The Ties That Bind

by lahmrh

K/S. When Spock wakes up the morning after a drunken sexual encounter to find that Kirk has no memory of it, he stays silent, afraid of risking their friendship. But the decision not to tell Kirk becomes more complicated when he discovers he is pregnant.

Author's Note: Written for the idfic big bang, Iddy Iddy Bang Bang. Contains mpreg.

The Ties That Bind

Spock opens his eyes slowly, cautious of the pounding in his head. He stares at the ceiling, trying to discern why he feels so awful. Was he injured? Drugged?

Slowly memories of the previous night begin to return, and he closes his eyes briefly. Drugged would be not entirely inaccurate a term; the beverages served at the banquet last night were rather… potent.

He lowers his gaze and glances around the room, taking in data. He is in his bed in the guest quarters of the Bilaruvian palace, he is naked, and… Spock tenses as the full scope of the situation becomes clear.

He is not alone in the bed.

He stares down at the lump in the covers as if that will make it disappear. More memories begin to unspool behind his eyes; the wine making him relaxed and happy, the captain laughing at something he said, the two of them weaving their way back to their quarters, and then….

Spock swallows, feeling a nausea that cannot fully be blamed on the hangover. Slowly, he reaches over and pulls down the covers enough to identify his bed partner. Sure enough, his actions reveal the face of one James Kirk, still sound asleep.

Spock stares at him in dismay. His memories of last night are still sketchy, but the few he has retained, combined with his current situation, lead inescapably to the conclusion that he engaged in intimate acts with his captain.

He stares at Kirk for a long moment, then careful not to wake him, slips out of bed and hurries into the bathroom.

He stares at himself in the mirror, wondering how this could have happened. How he could have allowed this to happen.

He would be lying if he claimed that the thought never crossed his mind in the past. Kirk is a very attractive man, and Spock is certainly not immune to his charms. He has known for some time that his feelings for his friend extend beyond friendship. But acting on those feelings is an entirely different matter. Kirk is utterly devoted to his career, he has a marked preference for women, and he has shown no interest in anything besides friendship with Spock. And now Spock has broken his trust and taken advantage of him while he was intoxicated. (The fact that Spock himself was equally intoxicated barely crosses his mind.)

With a sigh, he enters the shower and begins washing away the aftereffects of their encounter. Part of him wishes that such an encounter could happen again, especially when he is better suited to remember it, but he pushes the thought down firmly. That it happened at all is bad enough. He suppresses a shudder at what Starfleet would think if they knew their most celebrated command team became intoxicated and engaged in intercourse during a mission. He is beginning to understand why such relationships are so heavily discouraged.

He has exited the shower and is drying off when it occurs to him that all his clothes are still in the other room. Slowly, nervously, he finishes drying himself, then wraps the towel securely around his waist and opens the door.

From what he can see, Kirk is still asleep, visible only as a lump in the bedcovers. Relieved, Spock moves silently over to the closet where his clothes are stored and begins to dress. Perhaps if he is quick enough he can get out of here before Kirk wakes up and avoid dealing with the situation altogether.

Unfortunately that does not prove to be the case. He is pulling on his shirt when he hears the bed shift, followed by a yawn, and knows that Kirk is awake.

He finishes donning his shirt and turns around, falling instinctively into his at attention stance, hands clasped behind his back. "Captain," he greets, as Kirk groans and rubs his temples. Spock tenses inwardly, anticipating a severely negative reaction once the events of last night sink in.

But Kirk merely blinks at him, looking vaguely confused. "Spock?" he asks. He looks around the room, frowning, then down at the bedcovers. "Isn't this your bed?" He rubs his forehead. "What happened last night?"

Mouth dry, Spock approaches the bed. "What do you remember?" he asks.

Kirk's frown deepens. "I remember… the banquet, I remember dancing…" He snorts and rubs at his forehead again. "I remember the Bilaruvians encouraging us to drink their native wine... but after that things get pretty blurry."

Spock stares at him. It appears Kirk has no memory of their activities last night. "You do not recall anything else?" he asks tentatively.

Kirk shakes his head, then winces and touches his temple. "No. I don't even remember how I got back here." He glances up at Spock. "I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"

Spock spends a second warring with his conscience over whether to tell Kirk the truth, before deciding against it. If Kirk truly does not remember, there is little point in making things awkward between them for no reason. "No," he says. "You charmed the Bilaruvians, as always, then we left the party together, came back here and went to sleep." All of which is true. Spock has become quite adept at lying with the truth over the years.

Kirk nods slowly, and the look of relief on his face tells Spock he's done the right thing. "Good," he says, then reddens suddenly. "Would you mind throwing me some underwear?" he asks. "I seem to have forgotten my pyjamas."

Spock finds a pair of boxers among Kirk's things and tosses them onto the bed. Kirk slips them on under the blankets, then hurries out of bed towards the bathroom.

Spock sits down on the bed to put on his boots, firmly suppressing the vague sense of dissatisfaction that Kirk does not remember their encounter. It is better this way. They can go on as they were, without the prospect of Spock's feelings ruining their friendship.

He finishes dressing and prepares to face the day.

x x x

Several weeks later, Spock wakes up at the sound of his alarm, and it takes all his strength not to just roll over and go back to sleep. He cannot remember the last time he was so tired, especially as he made sure to go to bed early the previous evening. He hopes he is not becoming ill.

The tiredness doesn't fade, but it isn't joined by any other symptoms. Spock assumes he merely needs more rest. As Kirk would tell him, even Vulcans are not invincible.

Kirk still shows no signs of remembering their… interlude, although Spock has. Or, at least, he has had a few rather vivid dreams that he suspects were not truly dreams. They all involve Kirk touching him, stroking him, pressing inside him, and leading them both to climax. Spock wakes from these dreams fiercely aroused, and in one case to the discovery that he reached orgasm in his sleep.

At times like that he wishes he did not remember either. It was easier, before, to accept that he would never have what he craved, easier to accept Kirk's friendship and not wish for more. Now that he knows what it is he is missing, it is almost impossible, and part of him aches with the wanting.

