The day after returning from Admiral Jamieson's office, Spock and T'Mara sit on side of their bed as he pulls his boot over his foot.
T'Mara lightly places her hand on top of his knee. "Spock, why did you do it?"
He turns his head so he could see her face. His face shows puzzlement. "Why did I do what? Please specify."
"Sorry, I guess you can't read my mind all the time." She smiles briefly. "Why did you toss your medal into the trash receptacle?"
He finishes putting on his other boot. He places his hands on his thighs and stares straight ahead. She wonders if he will answer her inquiry. He finally turns to face her. "T'Mara, I am pleased that Headquarters recognized your bravery. As for me...brave? T'Mara, no." He bows his head. "I did not prevent us from being captured. Nor did I rescue the prisoners or colonists."
"Spock, wait – you risked everything for those people, right down to your life."
She begins to stroke his bangs, but he gently takes her hand, then places it to her side. "You are correct, but this man does not feel deserving of any accolades. Come, we need to finish preparing for our day." He stands and she also rises.
T'Mara speaks with care. "Spock, it's not like you to wallow in self-pity."
His eyes turn icy. T'Mara takes a step away from him. He does not move as he analyzes his feelings. Is this what humans mean by the truth hurts? He acknowledges the fact that he has been struggling with self-despair since they were held captive. "T'Mara, you are correct. I need to refresh my thinking." He allows a small smile to appear on his face.
T'Mara thinks back over their discussion last night about the admiral's recommendation for a leave of absence. She had suggested it was a good idea, since Andre and T'Sora could come to their home and assist with his detox. Spock's reaction had been a firm no. Her heart had fallen, but she reminded herself what she was taught in her psychology classes – that an addict may need to hit bottom before he is ready to seek help. T'Mara only hopes Spock won't need to sink too low before wanting to seek the right path.
They sit down to breakfast. As they eat, Spock soon observes that their normally communicative girls were awfully subdued. He places his teacup down as he looks at them. "Daughters, is everything alright?"
T'Meika quickly glances over to T'Anya, then back to her father. She knows by her younger sister's timid expression she would have to answer for both of them. "Well, when you and Mom returned from the academy yesterday afternoon, she looked sad and you sought refuge in your office. You broke your promise to T'Anya about spending time with her. Then later that evening, you and mother engaged in a heated discussion. We can't help but be concerned."
Spock inwardly sighs. Soon their oldest will figure out that there was more than stress bothering her father. Soon she will demand more answers. The emotion of regret begins to tug at him, but he manages to stop it from surfacing. "Your mother and I are still dealing with the aftereffects of our mission. Once I return to teaching and your mother is back at her counseling, things will settle back to normal."
T'Mara's mind cringes over his words, 'back to normal'. However, she does not have much time to mull over the problems they were yet to face, for a busy day lay ahead of them.
oooooo
After dropping off their young son, Stefan, at daycare, Spock lands the skimmer in a space in front of the psychological studies and healing center where T'Mara works. They both exit the vehicle and meet behind it.
"My wife, may your day go without incident. Or should I say, may your clients not cause you too much stress," he speaks in Vulcan.
"Yes, my husband, may your cadets not cause you too much grief," she replies in the same language. She leans toward him. She places one hand behind his neck. Their lips meet briefly in a goodbye kiss. "Shall I meet you at 1200 hours in the officers' lounge?" T'Mara asks of him.
"Yes, that will be agreeable." He turns, then walks toward the main campus. His first designation is to Admiral Pike's building. He rides the lift to the 10th floor. He proceeds to his office. He enters his private bathroom. He stares at his reflection.
"Damn," he mutters. His eyes are still dilated. With quastene, it can take 2.245 hours for one's eyes to return to normal. He only shot up 1.5 hours ago. He hopes that the midshipmen will not notice, but doubts that will be the case. He has drilled into them to observe every detail, no matter how minute. He always stresses the importance of studying their surroundings, right down to a blade of grass. That is what being an excellent science officer entails. Being good at research could save one's life or the lives of one's crewmates.
Shaking his head in self-disgust, he makes a mental note to inject himself one hour earlier. Fear was not usually in his vocabulary, for he did not even fear death. So why was he apprehensive about the process of escaping the drug's hold on him? Was it the dread of enduring tremors, nausea, chills, and pain? The possibility of facing hallucinations? Or was it that he was secretly enticed by its offer of extra adrenaline, sexual prowess, and yes – the way it heightens his emotions? He stands in front of his desk, flexing his hands. All those thoughts he pushes in the back of his mind. He gathers his padd and all he will need for his morning classes.
