Summary: While on Vulcan, Spock and Nyota struggle to come to terms with the aftermath of their first pregnancy.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Miscarriage.
When McCoy came back, he shook his head at them, his eyes filled with unshed tears. He watched helplessly when Nyota cried out in shock, shaking her head rapidly with denial.
Spock gripped Nyota's shoulders as she railed angrily, before collapsing with exhaustion against him. They held each other tightly and grieved together on the hospital bed. For two hopeful hours, their child, their 'Pon-Farr baby' whom Nyota had so lightly referred to only twenty four hours ago, had clung to life.
Bitter grief had swallowed his wife, his k'diwa, and their bond was quiet as she slept. He had not seen her since they returned from the hospital in Shih'Kar. After he'd carried her into their room and gently put her on the bed, she had turned away from him and curled up on her side.
Standing by their bed, he watched her fall asleep for a few minutes, then wandered away into his parents' empty house. He could do nothing else for her.
It had been ten hours since their daughter had died. As he stood at the window in the living room and looked out onto his mother's wilting rose garden, his eyes fixed onto a sliver of hazy white light that seemed to split the air just a few steps away from the fence. He rubbed his sore eyes with fingers and thumb. He'd been up for several days now, weathering the numerous pregnancy complications with Nyota.
They would have to finally decide on a name for the funeral. The preceding months had been filled with suggestions from their family and friends, some of which weren't very helpful, but it had served to distract and amuse Nyota, especially in the last few weeks.
She'd been restless and moody, sometimes dreaming of strange things that slipped to him through their bond at night. She'd awaken, disoriented, and he would soothe her by stroking her hair or rubbing her lower back, easing her into sleep again.
T'Pel had been one possibility that Nyota finally agreed on, after he'd told her that she could not name their daughter after naturally occurring objects simply because it 'sounded cool' in Vulcan. At that, she'd laughed hard, despite her aching body, holding her rounded belly with both hands. Then, she blamed him for making her laugh too hard and peeing her pants. She'd agreed with him in the end, but explained that it was a common human practice to want to show how unique the child was and how loved.
Safiya. Pure. He turned away from the window and headed back up to their bedroom, wanting to rest with his wife. They had debated the meaning of this name as he was uncomfortable with its ambiguity. Pure what? Their child would not be purely human or Vulcan, but Nyota only shrugged.
Pure of heart, of faith, of goodness. It was in the eye of the beholder. She had only liked it because it was the name of her best friend in third grade. Plus, it sounded good. She had giggled again at him for his annoyed look.
Spock eased into their bedroom quietly, not wishing to disturb her, but their bed was empty. He sat down on the bed, which was still warm and imprinted from her body. They would get through this as they had before, though it had been nothing like this–devastation. This hollow, blank numbness that settled over them.
He opened their bond fully, needing her and not understanding why she left their bed when she was still so exhausted. He paused, unsure, before getting up and walking over to the bathroom. She was not inside. Uneasy, he came back out and searched all the rooms upstairs. Spock could feel her presence nearby, in fact, sensed that she was still in REM sleep. Perhaps she was sleepwalking again, something that hadn't happened since—
Suddenly realizing the implications of Nyota's strange dreams the last few months, Spock became alarmed. Her sleep had not been disturbed like that for many years, not since their first mission together. Not since him. He ran back down the stairs, futilely yelling for Nyota until he was hoarse. But the house remained still and quiet.
As he quickly headed to the comm unit to call Sarek for help, he passed the living room window. He stopped short and stared out the window, wondering what he'd seen earlier. He ran outside into the garden, past the fence where the desert began.
He circled a spot where there were several footprints in the sand. He couldn't tell how many exactly, perhaps only one or two people. The disturbance was tightly confined to an area about six square feet. He scanned the outside of the house, the garden and then into the distance surrounding the house. But he could see no one nearby, or even a shuttle that would account for the activity.
Daylight was fading fast and he needed help quickly. He knew that he was not functioning at his highest level, between the lack of sleep and meditation. More people searching for Nyota would mean logically eliminating the other explanations for her disappearance. He had no hard evidence, and no one on Vulcan right now that would believe–
The glint in the sand was so minute, he could've dismissed it as being any number of things. Why he even bothered to investigate further could only be explained as illogical. He brushed sand away from the top of a delicately curved coil, pulling out an earring from the sand. It was Nyota's.
Running back inside, he went to the comm, only to find that its screen had been smashed. Angry now, he shouted for Nyota, but the house remained defiantly empty.
He went to his desk to get his comm link, when he spied something that had been placed on top. Spock turned the paper over, reading the spidery script that mirrored his own hand: You only lost a daughter, but I have lost my Ko-eik-te'krusu. S'ti th'laktra, t'dahsu.
A/N: References TOS episode: Mirror, Mirror
Di'kizh'tor: Exchange
Ko-eik-te'krusu: Empress
S'ti th'laktra: I grieve with thee.
t'dahsu: twin
I wasn't going to post this since- at some point, I plan on expanding this story into possibly a multi-chapter fic, but what the hell right? I'm kinda proud of this one.