It is difficult to work with Kirk every day, and even more difficult to spend time together off duty without thinking about what may have happened between them, and how much he wants it to happen again. He nearly starts avoiding Kirk just to make it easier on himself, but his friend would surely notice and wonder what was wrong. Knowing Kirk, he would likely even assume he had done something to offend Spock and blame himself for Spock's weakness.

So Spock tries to continue on as normal, ignoring the ache in his heart and the tiredness that dogs his every move. That works for approximately three weeks before things take a turn for the worse.

x x x

Spock is on the bridge, running scans and working on the write up of a recent experiment when he begins to feel unwell; dizzy and nauseated. The nausea has crept up on him over the past few days, likely the result of some mild virus or other, but the dizziness is new, and the two together are quite unpleasant.

"Mister Spock?" Kirk's voice rings out, and Spock stands automatically. The dizziness increases dramatically, and his legs give out, sending him to the floor.

"Spock?" Kirk asks, his voice rising in concern, and Spock can hear him ordering McCoy to the bridge.

Spock raises himself carefully to a sitting position, leaning against the console and resting his head on his knees. A hand touches his shoulder and he turns to see Kirk kneeling beside him. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Spock starts to nod, then thinks better of it. "I became lightheaded," he replies. "It is wearing off now, however. I am quite able to go back to work."

"Don't give me that," Kirk replies, shaking his head. "You just nearly passed out, and you look like you're about to do it again. You're going down to sickbay and getting checked out." Spock opens his mouth to protest and Kirk adds, "That's an order."

Spock knows that there is no point arguing with Kirk when he uses that tone. "Yes, Captain," he says.

When McCoy arrives a few minutes later, he agrees with Kirk. He escorts Spock down to sickbay and settles him on a bed before scanning him with a tricorder.

"Well, there's definitely something wrong," he says. "I've never seen readings like this, even from you." He sets the tricorder aside, frowning. "Let's start from the beginning. What exactly are your symptoms?"

The desire to minimise his time in sickbay wars with the desire to know what is wrong with him, and in the end Spock opts to tell the truth. "Fatigue, nausea, and dizziness. I have also experienced vivid dreams and a slight decrease in my ability to control my emotions."

McCoy jots the list down on a PADD and frowns. "Huh," he says. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd think you were pregnant."

Pregnant. Spock freezes, the word hitting him like a tonne of bricks. The doctor is right, with his symptoms it is the most obvious solution, and his nausea doubles at the thought.

Some of what he's feeling must show on his face, because McCoy goes instantly serious. "You don't mean…" he begins.

"It is possible," Spock replies faintly.

McCoy is silent for a moment. "Well," he says eventually. "I guess I'd better run a test."

The diagnosis fits so well that Spock is completely unsurprised when the test comes back positive.

"Looks like you're about six weeks along," McCoy tells him. "Everything seems fine, far as I can tell, but you're going to have to start taking it easy." He pauses, then adds hesitantly, "That is, assuming you're planning on keeping it?"

The reminder that he has options should come as a relief to Spock. It does not. "I do not know," he replies honestly. "May I have some time to decide?"

"Of course," McCoy replies. "Take all the time you need. But I think you should tell Jim what's going on."

Spock stares at the doctor in disbelief, wondering how he could possibly know his secret. But then McCoy adds, "You know the regs as well as I do."

Of course. Regulation 52: any crewmember becoming pregnant must report the pregnancy to their superior officer at the first possible opportunity. Spock breathes a little easier at the knowledge that McCoy was speaking generally.

"I will do so," he says.

McCoy nods. "Okay, then, you're free to go." He hands Spock a bottle of pills. "Antenatal vitamins," he explains, when Spock gives him a questioning look. "Take one twice a day, and I'd advise you to start now, just in case you do decide to keep it. It'll make things easier."

Spock studies the small red pills. "Thank you, Doctor."

Pills in hand, he leaves sickbay and heads towards his quarters. It is almost 1600, which means that the captain will be coming to look for him, to see if he is all right. It is a habit of Kirk's that he has found comforting in the past, but right now he would prefer to be left alone. He has a lot of thinking to do.

Once he is safely in his quarters he stashes the vitamins on a high shelf, then sits down at his desk. Slowly he lifts a hand and places it on his still-flat stomach. It is difficult to believe there is a life growing in there.

He lowers his hand again and stares at the wall, his mind spinning. Pregnant. There is no question that it is Kirk's, of course – even if the dates did not line up exactly, he has not been intimate with anyone else in almost a year. It appears his assumptions as to the exact nature of their intercourse may have been incorrect.

Needing to move, he stands abruptly and strides over to his meditation shrine. He lights a stick of incense before dropping to his knees. Now, more than ever, he needs the peace of meditation.

It takes longer than usual to quiet his mind, something he has heard is not unusual for Vulcans in his condition. Once he has calmed himself sufficiently, he begins to review his options. There are only three he can think of; he can have the child and keep it, he can have the child and put it up for adoption, or he can request a termination.

After a moment's contemplation he rules out adoption. He does not believe he is selfless enough to give birth to a child and then give it away, and in any case finding anyone willing to adopt a mostly-human hybrid would be difficult at best. That leaves the other two options.

The logical decision would be to terminate, Spock knows. A child would interfere with his career, demanding time and energy and more affection than he is certain he is able to provide. Not to mention the strain that pregnancy and birth would inevitably put on his body.

But when he imagines going through with the procedure, something in him rebels. The foetus is a part of him, a part of Kirk, and he finds he cannot quite bring himself to destroy it.

That would leave the final option. Going through with the pregnancy, keeping the child, and raising it as his own.

He has never particularly considered becoming a father. He was told when he was young that he would not be able to have children, due to his hybrid nature. But now it has happened, against all odds, and it seems like an opportunity.