He enters the well-illuminated classroom. The cadets are already waiting for him. He walks to the lecture screen. "Excuse my tardiness. Good morning, midshipmen."
Some of his cadets glance at each other, for he did not customarily greet them with such high spirits. Spock is acutely conscious of the cadets scrutinizing him. They seem to be studying his face. Perhaps it is due to his fresh growth of beard and longer than normal hair. He hopes that is the case.
"Good morning, Captain. We are pleased to have you back," a green-eyed female cadet says cheerfully.
The rest join in. "Hear, hear, welcome back, Captain!" The midshipmen had not thought they would miss the Vulcan, but after having Captain Stiles as their substitute instructor, they were happy to have Captain Spock again. He may be hard on them, but he was not prissy.
Spock attempts to begin his discussion on valuing the uniqueness of different alien species. The philosophy of IDIC. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.
A cadet raises her hand. "Yes, Cadet Jasper?"
"Sir, rumor has it that you and your wife were held prisoner at the colony and that you both were used as slaves."
Spock's brow rises into his bangs. Someone on board his ship or the Excelsior must have leaked the information, and the thought annoys him. He will bring it to the admiral's attention. He takes a slow, steadying breath. "The happenings at the Jarus colony are strictly confidential at this point. We are not here to discuss what may or may not have occurred."
Spock proceeds with his original discussion. He is pleased that the midshipmen become engrossed with the discussion. At the end of class, he stands and they salute him as they leave. He salutes back. All file out, except the green-eyed cadet. She keeps her hands clasped behind her back. At first, she does not speak.
"Miss Jasper, is there something you require of me?"
She tilts her head, then smiles shyly. "Uh...Captain are...are you alright? When you entered the room, I could not help noticing that you seem peaked…'
He clears his throat. "Yes, I am quite fine. A result of a Vulcan herbal medication. Thank you for inquiring."
She straightens. She does not hide her concern for her instructor. "Oh alright, Captain. Then I hope the medicine is not for anything serious."
"No, I assure you that it is nothing you need to be concerned about. We both have other classes…" He gestures to the door.
They exit together. She goes her way as he goes to the refreshment center to obtain a cup of herbal tea. He then returns to the classroom and waits for his next class.
ooooooooo
The next couple of classes go without any conflict. He is preparing for his last class of the morning. He now stands by his desk. The cadets file to their seats. Each one stands next to his or her desk as they face him and salute.
Spock returns their salutes. "You may be seated."
Once they are seated, he begins his lecture on Physics of Time Warp Travel. One cadet pulls out his pocket phone. Seized with sudden anger, Spock discontinues his lecture. He strides directly to the midshipman. He snatches it from the cadet's hand. The young man stares at his instructor with disbelief.
"Pierce, you are aware of the policy that phones are not allowed in class. The only padd you should have on your person is the Star Fleet Academy issue note padd," his voice lashes.
The cadet swallows hard. His eyes are slightly wide. "Yes sir, I am aware of the rules. My father has been seriously ill. I was receiving a vital message from my mother."
Spock's grip on the phone becomes tighter. He subconsciously squeezes it to the point that the screen begins to crack. The crack spreads like a spider's web.
"Captain, my phone!" Pierce's voice becomes urgent.
The room is completely silent. Spock looks to his right hand. He realizes what he just did to Pierce's communication device. He lessens his grip and coughs. At first, he cannot speak. "I...I apologize. I did not intend to damage it. I shall reimburse you for the cost of the phone." Spock hands it back to Pierce.
Pierce stares at the cracked screen. A priority message now appears. He shudders. "Captain..." his breath catches. "May I be excused? My mother...she said that my father ...is dying." He chokes back tears.
Spock takes a step back. "Yes...yes, of course. Go...I...I grieve with you. I am sincerely sorry." He finds that he cannot go on with the lecture. He gathers enough control to steady his voice. "Class to attention."
Though confused, they all stand.
"Dismissed!" he cracks out.
Once the last cadet leaves, Spock leans against the wall. He unfastens his jacket, then reaches for his inside pocket. The hypo he thought he had placed there is missing.
