked him through it and was kind and patient throughout the process. He even sent down to the cafeteria and got Jim a sandwich, insisting that he needed something in his stomach, even at a time such as this.

“That takes care of everything, Captain,” M’Benga finally said. “I will see to it that the urn is sent to your home after the cremation has taken place. That will be sometime the day after tomorrow, unless you wish to delay it.”

“No.” Jim shook his head. “We said our goodbyes, and there’s no one here on Earth who would want a visitation; in any event, it’s not a Vulcan custom.”

“Quite true.” M’Benga rose. “I grieve with thee,” he said quietly, surprising Jim. He all but quirked a Vulcan eyebrow at Jim’s expression. “I spent enough time on Vulcan to know the etiquette,” he said gently. He extended his hand. “I am sorry I could not do more for Selik or for you. There is never a good time to say farewell.”

Jim reached out and shook his hand. “No, there’s never a good time, but thank you, Doctor. I know you did all you could, and for that reason, I could let him go more easily.”

M’Benga nodded. “Then I have done my duty.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, being a doctor is not always about healing. Sometimes, it’s about letting go.”

It was very late, after midnight, when Jim finally arrived back at his apartment. He had waited with ‘Spock’ inside the Vulcan’s mind longer than he had thought, and the paperwork had taken more time. Jim felt a hundred years older than he had that morning. Despite the peaceful nature of Old Spock’s passing, despite what Jim had seen inside his friend’s mind, Jim couldn’t help but grieve, knowing he had lost the one man who had truly been a father to him, just as he’d proudly told M’Benga.

Jim opened the apartment door as quietly as he could, hoping Spock was asleep. He was grateful his mate had left a small lamp switched on; at least he wouldn’t fall over the furniture. Jim closed and locked the door, wearily leaning his head against it, feeling the pain all over again, feeling like he couldn’t take one more step today.

In another moment, he felt a pair of strong, warm hands on his shoulders. “T’hy’la,” the beloved voice said. “I grieve with thee.”

Jim turned into Spock’s arms. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You did not; I could not sleep while you are in such pain,” his mate replied simply.

Jim tried to draw back. “I’m all right,” he said hastily. “Really, Spock; it’s ok; you need your sleep, and I’m dealing with it, and...”

“T’hy’la.” Spock would not be denied. He simply took Jim into his arms again. “It is all right,” he said softly. “Come here.” He walked Jim over to the couch and sank down with him.

“Tell me,” he said gently. “Tell me everything.”

Jim shook his head. “I can’t.” He felt so numb he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel anything again. The knowledge that Selik was gone, that he’d never again see the love in those wise old eyes, that he’d never again be able to call Selik and get his advice, simply seemed unreal right now. Jim could only sit on the couch, drained and dazed, and think, It’s over; he’s gone.

Spock simply nodded. “All right,” he said quietly. He sat next to Jim, one arm around him. “What do you need, ashaya? What can I do?”

Jim leaned into him with a tired sigh. “Just be here.”

“Always, t’hy’la. Always.” Spock leaned back and pulled Jim next to him so the human was half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, cradled against Spock’s body. Spock reached up and snagged an afghan that was draped over the back of the sofa, pulling it over the two of them.

“Rest, t’hy’la,” he whispered, pressing Jim’s head to his shoulder. “Just rest. We can talk in the morning.”

Jim relaxed into his mate with a sigh. “Thank you, love,” he murmured and with that, he was asleep. Spock arranged himself around his love and followed him into sleep.

Jim woke abruptly. Judging from the light in the room, it was just past dawn. For a moment, Jim couldn’t figure out why he and Spock were on the couch instead of in their bed. He sat up, carefully freeing himself from Spock’s embrace, not wanting to wake his mate. Then the events of the previous day swept over him in a wave. Jim gasped, feeling the pain like a knife thrust inside him. He tried to fight the loss, to put it away somewhere. Spock didn’t need this right now.

“Jim.” Instantly, Spock was there, once again drawing Jim into his arms.

“You need not hide your feelings,” Spock said tenderly. “I know, Jim. I understand.”

With that, Jim’s resistance, his resolve to be strong, crumbled. He slumped back into Spock’s arms, shaking. There were no tears; this pain was too great for that. He shook in Spock’s embrace, feeling like all the warmth had gone out of the world. Spock just held him, asking no questions, mouthing no platitudes, simply offering his soothing presence as Jim clung to him, racked with pain.

“I’m sorry,” Jim gasped at last. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I do.” Spock gently stroked the blond head resting on his shoulder. “You have lost part of your family, ashaya, and that is hard. Let yourself feel.”

Gradually, the tremors subsided and the pain softened, eased by the love Jim felt Spock sending across their bond. Jim lay in Spock’s arms, totally exhausted, as if he had run for miles or had fought a hundred foes. Finally, he raised his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I....” He stopped as Spock laid his fingers against Jim’s lips.

“There is no need. I grieve with thee,” he said as he had the night before. His hands rubbed soothingly up and down Jim’s spine as his mate leaned against him. At last, Jim sat up and offered his love a tired smile.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I don’t think I could bear this without you, love.”

“Do you wish to talk about it now?” Spock pulled Jim back into his arms, unwilling to break contact with him just yet.

“Yeah.” Jim found himself curling up next to Spock, his hand ending up on the T’Lira bump. He stroked it lingeringly. “Is she ok?” he asked. “I mean, you didn’t get much sleep last night, and what you did get was with you all cramped up with me on top of you.”

Spock brushed back the hair from Jim’s forehead and laid his lips against the warm skin. “T’Lira is fine, t’hy’la, as am I,” he replied gently. “Do not worry about us. Now. Tell me about Selik.”

Jim closed his eyes, letting his body and soul absorb the warmth and concern he could feel radiating from his bond mate. Slowly, he began to speak. He told Spock about that last day, his final meld with Selik, and what he had seen in his old friend’s mind at the very end of that extraordinary life.

“I...I shouldn’t be sorry he’s gone,” Jim confessed softly. “He was so happy to go. But I’ll miss him; oh, God, Spock, I’ll miss him so much...”

“I know,” Spock soothed, holding Jim close as the shaking began again. “I know.” For a long time, they were silent. At last, Jim stirred.

“Spock,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “do you think it was real? Do you think...Jim Kirk came for him?”

Spock could have answered in a number of ways. He could have discussed theology, philosophy, Vulcan bonds, or the effect of oxygen deprivation on the brain. But he did none of that. He simply held Jim close, kissing his forehead.

“Yes,” he said gently. “I believe Jim came for him. I know you will grieve, t’hy’la, but remember this. Selik is not alone anymore.”

“Spock,” Jim murmured, “if...if something happens to me, will you...?” Spock’s arms tightened around his love.

“If that day ever comes, Jim, I promise; I will do everything I can to find you again.”

“Deal,” Jim murmured sleepily, nuzzling his head into Spock’s neck and closing his eyes. “And I promise if I need to, I’ll...find....you...” He fell asleep again. Spock blinked back the suspicious moisture that had gathered in his eyes.

“I will search for you throughout all the worlds, t’hy’la,” he whispered to his sleeping human. “I promise.”

By the following morning, Jim was feeling better. There was still a dull ache in his heart, and he had a feeling that sensation would be with him for some time to come. But he had accepted the fact that Selik was gone, and he knew he had to go on and live his life, especially with a beloved bond mate and a soon-to-be new baby depending on him.

True to his word, Dr. M’Benga had the urn with Selik’s ashes delivered to Jim’s apartment. In fact, M’Benga had gone above and beyond, arranging for a staff member at the Vulcan Embassy to escort the urn. It turned out to be Spock’s cousin, Solkar. Jim had never met him, but he vividly remembered meeting his mate, T’Lira, at the Baby Einstein store during their last visit to Earth.

Solkar bowed as he handed the urn to Jim, who carefully set it on a small table Spock had prepared, which had been draped with the House of Surak’s colors, silver and blue. It would rest there until it was taken aboard the Enterprise.

“I grieve with thee,” Solkar said formally as he watched Jim place the urn. He turned to Spock. “Kinsman, I am pleased to see thee again.” He looked at Spock closely. “Is all well with thy offspring?”

Spock nodded. “It is well.” He laid a hand on his stomach. “Kinsman, I would introduce my daughter, T’Lira, to thee.”

The dark eyes lightened; like most Vulcans, Solkar was a solemn young man, but Jim had been around enough Vulcans to spot the subtle signs of pleasure. “T’Lira? You honor my bond mate, cousin.”

Spock gestured towards Jim. “My bond mate chose her name,” he replied. Solkar turned to Jim.

“Then I thank you as well, James,” he said. He looked at them both. “I had not been able to reach you via subspace radio, but two ten-days ago, our son arrived. He is to be called S’tellner. His naming ceremony will be tomorrow at dawn at our home. If you are both free and your grief is not too great for unfamiliar eyes, we would welcome your presence.”

Jim and Spock had a moment of silent communication then Jim nodded. “Thank you; we would both be honored.”

“Until tomorrow, then.” Solkar offered the tal pan to them both. “Peace and long life.”

Jim returned the salute. “Live long and prosper.”

That afternoon, Jim checked in with Chris Pike.

“Jim? I heard about Selik. How are you doing?”

“Well enough, Chris; thanks.” Jim smiled sadly. “He was ready to go, so it would be selfish of me to wish him back again.”

“That may be, but I know what he meant to you,” Pike said quietly.

“Yeah.” With an effort, Jim shook off his melancholy. “On to business. You know the Enterprise is supposed to get a second physician.”

“Yes, I’ve been reviewing several candidates; I’ll send their files over to you.”

“Actually, I have a candidate in mind,” Jim replied. “Do you know a Dr. Geoffrey M’Benga?”

Pike nodded, surprised. “He’s on my short list,” he replied. “He’s got extensive training in xeno-physiology, and he...”

“Interned in a Vulcan hospital,” Jim finished for him. He smiled at Pike’s surprise. “I met him when....when Selik passed; the doctors at General called him in to consult. I like him; he’s solid. And with thirty-eight Vulcans on board, not to mention Andorians and Tellerites, we need a doctor with his background. Don’t get me wrong; McCoy is fantastic, but having someone who specializes in non-Terrans would be a real boon.”

Agreed.” Chris chuckled. “Well, as usual, Jim, you’re two steps ahead of me. I guess you don’t need the rest of the files. I’ll cut M’Benga’s orders and let him know he’s shipping out. The Enterprise is leaving in four days, right?” Jim nodded. “OK. M’Benga will be on her.”

“Thanks, Chris. That’s real load off my mind. I don’t want to ever lose a crewman because we don’t have the medical expertise we need.” And I don’t want to lose Spock or T’Lira when the time comes.

Jim and Spock rose very early the next morning and dressed in their formal Clan robes, which Jim had ordered beamed down from the ship. They then caught a cab to Solkar and T’Lira’s home, arriving to find two dozen guests, both Vulcan and human, assembled in the small, peaceful garden behind Solkar’s townhouse. Just as the sun rose, the door into the garden opened, and T’Lira stepped out, a swaddled bundle in her arms. Everyone gathered in a semi-circle as she moved forward and handed the bundle to Solkar. He unwrapped it, revealing a sleeping infant. He held the baby over his head for a moment, allowing the sun’s first rays to land on the infant’s face.

“I announce to all here that S’tellner, son of Solkar, grandson of S’Kulik, takes his place as a member of the House of Surak,” he said in a strong voice. An older man stepped forward.

“As senior here, I bid welcome to S’tellner,” he said, laying his hand on the baby’s head as Solkar held him. One by one, the other guests stepped forward and laid a hand on the baby, echoing the greeting.

Jim looked at the infant. Like most Vulcan babies, S’tellner was quite placid, blinking up at Jim with very large, very dark eyes. Jim gently placed his hand on the tiny fist that poked out of the blanket.

“I bid thee welcome, S’tellner,” he said softly. “Welcome to the universe.”

“Jim? Are you all right?” Spock was worried. Jim had been uncharacteristically quiet at the ceremony and the breakfast which followed, as well as on the ride home. Spock sat down on the couch next to Jim, putting an arm around his mate.

“I’m all right,” Jim replied, leaning his head against Spock’s shoulder. “I am just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About life—and death, and the way things continue,” Jim explained.

“You are thinking about Selik,” Spock said gently.

“Yeah, but about S’tellner, too. Selik is gone; the House of Surak has lost a member. But S’tellner is here; the House has a new member.” Jim’s face wore that sad smile that Spock had seen so often in the past few days. “It’s sad, but it’s nice, too. There is a vacant spot, but then it’s filled.” He hesitated. “And it made me realize—some day, we’ll be gone, too.” He put his hand on Spock’s bump. “But T’Lira will be here, and her children, I hope. She will fill our empty places.” He turned to Spock, his eyes filled with love. He leaned forward and gave his mate a kiss.

“Thank you, love,” he whispered. “Thank you for making sure my place will be filled.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Moving On

Jim woke slowly the next morning, finding himself in his most favorite spot in the universe—securely held in Spock’s arms. His bond mate was spooning him, T’Lira pressed up against his spine. A firm kick, in fact, was what had awakened him from the first truly peaceful sleep he’d had in days. T’Lira was certainly becoming more active, as well as much larger, if Spock’s bump was anything to go by.

Jim rolled over, careful to disturb neither Spock nor T’Lira, and snuggled close to his love, breathing in the indescribably delicious scent of a sleeping Vulcan—or at least, of his sleeping Vulcan. Having never slept with another Vulcan (and having no intention of doing so—Jim didn’t want to die young), he didn’t know if they all smelled like warm cinnamon rolls, but Spock definitely did. Jim couldn’t figure out how he did it; they had been together long enough for Jim to know every detail of Spock’s personal hygiene, and it wasn’t like he was getting up every morning and rolling in a giant tin of cinnamon. But the scent was there, and it seemed to be getting even stronger as Spock’s pregnancy progressed. Probably some kind of pheromones thing, Jim decided. He sighed luxuriously and cuddled even closer, burying his face in the juncture of Spock’s shoulder and neck and inhaling deeply.

“You are sniffing me again,” came a sleepy, amused voice.

“Yep.” Jim just burrowed closer, gently kissing and licking Spock’s neck, feeling his mate arch under the caress.

“Jim, to borrow a human phrase, would you like to fool around?” Spock’s voice was low and throaty, and Jim picked up on his immediate arousal through their bond.

Jim hesitated; Spock noticed it at once.

“I’m sorry, t’hy’la.” Spock’s voice was tender. If you are still grieving...”

“Oh, no, Spock. It’s not that.” Jim actually blushed so hard Spock could feel the warmth on his neck. He shifted slightly and put his fingers under Jim’s chin, raising his bond mate’s face to meet his gaze.

“What is it, ashaya?”

“I...well...oh, God, Spock this is embarrassing.”

“Jim” Spock’s voice was calm and tinged with gentle humor. “I cannot imagine anything about our sex life that would be embarrassing at this point in our relationship. Now tell me, please.”

“It’s just....ok; I just need to know. When we’re...when we’re...you know, doing it...well, I mean, are we going to make T’Lira freak out?”

“Oh.” The light dawned in Spock’s eyes. He drew Jim closer, letting his hands roam freely over his beloved’s body, marveling as always at the contrast of smooth, soft, cool skin, and hard muscle.

“Do not worry, t’hy’la,” he murmured. “We are not psychologically scarring our daughter. At this point, she does not understand sexual activity. The only ‘impression’ she receives from our love-making is my feelings of joy and contentment. Therefore, while she does not comprehend our actions, she is very much in favor of them.”

“Good.” Jim breathed a sigh of relief. “I didn’t want to give up our bedroom romps, but I definitely don’t want T’Lira in therapy from birth.”

“Do not worry, ashaya,” Spock replied, amused. “There will be time enough for that when she is five years old and comes into our room in the middle of the night because she wants a drink.”

“Oh, God, don’t remind me,” Jim giggled. He still remembered the first time he’d walked in on his mother and one of her boyfriends.

“I will not remind you. I will simply give you something else to think about,” Spock murmured. He let one hand move lower, grasping Jim’s half-erect cock and gently stroking it, loving how his mate shivered and pressed himself into Spock’s hand.