It would not be impossible, he muses. The five-year mission is ending in six months, before his due date. He could ask for reassignment to a ground posting, or even a leave of absence. Maternity leave, he thinks wryly.

One hand goes to his stomach again, almost absently. Continuing with the pregnancy may not be the logical decision, but he… feels that it is the right one.

Reaching out, he toggles the intercom. "Spock to McCoy."

The answer comes almost instantly. "McCoy here."

Spock pauses, conscious of the fact that others may be listening in. If he does not want his condition to become common knowledge he will have to choose his words carefully. "In reference to our conversation earlier," he begins, "I have decided to continue with treatment. I trust you can make the arrangements?"

"Of course," McCoy says. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone unless you ask me to."

Spock nods to himself. He and the doctor do not always see eye to eye, but he trusts McCoy not to break his word. "Thank you, Doctor," he says, and breaks the connection.

That done, he sits back in his chair and frowns. The next job will be to tell the captain, a conversation Spock is not looking forward to.

As if on cue, the door chimes. Spock takes a steadying breath before calling, "Come in."

As he was expecting, it's Kirk who comes through the door. "How are you feeling?" he asks, looking Spock up and down as if studying him for signs of illness.

"Better," Spock replies.

Kirk nods. "That's good. Did McCoy find out what was wrong with you?"

"Yes," Spock says. He swallows and adds, "Captain, I believe we need to talk." He gestures to the seat opposite. "Please, sit down."

Kirk does so, his face pale. "You're not ill, are you?" he asks.

Spock shakes his head. "Not exactly." He meets Kirk's gaze, but the warmth and concern there is too much for him and he looks away. He takes a breath and blurts out, "It appears I am pregnant."

There is silence for a long moment. Spock risks a glance at Kirk's face and sees it is blank, as if all emotion has been drained away.

"Pregnant," Kirk says eventually, as if testing the word out. "I'd ask if you were kidding, but I know you're not."

"It is possible for Vulcans," Spock tells him.

"Obviously," Kirk murmurs. He taps his fingers on the desk absently and adds, "Who's the… other parent?"

Spock opens his mouth to tell Kirk the truth, and then closes it, looking away. He cannot.

"He is not important," he says instead. "I will be raising the child on my own."

Something flickers in Kirk's eyes, and he leans forward, lowering his voice. "He didn't… assault you, did he?"

Spock feels a tiny spark of warmth at the obvious concern in his tone. "No," he says, shaking his head. "The act that lead to this pregnancy was consensual, if somewhat ill-advised."

Kirk seems to relax at his words. "Well, that's something, at least." He studies Spock, looking thoughtful. "I'm going to assume you have your own reasons for not telling whoever it is about this, so I won't try and change your mind. Just tell me one thing; was it someone on the ship?"

Spock finds himself grateful for the wording of Kirk's question. "No," he says. "It happened on a mission." It is a perfectly true statement, if a misleading one, and it seems to have the desired effect. Kirk nods.

"Okay," he says. "That's all I wanted to know." He smiles suddenly. "Anyway, I guess I should offer congratulations. I'm sure you'll make a wonderful father."

Spock clamps down hard on the surge of affection Kirk's words cause. "Thank you, Jim," he says.

"Don't mention it," Kirk replies. He pushes his chair back and rises. "And don't worry. I'll make all the arrangements." He waves a finger good naturedly. "No more landing parties for you, Mister Spock. At least I won't have to worry about you getting injured anymore."

Spock frowns. "I am not the only one who frequently becomes injured," he points out. "You must promise me to be more careful as I cannot be there to protect you."

Kirk's expression softens. "I will," he says. He lays a hand on Spock's shoulder and squeezes gently. "I'm not going to leave you to deal with this alone."

He drops his hand with a sigh, and steps back. "I should go make a start on the paperwork," he says. "Get some rest, okay?"

With that he leaves. Spock waits until the door has closed behind Kirk, then reaches up and gently places his hand over the place on his shoulder where Kirk's hand rested.

x x x

Kirk assures Spock that if there are any arrangements that would make things easier for him, he has only to ask. It is a nice thought, but one Spock makes a private resolution never to accept. Then the morning sickness kicks in.

He doesn't know what, exactly, jolts it into motion, but the ever-present nausea he has been battling for the past few weeks develops almost overnight into intense bouts of vomiting and an aversion to smells of any kind.

It quickly becomes apparent that he is going to need help, and Kirk is as good as his word. He arranges for food to be sent to Spock's quarters, so that he does not have to face the mess hall, and fields questions from the crew about Spock's sudden 'illness'. Spock knows he will eventually have to come clean about his condition, but for now he is grateful for Kirk's silence on the matter.

Still, even with Kirk's accommodations, it is difficult to keep the sickness from interfering with his duties. Spock brings it up to McCoy at his first prenatal appointment, hoping that the doctor will have some suggestions as to how to keep the nausea at bay.

Unfortunately, his advice is not particularly helpful. "There are anti-nausea medications, but I'd prefer not to give you them unless it's necessary," he tells Spock. "You could try ginger tea and crackers, that's a traditional remedy. And I can give you some wristbands, but I don't know if they'll work with your weird physiology."

Spock swallows against another surge of nausea and agrees to try the wristbands.

Other than that, his child appears to be developing well. Its blood is iron based, as they find out when Spock's own iron levels turn out upon a test to be almost non-existent. Doctor McCoy prescribes him some supplements and instructs him to take one each day with food. He makes an appointment for Spock to come back in a week and tells him that, now that Spock has decided to keep the child, they will do a full screening to make sure it is viable and, if so, that it stays that way.

That night, during his meditation, Spock searches out the foetus within him. It will be many weeks before it is developed enough to communicate with, but there is definitely something there, part of his body, yet apart from it. It is a curious feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

He tries to hold on to that sense of wonder the next morning, when an attempt at breakfast sends him rushing for the bathroom. When he has finished expelling what feels like everything he has ever eaten, he rests his forehead briefly on the edge of the toilet and reminds himself firmly why he is doing this.

"Spock?"