"Damn," he mutters as he refastens his jacket. Then memory jolts him. He left it on the nightstand!
How could he be so careless?
He sprints out of the room and continues to run until he nears his vehicle. He stops to catch his breath. He enters the skimmer and pilots it to their house.
A few minutes later, T'Mara is sitting at what had become 'their table' in the officers' mess hall. She glances at her chronometer. Spock is now ten minutes late. In normal circumstances, he would have contacted her by now. She drinks her tea. Then she begins to eat her vegetarian platter.
Spock now is in their bedroom. He finds the hypo exactly where he left it. He picks it up and carries it to the bed. He sits down and quickly removes his jacket. He rolls up his sleeve, then injects himself. The drug does what is expected, for euphoria washes over him. His breathing slows and a smile creeps onto his face. He puts his jacket back on, then he stands a bit shakily. Realizing he is late in meeting T'Mara, he hurries out of the house.
At the mess hall, T'Mara looks at her padd to see if she had somehow missed any messages from her husband. She becomes torn between concern and anger. It is now 1230 hours. She is about to stand until she sees him heading her way, carrying a tray.
"T'Mara... I regret my tardiness," he says as he sits down. He notices she did not consume much of her meal.
She speaks before he could ask about it. "You could have contacted me. What happened?"
He puts his glass down. "My sweet, I needed to retrieve something at home."
She frowns. "I thought you had it with you."
"As did I, but I…left it on the nightstand. All is well now."
She does not feel this would be a good place to discuss his 'problem'. Though the people around seem not to be listening to their conversation, she knows some really are. And her anger would likely only cause more harm. A nauseous feeling hits her. She pushes her tray from her.
Spock studies his wife. "Are you well?"
She looks at him. She takes a deep breath, hoping to rid herself of the feeling. "I am nauseated. It seems to come and go, as does my appetite."
He grows concerned for her well-being. "Perhaps you should pay a visit to Doctor McCoy."
"Yes, a wise suggestion. I will contact him as soon as we are finished. I have an hour with no appointments. Hopefully, he can see me today."
"Good, T'Mara. Please notify me as soon as you receive the doctor's findings."
Her lips quirk upwards. "From the man who couldn't contact me when he was going to be late."
His lips move upwards as well. "Alright, I shall venture to remember the next time, my wife."
They finish their lunch and drop their trays on the tray conveyor. Spock walks T'Mara to the psych building. Their two fingers touch in the Vulcan manner, and he then heads to the quad area. Two cadets watch as he passes by them. Once he is out his range of hearing, one asks, "You attend Captain Spock's 0800 class? Right?"
"Yes, why?"
"Well, I attended his 1100 hour class. His behavior was quite unusual." The cadet looks around him.
"In what way?"
"He displayed anger at Cadet Pierce for having his phone out during class." He shifts his stance.
"Well, it is against the rules." The cadet is not sure where Cadet Jones is going with all this.
"No, you don't understand. I mean really angry. He snatched it and squeezed so hard the screen cracked. His voice was harsh. Poor Pierce, he had just found out that his father was dying. That is why he had it out. He was receiving a message from his mother. Then when he told the captain the news of his father...well, it was weird. The class had barely started, but Captain Spock went back to his desk and dismissed us." The cadet waits for the reaction of his female friend.
Her expression then changes to astonishment. "Wow, that is a noteworthy event. You know now, as I think back, he kinda acted peculiar in our class. His demeanor was totally relaxed, so much so he shared a couple of jokes, not his usual dry stuff – jokes that were actually funny and a bit off-color. He did not laugh out loud, but he almost grinned." She shakes her head. "I wonder if what happened to him and his wife on Jarus did something to him. Something that was not detected by a doctor."
"You might be right. I hope for his sake it is only temporary." He and his friend walk to their next class.
ooooooo
Spock exits his office to head to his afternoon classes. As he heads down the hall, Commandant of Star Fleet Academy Captain Samson waves him down.
Spock goes up to the officer. "Yes, Commandant Samson."
"Captain, come to my office with me."
"Yes, sir." Spock follows the dark-skinned man, who happens to be five inches taller than him. Both enter the austere office.
"Captain, please sit down."
Spock pulls up a chair adjacent to the captain's desk.
"I realize you were heading to your next class. This will only take a few moments. Captain, I would like to express my gratitude for resolving the incident at the colony." The Commandant clasps his hands on top of his desk.