“Ohhh,” Jim breathed. “You do that so well, love.” He kissed Spock, feeling that beloved mouth eagerly enfold his, letting his tongue explore all those tender places he’d mapped out on Spock through frequent practice. Almost of their own volition, his hands came around and began to trace the outlines of Spock’s stomach, moving in long, smooth strokes over that fascinating, ever-changing curve, feeling the heat of Spock’s skin and the resilience of his flesh. Spock murmured with soft pleasure as he pressed against Jim’s hands. Jim let his hands continue to caress Spock’s torso as he let his mouth wander lower, gently licking and nipping at Spock’s neck, finally reaching his nipples, which were already hard and erect. Spock’s nipples had always been sensitive, but Jim had noticed that as his pregnancy progressed, they had become even more responsive to the lightest touch, so he was careful to use light, gentle licks and touches, and then he breathed softly on those tender bits of flesh, feeling Spock’s gasp.

“Oh, t’hy’la, so good.” Spock threw back his head and moaned as Jim’s clever mouth moved still lower, gliding over his stomach and down to his mate’s hard eager, shaft. Stroking himself as he savored Spock’s arousal, Jim licked and sucked softly until Spock was all but mindless with pleasure. Finally, rolling onto his side, Jim gasped, “Now, love, please, now” He cried out as Spock entered him with one firm thrust, his natural lubrication easing the way, his hand moving to Jim’s aching flesh, milking him deliciously as Spock rocked within him, bringing them both to a long, slow peak.

Jim lay back in Spock’s arms, feeling his mate’s panting breath on his neck, working to catch his own breath as well. He leaned back in Spock’s sure embrace.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“And I you, ashaya.”

Jim pressed back against the bump. “She’s quit kicking,” he murmured. “She must be tired.”

There was no sound. Spock was once again asleep. With a smile, Jim closed his eyes and drifted off as well.

“Hey, Jim.” Leonard McCoy’s cheerful face filled the screen.

“Bones? What’s that spasm on your face?” Jim asked. “Can you possible be—smiling?”

Bones’ grin got wider. “Yes indeedy do,” he replied. “I’ve had a wonderful time here in Dixie.”

“Really?” Quite frankly, Jim was surprised. He knew Bones had taken T’Rina to meet some of his family, and in all honesty, Jim had been nervous on their behalf. True, the Deep South had come a long way from the latter half of the 19th century, but people who had lived there for generations were still somewhat—provincial—compared to people who, for example, lived in San Francisco and saw aliens walking the street every day. Of course, then there was Jim’s mother. Maybe provincial didn’t necessarily mean bigoted.

“Oh, yes,” McCoy replied. “T’Rina and my grandma are in the kitchen right now, making grits. T’Rina thinks it’s ‘logical’ that she learns how to fix some of my native cuisine.”

“Oh, good God. I’ve eaten grits; they’re not what I’d call cuisine,” Jim teased. He hesitated for a moment. “Ummm, Bones, I don’t mean to pry, but just how did T’Rina get along with....ummmm...”

“The natives?” Bones grinned again. “Well, the first night here, we went to a local watering hole, and some redneck made a comment about “freaky, Godless, pointed-eared demons.” I was about to teach him a lesson in manners when T’Rina nerve-pinched him and dropped his ass like a rock. Turns out he’s a local bully, so everyone in the bar cheered and bought us drinks. T’Rina found out she really likes Southern Comfort.”

Jim was laughing. “Did you tell everybody she’s your favorite hobgoblin?”

“Bite your tongue. My darlin’ ain’t no hobgoblin; that’s your darlin’.”

“Oh, I see. But how did your family react when you told them? After all, you’re thinking about adding her to the family.”

McCoy shrugged. “The only thing my grandma said was, ‘Thank Jesus she’s not a Yankee.’ Vulcans are fine; Yankees are the real demons.”

“Good to know,” Jim chuckled again.

“By the way, how is your hobgoblin?” Bones asked.

“All right, I think. We had a rough patch, but things are better now.” Taking a deep breath, Jim told Bones about Selik.

“Jim, I’m sorry,” Bones said quietly. “I didn’t mean to call up all jocular when you’re...”

“No, that’s all right, Bones,” Jim said quickly. “I appreciate it, but I’ve had time to come to grips with the reality of losing him. I miss him; Hell, I’ll probably always miss him, but it’s ok.” He took a deep breath. “As long as we’re on the subject of Vulcans, I’ve got some news.” He told Bones about Dr. M’Benga. As he’d anticipated, McCoy was pleased at the news.

“Good. About time we got someone on board who’s used to dealing with that green goop Vulcans call blood and who knows where they’re hiding their livers. Can you send his file over to me so I can look it over before I get back to the ship?”

“Sure,” Jim nodded. “I’ll shoot it over to your padd this morning.”

“Great,” Bones replied. “I’ll see you on the Enterprise tomorrow night.”

“Ok, Bones. Say hi to T’Rina for me and wish her luck with the grits.”

Jim went through his comm. messages, noting that he had three from his mother. He deleted all three without even bothering to open them. There wasn’t a damned thing Winona Kirk could say that would interest him.

The next message was more cheerful. “Your cousin Solkar sent me a message,” he told Spock, who was curled up next to him on the couch. Jim scanned through it. “He wanted to thank me for the baby gift I sent.”

“Ashaya, you did not need to do that. Vulcans do not solicit gifts for babies.”

“Too bad; humans do, and I’m following the tradition.” Jim was unrepentantly gleeful.

“I suppose you sent a dozen poly-foam-stuffed animals,” Spock said, resigned.

“Now, Spock, really. Would I embarrass you that way in front of your intellectual relatives? I sent him a complete set of data programs on alien languages for babies—Klingon, Cardassian, Andorian, and Java,” Jim said smugly.

“Ashaya, that was a very thoughtful gift,” Spock approved, faintly surprised.

“Plus a stuffed monkey and matching teddy bears, one blue and one pink,” Jim chortled.

“I am relieved,” Spock informed him, leaning over to kiss his mate. “I was beginning to wonder who had kidnapped my bond mate.”

Jim chuckled and finished reading his messages. “I got one from Dr. M’Benga, the physician who took care of Selik. He says he’s glad to be coming aboard the Enterprise. Apparently he had signed up for a space posting a few months ago, but there was nothing available.” He looked at Spock. “I hope you like him, love, because I’m going to ask him to take over your care until the baby comes. Bones and I have discussed it, and he wants someone with more experience with Vulcans to work with you.”

Spock nodded. “I am sure he will be helpful, and if you like him, ashaya, I am quite confident that I will find his agreeable as well.”

“Remember that when he shoots you full of vitamins and you’re complaining to me about it,” Jim grinned.

As long as you remember how much you like Dr. McCoy the next time he is giving you an allergy hypo,” came his mate’s calm response.

“Love, do we need anything else for T’Lira before we leave Earth?”

Spock looked up from his padd. “I do not think so,” he replied. “You very nearly depleted the manufacturer’s stock of poly-foam animals the last time we were on Earth, and I believe we have sufficient clothing and other necessities, at least for the moment. However...”

Jim cocked his head. “What?”

Now it was Spock’s turn to blush. “Do you suppose Mr. Ling’s establishment could be persuaded to...”

Jim burst out laughing. He walked over and kissed the top of Spock’s head. “I’ll call them and order more spring rolls right away, ashaya.”

“Thank you, t’hy’la.”

“No problem,” Jim chuckled. “The last thing I want is to be stuck in space with a spring roll-craving Vulcan and we’re out. Pon farr would be a picnic compared to that.”

Spock blushed again. But he didn’t disagree.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty: Back Where We Belong

It was so very good to be home, Jim decided as he looked around their quarters. He knew he’d probably feel differently some day, but right now, he didn’t care if he ever saw Earth again. He was back where he belonged, on his ship, with his incredible mate and his outstanding crew, with more spring rolls in the replicator and a dozen teddy bears waiting for his daughter in her new quarters. Jim couldn’t help but notice that a dresser, a changing table, and a tiny swing hanging from the ceiling had been added to T’Lira’s room, and he made a mental note to talk to Nyota and find out who had left those gifts so he could thank them personally.

Spock seemed to be happy to be back on the Enterprise as well. He busied himself with personally escorting the 45 Vulcan settlers to their quarters, as well as checking in with all the science departments, consulting with Mr. Scott about the status of the engines, and working with Sulu to plot the a course back to Vafer-Tor. Not for the first time, Jim thanked whatever gods there were for Spock. Even if they’d never become t’hy’la, Spock was still the best thing that had ever happened to Jim. He knew he wouldn’t be half the captain he was without his Vulcan.

Jim dropped into his favorite chair with a sigh. Across the room, the urn containing Selik’s ashes stood on the cloth-draped table where Jim had gently placed it when he’d arrived on board. Jim swallowed, feeling that heaviness in his heart again. He knew that soon, his last tangible link with his old friend would be gone. He got to his feet and activated his link.

“Kirk to Bridge.”

Sulu here, Captain.”

Jim took a deep breath. “I need you to do something for me...”

It was almost midnight. Jim, Spock, Bones, and T’Rina stood together in a small room off Engineering. There was a photon torpedo tube at their feet, already loaded. Jim had explained to Scotty what he wanted to do, and the engineer had rigged an empty torpedo case to carry Selik’s ashes. Jim had no way to know it, because Selik had never told him, but in another time and place, another Jim Kirk had sent Spock’s body into space the same way.

The comm. whistled. “Sulu here, Captain. The ship is at full stop.”

Thank you. Kirk out.” He had asked Sulu to stop the ship in space just outside the Sol system.

Jim moved to the control panel. He looked at his friends and his lover, standing nearby.

“There is nothing I can say that would not be trite,” he said quietly. “I can only say, Godspeed, Selik.” The group bowed their heads. Jim pressed the button on the control panel. In a moment, a flash of light from the view screen signaled that the torpedo had been fired. The mortal remains of Spock of Vulcan, Selik of Vafer-Tor, had been sent into the endless depths of space.

T’Rina stepped up to Jim and laid a slim hand on his arm. “I grieve with thee,” she murmured. She and Bones left the room quietly. Spock looked at Jim.

“Do you wish to go, t’hy’la?”

Jim looked up. “No,” he replied, “not yet. I think....I’d like to be alone.”

Spock nodded. “As you wish, ashaya.” He too left. Jim stood for a long time, staring out the view port at the endless expanse of space. Somewhere out there, Spock’s ashes would float for all time. Somewhere beyond there, Spock and James Kirk were together. Jim hoped they were happy, as happy as they’d been when Jim had glimpsed them inside Spock’s mind on that last day. Jim felt the tears well up and overflow, trickling softly down his face. He did not fight them.

Good-bye, old friend,” he murmured one last time. “I hope you were right. I hope that someday we meet again.”

The following day, Jim and Spock were both on Alpha shift and both on the Bridge. The ship was on course to Vafer-Tor, and all systems were normal. It looked like this was going to be a smooth trip. Jim hoped so, at any rate. He wasn’t sure how much energy he had for a crisis right now.

His chair linked whistled. “McCoy to Bridge.”

“Kirk here. What’s up, Bones?”

“Is Spock there?”

“Yeah.” Jim glanced at the science station, seeing Spock turn in his chair as he heard his name.

“I’d like him to come to Sickbay now, unless he’s in the middle of discovering a new solar system.”

Jim felt a tickle of dread run up his spine. “Any particular reason, Bones?”

“Well, you have noticed he’s pregnant, right?” McCoy responded dryly. “I haven’t examined him in almost two weeks, and I want M’Benga to look at him as well, since he’s going to be taking over for the blessed event.”

Jim looked at Spock. “Can you go now?” he asked.

Spock nodded. “I am not in the middle of any urgent project,” he replied.

“OK.” Jim turned back to his comm. “I’ll send him down now, Bones. Kirk out.”

Spock rose, slightly off-balance, and smoothed his tunic down his front. Jim watched with love, still fascinated by every little thing about his mate. He got up and intercepted Spock at the lift.

“Let me know what they say, all right?” he murmured. He snuck his hand into Spock’s for a quick Vulcan kiss. He felt Spock’s fingers stroke his in reply.

“You will be the first to know, ashaya,” Spock murmured back, just before he stepped into the lift. Jim turned to find Uhura looking at him, a smile on her face. He blinked, not sure if he was seeing that right. Yep, it was a smile. She got up and walked over to him.

“You two are so cute,” she said. He grinned; he couldn’t help it.

“Being a godmother had made you soft,” he teased.

“Hardly,” she snorted. She glanced around the bridge. “Do you have a second? There’s something I want to talk over with you while Spock’s out of earshot.”

Jim nodded. “Let’s go in my ready room,” he suggested. They did so, and Jim offered her a seat.

“Thanks.” Uhura looked at him. “How are you weathering all this?” she asked.

“Pretty well, thanks,” Jim replied. “We’ve had a rough patch or two, but we’re working on our communication issues, and I think we’re doing pretty well.”

“Good.” She grinned at him. “You know, Captain, sir, if you keep this up, I may start to like you.”

“God forbid,” he said with mock-horror. “I’ll be sure to do something asinine pretty soon, ok?”

“Not on my account,” she replied smartly. “In any event, I didn’t ask to see you to congratulate you on developing social skills.”

“Ok, shoot.”

“Some of us want to do something for the baby,” she began.

“Nyota, you already have,” Jim noted. “The crib, getting Scotty to re-do our quarters...”

“Yeah, I’m all paid up, but some of the crew still want to do something,” she continued. “Now, you and I both know Spock would die from embarrassment if he got roped into a traditional baby shower.”

“Yeah, I can’t see him playing pin-the-diaper-on-the-donkey,” Jim chuckled.

“Exactly. So I came up with another idea.” Nyota outlined it for him. He looked at her with admiration.

“If I hadn’t already promoted you, I’d do it now,” he said appreciatively. “Thanks, Nyota. I want you to be godmother to all my kids.”

“Oh my God. You’re having more?”

Jim grinned. “Don’t tell Spock right now, but yeah. I want a houseful.”

She settled for rolling her eyes. “Let’s get this one outfitted first, ok?”

“Deal.”

Jim had only just settled back into his command chair when his comm. whistled again.

“Kirk here.”

“Jim would you come to Sickbay?” It was Bones.

“Oh, God, Bones...”

“Nothing’s wrong,” McCoy quickly assured him. “We just need to talk to you.”

Jim was up from his seat in a flash. “Commander Uhura, you have the con.” He was in the lift before she could even say, “Aye, sir.”

Jim broke the land speed record getting to Sickbay. As he hurried through the door, Nurse Chapel looked up from her computer and nodded towards one of the exam rooms.

“They’re waiting, Captain,” she said with a reassuring smile. She doubted he noticed it.

Jim burst into the exam room, to find Bones and M’Benga standing by calmly and Spock perched on the exam table, finishing dressing.

“What is it?” Jim hurried to Spock, barely noticing the other two with peripheral vision. “Spock, are you all right?”

Calm yourself, t’hy’la, Spock spoke tenderly through their bond. “All is well,” he said aloud. “Dr. M’Benga simply has a different view than Dr. McCoy.”

Jim drew his first deep breath since the Bridge and turned to the two physicians. “All right,” he demanded. “What’s up?”

McCoy looked faintly chagrined. “Jim, I’m sorry. It’s pretty damned obvious that I don’t know enough about Vulcan pregnancies, or at least Spock’s pregnancy, or I never would have...”

“What is going on?” Jim asked in full captain’s voice. M’Benga stepped forward.

“I have examined Commander Spock,” he said calmly, “as well as reviewed his file and the test up to this point. Dr. McCoy estimated that the child would be born in approximately another eight to nine weeks. However, based on my tests and examinations...”

“And he knows what he’s looking at; I don’t,” McCoy interjected.

“I believe Commander Spock miscalculated the date of the child’s conception. I estimate that the child will probably be born in another four to five weeks,” M’Benga concluded.

Jim looked at Spock, who nodded. “Based on my own monitoring of my body, I tend to agree with Dr. M’Benga,” he said quietly. “Of course, this is a new experience for me, but T’Lira is developing both physically and mentally at an accelerating rate. I believe his estimate is valid.”

“Four to five weeks,” Jim whispered. Ignoring the two doctors again, he placed his hand on what he fondly called the T’Lira bump, feeling the kick as she moved. Jim sighed.

“I’ve got to learn to knit,” he said.

When Jim awoke the next morning, Spock was still in bed beside him, looking at Jim, his hand softly stroking his mate’s forehead. Jim blinked sleepily.

“Good morning, love.”

“Good morning, ashaya,” Spock answered softly.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 0600,” Spock replied. “Are you awake enough for a discussion?”

Jim snuggled into Spock’s embrace. “Do I have to make some kind of executive decision?”

“No. I just need to talk to you about a matter concerning our lives. You need not decide anything today,” Spock replied.

“Considering how fuzzy I am before coffee, I’ll probably be sorry I agreed, but go ahead.”