He snaps his head up to see Kirk crouching beside him. "Captain," he says. "I did not hear you come in."

"You were kind of busy," Kirk points out. "Are you okay?"

"I am told that this is a natural side effect of pregnancy," Spock replies. He manages to keep the frustration out of his tone, but from Kirk's look he picks up on it anyway.

"Can't McCoy give you something to help?" Kirk asks, reaching out carefully and laying a hand on Spock's back. Despite his current misery, Spock cannot help but feel a rush of warmth at the contact.

"He is reluctant to prescribe medication as there is a chance it may harm the foetus," he replies. "He did prescribe some therapeutic wristbands, but they do not appear to be working." The nausea swells again, as if attempting to confirm his words, and he swallows hard and takes a few deep breaths.

Kirk's hand moves, beginning to rub his back, and Spock cannot help but lean into it. "Does this help?" Kirk asks.

"Yes," Spock answers honestly. Concentrating, he forces down the nausea and pulls away. Kirk's touch is an indulgence he cannot allow. It will only lead to further pain later on.

"Thank you, Jim," he says. "I believe I will get dressed now."

Kirk nods, pushing himself to a standing position. "If you're sure," he replies. "But don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

"I will do so," Spock lies.

Once Kirk is gone, he makes his way over to the sink and cleans his teeth before heading back into his quarters to dress.

The door chimes as he is pulling on his boots, and he raises his head in curiosity.

"Come in," he calls.

The door opens to reveal a yeoman carrying a tray. "I did not order anything," Spock tells him. After his recent sickness he planned to skip breakfast.

"It's from the captain," the young man explains, placing the tray on Spock's desk. It contains a cup of something that looks like tea, and a plate of dry toast. "He said to eat this and he'll see you on the bridge."

Spock stares at the tray, his thoughts whirling. "Thank you, Yeoman," he says quietly. "That will be all."

The yeoman leaves, and Spock lowers himself into the chair at his desk, still staring at the contents of the tray. He still has no appetite, but it seems rude to turn down Kirk's thoughtfulness. Besides, McCoy will not be pleased if he finds out Spock has been missing meals.

Decision made, he reaches out and pulls the plate closer. There turns out to be a note underneath it, and Spock unfolds it curiously.

Spock,

I know you probably don't feel like eating right now, but the tea should help – it's an old family remedy for nausea. And don't worry, it's completely safe. My mom drank it herself when she was pregnant.

Jim.

Spock lowers the note slowly, feeling touched. He reaches for the cup of tea, and takes a curious sip. The flavour is pleasant, and it does seem to help. He takes another sip, then turns his attention to the toast.

Even with the tea he only manages about two thirds of a slice, but it stays down, and he feels marginally better as he disposes of the remnants of his breakfast. He makes a mental note to thank Kirk at the earliest opportunity.

The captain is already on the bridge when Spock arrives, but he turns as Spock exits the turbolift and gives him a warm smile. Instead of making his way directly to his station, Spock approaches him, stopping next to Kirk's chair. "Captain."

"Mister Spock," Kirk replies. He lowers his voice and adds, "Did you get my… message?"

Spock nods. "Yes, sir. It was most helpful."

Kirk beams, and Spock's heart gives a painful lurch. Without another word, he turns and makes his way over to his station. He can see an extensive session of meditation in his future.

x x x

Kirk's assistance makes the morning sickness slightly more bearable than it was, but Spock is still relieved when, at his next doctor's appointment, McCoy finally agrees to prescribe a mild anti-nausea medication. "You've lost half a pound in the last week, and for someone who's supposed to be gaining weight, that's not exactly ideal."

He makes a note on a PADD, then sets it aside and rubs his hands together. "So," he says. "The moment of truth. Lie back."

Spock does so, making sure to remain still as McCoy scans him from head to toe, with special attention paid to his abdomen. Finally the scans are finished, and he sits up. "Well?"

McCoy is studying the results. "Well, as far as I can tell, everything looks to be okay. Foetus at approximately nine weeks after conception, developing normally – or normally for a hybrid, anyway." He looks up. "Do you want to know the sex?"

Spock considers, then nods.

McCoy taps a few buttons. "Let's see. 68 percent human, 32 percent Vulcan, and... male. It's a boy."

A boy. He is going to have a son. Spock's hand goes to his stomach as the thought sinks in. "And you are certain it is healthy?"

McCoy nods. "I'll get a second opinion from M'Benga, but from where I'm standing everything looks fine." He gives Spock an oddly warm look. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Spock mumbles absently. He glances down at his still-flat stomach, thoughts whirling wildly. A son.

"Do you want to see him?" McCoy asks.

Spock looks up at him in confusion. After a moment the question registers and he nods. "Yes."

"Lie back."

Spock does so, and watches as McCoy places a cold metal instrument across his stomach. He checks it, then presses a button and a holographic 3D image appears, floating in the air above Spock's body. Spock stares at it.

"See, here's the womb," McCoy says, indicating a particular part of the image. "And right here is your baby."

Spock studies the area McCoy is pointing to. It doesn't look like much, just a slightly curved blob on the image. It is difficult to believe that that little blob is his child.

McCoy makes some adjustments to the device, then flips a switch. "And this," he says, as the air fills with a very fast beating noise, "is his heartbeat."

Spock listens, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Wetness begins gathering in his eyes, and he hastily blinks it away. He glances at McCoy to see the doctor watching him with a faint smile.

"Don't worry," McCoy says. "It's a perfectly normal reaction to seeing your kid for the first time." He shrugs and adds, "I remember I got a little choked up the first time we saw Jo on the ultrasound, and I wasn't even the one carrying her."

He's obviously trying to help, but it just makes Spock feel more awkward. He turns away and focuses once more on the image in front of him, his first sight of his son.

x x x

True to his word, McCoy calls M'Benga in to look over Spock's results before he will let Spock leave. Fortunately M'Benga agrees that everything appears to be going well, and Spock leaves sickbay a short while later, clutching a bottle of anti-nausea pills, and a tape with the images of his child.

