She'd run out of excuses, of reasons to wait. She'd paced Destiny's hallways for long nights after long days, hiding herself, watching him from both the corners of her eyes and of rooms, practicing and abandoning words.
She still didn't know what she'd say. She just knew she had no other choice.
Slapping at the door control, Chloe propelled herself into Nicholas Rush's quarters. She turned to hit the inner control, shutting them in together, and finally spinning on her heels to face his widened brown eyes.
"Chloe?" he asked, the towel he'd been drying himself with held loosely against his bare chest. The scar – that scar – was livid on his pale skin. She lifted a hand towards it, but couldn't touch him.
"What is it?" he demanded, concern narrowing his eyes and tensing the lean lines of his body.
"I'm pregnant," she blurted out. Heat flared from her cheeks and she hugged herself tightly, instinctively, before shrugging out of the oversized jacket she'd been wearing for the past two weeks. She tossed it on the floor and lifted the hem of her already stretched purple top. Her hands framed her swelling belly; she looked down, letting her hair cover her eyes.
"Five and a half-months, 22 weeks pregnant," she whispered.
There was silence for the length of a sharp intake of breath and then his hands closed over her wrists.
She tilted her head up just enough to meet his deep, dark eyes with her own bright, blue ones and then everything dipped sideways and she fell, helplessly, into a terrifying sea of memories.
Water, water, everywhere there was water. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't scream. She was so cold. She was frozen, unable to move a muscle, unable to fight. She was fighting, with a mind that refused to surrender, no matter the pressure, the pain, the torture. She was stretched out on a metal slab, blue, glowing hands holding icy instruments, digging into her chest, touching her fluttering heart. The pain was beyond belief, but consciousness wouldn't flee. Nothing would free her.
The screech of their voices hurt her ears but the hands, the bitter violation of the metallic instruments didn't stop. She was invaded. They took from her. Her legs were spread and they forced something inside her. She could feel cold liquid flowing; yet simultaneously she was hit with an electrical, a chemical, surge, forcing her body to convulse against her will, pleasure and pain inextricably linked as she was forced to give precious fluid – no she was being forced to receive it – no she was being forced to give it – no, no, no, no, no…
Two voices screamed as one in her ears and she jolted back into the present, fingers biting into her wrists, trembling, shivering, eyes half-blinded with tears.
His forehead was pressed against hers, their hair, brown and black strands, sweat-stuck to each other's skin. His voice was harsh but certain.
"It's mine."
She didn't bother to nod or speak an answer to that statement of fact.
This wasn't the first time their nightmares had melded. Nor was it the first time they'd shared instinctive knowledge.
The aliens had used him to breed her like a prize mare. That's why they'd sent just the one ship, tempted the foolish Colonel to drain Destiny's shields, why they'd sneaked onboard and taken just her. They'd wanted a female to mate with their captured male; to breed offspring for further study.
His hands lifted to brush her hair, his hair, off their faces. He framed her cheeks in his palms.
"How long have you known?"
"A couple of weeks. I'm starting to show. I can't hide it much longer."
"I'm surprised you've hidden it this long."
He stepped back just enough to stare down at the ripened curve of her abdomen.
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to keep it. I want my baby. After…" she swallowed hard, bit at her lip. Would anyone understand this, even this man, who had understood so much else? How her instincts screamed the only possible choice at her until she'd known she had no other option, could live with nothing less.
"After all I've suffered, I deserve this, to have something good out of what those bastards did to me. She's mine." She wrapped her hands around his wrists this time, emphasizing her verbal appeal. "She's ours!"
He simply nodded acceptance.
She could have loved him for that alone.
Tears flowed down her cheeks. He wiped a few of them away. She took a deep breath. There was more. Nothing could ever be that easy.
"But the others, the Colonel, they'll want to destroy her when they find out how she was conceived. They'll want to kill her. I'm scared, Nicholas, I'm so scared." It was the first time she'd ever used his first name; she was pregnant with his child and she'd never even called him by his given name. The strangeness of that flickered through the back of her mind even as she sobbed.
"So we don't tell them," he responded resolutely.
"But I can't keep hiding my pregnancy. They'll find out…" Surprise broke her sobs and she stared at him through liquid eyes.
His voice was patient, shockingly calm. "We tell them you're pregnant. We even tell them that it's mine. We just don't tell them how it was conceived. Let them think what they will."
The sheer, brilliant simplicity of it staggered her for a moment, leaving them in a temporary silence, and then she couldn't stop a smile from peeking out before she bit at her lower lip in concentration.
"They'll blame you," she warned.
He gave an expressive shrug. "They can go piss themselves for all I care."
His hands gently stroked her shoulders, down her arms, making her tingle, and settled with warming, comforting touch on her swollen belly.
"All that matters is you and the baby. I'll do anything necessary to protect you."
He didn't need to put the emphasis on anything. This man would do exactly as he said. She knew that. It was why she'd come to him after all.
His eyes met hers; that promise echoed in the fierce intensity of his gaze. But he wasn't finished.
"You have to be sure you want this, Chloe," he told her. "Be absolutely certain. There's no going back and I…" he paused and his mouth tightened. "I will not share, especially with that foolish soldier boy of yours. He cannae be a part of this." His accent was thick in his voice, yet did not lessen the uncompromising determination of his tone.
Emotions tumbled through her. Joy warred with fear; relief mingled with sadness. She covered his hands with hers, pressing his palms and long fingers against her stretched skin, against the baby nestled in her womb.
She'd already given up on Matthew Scott. He had yet to accept any of the changes in her since her abduction. He wanted to pretend nothing had ever happened, that she was still the person she'd been when they first came onboard Destiny. She couldn't even recognize that person anymore - that Chloe no longer existed. Also, Matt was blindly loyal to Colonel Young and he'd follow orders even if it meant tearing the baby out of her the same way he'd threatened to rip the alien tracking device out of Nicholas' chest. Matt simply wasn't strong enough. He wouldn't protect her in here; he couldn't protect her from what was out there. Nicholas had saved her. He'd saved her more than once, more than twice.
Nicholas was strong. He was her baby's father. He'd do whatever had to be done to keep them safe.
In return, she'd do anything for him, give him anything, anything he wanted.
Anything.
She never knew how much of her jumbled thoughts were said aloud and how much remained inside her head. He silenced her with his mouth, with a searing kiss that demanded surrender. She gave that willingly, twining her arms around his surprisingly broad shoulders, taking a fistful of his hair in her fingers. Her other hand dug into the muscles of his back and she clung to him.
This was a first kiss and yet it felt nothing like she'd ever imagined a first kiss could be. There was no hesitation, no fumbling. He took her mouth with precise and possessive expertise. His tongue explored and tasted and took; it felt like he was drinking her in.
Her entire body shivered with delight; muscles clenched in her thighs and groin. Liquid heat raced in her veins. No one had ever made her feel like this. She needed him. She wanted him.
He whispered "mine" against the skin of her throat, her breasts, her swollen belly… and the only answer she could give him was "yours" until she couldn't form words at all.
XXXXX
Baby-Being wriggled her toes experimentally and then stuck her thumb in her mouth, mentally sighing with relief as Mother-Being's energy finally calmed. The tense, painful spikes of anxiety and fear stilled and stopped as Father-Being's bright energy surrounded Mother-Being's and then merged. Baby-Being suckled with satisfaction on the tiny digit and then went happily to sleep.