Spock took a deep breath. “I have been thinking about our lives once T’Lira is here,” he said. “I do not know if I want to raise her on a starship.”

Jim gently freed himself from Spock’s embrace and sat up slowly, leaning against the headboard. “I think I need to be vertical for this,” he said.

Spock looked unhappy. “I was afraid you would feel this way.” He looked down at his lap. “I...I understand, t’hy’la. I will not mention it again.

“Whoa,” Jim said, reaching for his mate’s hand. “Hang on just a second, love. I’m not terminating the discussion. I can understand why this is important to you; hell, it’s important to me. This is our child and our life together; I get it. So we need to talk about it.”

“I do not want you angry with me.” Spock looked as dejected as a Vulcan could.

“I won’t be,” Jim replied reassuringly. “I promise; I’ll be all calm and cool and logical, ok?” He raised the hand in his to his lips. “Now. You don’t want T’Lira raised on a ship. Why?”

Spock settled back on the bed next to Jim. “I have been thinking about what T’Saaria said, about the dangers of space,” he said softly. “She has a valid point.”

“I agree with that,” Jim replied as quietly. “There is danger on a ship, but Spock, what I said is true as well. There is no completely safe place. I don’t ever want anything to happen to our child, not even a scraped knee, any more than I want anything to happen to you. And if there was a magic bubble where we could raise T’Lira in complete safety, I’d transport us there in a minute. But you know better than that, love.”

Spock sighed. “Yes, I do.” He was silent for a moment. “My concerns are illogical.”

“No, they’re not.” Jim gently stroked the hand he still held. “Your concerns are perfectly logical. I’m just not sure how to address them.” He thought for a second. “Is the danger to T’Lira the only problem you have with raising our child here?” He could tell by the way Spock hesitated that there was more.

“No,” his mate finally confessed. “I...I am afraid for you, as well.” His hand tightened on Jim’s. “If something were to happen to you...I do not know if I could go on, if I could raise our child alone.”

“Spock,” Jim murmured, deeply moved, “Don’t you suppose I feel the same way about you?” He reached over and drew Spock’s head onto his shoulder, feeling the tension in his bond mate’s body. “Look.” Jim kept his voice quiet and calm. “We’ll figure this out, love; I promise. What do you want to do?” He hesitated, hating to even say it. “Do you want to take her home?”

“I am home,” Spock replied tenderly, rubbing his cheek against Jim’s shoulder. He sighed. “I realize I am making no sense at all; hormones apparently short-circuit logic completely.”

Jim huffed a laugh. “I don’t think so, love. Except for the spring rolls addiction, you still seem pretty logical to me.” He leaned his cheek against Spock’s head. “Tell you what. We’ve got two more years of this mission. For the moment, let’s keep doing what we’re doing. If you decide T’Lira’s in too much danger on a starship, we can resign our commissions at some point, or we just won’t re-up. If you don’t want to raise her on Vafer-Tor, we’ll raise her on Earth. If that doesn’t work, there are about 10,000 possible planets we can settle on. We’ll find a solution, love. I know we will.”

“Thank you, t’hy’la. I was afraid you would say you could not give up life in Starfleet,” Spock confessed softly.

Jim kissed his mate’s head. “My life is with you,” he replied. “Starfleet is just a career. If I have to, I’ll take us back to Iowa and raise corn.” He glanced at the chronometer. “Why don’t you go back to sleep for another hour?” he suggested. “If I know you, you’ve been awake since 0300, trying to figure out how to broach this subject.”

Spock didn’t bother to deny Jim’s assumption. “I will sleep if you will.” Spock’s eyelids were already drooping.

“Deal.” Jim lay back down, Spock still pressed up next to him, and closed his eyes.

“T’hy’la?”

“Yes, Spock?”

“I cannot see you in overalls.”

Jim smiled. “Nope, me either. But I’d do it for you.” He laid his hand on that precious bump. “And for her.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-One: There Must Be Something in the Ventilation System

The next two days were uneventful. The Enterprise was on course; the Vulcan passengers were quiet and unobtrusive, and there were plenty of spring rolls in the replicator. Spock seemed to be feeling well, and he was positively blooming. (Jim made a mental note to quietly order larger tunics and swap out the ones that were getting bit tight. Spock was ‘blooming’ outward fairly rapidly). In addition, Spock and Dr. M’Benga had developed an instant rapport, and as much as Jim liked and trusted McCoy, was he relieved to have a doctor on board with such extensive training in Vulcan physiology. The question of what they were going to do when T’Lira arrived was still hanging fire, of course, but Jim was confident that they would work it out. Yes, everything was going smoothly. Jim knew that would never last, but he decided to enjoy it while he could.

The door buzzed.

“Come in,” Jim called. He was once again holding “office hours.”

The door slid open to reveal McCoy and T’Rina. She looked serene, as usual. He looked flustered, also a usual state, especially since he’d met T’Rina.

“We are doing it,” he said, stomping into the room as Jim rose.

“There is no logic in it,” she replied, nodding to Jim. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” he nodded back. He looked at Bones. “What can I do for you?”

“That is still under discussion, sir,” she replied, taking the chair he’d indicated.

“It is not under discussion.” McCoy glared at her. She simply looked at him, that same serene look on her face.

“We are discussing it now,” she pointed out gently.

“We’re not discussing it; I’m deciding it!” he all but yelled.

“OK,” Jim interjected hastily, afraid that T’Rina was about to nerve-pinch another Southerner, “does one of you have something you want to share?”

“We want you to marry us,” McCoy said.

“That is still under discussion,” T’Rina added.

“NO IT’S NOT!”

“Bones, sit down.” He did so, still glaring at T’Rina, who was doing the whole Mona Lisa act very successfully. Looking closer, however, Jim caught the tiniest hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. Having lived with a Vulcan for more than two years, he knew that smirk well. T’Rina was feeling smug.

“All right,” Jim said gently. “Bones, you want me to perform a wedding for the two of you?”

“Yes,” he replied firmly. “And before we get to New Vulcan.”

“Vafer-Tor,” T’Rina murmured.

“Whatever.”

Jim turned to T’Rina. “Do you wish to marry Leonard?” he asked gently. Jim certainly hoped she said “yes.” He’d hate to see Bones get his heart broken for the second time.

“It is not a matter of wishing,” she replied calmly. “There is simply no logic in performing an outmoded ritual simply because I am pregnant, and Leonard is suffering from an unfortunate human male tendency to ‘mark his territory,’ I believe you would say.”

“You’re WHAT?”

“You heard her,” McCoy said grimly. “And I’m not landing on New Vulcan with a pregnant girlfriend with no ring on her finger. And the baby is going to have my name.”

“I see no logic in naming the child ‘Bones,’ especially if it is a female,” T’Rina replied.

“Damnit, woman, that’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Jim was fast losing his battle for a straight face. “All right. You’re pregnant,” he said to T’Rina. “Is there any logical reason why you wouldn’t marry the father of your child?”

“We will bond on Vafer-Tor,” she replied. “As far as I am concerned, that will be sufficient public recognition of my status.”

“Well, it’s not sufficient public recognition for me,” McCoy snapped. “I want us to be married under Federation law, and I want your relatives to know I’m serious before we ever do that crazy-ass bonding thing.”

“There is nothing crazy-ass, as you put it, about bonding,” she retorted.

“Damnit, you stubborn...”

Jim interrupted before he got to ‘hobgoblin.’ “Look,” he said to T’Rina, “you love Bones, right?”

“His company is agreeable—when he is not being illogical,” she said, giving Bones one of those sideways glances. “And he is a satisfactory sexual partner, although somewhat lacking in imagination and surprisingly inhibited, especially when it comes to...”

“All right,” Jim held up one hand, not wanting to know anything about McCoy’s inhibitions. He could feel his cheeks heating up; for a logical race, Vulcans were surprisingly inventive in bed. He’d be willing to bet T’Rina had taught McCoy some tricks he’d never known. God knows Spock had taught Jim a few things.

“T’Rina,” he said gently, “part of being in a relationship is learning to compromise. You said you intend to bond with Leonard, right?” She nodded. “Well, then, you’re obviously committed to making this relationship work. So I would suggest that you indulge his human need for a human ceremony. It’s painless, and it only takes about 20 minutes. You can have as many or as few witnesses as you wish, and you don’t have to wear a ring if you don’t want to.”

She thought about it for a moment. “Your argument is logical, and I have no objection to jewelry, provided it is tasteful.” She gave Bones another glance. “And expensive.” Jim choked, trying very hard not to laugh. “You could learn much about argument from Captain Kirk,” she said sweetly.

Bones grinned at her. “Anything you say, darlin.” He turned to Jim. “Can we do this tonight? I don’t want to give her time to change her mind.”

“Leonard, it would be illogical for me to change my mind.”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

Once the happy couple had left, still bickering over whether Bones was ‘illogical,’ Jim called the ship’s facilities manager and asked him to have the chapel ready at 1900 hours, complete with ‘illogical’ candles and flowers. He then sat back, imagining Bones as the father of a pointy-eared baby. Jim grinned to himself. Apparently he and Spock had started something.

Within the hour, there was another buzz at Jim’s door. It slid open to reveal Vulcan Councilor T’zantha and new civilian Wesley Crusher. They were returning to the new colony after T’Zantha’s report to the Federation Council.

Jim rose. “Good day,” he said. “Please, sit down.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Wesley said, escorting T’Zantha to a chair with all the solemnity of which he was capable. He sat down next to her, and both looked at Jim.

“Captain,” T’Zantha said, “I have not had an opportunity to offer my condolences upon the death of Councilor Selik. I grieve with thee.”

“Thank you,” Jim replied quietly. “I know that the two of you did not always agree, but...”

“Indeed, he offered to kill me at least once,” she said with a sly humor he had not expected. “However, he served our people well.” She looked at Wesley. “And I have learned that humans have...more to offer...than I once realized."

Crusher blushed so hard Jim was afraid he’d spontaneously combust.

“How can I help you?” Jim asked, changing the subject before Crusher melted into a puddle.

“Captain, I understand that a starship commander is authorized to perform Federation marriage,” T’Zantha explained. “Wesley and I would be grateful if you would perform such a ceremony for us.”

“Of course,” Jim replied. “I would be honored.”

“Could you do it as soon as possible, sir?” Wesley asked. “I don’t want to wait.”

“My mate is impetuous,” T’Zantha noted, “but his sentiments are also mine.”

Would tonight at 1930 hours suit?”

“That would be quite satisfactory.”

Jim glanced at Wesley. “You know where the chapel is, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Wesley blushed again. “I set fire to one of the tables once when I was helping Lt. Rogers set up for an event.”

Jim remembered that; he hadn’t intended to mention it. He thought once more how fortunate Star Fleet was that T’Zantha had decided to fall for Wesley Crusher.

“Very well,” he said. He looked at T’Zantha. “Madam, you may wish to know that one of your fellow Vulcans, Lt. T’Rina, is marrying our Chief Medical Officer at 1900 hours this evening.”

“Indeed,” T’Zantha replied. “Thank you, Captain.” She glanced at Wesley. “We would like to attend, if that is not an inappropriate request.”

“I am sure they will both be honored to have you,” Jim replied.

“Very well.” T”Zantha rose. “If you will excuse us, we will see you at 1900 hours. Come, Wesley.” She swept out of the room like an ocean liner, Wesley an eager tugboat in her wake.

Once the door was safely closed, Jim leaned back in his chair and laughed. Were all Vulcan females this bossy? He was beginning to see why Spock had decided on a human male as a mate. And thank all the gods he had, too.

Less than 10 minutes later, his door buzzed yet again. Upon his invitation to enter, Uhura and Scotty walked into Jim’s office. He was beginning to wonder if he was on board the Enterprise or Noah’s ark. Everyone seemed to be two-by-two today.

“Let me guess,” Jim said before either one could speak. “You two want to get married.”

Both looked somewhat surprised. “Umm...aye,” Scott finally said. “We could ’ave done it on Earth, but we both feel that since the Enterprise be our home...”

“You’d rather be married here,” Jim nodded. “So. Tonight?”

The two glanced at each other. “I have my dress,” Nyota said.

“Aye, and tis a lovely frock,” Scott replied fondly.

“And I can send out invitations via link,” she said.

“And me engines are runnin’ smoothly, so there should be nae problems.”

“All right,” Jim said. “Will 2000 hours work for you?” They nodded. “OK. Bones and T’Rina are getting married at 1900, and our favorite disaster, Wesley Crusher, is tying the knot with Councilor T’Zantha at 1930, so if the two of you want to attend either ceremony, just come on along.”

“Both nodded again. “We’ll see you tonight, sir,” Nyota said.

“Very well. Oh, and you two?” They paused at the door. “Congratulations,” Jim said with a smile. “I think you’ll be very happy together.”

“Aye,” Scott said with satisfaction evident in his voice. “That we will, sir.”

Jim waited until they left and then called down to the galley and told Lt. Atchison to set up a buffet in the multi-purpose room next to the chapel. Then he went to his closet to make sure his dress uniform was pressed.

It turned into quite a party. Because of T’Zantha’s nuptials, nearly all the Vulcan passengers felt it was appropriate to crowd into the chapel. Thanks to Scott’s popularity (who wouldn’t love a man who could make the kind of hooch Scotty turned out?), half of the Engineering and Maintenance Departments turned up. The entire Command Crew was there, of course, along with most of Sickbay and several of Nyota’s friends from various departments. It was a damned good thing Jim didn’t suffer from stage fright, because he had to perform three ceremonies in front of a packed house. The buffet (largely vegetarian but still tasty) was a huge hit, especially since Spock had nobly donated three dozen of his ‘private stock’ spring rolls from Mr. Ling’s restaurant. In addition, Lt. Atchison had managed to create not one but three wedding cakes in just a few hours. Even the Vulcans who saw no logic in eating at such a late hour couldn’t resist the opportunity to nosh on cake. Spock had three pieces. No one called him on it.

It was over. The happy couples had departed; the last crumb of cake had been quietly consumed by Spock when no one was looking, and Jim made a mental note to give Lt. Atchison a raise. He looked at Spock, who was sitting with a clean plate on his (largely non-existent) lap, and a smudge of frosting on his chin.

“Come on, love,” he said. “Time for you and T’Lira to sleep off all that sugar.”

Spock tried to look innocent. “I only consumed one piece of cake.”

At a time, Jim thought with loving amusement, watching Spock blush green as he caught the thought from his bond mate’s mind. He held out his hand and helped Spock find his balance.

“Let’s get you tucked in, t’hy’la.”

“Jim?”

“Yes, love?” Jim was drifting towards sleep, but he opened his eyes when he heard Spock’s voice.

“I have been thinking.”

“You usually are, ashaya. That brain of yours never stops. What are you thinking about?”

“I think...I think a starship is an excellent place to raise a child.”

“Really?” Jim lifted his head off Spock’s shoulder, just far enough so he could look into his bond mate’s eyes. “What about the danger?”

“I have no doubt that the crew of this ship would do anything they could to save the life of a child—yours and mine or anyone’s,” Spock replied. “And...I believe that it would beneficial for T’Lira to be raised with a large, loving community around her.”

“Agreed.” Jim yawned and put his head back down. “We may be a bit odd, but we’re loving. But if you change your mind, love, that offer of a cornfield is still open.”

Spock kissed the top of Jim’s head. “Thank you, t’hy’la. But I think T’Lira will be happier among the stars than among the corn stalks. Good night, ashaya.”

“Good night, love.” Jim fell asleep. Once the cake had settled, Spock did as well.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Two: Sins of the Mother

Spock woke very slowly, feeling—he believed a human would call it ‘fuzzy,’ not exactly ill, not exactly tired, but drained of energy and not disposed to leave the bed and start the day with his usual efficiency. At first, he thought he was alone, since he could no longer feel Jim’s body pressed up next to his, but after a few moments of fuzziness, he realized that Jim was sitting at the foot of the bed, Spock’s feet in his lap, rubbing them with the lotion he had picked up on their last trip to Vafer-Tor. Spock felt his very bones melting, or so it seemed, tension sliding out through the soles of his feet as Jim worked with utter concentration, his warm, callused hands slowly, gently, yet firmly rubbing the lotion into Spock’s feet, stroking up and down the arches and around the ankle bones, his fingers sliding deliciously between Spock’s toes. Spock would have sworn he could actually feel the swelling decrease under Jim’s tender ministrations—the lotion wasn’t even necessary.

Spock sighed, his body sinking into the mattress. Jim looked up from his project and smiled.