He heads towards the turbolift, intending to go to his quarters and rest, when he almost bumps into Kirk coming the other way.

"Spock!" Kirk exclaims. "I was just coming to find you."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

Kirk nods, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, I heard you had an appointment in sickbay, so I thought I'd stop by and see how you were."

"I am well," Spock tells him. "Doctor McCoy has given me some pills to help with the nausea." He shows Kirk the bottle.

"Good," Kirk says. "That's good. And everything's okay with the, you know…" He gestures awkwardly at Spock's stomach.

"The child is healthy," Spock assures him, and Kirk smiles broadly. Spock feels a pang in his chest and averts his eyes.

Kirk gestures at Spock's other hand, which is still clutching the tape. "What have you got there?"

Spock glances down at the tape. "Another gift from Doctor McCoy. It contains images of the foetus, as well as a recording of his heartbeat."

Kirk's eyes widen. "His? It's a boy?"

Spock nods. "Genetically, at least." He studies Kirk briefly, hesitating, before adding, "Would you like to see him?"

"Of course I would!" Kirk replies immediately, and Spock feels his lips curve upwards at Kirk's obvious enthusiasm.

"I was just heading to my quarters," he says. "If you would like to join me?"

Kirk nods, and they fall into step, heading as one towards the turbolift.

x x x

The next weeks pass slowly. Now that they know the foetus is healthy, McCoy allows Spock to go down to an examination every two weeks rather than every week, unless something unexpected happens. For Spock, who has never liked being prodded at by medical personnel, the news is something of relief.

Things begin to look up in other ways, as well. The pills do not eliminate his nausea, but they reduce it enough that he can not only manage to eat but also hold down most of what he eats. For the first time since the pregnancy began he actually begins to gain weight, although it is only a few pounds and not obvious to anyone but him. He is, however, still overly sensitive to smells, which is brought home to him unpleasantly one night when the captain joins him for chess.

Spock has been looking forward to the evening – with one thing and another it has been quite a while since they were able to sit down together for a chess game.

The feeling lasts until Kirk actually enters the room, upon which Spock is confronted by a spicy-sweet smell that makes his stomach churn. Kirk comes closer, the smell gets stronger, and Spock jumps up and bolts for the bathroom.

The experience of hanging over the toilet while his body attempts to turn inside out is familiar by this point, but it hasn't become any more pleasant.

Kirk crouches beside him, bringing with him the smell. Spock gags. "What is it?" Kirk asks, oblivious to his role in Spock's discomfort. "I thought you were doing better lately."

Spock grips the toilet seat with both hands, managing to choke out, "New cologne?"

"Yes," Kirk replies, sounding puzzled. "It was a gift from my nephew." Then his eyes widen and he scrambles backwards. "Oh. Oh." He crosses to the sink and immediately begins washing it off. "I'm sorry, Spock," he calls over his shoulder. "I didn't realise it would bother you. I won't wear it again."

He turns on the fan, and the smell begins to clear. Spock's stomach settles, and he flushes the toilet and sits back.

Kirk, freshly washed, kneels in front of him and offers Spock a glass of water. "Is that better?" he asks.

He still bears faint traces of cologne, but the smell is much improved. "Yes," Spock replies, taking the glass. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Kirk says. "Are you still okay for chess, or should we reschedule?"

Spock's fingers tighten around the glass as he takes a sip. "I am able to continue." The last thing he wants is for his sickness to cut into his time with Kirk.

Kirk smiles. "Okay, then. Come on." He helps Spock up, and together they leave the bathroom.

x x x

When Spock is fourteen weeks along, the Enterprise is sent on a mission to explore a new planet, to evaluate its suitability for colonisation. Spock is left in command while Kirk beams down with a landing party. He knows the regulations as well as anyone – pregnant crewmembers are off-limits for landing parties, and should limit transporter activity during the first trimester – but it is still difficult to watch Kirk beam down into a potentially dangerous situation without him.

He sits in the captain's chair on the bridge, waiting for any message or alert from the planet, feeling ill-at-ease and having to refrain himself from absently touching his stomach. It has become an almost unconscious reaction to stress and anxiety over the past weeks, but he is aware that it would raise uncomfortable questions from his shipmates, should they notice his lapse.

"Commander?"

Spock comes to attention, turning to face Lieutenant Uhura, who has spoken. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

She frowns. "I'm getting a transmission from the landing party, but it's very faint. I'm trying to boost the signal." Suddenly her eyes go wide. "They're calling for emergency beam up."

Jim. Fear washes over Spock, but he quashes it ruthlessly and toggles the intercom. "Spock to Lieutenant Kyle. Have you retrieved the landing party?"

Kyle's voice comes through clearly. "Beaming now, sir." There's a pause, before his tone changes to one of panic. "Medical team to the transporter room!"

Something in Spock snaps. "Sulu, you have the conn." He strides into the turbolift, projecting calm, but that doesn't last. The doors have barely opened at the transporter deck when he is out and running, his thoughts focused solely on his friend, the father of his child.

By the time he reaches the transporter room, the medical team is already there and working on the landing party. Spock scans the room and finds Kirk, sitting on the floor being fussed over by McCoy. He is covered in cuts and grazes, his shirt hanging off him in threads, and appears to be bleeding quite badly from a cut on his forehead, but he is alive. Spock nearly sways with relief.

With effort, he gains control of himself and strides over to them. "What happened?" he demands.

Kirk grimaces. "The local flora proved to be somewhat more… active than we were expecting. It attacked us." He gestures to the cut on his head. "This was from a tree that I apparently angered in some way. Nearly knocked me out, too."

"Good thing you have such a thick skull," McCoy puts in. "Come on, let's get you to sickbay."

Thankfully there are no casualties from the killer plants, though one poor crewman suffered internal bleeding and will be in sickbay for at least a week. Kirk's treatment is much simpler and once the cut on his head has been healed and the other cuts and grazes treated, he is free to go.