"But Commandant, I really..."
"Captain Spock," he cuts him off, "you of all people must realize that for a mission to be successful, it does not mean there is no sacrifice and that sacrifice might include the loss of life. Your mission was successful. The colonists are free." Then Samson opens the drawer of his desk. He pulls out a case that appears to have scratches on it. He places it on the desk and pushes it towards Spock. "A cleaning tech brought this to the admiral, and I was asked to give it back to you. HQ does not make a habit of handing out medals of valor to just anyone. Why did you discard it? A decoration of honor well deserved, to one of the finest officers in the fleet."
Spock picks up the case and opens it. "To be honest, sir, at the moment the admiral gave to me, I...I did not feel worthy of any medal." He slightly bows his head. He shuts the case.
Captain Samson leans all the way back in his chair. He interlocks his fingers and places his hands on his lap. "Captain, what is going on with you? Rumors have been buzzing around campus. Though cadets have been known to spread untruths about their instructors, some rumors are based on fact. Spock. I called you in here because I am growing concerned."
Spock places the medal in the pocket of his jacket. He takes a breath in, then slowly lets it out. "Commandant, may I ask what the rumors are about?"
"Cadets are saying you have been telling off-color jokes in class, smiling, and displaying anger. Not unusual behavior if you were totally human…"
"I am half Vulcan, so I should be seen acting like a Vulcan." Does the commandant hear a tad of sarcasm in Spock's voice? "I tell you, these rumors are exaggerated. I am physically and mentally stable. Of course, you have the right to order me to see Doctor McCoy or any other doctor to perform a complete examination" Spock's tone is assertive. He keeps his face stoic, but sincerely hopes the commandant does not call his bluff.
"No, Captain, not at this time. I have nothing else to say on this matter except that I highly suggest you get your hair and beard trimmed. You are aware of the dress code here, Captain." Then Samson stands up.
Spock also stands. "Understood, Commandant." Spock exits the office.
oooooooo
With the day done, Spock walks towards the Psych building. He then spots T'Mara emerging from the building. He quickens his pace. They meet by his skimmer. They greet each other with a kiss. He opens the car door for her and she enters the passenger's side.
Once they are both inside, she informs him that she could not see Dr. McCoy since he was performing an emergency operation. Studying his troubled face, she adds, "My husband, you appear as a man whose day went south."
"South?" Then he recognizes the phrase. "Yes, T'Mara, I can agree with that statement. Commandant Samson called me into his office. Apparently, your husband has become a hot topic on campus. Rumors of my un-Vulcan like behavior in a couple of my classes." He begins to absorb the compassion he seems to need at that moment from his wife.
"Spock, I too overheard some of the rumors. Vulcan hearing at times can be a curse. Sometimes one wishes not to hear everything. Spock…is there any validation to these rumors?"
A couple of minutes pass before he responds. "Yes, as you are aware, the drug causes my emotions to surface more readily. As it wears off, it causes me to be on edge. Unfortunately, you have already had to experience my irrational behavior." He wraps his hands tightly around the controller. T'Mara….what is this man I have become?"
She leans towards him. "A man in the grip of drug addiction, but remember, you always have my love."
He kisses her on her cheek. "Thank you, my aisha, let us pick up Stefan, then head home and check on the girls."
In a matter of minutes, they enter their house; smells of Vulcan fare enfold them as they walk into the living area. Home from school, T'Meika is in the kitchen preparing their evening meal. Spock and T'Mara greet their daughters. They head to their room to dress into their casual clothes. Spock unfastens his uniform jacket. He pulls out the case that holds his medal, then hands it to his wife.
"T'Mara, keep this safe."
"Your medal! How did you get it?"
"A cleaning tech retrieved it from the trash receptacle, and Commandant Samson gave it back to me."
She takes the case and places it in her chest of drawers, among her treasure items.
ooooooo
They are now alone in the living room, for their offspring are snug in their beds, sound asleep. T'Mara, who is sitting right next to her husband on the sofa, turns her head to him. "Spock, I would like to discuss my concerns about you manufacturing quastene in our home."
He looks up from his padd. He places it on the coffee table. His eyes are now upon his wife's face. "T'Mara, you should not be worried. I would not manufacture it in our home if there even a minuscule chance of endangering any one of us. The process does not produce any harmful chemical fumes. As you know, I keep everything in the safe and keep the office door locked."