“Good morning, love,” he said quietly. “Your feet looked like they might be bothering you, so I decided to see what I could do.” He picked up the bottle of lotion from its precarious perch on the mattress and poured a bit more into his hand, sliding down and cupping Spock’s heel, massaging it gently before getting more lotion and doing the other heel the same way.

“Thank you, t’hy’la, that is much better.” Spock hadn’t even realized just how much his feet had been hurting lately until the pain stopped. He stretched, still feeling somewhat fatigued. “I should rise and prepare for my shift.”

“No you don’t,” Jim replied gently but firmly. “I’m not going to mince words, love; you look tired, and I think you and T’Lira need a day in bed. So as your captain, I’m giving you one. Be a good Vulcan, and I won’t make it an order, and I won’t bring Bones or M’Benga in here to drag you to Sickbay. Plus, you can have pudding for dessert tonight. Deal?”

Spock tried to glare at his bond mate, but his feet felt too good, and the bed was too warm and comfortable.

“I am quite sure you have just broken several regulations with that combination of threats and bribery,” Spock said with dignity. “However, because I love you, I will not report you to Admiral Bullock.”

“And you’ll stay in bed.”

Spock sighed, resigned. “And I will stay in bed.” He tried to look severe. “You are fortunate that I like pudding.”

Jim gently tucked Spock’s feet under the covers and rose. Moving to the head of the bed, he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his bond mate’s forehead.

“Take it easy, love. I’ll come and have lunch with you, ok?”

“May I have my pudding then instead of waiting until night?” Spock’s eyes were already drooping sleepily, and Jim had a sudden flash of what his love must have looked like as a small child. He bent and kissed him again, once again realizing just how lucky he was to have this man in his life.

“It’s deal. Captain’s promise.”

Jim got himself ready for his shift and peeked in on Spock. As he had hoped, his bond mate was asleep. Jim left their quarters and stopped at the mess for a light breakfast. He had just sat down when McCoy appeared.

“Good morning, Captain,” Bones said jovially, sitting down with his whole wheat toast and fruit. “And a beautiful morning it is, perhaps the most beautiful morning in the history of the universe.”

Jim grinned at him. “I think falling in love has completely ruined you,” he said with mock-grief. “I liked you better when you were curmudgeonly bastard.” He shrugged. “Oh, well; I’ll get my old Bones back the first time you and T’Rina have a fight.”

“Yeah,” his friend retorted, “just like I get poor Princess Jamie whenever you and the hobgoblin get into it.” McCoy glanced around the room. “Speaking of which, where is your better half?”

“I took him off duty today, told him to stay in bed.”

McCoy leaned forward, immediately all business. “Is he all right?”

Jim frowned slightly. “I think so; he acted tired, and his feet have been swelling a bit, but no worse than before, so I just told him to spend the day in bed.”

“And he agreed without a fight?”

“Well, mostly.” Jim smiled slightly as he remembered the pudding bribe. Then his face fell. “Do you think he’s sick, Bones?”

McCoy quickly shook his head. “Don’t get all paranoid, Jim. If he was feeling ill, I think he’d tell you. Yes, he’s used to pretending that he’s invincible, but now that he’s carrying a child, I think he’s being more realistic. I know he wants a healthy baby. And I’ve still got that monitoring bracelet on him that I used when his sodium levels went through the floor. There haven’t been any alarms since that night on New Vulcan when his oxygen levels crashed. Let him stay in bed this morning, and I’ll ask M’Benga to check on him later.”

Jim nodded. “I told him I’d come back to our quarters for lunch; why don’t you have M’Benga drop in then?”

“Good idea,” Bones replied. “He can make sure Spock’s eating all right, too.” He glanced towards the doorway. T’Rina had just walked in. “Gotta go, Jim. My reason for living is here.” He got to his feet and darted across the room to his new bride’s side. Jim noticed he didn’t even bother to clear away his tray. But Jim couldn’t blame his friend. He knew how irresistible a Vulcan could be.

Once on the Bridge, Jim checked with Uhura for any messages from Starfleet, any news of Romulan invasion fleets, or any rumors of omnipresent aliens planning quadrant domination. Fortunately, there were none, zero, and zilch. Jim’s shoulders relaxed slightly. It looked like it might actually be a quiet day.

“Captain,” Nyota said in a low voice, “is Spock all right?”

Jim nodded reassuringly. “He’s fine; I just gave him the day off.” At least I hope that’s true.

“Good,” she said, the relief plain in her voice. She brightened. “Say, if he’s in his quarters, maybe this is a good time for the stealth baby shower. What do you think?”

He grinned at her. “I think it’s a terrific time for it. Get your relief up here to handle Communications, and you can spend the rest of your shift working your magic.”

“Agreed.” In only a few minutes, she was gone.

Jim checked in with the various Science labs, knowing that Spock would want a complete update. He also asked Chekov to handle the bridge sensors for the rest of Alpha shift. The Enterprise was on-course and on schedule to Vafer-Tor; unless there was some kind of emergency, they wouldn’t need Chekov’s navigation skills. Jim spent the rest of the morning dealing with paperwork, bored out of his mind, and lonely every time he glanced up at the Science station and saw Chekov instead of Spock standing there. Granted, Chekov was cute, but he wasn’t Jim’s t’hy’la. By lunchtime, Jim was suffering from a bad case of Vulcan withdrawal. He left Sulu with the con and hurried back to his quarters.

Spock had slept most of the morning, waking just before he estimated that Jim would be returning for lunch. However, he had not awakened on his own; he woke when he heard the door’s buzzer. Spock rose from bed walked into their living area.

Come,” he called. The door slid open to reveal Dr. M’Benga.

“Commander, I apologize for disturbing you,” he said courteously. “However, Dr. McCoy wanted me to stop by and check on you.”

“You are not disturbing me,” Spock replied. “I had planned to rise at this time in order to consume a meal.” He glanced down at his sleep attire. “If you will excuse me, however, I do believe I will change.” He indicated a chair. “Please sit down; I will be back in 3.4 minutes.” M’Benga nodded and sat down. Spock disappeared into the bedroom.

The door slid open and Jim walked in, a laden try in his hands. He stopped when he saw M’benga, who rose to his feet.

“Is Spock here?” Jim looked around.

“He is changing his clothes,” M’Benga explained. “I’m afraid I caught him in his sleep wear, and I think he was embarrassed, although he would not admit that, of course.”

Jim grinned. “Leave it to Spock to dress for company in his own quarters.” He set down the tray on a nearby table, just as Spock emerged from the bath in a casual outfit.

“I’m glad to see you’re not in uniform, love,” Jim observed. He got a raised eyebrow in response.

“I was under the impression that I am confined to quarters.”

“Yep, you are.” Jim turned to M’Benga. “Would you join us for lunch, Doctor?”

M’Benga shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I just have a couple of questions for Commander Spock, and then I’ll leave you two to your privacy.” He looked at Spock.

“I understand you’re feeling tired.”

Spock nodded. “I am sleeping an average of 2.4 hours more per sleep cycle,” he responded.

“Well you’re in the last weeks of pregnancy, so that is not surprising,” M’Benga noted. “Any unusual pain?”

Spock shook his head.

“Any swelling?”

Spock started to say no, but Jim chimed in. “His feet are a bit swollen, or they were.”

M”Benga gestured to the couch. “Please sit down, Commander, and take off your slippers.” Glaring at Jim, Spock did so. M’Benga briefly examined his feet.

“Nothing to worry about,” he announced. “Because we’ve had to up your sodium intake for the baby, you’re retaining a bit of water. Be sure to drink extra and keep those feet elevated.” He rose, turning to Jim. “Keep an eye on him, captain, and both of you let me know if there are any unusual symptoms.” He turned back to Spock. “I think you should plan to only work five hour shifts for the next few weeks,” he said quietly. “I understand and honor your ferocious work ethic, Mr. Spock; I’ve had Vulcan patients before. But right now, your priority needs to be your health and the health of your child. You can keep working short shifts for now, but I expect that your nesting phase will kick in within the next three weeks. Once that happens, you’re off-duty until after the birth. We’ll have to do a C-section, of course, so we’ll want to monitor you carefully and schedule it as soon as both you and the tests indicate that T’Lira is ready.”

Spock looked disgruntled but resigned. Jim looked determined.

“He’ll rest, Dr. M’Benga. I can promise that.”

“No doubt,” M’Benga replied with a smile. He nodded to them both. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He left, and Jim steered Spock over to the table.

“Ok, ashaya, eat up,” he said. “I brought all your favorites—and pudding.”

Spock sat down, still looking faintly peeved.

“I suppose you will insist that I return to bed after lunch,” he said.

“Yep,” Jim replied, diving into his own lunch. “You can earn another Nobel Prize tomorrow.”

Spock would have retorted—but his mouth was full of pudding.

Once he arrived back on the bridge, Jim was pleased to see that everything was still going well. All departments reported in, and there were no problems. Now that Wesley Crusher was a passenger instead of an ensign, Jim didn’t have to worry about anything going wrong in Engineering. McCoy shot Jim a note on his padd, indicating that he and M’Benga had checked all of Spock’s latest readings, and everything looked fine. Uhura sent him a message reading, “Stealth baby shower in place.” Once his shift was over, Jim planned to take Spock on a little stroll and reveal the surprise. Maybe this would be one of those rare days when absolutely NOTHING went wrong.

Jim should have known better.

Just before the end of shift, Uhura turned to him. “I have a priority message coming in from Admiral Pike, captain.”

What’s going on? Oh, well, at least it isn’t Bullock. “On-screen, Commander.”

The main screen lit up to show Pike’s face. He had the crease between his brows that Jim knew meant trouble. “Admiral?” Jim rose from his chair. “What can I do for you?”

Chris just looked at him. “You’re going to want to take this in your ready room, Captain.”

Spock woke abruptly, feeling the pain echo through him. He sat up, gasping. For a moment, he wondered if his time had come early. He quickly concentrated on T’Lira, reading her physical and mental; condition through the link they had established. He breathed a sigh of relief. All was well. She could feel the pain Spock was feeling, and she was confused by it, but she was not the cause of it.

Spock concentrated harder, and then he understood. Jim! Jim was in pain, not physical pain but mental and emotional pain. Spock climbed out of bed and hit the link. “Spock to Bridge.”

“Bridge, Uhura here.”

“Nyota,” Spock lowered his voice, “is Jim there?”

“No,” she replied, her voice equally soft. “Chris Pike called, and the captain took the call in his ready room. He came out a few minutes later, turned to con over to Sulu, and took off. He looked terrible, Spock. I don’t know what’s wrong, but whatever Pike told him, it’s bad news.”

“Understood. Thank you, Nyota. Spock out.” Spock stood and thought for a moment. Jim hadn’t come back to their quarters. Jim probably thought he shouldn’t ‘burden’ his mate with whatever was wrong. Spock’s lips thinned, and his face took on an expression that Jim would have recognized at once, that “Vulcan stubbornness,” as McCoy called it. Spock dressed quickly and went in search of Jim. He had a pretty good idea of where to look.

The door to the small observation deck was locked with the captain’s private override, the most powerful authorization on the ship. It didn’t stand a chance against a determined Vulcan.

Spock stepped inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but he soon spotted Jim curled up on the small couch, arms wrapped around his body, shivering, almost in shock.

“Ashaya!” Spock moved across the room as quickly as he could and knelt down next to the couch, pulling Jim into his arms. “T’hy’la, what is wrong?” He could feel Jim shaking. “Come, t’hy’la. We will go to Sickbay, and talk with...”

“No!” Jim’s arms came around his neck in a desperate grip. No, please! I don’t want to talk about it; I can’t talk about it...” he was nearly incoherent, and Spock’s heart ached at the sight of his always-confident love reduced to this. Spock rose carefully, still holding Jim in his arms, and sat down on the couch, pulling his mate close, wrapping himself around Jim as much as possible, wordlessly murmuring to him, rubbing his back and arms, trying to get some warmth into the chill human flesh. Gradually, he felt Jim relax slightly in his arms.

“Ashaya, what has happened?” he asked. “Please, tell me. I know Admiral Pike contacted you; what is wrong?”

“She’s...oh, God, Spock, she’s...”

“She? Who is she, ashaya?” Spock asked quietly. He had his suspicions. Jim confirmed them.

“It’s my mother. That bitch, that miserable fucking bitch...”

“Shhhh.” Spock stroked Jim’s head, feeling the tears on his neck as Jim tried to burrow into him. “T’hy’la, you are not making sense. What is wrong? What has happened?”

Jim drew a deep breath, pulling himself together. “It’s my mother, Spock.” His voice was quiet but Spock could hear the strain. “She’s filed papers; she wants...visitation rights with our baby. Oh, God, Spock.”

“Hush; it is all right,” spock soothed, still holding Jim in his arms. “We will deal with it.” He kept holding Jim, trying to calm him, sending waves of reassuring love through their bond. Gradually, Jim relaxed in his arms. At last, he pulled away slightly, sitting up and running his hand over his face.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said tiredly. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

“It is all right.” Spock gently drew Jim’s head back onto his shoulder. “I do not understand, t’hy’la. Why does she want the right to visit T’Lira?”

“It’s an old Earth law,” Jim sighed. “It’s called grandparents’ rights. She’s filing court papers, and if they go through, we will be forced by law to let her spend time with T’Lira. I don’t want her anywhere near our child, Spock, but if the law says she can be, we’ll have to let her. Oh, God.” He leaned against Spock again.

“Jim, I know your relationship with your mother is strained, but if she wants to see our child...”

“Yeah, our child, the child of the man she called a freak,” Jim said bitterly. “She hates you, Spock; you know that. And she’ll hate our baby. This isn’t about spending quality time with our child; this is all about power and revenge. God damn her to hell; I won’t let her do this!”

“Jim,” Spock chose his words carefully. “There is something else, am I right?” He felt Jim shudder, and he wrapped his arms around his mate. “Tell me,” he said gently. “I think I need to know.”

For a long moment, Jim was silent. “Yeah,” he finally said, his voice tired and defeated in a way Spock had never heard. “I guess you do need to know. I’ll tell you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Three: Hell Hath No Fury

They had gone back to their quarters, walking the corridors in a troubled silence. Once safely ‘home,’ Spock put privacy notices on the door and both their comm. links. He then turned to Jim, who had managed to regain some of his composure.

“Look, love, I’m sorry I went all hysterical on you.” Jim tried to backtrack. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll get an attorney, and we’ll file paperwork to deny her visitation on the grounds that we’re not going to be on Earth very often” (never again if I can manage it). “Really, it’s no big thing, and you don’t need to be stressed right now...”

“Jim.” Spock simply stepped up to him and took his hand. “Come here,” he said simply. “We are going to talk.” He settled them both on the sofa and turned to Jim, his gaze tender yet serious. “T’hy’la, I have known for a long time that you have not shared every aspect of your childhood with me,” he said quietly. “I honored your privacy; I would not force you to re-live unhappy memories, and I had hoped that all that was in the past. I do know that you and your mother have had serious problems. But your reaction today would indicate that this is far more serious than I even suspected. Please, ashaya; tell me.” He gently rubbed the hand he held, still feeling the icy chill.

Jim looked down. “You’ll...if I tell you, it will change your feelings about me,” he said hesitantly. “You...you may not want me around T’Lira either.”

“T’hy’la,” Spock breathed. He slipped an arm around Jim’s shoulder. “There is nothing you could say that would change my feelings for you,” he told Jim. “Nothing. But if Winona is a threat to our daughter, I need to know. Please, Jim. Trust me.”

“I always trust you,” Jim whispered. “It’s just...” he fell silent again. Spock simply stayed with him, letting Jim feel his presence and his love, until his mate finally took a deep breath and raised his eyes to Spock’s.

“You know about...Frank,” he said in a low voice.

Spock nodded. “Your stepfather.” Jim laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.

“Stepfather my ass,” he said bitterly. “He was no kind of a father to me or to Sam. He was a hateful drunken bastard.”

“I know he abused you, beat you,” Spock said quietly.

“He....he did more than that.” Jim’s voice was scarcely a whisper, and Spock could literally feel the shame and anguish pulsing through him. He went cold inside.

“Ashaya, I need to be certain I understand,” he said carefully. “Are you telling me that Frank abused you in a sexual manner?” Jim’s nod was almost imperceptible, but it was enough.

“Oh, Jim. T’hy’la. Why did you not tell me?” Spock wrapped Jim in a fierce embrace, feeling Jim shiver as he buried his face in Spock’s neck, feeling the hot tears as the dam deep inside Jim finally crumbled.

“I...I didn’t want you to know,” Jim choked. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I’m sorry; it was my fault; it was all my fault...” His voice broke.