"Guess I better start drafting that memo to Starfleet," Kirk sighs. "Ceres III, not suitable for habitation."

"Command will be disappointed to hear that," Spock replies, but his attention is not really on the conversation. They enter the turbolift together, and Spock allows his mask to slip, just a little. "I should have been there," he says.

Kirk turns to look at him, eyes widening. "What? No! You saw what we were like when we beamed up. Would you really want to put your child through that?"

"No," Spock admits. "But I would not wish you to go through it either." Memory of the sheer fear he felt surfaces, and he cannot help but add, "You promised me you would be careful."

"You think I wasn't?" Kirk demands. "You think I enjoy being injured? Seeing my crew injured?"

"No," Spock says. He does not want to argue with Kirk. He takes a deep breath and says quietly, "It bothers me that I can no longer protect you."

Kirk's expression softens immediately. "I'm sorry," he says. "I know this is hard on you." He reaches out and lays a hand on Spock's arm, pulling it back as the turbolift doors slide open. "I really was being careful," Kirk says as they step out of the lift onto the officer's deck, "but I guess I'll just have to be even more so."

Spock's heart swells with affection for his friend. "It would be appreciated," he replies, then, seeing no one is around, takes the opportunity to reach out and touch Kirk's arm in return.

x x x

The morning sickness thankfully begins to taper off as Spock moves into his second trimester, and he is finally able go back to eating in the mess with the rest of the crew, instead of hiding in his quarters.

All of McCoy's tests indicate the foetus is developing well, and M'Benga's occasional extra examinations agree. According to their calculations, he will reach term at approximately forty-four weeks gestation, twelve weeks after the end of the mission. Closer to the human norm than the Vulcan, but that is only to be expected given the child's human genetics seem to be dominant in his makeup.

M'Benga tells him he should begin to feel movement any time now, but it is still a surprise when it happens.

One night he is working on reports in his quarters when he feels a strange sensation in his abdomen. Curious, he lays a hand over the area, and nearly gasps as something collides with his palm. It happens again, harder, and it hits Spock all at once that this is his child moving.

He stands suddenly, wanting to tell someone about this incredible experience. Almost without thinking, he moves through the bathroom to Kirk's quarters.

They agreed a long time ago that their quarters were always open to each other, but Kirk still looks surprised to see him. "Spock?" he asks, setting down the book he is reading. "Is something wrong?"

Spock shakes his head, still slightly overwhelmed. "The child is kicking," he says.

Kirk's eyes go wide, and he springs up out of his seat. "Really?" He starts forward, then stops, looking awkward. "Can I feel?" he asks.

If it were anyone else aside from a doctor, Spock would say no. But this is Kirk, so he nods and reaches for Kirk's hand. "Here," he says, moving Kirk's hand to the correct spot.

There is a short wait before the child kicks again and Kirk breaks into a smile. "Wow." He laughs as it happens again. "He's got a good kick on him. I guess that's the Vulcan strength."

"Possibly," Spock allows. "My mother once mentioned that during her pregnancy she often suffered bruising from the strength of my movements."

Kirk stares at him, eyes wide. "Brave woman."

Spock nods, letting his lips curve slightly. "I believe there is a reason I do not have any younger siblings."

Kirk laughs. "Well, hopefully this will be easier on you than it was on her." He removes his hand from Spock's stomach and steps back, looking him up and down.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks. "Apart from being beaten up from the inside."

"I am well," Spock replies. "Aside from having to increase my meditation quite considerably to cope with unexpected emotional instability. Doctor McCoy informs me the condition is known as 'mood swings', and is not uncommon among those in my condition."

"I haven't noticed any difference," Kirk offers, which Spock takes as a compliment.

Kirk rubs the back of his neck, his gaze coming to rest on Spock's stomach. "You're starting to show, you know," he says. "It's not obvious yet, but it's there." He glances up and adds, "Have you thought about what you're going to tell everyone?"

Spock's hand goes instinctively to his stomach, where there is indeed a slight roundness. "The truth," he says simply. "They will find out eventually regardless."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Kirk says. "You might want to prepare for some awkward questions, though. Humans aren't as accustomed to male pregnancy as Vulcans are."

"It is not without precedent," Spock says. "There are many species where males can become pregnant, and even some where it is only the males. In fact, I believe Commander P'taal on the Potemkin delivered his second litter last year."

"Yes, but…" Kirk trails off and runs a hand through his hair. "Just be prepared, okay? And if anyone bothers you, send them to me."

It dawns on Spock that Kirk is trying to protect him, and a wave of affection washes over him at the thought. "I will do so," he promises, then drops his hand and straightens. "I should return to my work."

"Good night," Kirk says with a smile. "Don't work too hard." His expression softens and he adds, "And thank you for letting me feel the baby kicking. It was incredible."

The words are said with such honest warmth that Spock almost, almost blurts out the truth. Instead, he ducks his head briefly and murmurs "You are welcome," before retreating to his quarters and resuming his work.

x x x

Spock keeps Kirk's words in mind during the next few days. Though he trusts the Enterprise crew in general not to react poorly to his revelation, one never knows how situations involving humans will play out. Perhaps he should start off small.

As it happens, his next prenatal appointment gives him just such an opportunity. He is leaving the side room where his meetings with McCoy and occasionally M'Benga take place, when he notices Nurse Chapel organising hypospray capsules in a corner. Spock considers the situation for a moment, then makes his way over. As a medical professional, she is more likely than most to take his news in stride, and – he hopes – it will have the added advantage of dissuading her feelings for him.

She looks up as he approaches, and smiles. "Mister Spock," she greets. "Can I help you?"

"I wondered if I could speak with you a moment," Spock replies.

Chapel puts down the capsules she's holding. "Yes, of course. What is it?"

Spock hesitates, trying to find the correct words. "You may have wondered why I have been visiting sickbay more often."

"Well, I'll admit I noticed, but I… I don't like to pry," she replies.