She shakes her head. "I know you would not bring harm to your family. Yes, everything is under lock and key. You even changed the passcode to the office door lock. Even I cannot get in." She sighs. "But what if the authorities discover that you're manufacturing a highly illegal drug? They could take our children away."
Spock shifts uneasily. "T'Mara, the authorities have no reason to search our home. I do not create quastene for resale. It is strictly personal use." His eyes lock onto hers. "Not unless someone close to me would notify them..." His voice is almost accusing. "You would not...turn your husband in?"
His words stung her. But if the truth be known, she has considered that option, for maybe if he had to face jail, it would cause him to make a choice. Perhaps he would wish to quit. However, she had decided against it. She felt that there had to be a better course, for if he ended up in jail, his career would be ruined.
Her voice becomes soft. "No, my love...I would not ...I could not. I just fear having our offspring taken from us." A couple of tears roll down her cheeks.
He places his paired fingers on her face and touches the dampness. "T'Mara, wash away your tears. It will not happen. Let us never speak of this again." His voice becomes tender. "But you are to do one thing for your husband."
"What?"
"Keep praying." He kisses her forehead.
ooooooo
Two weeks go by with Spock still deep in his addiction. The rumors continue about his change of demeanor. The cadets were used to his hardcore teaching method. He had always taught with straightforwardness, high expectations, and of course pure logic. But that did not mean he did not allow a little frivolousness in his classes. He had learned over the years that humans needed some breaks from the mundane. He was aware that some had even referred to him as a "tight ass". But now Spock seems, at times, completely human. He shares humorous tales, smiling openly, and has even been seen having a beer with a couple of the cadets.
T'Mara's two weeks, for the most part, were routine. She continued with her counseling and her fits of nausea. She preferred only to have Dr. McCoy examine her, but he had been away for the past two weeks. She had her suspicions on the root cause of her physical ailments, for she was also late in her monthly cycle. She might have to go to the staff doctor, for she did not want to wait much longer to verify her condition.
oooooo
It is a bright Friday afternoon. Spock is strolling down the hallway on the tenth floor. His day now over, he is heading to meet T'Mara.
"Captain Spock, a moment please." Commandant Samson waves at him.
Spock walks towards him. "Yes, Commandant?"
"Captain Spock, when I mentioned getting your hair and beard trimmed, I should have been more specific. That is an order, Captain." He places his hands on his hips.
"Aye, sir. Is there anything else?"
Samson studies the captain for a long moment. Thoughts buzz in his head. Spock, one the Fleet's most decorated, one of the academy's elite instructors. The rumors about the captain's recent conduct disturb the commandant, but there are no regulations against ordinary human behavior. And after all, Spock is half human.
Samson fronts a smile. "Ah, no, Captain. Just have a nice weekend."
oooooo
T'Mara is preparing the evening meal. Stefan enters the kitchen. "Mommy, what are we having for dinner?"
"Vulcan salad and plomeek soup," she says as she stirs the ingredients.
"Daddy's favorite." Stefan watches his mother shake some seasoning into the soup.
"Yes, it is."
T'Anya enters the kitchen. "Mom..Father is locked in the office." Concern clouds her features. "Why?"
T'Mara exhales. It was becoming harder and harder to explain Spock's strange behavior. "He requires total privacy for his uh...project for Starfleet."
T'Anya may be only a little over nine, but she could sense her mother was uneasy. Was there something wrong with her father that her parents were hiding from her? Not just from her, but also T'Meika. Being that dinner would soon be ready, she knew this would not be a good time to further question her mother. So she just says, "Okay, Mom. I hope he will be done soon."
T'Mara stops stirring. She reprograms the heating controls. She faces her daughter. "Oh, he should be done for now. Why don't you go and get him? Just knock on the door and tell him dinner is ready."
T'Anya goes and knocks on the office door. "Father... Mother says it's time to eat." She stands, waiting for a response. She hears movement inside the office.
Spock then exits the office. He enters the passcode to lock the door. He turns around.
T'Anya looks up to see her father's face. She could not miss his odd, euphoric expression. "Uh…you seem happy. Your project must be going well."
"Project…?" He is confused at first, but thinks of what T'Mara must have told her. "Yes..yes it is."