“Hush, t’hy’la, hush.” Spock pressed his lips to Jim’s temple, still feeling the shame his mate had carried for so long washing through Jim’s soul like a black tide. Spock was well-educated in many areas; he knew that victims of sexual abuse often blamed themselves. But he’d had no idea Jim had carried such a secret for so long. However, now that he knew, Spock felt as if he had been deliberately blind. It explained so much about Jim’s personality, about his fears of abandonment—and about his loathing for any mention of his childhood.

“It is all right, t’hy’la,” Spock repeated, holding onto Jim and smoothing his hair with a tender hand. “Do not worry; I understand. It was not your fault, ashaya. It was not.” For a long time, they sat together, Jim’s tears soaking Spock’s shoulder, Spock doing everything he could to calm and comfort his mate, fighting down his own rising anger—not at Jim but at those who had used him so.

At last, Jim lay quietly in Spock’s arms, exhausted. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I should have told you a long time ago, not laid this on you now.”

“Do not worry.” Spock held him closer. “I am not so fragile, t’hy’la; I will survive this.” Feeling Jim relax, he gently eased him back against the cushions and got to his feet. “Do not move; I will return.” He disappeared for a few moments, returning with a cool, damp cloth and a glass of water. He sat down again, bathing Jim’s face and holding the glass to his lips.

“Thank you.” Jim let his head drop back onto Spock’s shoulder. “I’m all right now.”

“No,” Spock said gently. “I do not think you are, t’hy’la. But you will be; I promise.” They sat together for a few moments. Finally, Spock spoke again.

“Jim, I will not ask any more questions than I have to, but there are a few points I need to understand.”

“Go ahead.” Jim sounded weary but resigned.

“Did your mother know what was happening?”

“I...I tried to tell her, but...”

“But she did not believe you,” Spock finished. He felt more than saw Jim’s nod. Spock knew this was a common syndrome in abuse cases as well—denial.

“So you endured.”

Another tired nod. “Until I was thirteen,” Jim said. “That’s when Frank finally beat me so badly that I ended up in the hospital. Then the authorities had enough evidence to get me away from him—but I never told them about...about the other. I was just glad to get the hell away from him, even at the cost of some broken ribs.”

“Ashaya, I am so sorry.” Spock felt there should be something else he could say, but he couldn’t think of any words that would heal this kind of pain.

“It’s all right.” Jim sat up slowly. “I thought...I pretended...that it never happened. I tried to ignore it, to make myself believe that it was all a bad dream. But whenever I see my mother, I see her at the kitchen table that night I tried to tell her, the anger on her face, in her voice. She told me I was just trying to ruin her relationship with Frank, that I was a lying, fantasying troublemaker, that she knew I was a fag but her darling Frank wasn’t, that she wasn’t going to let me lure him away from her...”

“She said what?” Spock had thought he was angry before. Now he knew his anger hadn’t even been tapped.

Jim nodded miserably. “I thought...I thought she was right, that I must have been giving off signals...”

“Oh, Jim.” Spock took both his mate’s hands in his. “You would not have known this when you were a child, but you surely know it now. Sexual abuse has nothing to do with sexual orientation. Frank abused you because it gave him power, not because he desired you. You did nothing wrong. You must believe that.”

“I do...I guess,” Jim whispered. “But...”

“There is no but about this matter,” Spock replied firmly. “Jim, you need to know. Winona will never have access to our child. I promise you this, and I have never broken a promise to you.”

“But, Spock, you don’t understand. The courts will...” Jim stopped. “Oh, God. Will I have to go to court? Will I have to tell them what Frank did? They won’t believe me, not after all these years.”

“Jim.” Spock spoke positively. “You will not have to go to court. If you wish to never speak of this after this night, we will not. If you wish to talk about it again, allow me to help you work through your pain, I will be honored, and frankly I believe it would be healthy for you to do so. But no matter what you decide, Winona Kirk will not be allowed near our child. Believe that, ashaya, and be comforted.”

“All right,” Jim replied quietly. “I trust you, love; you know I do.” He glanced at the chronometer. “You haven’t had dinner.”

Spock almost laughed. “My love, you never cease to amaze me.” He pulled Jim into his arms and kissed him tenderly. “I do not need food, not when you are so upset.”

Jim shook his head. “No. I’m not having you get sick because of my emotional crisis.” He rose to his feet, pulling Spock up with him. “Come on. Food and bed.”

“Very well, t’hy’la. I bow to your authority.”

After a light meal, Spock got himself and his bond mate into bed for the night. They lay together, Jim on his side, held loosely in the circle of Spock’s arms.

“T’hy’la, earlier, why did you say I would not want you around T’Lira?” Spock asked softly. He felt Jim tense in his arms.

“Because....because I’m soiled,” Jim finally said. “You always see me as this...this shining light, but I’m not, Spock. I’m not a good person, not like you are. I’m not worthy of you; I never have been. I’m damaged and I’ve been dragged through the dirt.”

“T’hy’la,” Spock said tenderly, “look at me.”

Jim rolled over, meeting Spock’s gaze. In the glow from the night light, the Vulcan’s eyes were enormous and even in the dimness, Jim could see the tears that glimmered in them. Slowly, Spock reached out and cupped Jim’s face with his hand.

“Ashaya, you are more than a good person; you are a miracle,” Spock told him. “I am only sorry that I have not done enough to convince you of that. You are not dirtied, and you are most assuredly worthy of being my mate, worthy of being with our child.” He pulled Jim as close as he could, tucking his bond mate’s head beneath his chin, rocking the human in his arms. “Please believe me, t’hy’la. I know you better than anyone in the universe. You are worthy.”

“I love you,” Jim whispered. He felt the brush of Spock’s lips across his brow.

“I love you, ashaya,” Spock whispered. “Sleep now, my love. Sleep.”

Utilizing his internal clock, Spock rose the next morning at 0500, before Jim was likely to be awake. He slipped from their bed and dressed then padded softly into his office, where he spent 34 minutes doing a bit of legal research on his computer. His theory confirmed, he activated his link and called Starfleet Headquarters. They quickly connected him to the person he sought.

“Commander Kirk,” he said to the image on the screen. “There are matters we need to discuss.”

She glared at him from light years away. “If you have any questions about the visitation petition, you may call my attorney at...”

“Do not bother,” Spock cut her off. “You will withdraw that petition today.”

She laughed. “I never knew Vulcans had a sense of humor,” she sneered.

“We do not.” He leaned in closer to the screen, wishing he could reach through it and wrap his fingers around her neck. “Did you know, Commander, that in cases of sexual abuse, courts on Vulcan will accept mental testimony from the victim’s bond mate? It is most logical law; it allows the guilty to be punished without putting the innocent through the strain of re-living the experience.”

Her face drained of all color. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but you do.” Spock didn’t quite smile. “If you do not withdraw your petition and leave my bond mate and our child in peace, I will file a counter-suit through my Embassy. Thanks to the new laws favoring the Vulcan people, of whom my daughter will be one once she is born, any petition for visitation will be heard in a Vulcan court, and I will testify to what your husband did to Jim, as well as the fact that you knew it was happening but denied it, leaving your son unprotected. I can assure you that not only will your petition for visitation be denied, but the Vulcan authorities may choose to prosecute you for assault on a Vulcan citizen—Jim.” He stared at her, his eyes black ice. “May I tell Jim that your petition is withdrawn?”

“How...how dare you, you miserable freakish...”

“Do not bother to waste energy slandering me,” he said calmly. “The opinions of the partner of a child rapist mean nothing to me. Withdraw the petition and walk away while you can. If you do not, I will see you in prison for what you did to the man I love.” For a long moment, the two stared at each other.

“The petition will be withdrawn.” Winona abruptly broke the connection. Spock leaned back, satisfied. Sometimes the law was a most useful tool.

“Spock!” It was the end of their shift, and the two had come back to their quarters. Spock was pretending to be tired; he didn’t want Jim to have to eat in the officer’s mess and make polite conversation. In Spock’s opinion, his mate still looked drained after the stress of the previous day, so he had managed to coax Jim into agreeing to an early night.

“What is it, t’hy’la?” Spock looked up from the replicator, where he was busily pulling up selections for dinner.

Jim gestured towards his link. “Come and look.”

Spock checked the screen. There was an official-looking message from a law firm on earth. The message informed one James T. Kirk that Winona Kirk was withdrawing her petition for visitation rights for an unborn grandchild, etc., etc., etc.

Spock looked at Jim. “That is splendid news,” he said. “I am glad she changed her mind, ashaya.” He did his best to look completely innocent. It didn’t work.

“What did you do?” Jim was looking at him in amazement.

“I did what I should have been able to do years ago,” Spock replied simply. “I protected my t’hy’la from those who would harm him.”

“Oh, Spock.” Jim stepped forward into his arms. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t even know me then.”

“No,” Spock replied, softly, “but I wish I had.”

“Me too,” Jim whispered. “All the time I spent without you was a waste, love.” He squeezed Spock tightly, chuckling when T’Lira responded with a kick. “Come on, love. let’s get you fed before our daughter throws a fit.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Four: Just When I’m Out, They Drag Me Back In

“Come on.” Jim tugged at his hand.

“Jim,” Spock said patiently for the third time, “I can find no logic in you leading me through the corridors blindfolded, not to mention the fact that any passing crewmen must think we are suffering from some kind of mental disorder.”

He heard Jim chuckle. “Love, everyone on this ship already knows we’re nuts.”

Despite the awkwardness of being led blindfolded through the ship, Spock felt his spirits rise at the sound of Jim’s laughter. The last few days had been difficult. While Jim was obviously and touchingly relieved that Spock had taken care of Winona’s legal threat, the incident had stirred up painful memories and feelings that Jim needed to work through. He’d opened up to Spock somewhat about his life with Frank, but Spock knew Jim was still in pain. So if this outing made Jim happy, even for a few minutes, Spock was more than willing to put up with the indignity. He only hoped that none of their dignified Vulcan passengers saw them.

“Ok, we’re here,” Jim’s voice said. “You can take off the blindfold, love.”

Spock did so, blinking as he realized he was standing in front of the door of a small, seldom-used conference room. Next to him, Jim grinned.

“All right,” he said, hitting the door’s control. “in we go.” The door slid open and they walked inside.

Spock looked around, not sure what he was seeing. There was some kind of banner pinned to the far wall, decorated with pictures of a Terran bird called the stork. Oddly enough, they were pink; Spock was quite sure that was inaccurate. The banner was covered with signatures. Piled on the pink-draped table and chairs, as well as the floor, were dozens of brightly-wrapped packages of various sizes and shapes. And in the middle of the table was a cake, covered in pink frosting and bearing a small replica of a cradle on top. He turned to Jim, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“T’hy’la, what is all this?”

Jim hugged him. “This, my Vulcan seahorse, is called a baby shower. It’s an Earth tradition; people have a party and give parents baby gifts. Nyota wanted you to have a shower, but she knew you’d probably feel uncomfortable with a lot of people crowding around you, so she created the ‘stealth’ baby shower—just you, me, cake, and gifts. I was going to bring you in a couple of days ago, but then, well, you know, things got nasty. So Nyota popped the cake back into storage until today, and locked the room until we had a chance to get here.”

“All of this is for us?” Spock still seemed dazed.

“Well, for T’Lira actually, but we get the fun of opening the gifts. Come on.” Jim took his hand and led him over to a chair that was draped in some kind of fuzzy pink cloth. “This is your throne,” Jim explained. “Sit down here, and I’ll get you some cake.” He hurried to the table and cut a slice for each of them, bringing them back to Spock and settling down at his side.

Spock looked at the banner. “It appears that almost every crew member signed this,” he said, still at a loss.

“Yeah, people usually give cards, but Nyota thought the banner was a better idea. We can have it laminated and hang it in T’Lira’s room. That way, when she’s old enough, she can read all the messages and good wishes,” Jim explained.

“Jim, I...” Spock blinked. “This is so thoughtful on the part of everyone. I do not know what to say.”

“Well, you deserve it, and our little princess definitely does.” Jim patted the T’Lira bump fondly. “Eat your cake, love, and we’ll open some presents.”

“Is that an order?” Spock asked, straight-faced. His heart soared when Jim chuckled again.

Yep, consider it an assignment, First Officer.”

Spock was very good at following orders, especially when they involved cake.

“We are in orbit around Vafer-Tor, captain,” Sulu reported.

“Thank you.” Jim rose from his command chair and turned to Uhura. “Please contact the planetary authorities and let them know we will begin transporting our passengers to the surface in one hour. Also, have our people in the cargo hold contact their counterparts and let’s get the latest supply shipments started. We’ve got two holds full of supplies; it’s going to take some time to get everything down there.”

She nodded. “Very good, sir. Will you be beaming down?”

“Yes; please contact T’Pau and ask her when it would be convenient for me to give my report to the Council.” He glanced at Spock, who was seated at his station, and his bond mate nodded. “Also, let Ambassador Sarek know we’ve arrived and that we will beam down within the hour.” Come on, love, Jim sent. Time to go make nice with the family.

“I really don’t like you coming down to the surface,” Jim said as they headed to the Transporter Room. “What if you have another attack because Princess isn’t getting enough oxygen?”

“Jim,” Spock replied patiently, “Dr. M’Benga concurred with Dr. McCoy regarding my visit. As long as I receive the injections of tri-ox compound, neither I nor T’Lira is in any danger.”

“All right,” Jim sighed. “But if I think you look tired or pale, you’re coming back to the ship. I don’t give a damn if Sarek thinks we’re bad house guests. I’m not putting you or our baby at risk.”

“Understood, t’hy’la.” They walked into the Transporter Room to be greeted by McCoy, hypos in hand.

“Ok, boys; I’ve had mine; time for yours.” He injected them both deftly, grinning when Jim did his usual swat-and-grimace routine. “Now, Jim, quit being such a baby. Spock doesn’t act like I’m sticking him with a harpoon.”

“Spock’s skin is thicker than mine,” Jim grumbled. He looked at McCoy. “Bones, are you sure it’s all right for him to go down there?”

“Quit being a nervous father; he’s fine,” McCoy replied. He turned at T’Rina came into the room. “Hello, darlin’. Oh, Jim? We’re getting bonded tomorrow at dawn; are you and Spock free?”

“We are already bonded; tomorrow is simply the formal ceremony,” T’Rina corrected him.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bones replied with mock-meekness. “Begging your pardon for my thick-headed human confusion about which voodoo we haven’t done yet.”

Oh, you’re bonded all right, Jim thought with a grin. He was so happy for Bones; his friend deserved the kind of relationship he was obviously getting with T’Rina.

“We would be honored to attend the ceremony, kinswoman,” Spock gravely informed T’Rina.

“Thank you, kinsman,” she inclined her head. “Perhaps you can persuade my mate to wear his ceremonial robe with dignity, instead of dragging the hem in the dust like a small child playing dress-up with his mother’s gowns.”

Spock’s lips twitched. “I will do my best.”

“All dressed up in a full-length quilt on the hottest planet I’ve ever been on,” McCoy grumbled as they mounted the platform.

“Come on, Bones,” Jim grinned. “We gotta get you to the church on time.” Just as the beam caught them, he heard T’Rina say, “It is an amphitheater, not a church...”

Sarek greeted them at the door, an unusual move. “Spock, James.” He stepped aside and ushered them into the house. Jim sighed slightly as the cooler air hit him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarek’s mouth twitch. He knew how little Jim liked the heat of Vafer-Tor.

“Come,” Sarek said, escorting them to the courtyard garden. “Sit and refresh yourselves.” In a matter of minutes, they were all comfortably seated with tall, cool glasses in hand. Sarek had arranged it so Spock was reclining on a chaise lounge. Sarek regarded his son with almost open affection.

Spock, how is it with thee and with my grandchild?”

Spock inclined his head. “It is well, father.” He sent Jim a loving glance from across the patio. “My bond mate has taken excellent care of me, and we have a new doctor on the Enterprise, Dr. M’Benga, who was taught on the home world.”

“That is well,” Sarek nodded. He turned to Jim. “Thank you, James, for your care of my son.”

“We care for each other,” Jim replied, thinking of how tenderly Spock had treated him throughout the crisis with Winona.

“As it should be,” Sarek agreed gravely. “Do you know when to expect the birth?”

“Most likely within the next 20 days,” Spock replied, “although Dr. M’Benga is not certain. He is monitoring me carefully, of course.”

“Will you have the child on the ship?” Sarek asked.

“Yes,” Spock replied.

“You are welcome to come aboard, Sarek,” Jim interjected.