"An admirable quality, but in this case unnecessary. It will likely be common news soon enough." Spock clasps his hands behind his back, which has the side effect of pushing his stomach outwards, making the slight bump more prominent. "I am pregnant."

Her eyes go wide with surprise, before a smile spreads across her face. "Oh, well, congratulations! That's wonderful news. When are you due?"

"In approximately twenty-six weeks," Spock replies.

She nods. "Ah, so you're about twenty-two weeks along." She blushes slightly at his look and adds, "I did some research into Vulcan physiology a while back. I thought it might come in useful."

Spock decides not to pursue that line of thought. "While you are correct that the usual Vulcan pregnancy is approximately forty-eight weeks in length, the fact that neither I nor the foetus are fully Vulcan means that the estimate for gestation is somewhat shorter. I have just passed my eighteenth week."

"I didn't think of that," Chapel admits, with a look that indicates she thinks she should have. "But I'm glad everything's going well."

"As am I," Spock replies, then unclasps his hands. "I should return to my duties." He pulls down his shirt where it is beginning to ride up, and sees Chapel's gaze fall on his stomach before her eyes flick back to his and she smiles.

"I'm… happy for you," she says quietly, but there's something he can't identify in her expression.

Spock nods once, acknowledging the words, before turning to leave.

x x x

A few days later, Spock calls an informal meeting of senior officers, deciding that it will be easier to inform them of his news all at once. The meeting is attended by the captain and Doctor McCoy, who already know of the situation, along with Lieutenant Commander Scott, Lieutenant Uhura, Lieutenant Sulu, and Lieutenant Commander Giotto.

"I have some news," Spock begins, as he stands at the head of the table. "You may have noticed that I have been unwell recently."

No one responds, but several of them nod. Spock takes a steadying breath. "However, what I did not inform you is that my symptoms were not caused by illness, but by pregnancy."

His words are greeted with silence. Finally, Scott pipes up, "I'm sorry, Mister Spock, did you say pregnancy?

"Indeed," Spock replies. "I am approximately eighteen weeks along."

He sees four pairs of human eyes drop to his stomach, and resists the urge to pull down his shirt.

"It's true," McCoy puts in, lounging back in his chair. "Turns out that hobgoblin biology has a few tricks up its sleeve."

Spock gives him a look, but his words do seem to help. The officers' shock and disbelief begins to fade.

"Huh," Sulu says. "You know, it actually explains a lot."

"Is this why you haven't been going on landing parties?" Giotto asks. "I did wonder."

Spock nods. "That is correct."

Uhura is the first to break into a smile, her eyes warm. "Congratulations," she tells him. "I'm sure you'll make a wonderful father."

"Oh, ah, yes, congratulations," Scott adds, prompting Sulu and Giotto to offer their own blessings.

Spock nods, then, bowing to human custom adds, "Thank you." He clasps his hands behind his back as he observes them all. "I trust you can inform the rest of the crew?"

"You can count on us, sir," Sulu replies. Spock does not doubt him – from all accounts Sulu is one of the Enterprise's chief sources of gossip.

"In that case, the meeting is over."

He watches as the officers file out, until only he, Kirk, and McCoy are left.

"Well, that went well," Kirk says, rubbing his hands together. "Better than I expected, to be honest."

"They are a good crew," Spock says, and Kirk breaks into a smile.

"Yes," he says, sounding vaguely proud. "Yes, they are."

x x x

The news spreads quickly. Spock endures many obvious glances at his midsection, and, as Kirk predicted, several awkward questions from over-curious crewmembers, but overall the reaction seems to be positive.

Spock is grateful for this, as he suspects his family's reaction will be less encouraging.

He is doing his best to ignore the subject when Kirk brings it up during a chess game. "Have you told your parents yet?" The words are casual, as if they are of no importance.

Spock shakes his head, using the cover of contemplating his next move to avoid looking at Kirk. "Not so far."

"Are you going to?" Kirk asks. "Or were you planning to just show up one day with an infant?"

Spock moves a knight and immediately regrets it. He takes a steadying breath and replies, "I am thinking of the best way to word the news."

They know each other well enough for Kirk to pick up on what he isn't saying, and he reaches out and lays a hand on Spock's arm. "It's your father, isn't it? You're afraid he won't approve."

Spock's hand drops instinctively to his stomach. "Fear is an emotion," he points out, but he cannot deny the truth to Kirk's statement.

Kirk waits patiently as Spock gathers his thoughts. "Vulcans have a great deal of control over their bodies," he says eventually. "Very few pregnancies occur outside of a bond. It is considered a lapse in judgement."

Kirk blinks at him. "Are you saying he won't approve because you're not married? That's ridiculous. Among humans-"

"We are not discussing humans," Spock interrupts. "And it is not an illogical stance to take. Studies have shown that, on average, children raised by two bonded parents have stronger telepathic gifts and experience fewer emotional difficulties than those who are not."

Kirk sits back, studying him with an unreadable look. "Tell him it's mine," he suggests.

Spock stares at him, and for a moment time seems to stop. "I beg your pardon?"

Kirk shrugs. "I know you don't like lying, but it's not really a lie. He might not be my son biologically, but I plan to be there for you and Junior every step of the way. If you'll let me."

"You would do that?" Spock asks, barely able to believe his ears.

Kirk nods. "You didn't think you'd have to do this alone, did you?"

The words, said quietly and simply as if they are too obvious to be stated, are too much for Spock. "You are the father of my child."

Kirk smiles, tender and a little shy. "I'd like to be, if you want me to."

Spock shakes his head. "No, I mean the child is yours. Biologically."

Kirk's smile vanishes. "What do you mean?"

Spock swallows. "Five months ago, on Bilaru. We overindulged on the native drink and, while I do not recall exactly what happened, I know that we engaged in intercourse. When you awoke the next morning you did not remember, and it seemed… simpler not to enlighten you."

"Simpler," Kirk repeats blankly.

