Title: Blood
Author: Catty-the-spy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Non graphic rape of a minor; non-graphic mentions of abortion
Genre: AU, angst
Notes: Witten for the following promt:
I'd like to see an mpreg where as a personal life decision the character in question decides to abort their offspring. Bonus points if it's handled with some degree of complexity and authenticity. Bonus points if it's Chekov (who may not be prepared to be a young, unwed mother).
I'm the only one who's read it, so be warned. It's also my second ST:XI fic! Yay! (The other was a comment fic that I'll link to...eventually.) This is the first in a maybe series.
Notes v.2.0: (This set is just for you guys on ff.n!) This was first posted on my shiny new lj. I'm thinking I'll start posted fic there first and then bringing it here, so if you want to be ahead of the curve, look me up. I'm still Catty-the-spy there.
There are a number of sequels to this that I'll post by and by. Feel free to read them or not.
As always, flames will be used to heat my bathwater (and my oven! there are cookies to be baked). Please r&r.
Summary: Leonard McCoy used to love his gift, until a horrible experience with his father changed everything
The man's breathing echoes loudly in the bedroom, but the blood pounding in Leonard's ears downs out even that.
How dare he? How dare he?
Leonard remembers.
--
He'd been eleven when it happened, mind open and trusting, eager to tangle his thoughts and emotions with those around him.
Theirs had been a closed community. Most every one of them had some amount of the Blood, from the half and quarter Blood elders to the ones who were mostly human, who were empaths if they got the gift at all.
His mama had been one of them, but his father had come from a stronger line, and so Leonard and all of his sisters and his brother had the gift, though there were plenty whispers that their eyes were so blue it couldn't be real –couldn't be anything but human.
Leonard had been eleven and trying desperately to prove them wrong. And he loved his gift, he did. He'd wander the halls of his family home, easing his mind along those of his little cousins and the babies in the hospital nursery, making them giggle or kick their feet with his hello and smile with a burst of happiness he couldn't help but share. He was close with the squirrels that jumped off the roof over his bedroom and Pop-pop's old dog that barely did more than shit and eat. He practiced diligently in his lessons to get better control before running around the backyard letting everything rush in and out without thinking to control any of it.
And maybe – though it's hard to see it now – he would have been happy to stay there with his family, never seeing more than the city limits and waving his gift like a proud flag if this man hadn't….
Leonard had been eleven, didn't question spending time with his father in the dead of night because the man was gone so long. He didn't think it was strange when his father asked to play a gift-game, because everyone played those, especially eleven year olds with wandering minds and time on their hands.
He and his father shared the stars and the vastness of space, and them the tiny link of the game was blown wide. Leonard's defenses were ripped and shattered, Leonard's protesting consciousness was tamped down in what his mind processed as a toy model of an ancient space ship, Leonard's mind was laid open and rifled through and later after he was freed he realized his body had been through the same.
And through it all, screaming louder than him or anything, had been his father's voice, promising death and mental scouring if Leonard ever told a soul.
It continued to happen, and he never saw it coming. He'd have a few months' peace, or a few hours peace, or weeks or days until his mind was clamped shut with fear at all times. Then his body joined the fray, with a type of second puberty only those strong in the Blood could claim. There is fever and sensitive skin, and if he pulls away more than necessary at a touch, it is blamed on the changing.
He studies, as they all must, and more in secret because he was scared, and he worked his gift 'til he was sicker than ever.
On his twelfth birthday, his father came to him, and drew Leonard into space and a toy ship. Leonard broke the ship and the world, and left his father twitching on the ground while Leonard threw up all over himself.
Finally – finally – a doctor came, close kin to keep things quiet. Twelve year old Leonard was found pregnant by his father, and his father found half dead by his son.
Dealing with it was something else. What did the family say, to keep everyone from knowing? How did they keep this shame locked away? What punishment on Leonard for attacking his father in the most condemnable way? What punishment on the man who lay with his son and triggered the boy's manhood early?
And most importantly of all: what to do with the baby?
Leonard could feel it at the back of his mind. It had no thoughts or emotions at this stage, only a faint presence, but it was there, something else in his mind. He…he like children, he loved children. He was always after his relatives when they were pregnant, touching minds with the baby when it was possible, and then all over them after they were born. He thought he wanted one…he did want one…but…
This child was his. It was an exciting and terrifying thought. This child was his, growing in him. And it was beautiful. But this child was his father's, his rapist's, growing in him. And it was terrible, and heartbreaking, and he didn't know if he could….
He was encouraged to keep to his room, and there was a computer console there, but his grandparent's had one that was unlocked and unmonitored, so he snuck into their room, and because his family would not consult him other than to interrogate him, Leonard looked up his options alone.
He could keep the baby, or give it away, yes. But he was strongly gifted, and his father was strongly gifted. Any child through them would be strong as well – possibly stronger; what Leonard felt for this child and himself, his child would feel. He imagined putting a child through the mess of emotions and thoughts he had now and couldn't see it, knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did.
He could get an abortion. His family would kill him. Blood didn't kill Blood, and the community was better served by growing and sharing the gift. And…he felt like he'd be killing something – someone – that deserved to live as much as he did.
He thought about what his baby would look like and saw his father, thought about what life he'd make for himself – for them – and felt his father's hands, his father's mind.
Thinking about it meant facing it. He wasn't ready to face it. And…he wasn't ready for this child.
He started back towards his room, trying to remain unnoticed, and passed by a conversation between his mother and kin elders and Blood elders.
"We must consider all options," said the wizened elder who lead the people of the Blood. "This is a very delicate matter and it wouldn't do to be overly hasty…"
"What is there to discuss?" said one of his relatives, in charge of his father's line. "He is with child, and we need children if we are to preserve ourselves."
"He is a child," said another, also of his father's line. "And that should weigh very heavily on our decision."
"He's going through the blossoming," said someone of his mother's line. "He conceived. Is that not adult enough?"
"And you blossomed at an even younger age, Silva" said yet another. "Should we have counted you at an adult even then?"
"You are silent, Mary," said the elder to Leonard's mother. "This is your child and blood. What do you think?"
"He tried to kill his father," she said softly. "He's a traitor. He is no blood of mine."
Leonard had found himself again in his grandparent's room, this time looking at doctors outside his kin. He found one who would be discreet enough to give him an abortion.
He'd snuck out of the house with two pairs of clothes, a large amount of stolen credits, and a few things he hadn't been able to grow out of. Some of the credits went to the doctor, who'd also given him the suppressors and the instructions on how to make or get more before sending him on his way without a backward glance. Even more got him to Old Augusta.
On the way, Leonard forcefully stamped down his gift, feeling it'd brought him nothing but trouble and pain. In the bathroom mirror after the transport, he'd been startled to see that his eyes were brown.
--
His father's rasping voice drew him back to the present.
"I came to you, because I knew you understand. The humans wouldn't know what to do."
There were three options here. One would cure the disease, one would cure it slowly and painfully, and one would cure it without risk…for full humans.
"Please…if you are my son…if we are blood…."
Leonard pressed the hypo into his father's chest. "You're no blood of mine."
--
David McCoy died of complications caused by his medication.