Sarek looked relieved. “Thank you.” He hesitated. “I know that logically there is nothing I can do to assist the process, but...”

“But you want to be there anyway,” Jim smiled. “I get it, Sarek.”

Sarek nodded. “There are...advantages to having a human ak’ghar,” he observed.

“Yeah, we get illogic,” Jim chuckled.

The following morning, Jim, Spock, Sarek, and T’Saaria rose early, dressed in their Clan garb, and proceeded to the Place of Marriage and Challenge, where Bones and T’Rina, with T’Pau officiating, were officially bonded in the presence of various members of the House of Surak. T’Rina looked radiant. Bones looked like he was wrapped in a quilt. However, he still looked damned happy.

“James,” T’Pau said quietly, coming up to him after the ceremony, “I need to speak with thee and thy mate. Is there a convenient time for me to do so?”

Jim glanced around, spotting Spock talking to T’Rina, and sent his mate a quick mental message. “Now, if you wish, Elder,” he replied warily. What on Earth does she want?

“That would be well.” T’Pau gestured. “There is a small room inside that we may use.”

“Please, sit down,” T’Pau said. She did so, freeing Jim and Spock to take seats as well.

“Elder, how may we serve?” Spock asked formally.

“I need to speak with thee about Selik,” she replied. She turned to Jim. “Thee were with him at the end?” she asked gently.

Jim nodded. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I was.”

“Did he give thee his katra?” she asked. Spock looked surprised; Jim was not.

“No, Elder. His spirit went free.” Jim and Selik had talked about it more than a year before, His old friend had warned Jim that the Vulcans would probably want to preserve his katra, but Selik—Spock—had wanted to be free to seek James Kirk, as indeed he had. With a minimum of words, Jim told T’Pau about Selik’s last hours. She nodded.

“I felt certain he would choose that path,” she murmured. “It is a pity, but it was his right.” She looked at Jim. “Did he tell thee that he made thee his heir at law?”

Jim nodded. “He said that he’d left his property to me; I assume he meant his house, maybe a little money. I really don’t need it, but I thought I might keep the house for when we visit.”

“He did far more than that,” T’Pau informed them both. “Selik made thee his son by law, James—what thou would call an adoption. In addition, when this colony was founded, it was the decision of the elders that Selik be granted the right to found his own House—which he did.” She bowed her head to Jim. “As his heir, thou are now Head of the House of Selik.”

“I’m WHAT?”

T’Pau did not—quite—smile. “Thou are an elder, James. I greet thee as my equal.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Jim said. They were back at Sarek’s home.

“It is quite true,” Sarek replied. “Perhaps I should explain the Council’s reasoning.”

“I wish you would,” Jim muttered. He was in complete shook.

“We who are founding this colony have always known that in order to thrive, we will have to welcome citizens from other races,” Sarek explained. “Just as both my son and T’Rina have chosen non-Vulcan consorts, others will do so as well. All Vulcan citizens must be members of a Clan; that has always been our law. Unfortunately, most Clans are what we call ‘closed’—one cannot enter them except by birth.”

“Such as your Clan,” Jim murmured.

“Exactly.” Sarek looked a bit uncomfortable. “And many of the older Clans are—proud of their bloodlines and their lineage.”

Translation: no humans welcome, Jim thought.

“Therefore,” Sarek continued, ‘it was decided to create an ‘open’ Clan, one that anyone who wishes may apply to enter. It is expected that many of those who choose a non-Vulcan partner will apply to belong to this new House. Since Selik’s heritage was mixed, and since he was honored among us, he was given the privilege and responsibility of creating this Clan. He has passed it to you, James, as is fitting.”

“Fascinating,” Spock said. His hand went to his middle. “So even though I abdicated my position as Heir to the House of Surak, T’Lira is once again in line to lead a Clan.”

“Indeed,” Sarek replied, “and a Clan made up of those, like her, who carry the heritage of more than one race.”

Spock nodded. “It is well,” he said. “The Council was wise to offer such an option.”

“But...but, I’m an elder,” Jim said plaintively.

“And you will carry the responsibility well, ashaya,” Spock said.

“Indeed,” Sarek said. “You may appoint a proxy to represent you in Council, James, and we will help you with any other matters that might be confusing. I have no doubt you will be a fine elder.”

Jim sighed. “All right,” he said. He looked at Spock. “I’ll do it, for Selik, for you, and for T’Lira. But I can tell you, we’re getting lighter-weight robes.”

Spock nodded. :”No doubt Dr. McCoy will apply to your Clan for that reason alone, ashaya.”

“Indeed,” Sarek chimed in. “T’Rina had already spoken to me and T’Pau about the possibility of joining your House, James. She felt it was fitting, since her bond mate is human.”

Jim thought for a second. Slowly, a grin spread over his face. “Wow,” he said softly.

“T’hy’la?” Spock was puzzled. “What is it?”

“Don’t you see?” Jim grinned. “I’ll be Bones’ elder!”

There was an answering smile in Spock’s eyes. “Indeed, ashaya. Indeed you will be.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Five: One Big Happy Family

“Love, I should have asked,” Jim said that night in Sarek’s guest room, “but are you all right with this?”

Spock rolled over (a harder task than it had once been) and looked at his bond mate. “All right with what, ashaya?” he inquired.

Jim looked faintly embarrassed. “All right with me being Head of House,” he explained softly. “And are you all right with T’Lira becoming a member of the House of Selik, instead of the House of Surak? I mean, you abdicated your rights so she wouldn’t have to be Head of House someday, and now I’ve got us right back in the thick of things, thanks to Selik’s will.” He hesitated. “If you want me to abdicate, I can.” He hated to say it; he felt like he was breaking a trust Selik had left him. But Spock—and T’Lira—were more important.

Spock seemed to know what he was thinking, but that was no surprise. “No,” he said gently. “I do not expect you to abandon the task Selik laid upon you unless you wish it. The House of Surak is one of the oldest in our culture, and I have always felt that it should be headed by a full Vulcan. In fact, I felt that long before I knew you. I am pleased that my half-brother will someday lead that House. Selik’s House, in contrast, is something new to our people, but I believe it is important for those among us who are not of the old blood to have a ‘home’ and a voice. You will be an excellent voice for Leonard and T’Rina, for anyone who becomes a new citizen of our new world. And someday, T’Lira, who will have experience with many people from many worlds, will speak for them as well. I am content, Jim, if you are.” Spock gave him that smile that only showed in his eyes. “And quite frankly, I am pleased to be Consort to the Head of House, rather than someday being Head of House myself. You may have the ‘fun’ of settling Clan disputes, ashaya, while I sit at your side and look serene.”

Jim chuckled. “Lazy brat,” he whispered, cuddling close.

The next week was quite busy. Jim divided his time between the Enterprise and the planet, overseeing the assignment of new work crews to the various public projects on Vafer-Tor, following up on the piles of paperwork attached to the latest shipments of goods, and reporting to the High Council, of which he was now (and this was a Wonderland moment) a member. As Selik’s son under Vulcan law, he received their official condolences, each Council member formally presenting him with a scroll to be hung in his Clan hall, each scroll containing a memory of Selik written by the Councilor. T’Pau also met with him privately again to give him an overview of his new Clan responsibilities.

“The House of Selik has 320 members at this time,” she informed him. “Sixty-two more have made application to join the Clan. Thou will have to decide if they are worthy.” She handed him a data chip. “If they are approved, each will have to swear loyalty to thee in a ceremony in the Clan hall. They will then be recognized as members of thy House. Their children will also be members as well, as will any new life that they bring into the world.” She looked at him. “If a member of thy House transgresses, thou will have the right to terminate that individual’s Clan rights, but that should only be done in the most grave circumstances. A Vulcan without a Clan is no one.”

Jim nodded. “I understand. It sounds a bit like being a starship captain.”

She nodded in turn. In some ways, that is true,” she noted. “As thou has responsibility for thy crew, so will thou be the one the Clan looks to in times of crisis or when decisions must be made. The difference is this is for life.”

Oh, good, Jim thought. Daddy to more than 300 Vulcans and Vulcans by marraige. Old friend, if we ever do meet again, I’ll get you for this.

Jim reviewed the applications (including, he noted with a grin, one from T’Rina and her ‘consort,’ one Leonard E. McCoy) and approved them all, notifying each new Clan member with the formal parchment tradition demanded. These were created by S’kaltik, Jim’s Clan administrator, a dignified, middle-aged Vulcan who had joined Selik’s Clan upon his marriage to an Andorian female. Jim liked him from the moment he met him, and he’d already decided that S’kaltik would be his proxy on the Council. That was one problem solved, at least. And luckily for Jim, S’kaltik knew calligraphy, as well as the proper ceremonial phrases to use.

Ten days after their arrival on Vafer-Tor, Jim found himself in the newly-built Clan hall, dressed in his new ceremonial robes as head of House. These were green and silver, rather than the blue and silver of Surak’s House, and true to his threat, Jim had specifically ordered them made from the thinnest fabrics available. True to his threat, Spock sat at his side, dressed in similar robes and looking quite elegant despite the (very large by this point) T’Lira bump. Heads of each House (including Sarek) were in attendance as well to witness the induction of new members into the House of Selik.

Jim rose to his feet at the double doors to the hall swung open. In his role as master of ceremonies, S’kaltik led individuals, couples, and family groups in, escorting them to where Jim stood on the dais. Each new member swore loyalty to the House. Jim grinned at Bones as he approached, but T’Rina had obviously drilled her mate well, because Bones performed flawlessly (even though he was probably the first Vulcan in history with a Georgia accent). Jim presented each new member a sash in the House colors. By the end of the afternoon, The House of Selik had sixty-two new members, including one Terran doctor.

That evening, Sarek hosted a dinner for the new Head of House, his bond mate, and a few guests, including McCoy and T’Rina, as well as Scotty and Nyota. Sarek wanted to thank the engineer in person for all his hard work on the various projects under construction.

“Your teams have performed well,” Sarek said.

“Aye.” Scotty was dressed in his kilt, perhaps the first one ever seen on Vafer-Tor. A few of the guests eyed his bare knees with curiosity, but Jim privately thought a kilt made damned good sense. At least Scotty would catch whatever breeze there was.

“Aye, everythin’ be goin’ well,” Scott said to Sarek. “Yer wee well project is all but done, and my team will be wrappin’ up the work on the new mine shaft inna few days.”

“Mine shaft?” Jim asked, coming up to the pair just in time to hear that phrase.

“Aye,” Scott replied. “Turns out there be dilithium crystals in the hills. The Vulcans wanted a way to get them withou’ harmin’ the wee birds and fish nearby, so we had to work carefully.”

“And you have,” Sarek responded. He turned to Jim. “It is almost a work of art.”

“Well, I’ll have to take a look at it before we leave orbit,” Jim replied.

The guests were gathered in the courtyard garden, enjoying the (relatively) cooler evening air. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim noticed that Spock was sitting down again. He frowned faintly; it was unlike Spock not to be on his feet. However, Spock seemed perfectly content to sit and talk with T’Rina, so Jim tried not to worry. He trusted that Spock would tell him if he felt tired. At the same time, Jim decided that they would be going back to the ship for the night once this party was over.

Sarek’s twins, S’Tonor and S’Varik, were both walking now, and T’Saaria had brought them to join the party. Watching them, Jim was once again struck by the maturity of a Vulcan child. Both toddlers stayed politely out of the way, didn’t try to steal food off trays, and didn’t cry. Both seemed fascinated by Spock and his bump, and they spent a good deal of time cuddled up next to his chair, apparently chatting silently with T’Lira.

Sarek followed his gaze. “My sons seem quite interested in their kinswoman,” he said quietly. “James...”

Jim looked at him. Yes?”

“I know you wish to raise T’Lira with you, but I hope that you will allow her to spend some time with us here on Vafer-Tor,” Sarek said. “It would be...logical...for her to know Spock’s family.”

Jim hid his grin. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard grandpa-hunger disguised as logic. “I understand,” he assured Spock’s father. His gaze went back to the small children communing with his daughter. “I promise you, we’ll be back, and T’Lira will get to know all of you.”

“It is well,” Sarek said with obvious satisfaction. He too watched his sons, all three of them, as they enjoyed each other’s company. “It is well.”

“Jim, I believe I will stay on the ship from this point on,” Spock said that night as they got ready for bed.

Jim turned and looked at his mate. “Are you feeling all right, love?” he asked, instantly concerned.

“Certainly,” Spock replied reassuringly. “However, I suspect that I am about to go into my nesting phase, and if so, I wish to be here on the ship, not down on the planet.”

“Do I need to call M’Benga?” Jim was already halfway across the room to the link. “Do you need anything? Should I get towels or...”

“Jim, calm yourself,” Spock said, amused. “I am not giving birth tonight. I simply believe it will be soon, perhaps within the next 12 to 14 days. I promise you, I will see Dr. M’Benga in the morning, and he can monitor my progress. If my suspicions are correct, I will make the nesting preparations, and then you can fetch items for me to your heart’s content.”

“How do you feel?” Jim was back at his side. “Are you in pain? Is she kicking?”

Spock shook his head. “I am not in any pain,” he promised. “And T’Lira is much quieter than she has been for several weeks. That is one of the reasons that I suspect I am about to nest. A Vulcan baby rests a great deal right before the birth, in order to gather strength for the transition into the world.”

“Good, smart princess,” Jim approved, patting the T’Lira bump tenderly. He looked up at Spock. “You’re not just trying to calm me down, are you?” he asked. “I mean, you’re not going to sneak off into a linen closet and have this baby when I’m not looking.”

“T’hy’la,” Spock murmured, pulling him closer. “For the last time, I am not a feline.”

“Good to know,” Jim grinned. “Come on. Let’s get you and T’Lira tucked in.”

They settled in for the night. Even with much of his attention focused on T’Lira, Spock could not help but notice that Jim seemed...deeply thoughtful as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as if it could offer him answers.

“Jim, you seem pensive,” Spock noted softly. “Are you all right?”

Jim rolled over and looked at Spock. “I guess.” He sighed. “It’s just...”

‘Tell me, t’hy’la,” Spock murmured, gently stroking his mate’s arm.

“It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that very much, and even if it is, I want to know about it if it affects you.” Spock reached out and gently drew his mate closer. This was becoming a feat, due to the interference of the ‘bump,’ but Spock still managed to get Jim’s head situated on his shoulder. “Tell me,” he requested again.

“I wish...I wish I had a normal family,” Jim confessed in a low voice. “I mean, even though you and Sarek have had your problems, he loves you; I can tell. I know you miss your mother and you always will, but T’Saaria is doing her best to make a home and family for you, and your little half-siblings are great. T’Lira will be able to share in all that. And what do I have to offer her?” Jim sighed again. “I don’t mean to whine,” he said apologetically.

“You are not,” Spock reassured him. He pulled the Andorian silk coverlet closer around them.

“You have much to offer our daughter,” he continued quietly. “This crew is your family in many ways, and they have already done so much to welcome T’Lira, before she is even born. You now have a clan of your own on Vafer-Tor, and they will welcome our child as well.” He pressed a kiss to his mate’s temple. “And you have yourself, t’hy’la, and that is the greatest gift our child will receive. I grieve for your sake that your mother’s actions have caused a rupture, but you are not alone, and you never will be, nor will our daughter ever feel herself abandoned. She will always know that she is loved.”

“Thank you, t’hy’la,” Jim whispered. “I just wish...I wish things were different with my mother. She’s...she’s not a bad person, you know.”

Spock had his own opinion about that, but he didn’t want to hurt Jim. “I know,” he said gently. “She has merely made bad choices.” He kissed Jim again, feeling him relax, feeling him begin to drift into sleep. “And her worst mistake was not realizing what she has in you, ashaya. I promise you,” Spock whispered, “I will never make that mistake.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Six: Countdown to Operation Seahorse

The next morning, Spock was scarcely out of bed and dressed before Jim was herding him to Sickbay. Dr. M’Benga was on duty, and he looked up as Jim all but dragged his mate through the doors. He rose to his feet.

“Good morning, Captain, Commander Spock,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Jim said.

“No,” Spock said at the same moment.

M’Benga raised one eyebrow, looking more Spockian than Spock. “Well, since you are the one carrying the child, Commander, I think I will start with you. Now, what’s the issue?”

“I believe I am about to nest,” Spock explained, “and Jim is anxious.” He exchanged a conspiratorial glance with M’Benga. “He apparently believes that I intend to retire to a supply closet and give birth alone.”

“Well, unless you have a laser scalpel, that is going to be difficult,” M’Benga replied calmly. He looked at Jim. “You do realize that this will be a caesarean birth?”