He goes to the kitchen. He comes up behind T'Mara, who is facing the stove. He wraps his arms around her, moves her hair from her neck, then kisses her neck. "Homemade Plomeek soup."
"Of course, for you, my sweet."
Later, with Stefan in bed and the girls in their room doing their homework, Spock and T'Mara share some quiet time on the loveseat. Spock's focus is on his padd.
She says his name softly.
"H'm." His full concentration is on a science journal.
"Spock, I have some news to share with you."
This gets his attention. He brings his head up. "News, T'Mara?"
"Yes, I finally visited Dr. McCoy. He ran a complete exam on me." She swallows. She is just not sure how he will deal with her current physical condition.
His eyes flicker with worry. "My wife, is all well with you?"
"Yes. I, for the most part, am fine. There is a logical explanation for my bouts of nausea. Hopefully, in 8.731 months…we will be blessed with a baby boy!" She offers an uncertain smile as he analyzes the information.
His eyes widen and both brows go into his bangs. "T'Mara, you are pregnant?"
"I believe that is what I am saying."
He slides closer to her and places his padd on the coffee table. His hand runs through her thick curly locks, then settles behind her neck. Then his face is next to hers. His lips meet her lips. The kiss turns into a long loving kiss.
After the kiss, he speaks softly. "T'Mara, the baby – how is her condition?"
"She is fine. Dr. McCoy ran an ultrascanner over me. The hologram shows a healthy embryo of approximately 32 days old. Spock, it may not be logical, but in my heart, I believe everything will be alright. She will be full term. She's going to be the blessing this family has been waiting for. God still answers prayers." She embraces her husband.
Spock gradually pulls away from her embrace. "Perhaps, T'Mara, perhaps. We should share this news with our daughters. Stefan can wait until tomorrow."
He stands, then goes upstairs to the girls' room. He knocks on the door. "We need you both to please come to the living room."
Spock sits down by his wife, and the girls settle into other seats. They see the joy in their father's eyes, so both assume the news will be good.
T'Anya smiles. "What do you need to tell us?"
Spock briefly looks at his wife. With emotion, he says, "Your mother has just informed me that she is expecting."
T'Meika's smile is faint, for she has mixed feelings.
T'Anya, on the other hand, hugs her mother. "Oh, Mom, that is exciting news! Do you know if it is a girl or a boy?"
T'Mara nods. "In approximately 8.73 months, you will have a new baby brother."
T'Anya suddenly remembers the death of their baby sister. "But Mom...T'Sheika died. How do we know this baby won't also die?" Her voice displays her heartache.
Spock puts his arm behind T'Mara's shoulder and replies, "Daughter, nothing is guaranteed, but your mother has a strong belief that this baby will be just fine."
T'Anya stands up, then goes to her mother. "Mom, you make sure you take care of yourself."
T'Mara smiles at her. "I assure you, I will follow the good doctor's instructions."
T'Meika knows that babies can cause stress in a family. Her questioning eyes focus on Spock. "Father...you still seem to be under a lot of pressure. With another baby coming...will all truly be fine?"
He leans back. Her inquiry deeply bothers him. He is deeply pleased by T'Mara's pregnancy, but he knows his addiction might cause him to act irrationally. With a calm voice, he replies, "Believe me, it will be alright. Now your mother and I need to talk privately, so let us say goodnight."
Both girls tell their parents "goodnight" and head to their room.
Spock is still troubled by his daughter question. He remembers the painful incident aboard the Surak, when he lost control of his emotions and slammed T'Mara against the wall of their quarters. He has promised never to hurt her again, but can he keep that promise?
He places a hand on her waist. "Precious life grows inside my wife. I could not live with myself if I harmed it in any way." Then a disturbing thought enters his mind. "T'Mara...there is something I need to know. When was the time of conception? Were you pregnant when I…"
T'Mara knows what he is hinting at. She gently touches his face. "You want to know if we conceived before that night in our quarters. Well, the answer is yes – two days before."
He removes his hand from her waist. "Dr. McCoy is absolutely certain the baby is alright?" He could not disguise his guilt.
She wraps her hand around his hand and places it back on her stomach. "Yes, I am fine and so is the baby.
"If we lose this baby, how would I know that I was not the cause?"
"Spock, oh my husband, as I said before, I truly believe he is the blessing we have been waiting for. Let go of your guilt." Her arms go around him and she pulls him close.