“Oh.” Jim felt a bit foolish. “I didn’t think of that. However,” he glared at his bond mate, “if you’re nesting, M’Benga needs to look you over.”

“I would agree with that,” M’Benga said. He gestured towards a private examination room. “Let’s check you out.” Jim started into the exam room with them, to be stopped by M’Benga’s upraised hand.

“I’m sorry, captain,” he said. “Doctor-patient confidentiality applies even in this situation.”

Jim looked pleadingly at Spock. Spock relented.

“It is all right, Doctor,” he said. “Having him in the room will save time and redundancies.”

“A nice way of saying I’ll nag you for an hour if I don’t hear everything now.” Jim grinned.

“Precisely,” his bond mate replied. The three of them proceeded into the examination room.

M’Benga was quick but thorough, examining and questioning Spock as well as taking medical tricorder readings and a quick blood draw to check hormone and sodium levels, as well as other blood chemicals. He compared all of these to Spock’s most recent numbers, frowning slightly. At last he looked up.

“I honestly don’t know, commander,” he said. “I would have expected you to go another eighteen days or so, but based on what I’m seeing, I think an estimate of ten days is much closer.”

“Ten days?” Jim said. “Is something wrong?”

M’Benga shook his head. “All of the readings are well within normal,” he said reassuringly, “and based on the ultrasounds and other measurements, T’Lira is almost 19 inches long and just under five pounds. Both are normal for Vulcanoid babies, especially those carried by males. These infants tend to be slightly small by human standards because they have a fairly impressive growth spurt right after birth, once they can obtain nutrition directly rather than through the carrier.” He turned to Spock. “You are, of course, a hybrid, as is your child, and I would be lying if I said that wasn’t a variable. However, I think you should make preparations.”

Spock nodded. “I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “I realize that there is simply no way to know for certain. Since that is the case, I believe I will have to rely on the signals my body is giving me, as well as what I am feeling through my link with T’Lira.”

“Very well.” M’Benga turned back to Jim. “I recommend that Commander Spock be taken off the duty roster, effective immediately. I see no need for him to nest in Sickbay unless his readings change, but I will continue to monitor him.” He nodded towards the bracelet Spock still wore.

“Understood,” Jim said.

“Commander, if you experience any pain, any nausea, any symptoms at all, I want you or the captain to contact me day or night, no matter what time it is, no matter how minor you feel the problem is,” M’Benga told Spock firmly. “I know how self-reliant Vulcans are, and I know how well they can control pain. But in this instance, pain is a signal, and we need to be ready to act.”

“Oh, I promise, we’ll be contacting you,” Jim assured him. He knelt and helped Spock slip on his shoes.

“Very well, Commander,” M’Benga said with a hidden smile. “I’m releasing you into your bond mate’s care. From now until the birth, I will stop by your quarters each day at 0900 and check on you. Agreed?” Spock nodded.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Jim said.

“You’re very welcome. Oh, and captain?” M’Benga said, just as they were ready to leave.

Jim turned back. “Yes?”

M’Benga smiled at him. “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Jim got Spock back to their quarters. He quickly assembled some breakfast and sat down with his bond mate to eat.

“Jim, I echo Dr. M’Benga’s plea,” Spock said, watching his love toying with his breakfast. “You must be calm, or I will not be calm. And it is important for T’Lira that I am calm; it will facilitate an easy birth.” Spock was no psychiatrist, but he knew Jim Kirk’s buttons.

“Ok.” Jim took a deep breath. “What do you need for this nesting thing?”

“Very little,” Spock assured him. “I will stay in bed much of the time, meditating and communicating with T’Lira on a deep level. I need to explain to her what is about to happen. Since Vulcan babies are sentient and aware, birth can be very frightening unless one they trust is in contact with them, soothing them and letting them know what is happening. I will sleep a great deal, since such deep meditation is tiring, and when I am awake, I will need to eat more than usual, again to provide energy for both the meditation sessions and the birth.

Jim nodded. “All right. So, fluffy pillows, lots of quiet time, and plenty of spring rolls. I can handle that.” He grinned at his t’hy’la, regaining some of his composure.

“Yes.” Spock hesitated. “I am afraid that for the next several days, I will be quite....inwardly focused,” he said. He remembered Jim’s hurt when Spock had been so absorbed in T’Lira earlier in the pregnancy. But Jim surprised him.

“It’s all right, love,” he said quietly, reaching for Spock’s hands and twining their fingers together. “I understand a lot more about this than I did before, and I can see why you have to be ‘tuned in’ to our baby before she is born. I don’t want her hurt or frightened, so don’t worry about me. Do what’s best for the two of you.” He raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across Spock’s knuckles. “I’ll be here when you surface. I promise.”

“Thank you, ashaya,” Spock said, more relieved than he would admit, even to himself. “I promise you, I will tell her all about you.”

“Good,” Jim grinned, thinking Spock was joking. “Be sure to tell her I’m awesome.”

“That will be the first point I mention,” Spock promised solemnly.

The next several days were quite lonely for Jim. As Spock had warned, he was very ‘inward,’ frequently unaware of Jim at all. He spent most of his time in bed, propped up on pillows, looking like a Vulcan Buddha, his hands folded over his stomach, his mind intertwined with that of his daughter. However, true to his word, Jim didn’t let it bother him. He checked on Spock as often as his duties permitted, and the Bridge crew understood completely why he disappeared three or four times in every shift. Not for the first time, Jim blessed Chris Pike for giving them a low-risk assignment, thus freeing Jim to hover.

“How is Spock doing?” Nyota asked quietly after one such disappearance, catching up to Jim in the lift at the end of his shift.

Jim sighed. “He’s doing well, I think. It’s hard to tell.”

She nodded. “I remember reading about the Vulcan nesting syndrome in my xeno-physiology class,” she said sympathetically. “It’s hard on the other parent.”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he admitted. “I’ve gotten use to having him right here beside me and...I love him, Nyota. I want to be with him, and right now, I can’t be, not the way we usually are. But he needs to do this, so I’m going to do all I can to make it easier on him.”

She surprised him with a hug. “Remember when I thought you were a smart-mouthed farm boy with no brains and no manners?” she asked him quietly.

“Yeah.” Jim grinned at her. “Last week, wasn’t it?”

“Brat.” She swatted at him playfully. “I don’t think that anymore,” she added gently. I’m glad Spock has you, and you’ll be one hell of a dad.”

“Thanks, Nyota,” Jim said softly. “Thanks.”

The lift doors opened. “Repeat any of that and I’ll deny it,” she said, flouncing out of the lift. “And tell Spock to hurry up and have that baby. We’re all dying to see her.”

“I’ll let him know. Thanks, Nyota.”

When Jim walked into their quarters, Spock was awake and alert, on his feet and pacing the length of their living area. He was also in pain; Jim could see the tiny stress lines on his face.

“Hey,” Jim hurried over to the bed. “Are you all right? Should I call Sickbay?”

Spock shook his head. “No reason, ashaya. It is simply an attack of back spasms. I have been stationary for too long.”

“Ok,” Jim nodded. “Stretch and move around a bit, and then I’ll rub your back.”

Spock did as Jim suggested, finally going back into their bedroom and sinking down on the bed. Jim followed him, the jar of muscle salve in his hand.

“I don’t think you’d better lie on your stomach,” he said with gentle humor. “Take off your shirt and roll over on your side.”

Spock did so, and Jim arranged a couple of pillows to support his head and the bump, which at this point was quite frankly more like a mountain than a molehill. He then set to work with the salve, gently massaging the tight back muscles, feeling Spock gradually relaxing beneath his touch.

“Is that any better?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Much,” Spock said gratefully. “Thank you, t’hy’la.”

“Don’t mention it; you know I’m happy to do it.” Jim worked in silence for a few more minutes.

“You are lonely,” Spock said suddenly. “I can feel it in your touch.”

Jim wasn’t surprised. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “I am. But I know this is important to you and T’Lira, so don’t let it worry you, ashaya. This isn’t all about my needs; it’s about yours.” He leaned forward and gently kissed one pointed ear. “Besides, I’m not the only one who misses you. Everyone is asking about you, and they’re all eager to see the baby.” He finished the massage and capped the jar of salve. “Now, let me go see what I can find for your dinner.” He turned.

“Jim.” Spock sat up, holding out a hand. “Wait.”

Jim turned back and took Spock’s hand. His bond mate pulled him back onto the bed, wrapping himself around Jim as best he could and burying his face in Jim’s neck.

“I love you,” Spock whispered. “I know I do not say that as often as I should.”

Jim hugged him back. “You say it all the time, love, in a hundred ways,” he murmured. “Don’t worry; I know you love me.” They sat together for a few minutes then Jim gently freed himself and stood up.

“Now, let’s get you and T’Lira fueled up.”

The following morning, Jim was on the Bridge when he received a call from Scotty on the surface.

“Captain, are ye busy this fine mornin’?” his jovial engineer asked.

“Not particularly, no,” Jim replied. “What do you need?”

“Well, a certain lass put a wee bug in me ear, said ye could use a bit o’ diversion,” Scott explained. “I was wondering if ye would like to come to the surface and see the dilithium mine we’ve been constructin’.”

Jim glanced over at Uhura, who put on her best “who, me?” face. Jim’s spirits rose. A change of scene suddenly sounded great.

“Thanks, Scotty,” he said. “Send the coordinates to the Transporter Room. I’ll take care of one or two matters and be down within the hour.”

“Aye, sir. Scott out.”

Jim rose. “Commander Uhura, you have the con,” he said. He stopped by her station. “And thanks, Nyota,” he said softly.

She grinned at him. “Go play in the dirt, Captain,” she said. “It’ll do you good.”

Jim stopped off at their quarters. Luckily, Spock was just getting ready for a meditation session. Jim explained his errand.

“Is it all right?” he asked. “If you don’t want me to go, I’ll call Scotty and stay on board.”

Spock shook his head. “No, t’hy’la. There’s no reason for you not to go down to the planet. I understand that the schematics of the mine are quite impressive, and I am sure you will enjoy the tour. Go and have an agreeable time.”

Jim gave him a quick kiss. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“All right. You and T’Lira have a nice chat. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

Jim had no way of knowing that neither of them would eat dinner that day.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Wesley Crusher is Finally Useful

Spock woke abruptly, terror and pain warring within him. Jim! Their link was blurred by T’Lira’s strong mental presence, but Spock knew something was wrong. He hit his bedside link.

“Spock to Bridge.”

“Uhura here.” Spock could hear the strain in her voice.

“Commander, what is wrong?”

“Don’t worry, Spock; we’re dealing with....”

“Nyota.” She stopped in mid-sentence. “Tell me,” he said, gently yet firmly.

She took a deep breath. “There’s been...an accident on the planet,” she said quietly. “We’re not sure what happened; there was some kind of seismic disturbance. The captain and...and Mr. Scott were touring the mine. The Vulcans believe they are trapped. They’ve assured us that the mine has ‘safe rooms,’ areas sheltered from debris and gasses, but they...they haven’t been able to establish communications yet.”

“I see.”

“They’re all right, Spock. I know they’re all right.”

Humans have a way of making themselves believe anything, in total defiance of logic or mathematical odds, Spock thought. But what he said, remembering that Nyota’s mate was also trapped was simply, “Yes. I have no doubt they are fine. Jim is alive; I can feel that. Please keep me informed, Commander.” He switched off the link and lay back, breathing deeply, trying to stay calm, knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

Oh, t’hy’la. Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you all right?

Just then, T’Lira kicked strongly, and Spock gasped as he felt a wave of pain ripple across his abdomen. He placed a hand on his stomach, feeling the muscles tightening as his daughter moved.

Oh, no. Not now. Not today. But there was no logic in that thought. What was, was.

He hit the link again, this time contacting Sickbay.

Jim had beamed down to the coordinates Scott had provided, finding himself about 30 kilometers outside of Shikahr. He found himself at the foot of a range of small mountains, which the Vulcans had been surveying, looking for minerals. They had struck it rich; this range had several very valuable ores, including that most valuable of all crystals, dilithium, the fuel for starships. Jim was glad Vafer-Tor had these reserves. It would help the Vulcans finance their culture’s re-birth.

Much to his surprise, Scotty was not the only person waiting for him. There by his side, dressed in civilian attire was Wesley Crusher, new Vulcan citizen.

“Good morning, Mr. Crusher,” Jim said.

“Good morning, captain,” Wesley replied, blushing as he always had whenever Jim spoke to him.

“Please, Wes. You’re out of Starfleet. You can call me Jim.” He glanced around, noting the neat outbuildings and the smooth shafts cut into the side of the hills. “Are you along for the tour, Wes?”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley replied. “My bond mate...” now he blushed even darker...has a half-interest in this mine. It’s not open yet of course, but she asked me to come out and look everything over, give her my impressions from an engineering standpoint.”

T’Zantha owns half a dilithium mine? God, Wesley really did fall into it. Jim exchanged a grin with Scott, who was probably thinking the same thing.

“Well, then.” Jim turned to Scotty. “How about giving us the three credit tour?”

Scot gestured towards one of the shafts. “Right this way, gentlemen.”

“Everything looks good, Mr. Scott.” They were deep in the mine shaft at this point. Jim was amazed. It was a smooth, neat corridor, nothing like the old grimy, dripping wet shafts in old Earth mines. There were rooms to store equipment, places to load and unload ore, and even safe rooms with heavy drapes to keep out dust, smoke, and gasses in case of an emergency. Remembering his favorite literature, Jim thought this place was more like a Hobbit tunnel. You could almost set up housekeeping here, he thought.

Scott was beaming. “Thank ye, sir.” He gestured towards the exit. “Would ye like to go up top now, see where they be planning to process the raw crystals?”

“Sounds good.” Jim glanced at Wesley. “Have you seen enough, Mr. Crusher?”

The younger man nodded. “Yes. I’m sure T’Zantha will be...” he stopped. “What’s that sound?”

Jim heard it, too. His eyes met Scott’s, just before everything started shaking.

Earthquake!

Despite M’Benga’s protests over the link, Spock had insisted on walking to Sickbay. Once there, he barely got in the door before another wave of pain hit, all but doubling him over. Instantly, Christine Chapel was by his side, taking his arm.

“Come on, Mr. Spock,” she said quietly. She helped into the private exam room and onto a bio bed. In moments, Dr. M’Benga was there as well, taking quick readings.

“All right, Commander,” he said calmly. He knew about Jim, of course; the whole ship did. But there was nothing to be gained by bringing that up now. “I think it’s time.”

“No,” Spock gasped, fighting another wave of pain. “Not yet.”

M’Benga was firm. “I know,” he said sympathetically. “But all the indications are that we need to do this now. If we delay, we may be endangering your baby, and Jim Kirk will not thank you for that when he returns.” He put his hand on Spock’s arm and looked straight into his eyes. “And he will return,” M’Benga continued. “I’ve only known Captain Kirk a few weeks, but I’ve never met anyone with a stronger will. He won’t leave you and your baby. I know that.” For a long moment, the two looked into each other’s eyes. Then Spock capitulated.

“You are quite correct,” he said. “It is time.”

M’Benga put a gentle hand beneath his elbow and helped him off the bio bed. “Come on. Let’s get you prepped for surgery.”

On the Bridge, Uhura was speaking with Sarek.

“Is there any word? Any thing at all?” she asked.

Sarek shook his head. “However, I can assure you, the mine is equipped with every possible safety feature,” he told her. “We will find them, Commander.”

Yeah, but will you find them alive? Uhura was frantic, worrying about both Jim and Scotty, but she knew she owed it to both of them to hold together. I never fully appreciated how hard Jim has to work to look cool and collected in this chair. “I know you’re doing all you can,” she said. Her chair link beeped. “Please hold one moment, sir.” She hit the comm. button.

“McCoy here. Any news?”

Uhura took another deep breath. “No. I’m talking to Sarek now.”

“Well, tell him to get his ass up here,” McCoy said. “Spock just went into surgery.”

“Oh, no. God, no,” Uhura said. “The baby?”

“Well, he’s not getting his tonsils out,” McCoy replied. “Look, if Jim can’t be here, I think Spock needs someone from his family when he comes out of surgery. After all, it’s not like Sarek is digging out the mine shaft with his own two hands.”

“Agreed.” Uhura cut the link with McCoy and switched back to Sarek. She quickly explained the situation.

“Please lock on to my signal and have your people beam me aboard,” Sarek said. “I will continue to coordinate with the rescuers from your ship.”

“Understood.” Uhura notified the Transporter Room, asking the tech on duty to escort Sarek to Sickbay when he arrived, and letting Sickbay know Sarek was coming.

“Thanks, Nyota,” McCoy said. “I’m going to prep and go in to check on Spock. I’ll keep you informed.”

“I’ll do the same,” she promised.

Jim, Scotty, and Wesley huddled within the safe room they’d managed to get inside of, still hearing the occasional rumble of falling debris. There was a dim light source, just enough for them to see each other. The air wasn’t exactly fresh, but it didn’t have the deadly tang of poisonous gasses, either. The cut over Jim’s eye had stopped bleeding, and he could feel a few bruises making their presence known, but he was in overall good shape.

“Are either of you badly hurt?” he asked. Both men shook their heads.

“Nae. I will be once Nyota gets hold of me, though,” Scotty observed. Despite himself, Jim grinned.

“I hear that. Spock will skin me alive.” His mind went to his mate. Poor Spock. Jim knew he’d be frantic. Jim could feel their bond enough to know that Spock would realize he was alive, but just as it had happened when Goebbels kidnapped him, Jim knew the directional link was not working. Spock would know he was alive; he would not be able to tell where Jim was.

“All right,” Jim said, shifting into captain mode. “Options? Can we contact the surface?”

Both Scott and Wesley shook their heads. “The concentration of dilithium crystals is too heavy,” Wesley explained. “Communication is blocked.”

“We hae been working on the problem,” Scott added, “but there nae be a solution yet. The crystals t’will interfere wit’ tricoder scanning as well, I’m afraid.”

“Great.” Jim wanted to get up and pace, but he knew they all needed to stay still and conserve their air. “So they know we’re down here, but not where.”

“Aye,” Scott agreed. “Tis a troublin’ development.”

Jim slumped against the wall, still thinking about Spock, almost ready to have their child, stuck on the ship, freaking out in his quiet Vulcan way about his love, his bond mate, his t’hy’la...

“Wait a second!” Jim scrambled to his feet and knelt down next to Crusher.

“Wesley, you and T’Zantha—you’re t’hy’la,” he said urgently. “She told me so.”

Wesley nodded. “Yes, sir; we are. But I don’t get it—why does that matter now?”

“Because she can hear you,” Jim explained. “Concentrate on your bond, and she’ll know where we are.” He grinned. “And knowing her, she’ll claw right through the rock to get to us.”

Wesley looked unsure. “But, sir, I’m...I’m not special like you. I don’t have those kinds of abilities, or...”

“Wesley.” Jim put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I promise you; there’s nothing ‘special’ about me. You two have the same type of bond that I have with Spock, and it will work. Just concentrate and let your bond mate know where we are. It will work; I swear it will.” He hoped it would.

“All right,” Wesley said slowly. “I’ll try.” He closed his eyes and concentrated. Jim and Scotty sat quietly, unwilling to do anything that might disrupt Wesley’s attempt. Suddenly, his eyes popped open. A smile spread over his face.

“She hears me,” he whispered, his eyes going to Jim and Scott. “She knows where we are. They’re coming to get us.”

Jim and Scotty exchanged glances. Neither one said anything, but both were thinking the same thought.

For once, Wesley Crusher was about to save the day.

“All right,” M’Benga said. “This shouldn’t take too long. Scalpel.” Chapel handed him the laser scalpel. Spock lay quietly, a sterile anesthetizing field over his torso and a shield rigged just at shoulder level. M’Benga made one precise cut.

Sponges,” he said. Chapel helped him wipe the welling green blood. “All right. Spreader.” Chapel handed him another instrument and he opened the incision wider. Spock could feel a faint tugging sensation, but there was no pain. M’Benga glanced at the monitors.

“Readings are good. It’s baby time.” Just then, McCoy came in, moving to the head of the table next to Spock.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “M’Benga’s almost done.” The dark eyes looked up at him pleadingly. McCoy shook his head.

“No news on Jim yet,” he replied to the unasked question. “But they’re looking. Your dad’s here, Spock. He’s in the waiting area.”

“Understood.”

For the next few minutes, M’Benga and Chapel were very busy. Then Spock heard a noise, a very soft cooing sound. McCoy glanced toward M’Benga. A smile spread over his face. M’Benga nodded to Spock.

“One beautiful baby girl, alive and cooing,” he said, quickly passing the infant to Chapel, who stood ready, a towel in her hands. M’Benga turned back to Spock. “I’ll close you up while Nurse Chapel takes care of T’Lira. Then you can see her.” He quickly cleaned and closed the incision as across the room, Christine weighed, measured, and bathed the small body, which was still cooing happily. Apparently all of Spock’s mental preparation had paid off. T’Lira had arrived with no mental or emotional trauma.

McCoy gave Spock’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll go tell your father everything’s all right.”

“Thank you, Leonard.” Spock’s focus was on Chapel as she worked. In a few minutes, she had T’Lira clean, diapered, and wrapped in a warm blanket. She came back to the table, hitting a control that raised Spock’s head and shoulders a few inches.

“Here you are,” she said quietly. “Here’s your daughter.” She gently placed the bundle in Spock’s arms. He looked down at his first child as Chapel and M’Benga looked on.

The bundle was small but solid in Spock’s embrace. The head, the only part of T’Lira that showed, was covered with soft ringlets of very pale blond hair. Spock had seen enough baby pictures of Jim to know that his t’hy’la had possessed this flaxen hair as an infant. Spock ran gentle fingers across the tiny brow. Slowly, deep blue eyes opened and stared up at Spock.

Sa-mekh! Spock heard in his mind. He held the bundle tighter.

“Yes, little one,” he whispered. “I am sa-mekh. I am your father.”

The door opened and McCoy came in, followed by Sarek. McCoy was grinning broadly. Sarek looked peaceful. He moved quickly to his son’s side.

“It is all right, Spock,” he said. “They have been found. They are on their way back to the ship.”

Spock let out a breath he felt like he had been holding for hours, feeling the relief sweep through him. He raised his eyes to his father’s face.

“Would you like to hold your grandchild?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Sarek said simply, his arms extended. “I would indeed.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Eight: One Moment in Time

“Ok, Jim; you check out.” McCoy looked at him. “You’re damned lucky, but except for a few scrapes and bruises, you’re just fine.”

“Good.” Jim hopped off the table. “Now can I go see Spock and the baby?”

McCoy looked at M’Benga, who nodded. “Certainly,” he said. “I believe Commander Spock has entered into a light healing trance, so he won’t be able to talk to you, but you can see for yourself that he’s all right. There was only a small incision needed, and he lost a minimal amount of of blood, which we were able to replace with transfusions from the stock he had stored with us previously. And you can spend as much time as you wish with your new daughter. I examined her thoroughly, and she is very healthy. You and Commander Spock do good work. Let us know if you need anything or have questions.” M’Benga was talking to the back of Jim’s head by this point. He looked at McCoy, who grinned back at him.

“Even an earthquake and a rock slide can’t keep those two apart for long.”

Jim crept into the private room where Spock and T’Lira lay. He was very careful to be as quiet as possible, even though M’Benga had already told him Spock was in a light healing trance. He didn’t want to risk disturbing his bond mate, who had been through so much, but he couldn’t wait another minute to see his daughter.

The lights were at about 30%, enough for Jim to see where he was going. Spock lay on the bio-bed, his eyes closed, looking very peaceful. Jim could just see the slight rise and fall of his mate’s chest as he breathed. He could also see that the ‘bump’ was gone. Operation Seahorse was officially over.

Near the bed was a small crib with transparent sides. Inside lay a small bundle wrapped in a blanket. Jim could just see a fluff of blonde hair and one tiny, pointed ear peeking out from the blanket. He tiptoed over to the crib and peeked inside for a closer look.

Oh, she’s beautiful, Jim thought, looking at T’Lira for the very first time. She’s just beautiful. She had Spock’s fine-grained ivory skin, but with a faint underlay of pink instead of Spock’s creamy green tone. The fine eyebrows, shaped in the characteristic Vulcan slant, were a shade or two darker than the pale gold hair, almost a strawberry blonde, and her eyes were shaded by long, thick lashes in the same red-gold. Her features were fine, but she had Spock’s aristocratic nose. She had a tiny rosebud of a mouth and as Jim watched, enchanted, she yawned, displaying a tiny dimple in her cheek. The miniature hands, as delicate as little starfish, waved in the air for a moment before she settled back to sleep.

Jim couldn’t resist. He reached inside and gently slid his hands beneath that bundle, carefully lifting T’Lira out and holding her close against his chest, a tiny, warm miracle.

Papa!

Jim jumped at least a foot in the air. The small voice inside his head shrilled.

No drop! No drop!

Jim looked down. She was awake. Huge, dark, indigo-blue eyes stared up at him.

Papa! No drop!

“No, no,” he soothed softly. “I won’t drop you; I promise.” He backed away from the crib, still holding T’Lira, and sat down in a nearby chair.

Papa here, the ‘voice’ chirped happily.

“Yes, he murmured with a smile, “but how did you know?”

Sa-mekh show. Sa-mekh tell about Papa! Sa-mekh tell Papa love me, care for me, teach me, play with me, love, love, love, she chatted away, those amazing eyes fixed on Jim’s face. Know Papa. Love Papa! Papa pretty!

“Ok,” Jim said, a bit bewildered. Brother, what have I gotten myself into? Then his daughter reassured him.

Is all right, she informed him. Papa smart. Papa learn. Me princess. Me good girl. Papa love.

“Yes,” Jim chuckled. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. “Yes,” he continued softly. “You are a good girl, and I do love you, T’Lira, very much.” He bent down and kissed her downy forehead, feeling her contentment. He leaned back in the chair, holding her against him.

Papa? The voice came inside his head again.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

See sa-mekh now?

“Jim glanced at the bed. Spock was still asleep. “No, sweetie, not right now. Your sa-mekh is sleeping. He is very tired, because he had to work hard to get you here.”

Oh. There was a moment’s silence. Papa? Hungry now.

“Oh, ok. I suppose Bones has some bottles made up for you. I’ll find out.” He got up and carried T’Lira back to her crib, putting her down gently.

No drop! Stay with Papa. The small voice demanded.

“Um...” Jim hesitated.

Stay-with-Papa.

Oh, my God, Jim thought. I’ve got two bossy Vulcans now.

Papa? What bossy?

Jim chuckled again. “You’ll find out, sweetie; don’t worry.” He lifted T’Lira out of her crib and hit the link.

“Bones,” he said softly. “Do you have anything to feed a newborn Vulcan?”

Nurse Chapel soon came in with a warm bottle. She smiled at the sight of Jim sitting in the chair, T’Lira in his arms.

“Here you are, sir,” she said quietly. “Dr. M’Benga asked me to tell you to let him know if the formula doesn’t agree with her, and he’ll adjust it.”

“I will, and thank you.” Just then, T’Lira’s head popped out of the blanket like a baby bird in search of a worm.

Papa! Pretty! Pretty like me!

“Christine, wait a moment,” Jim said. He glanced down at his daughter. “Someone apparently wants to meet you.”

She smiled. “Yes. Dr. M’Benga warned us that Vulcan babies are sentient from birth.” She knelt down next to the chair, looking T’Lira in the eyes. “Hello there, sweetheart,” she said softly.

Hello, pretty! T’Lira said cheerfully.

“She says hi,” Jim translated quietly.

Say pretty too! T’Lira insisted.

“Um...she also says you’re pretty.” Jim grinned sheepishly.

“Why, thank you, T’Lira,” Christine said gravely, eyes dancing. “I am glad someone noticed.” She rose. “Let us know if you need anything else, Captain,” she said quietly, glancing at the bed. “Dr. M’Benga thinks Mr. Spock will be out for another hour or so.”

“Thank you,” Jim murmured, his focus already back on T’Lira. Chapel smiled to herself and left quietly.

Papa feed now. T’Lira was imperious.

“All right; let’s see if you like this.”

T’Lira highly approved, if the enthusiastic sucking noises were any indication. However, Jim didn’t even need those. T’Lira was singing in his head.

Happy, happy, good, good, good, she sang as she demolished the bottle’s contents.

“Are you going to do that every time you have a bottle?” Jim asked her, amused.

She thought about it for a moment. Yes! Happy! She finished the bottle in record time.

“Ok,” Jim said to her, “let’s see if sort-of-Vulcan babies need to be burped.” He put her carefully over his shoulder and rubbed the tiny back for a few moments.

“BURP!”

T’Lira giggled out loud. Fun noise! She informed Jim. Papa make too?

“Sometimes,” Jim chuckled. He finished rubbing her back and cuddled her against his chest for a moment. “Baby, would you like to go back to sleep now?” he asked gently.

Not sleepy, she said firmly. The tiny head whipped around. Sa-mekh! She ‘called,’ joy in her mental voice. Papa here! Papa! Sa-mekh awake now!

Jim looked up. Sure enough, Spock’s eyes were open. He leaned up on his elbows, looking at Jim and T’Lira together, a bright glow in his eyes.

“I see our daughter is introducing herself,” he said quietly.

“Spock!” Jim was on his feet in a second, still clutching T’Lira. He hurried across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, one arm still holding T’Lira to his chest, the other reaching out to curve gently around his bond mate’s shoulders. “Oh, Spock.” Jim blinked away the tears that had risen. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against Spock’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here.” He felt Spock’s hand on the back of his head and leaned into the touch.

“It is all right, ashaya,” Spock murmured. “It was not your fault. I am...gratified that you are safe.”

“I should have been here,” Jim repeated. Spock reached out and cupped his mate’s chin in his hand, gently raising Jim’s face to meet his gaze.

“Dr. M’Benga, Nurse Chapel, and I did fine, t’hy’la—as you can see,” he added, glancing at T’Lira, who was snuggled between both of them and looking quite happy with the situation. “Besides, you know you faint at the sight of blood.” He leaned forward just enough to brush his lips across Jim’s, that hidden smile lighting up his eyes.

Papa good! Here now. Very good Papa! Their baby chirped.

Jim choked, caught between laughter and tears. “I can see I’ll never win another argument,” he said. “Oh, Spock. She’s beautiful.” He looked more closely at his bond mate. “Are you all right? Dr. M’Benga told me you were in a healing trance.”

Spock shook his head. “I simply slept for a time,” he replied. “If I need to, I will trance later, but for now, I want to be here with you.”

“Would you like to hold her?” Jim asked.

Yes! Sa-mekh hold! T’Lira piped up. Jim got up and hit the controls, raising the bed slightly. He then handed T’Lira to Spock and curled up next to them both. Spock looked down at his daughter, resting quietly in his arms.

“You are quite right, t’hy’la,” he murmured, letting his index finger stroke one cheek. “She is very aesthetically pleasing.

Me beautiful! came the indignant retort. T’Lira glared up at her parents, at least as much as a happy, full-bellied, satisfied baby could glare.

“I can see we will have to work on mental courtesies, little one,” Spock gently admonished his daughter. “But those lessons can wait for another day.”

“Thank God,” Jim chuckled. “You’re telling me she won’t always chatter in my head?”

“Not all the time, t’hy’la,” his mate replied. “She is...excited today, because everything is new. In time, she will learn when and how to communicate appropriately. And of course, she will learn to talk in approximately nine to ten months. But for now, we will let her feel free to tell us whatever she wishes.”

“Agreed.” Jim smiled down at his new daughter.

Good Papa. Good sa-mekh. Good princess, T’Lira announced sleepily. She yawned. Talk later. The fans of red-gold lashes drooped over the ink-dark eyes. In moments, T’Lira Marie Kirk was asleep.

“Do you want me to put her down?” Jim asked softly. Spock shook his head.

“Not yet,” he replied. “I have waited many days to hold her like this.”

Jim nodded in agreement, pulling Spock’s head to his shoulder and stroking his hair. “Thank you, love,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

“Thank you,” Spock murmured back. “She would not be here without both of us.”

“True.” Jim kissed the top of Spock’s head. “Are you warm enough?”

“I am well, t’hy’la. Do not worry. I am well.”

“Good.” They lay quietly for a time, Spock holding T’Lira close, Jim’s arm around Spock’s shoulders. Jim felt relaxed for the first time in what seemed like years. Tomorrow, there would be more work, more responsibilities. Today, it was just the three of them. This moment in time was theirs, and Jim was determined to savor it.

“Jim?” Spock’s eyes were closed.

“Yes, love?” Jim whispered back.

“Do you suppose....”

“What, ashaya?”

“Do you suppose T’Lira will need a sibling?”

In the quiet, dimly-lit room, Jim grinned. “Eventually, love,” he whispered, drifting off to sleep with his family all around him. “Eventually.”

The End...or in some ways the beginning