Spock nods. "Regulation 11 states that-"

"I know what it states," Kirk interrupts, the barest hint of anger creeping into his tone. "Why didn't you tell me later? When you found out you were pregnant? I asked you who the father was, and you lied to me."

"Technically I did not lie," Spock corrects.

Kirk slams his hand on the desk. "Don't start with the semantic bullshit. Call it what you like, but you lied to me. You looked me in the eye and lied to me. And then you kept lying. For months."

Guilt gnaws at Spock's chest, and the baby inside him senses his distress and begins moving restlessly. He rubs his stomach absently, trying to calm himself, but the anger and betrayal in Kirk's expression makes that difficult.

"Was this some kind of test?" Kirk asks. "To see if I'd still take care of the kid if I didn't know it was mine?"

"No!" Spock bursts. "I was-" He breaks off and takes a sharp breath. "I only meant to protect you."

Kirk laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "Protect me." He rubs his eyes, and when he looks at Spock again the anger has gone and he just looks tired.

"I trusted you," he says. "More than anyone else in the universe, I trusted you. I can't believe you would do this." Before Spock can respond, he adds, "I think you should leave now."

Spock swallows. "Jim-"

He doesn't get any further before Kirk interrupts him. "I mean it Spock. Leave. Now."

Spock nods slowly, then rises to his feet, feeling as if a hole has opened in his chest. The baby is kicking strongly now, picking up on his father's anguish.

He pauses at the doorway and turns back. "I'm sorry." The words are inadequate, but they are all he has.

Kirk doesn't respond, doesn't even look at him, and Spock enters the bathroom and lets the door slide shut behind him. A few seconds later he hears the lock engage, and continues silently through to his own quarters, where he drops to his knees before the fire-pot and tries, in vain, to find some measure of peace.

x x x

The days that follow are difficult. Spock cannot fault Kirk – the captain is civil to him, at times even kind, and still goes out of his way to make accommodations and allowances in regards to the pregnancy, but it feels as if there is a wall between them, one Spock does not even know how to begin tearing down.

He meditates for long hours, trying to pretend it doesn't bother him, but the sudden loss of Kirk's warmth and affection still takes a toll. His appetite vanishes, and, while he forces himself to eat for his son's sake, by his next check-up he has lost half a pound.

"You're not feeling nauseous again, are you?" McCoy asks, as he studies Spock's readings. "You told me that had faded."

"It has," Spock says shortly, and McCoy looks at him.

"Your stress levels are up as well," he notes. "Is something bothering you?"

Spock looks away and hears McCoy sigh. "Is it Jim?"

Spock jerks his head up. "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing." The doctor looks smug for a second before the expression fades. "Doesn't take a mastermind to see there's something going on with you two. Normally I'd let you deal with it yourselves, but if it's affecting your health…"

"I understand," Spock says. He takes a deep breath and adds, "This information will go no further?"

McCoy looks insulted. "Of course not. What kind of doctor do you think I am?"

Spock nods slowly, one hand resting on his stomach. "The captain is the father of my child."

McCoy blinks at him, then opens his mouth and closes it. "Well," he says eventually. "That explains a lot."

Spock gives him a sour look.

"I admit I wondered at the time if it was him, but I thought if it was you would've said something. Or he would've said something."

"He was not aware," Spock tells him. "We were heavily intoxicated during our… encounter. He did not remember."

"But he's aware now?" Spock stiffens, and McCoy's expression softens. "That's what this is about, isn't it? You told him, finally, and he didn't take it well."

"He was… upset that I did not tell him earlier." The familiar guilt wells up, and he forces it down with an effort.

"Why didn't you?" McCoy sounds honestly curious.

"Regulation 11-"

"Jim's never cared about regulations where you were concerned," McCoy interrupts. "Besides, that particular regulation's barely ever enforced. Robert April married his CMO. Jim's own parents served together. You know that."

"They were not captain and first officer," Spock points out, but he's aware of how hollow it sounds. He bows his head and rubs a hand over his rounded stomach, feeling his son kick at his hand.

McCoy sighs. "I'm sure in your logical Vulcan mind you thought you were doing the right thing, but look at it from Jim's perspective. His life for the past few months has revolved around you and that kid, and now he finds out you were lying to him all that time. That's got to sting."

Wetness begins gathering in Spock's eyes at McCoy's words, and he curses the pregnancy hormones. "I am aware of that," he says quietly.

He tenses when McCoy lays a hand on his shoulder. "Jim'll come around," McCoy tells him. "He loves you. God only knows why, but he does. Just give him some time."

Spock nods slowly, and McCoy drops his hand and steps back. "Try to eat more," he says. "Even if you're not hungry. And it probably wouldn't hurt to up your meditation. I'd like to get those stress levels down."

Spock nods again. "I will do so." He rises to leave.

"Oh, and Spock?"

He looks up.

"If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

Spock feels a tiny flicker of warmth in his chest. "I shall keep that in mind."

x x x

Spock tries to follow the doctor's suggestions, but it is difficult. The relationship between him and Kirk is still frosty, and Spock is correspondingly miserable. He still has no appetite, and the pregnancy makes meditation difficult. The only thing keeping him together is the faint warmth and affection emanating from the child within him.

At his next prenatal appointment, McCoy runs a full scan of the foetus. It is small, but almost fully developed. Spock watches in wonder, taking in the tiny fingers and toes and – yes, definitely a boy. As before, the doctor gives him a tape with images, as well as another warning to eat more and avoid stress.

Back in his room, Spock studies the tape in his hand for a long moment, then glances over to the wall between his quarters and Kirk's. For a few seconds he imagines taking the tape over to Kirk, the two of them making up and watching the images of their child together. But it is just a fantasy, and he places the tape on the desk with a sigh.

x x x

A few days later, they dock at Starbase five for supplies. By now Spock is far enough along in his pregnancy for the danger of beaming to be negligible, and so he takes the opportunity to leave the ship for a while, hoping a change of scenery will take his mind off the situation with Kirk.

It works for a time. He visits the arboretum, which is much larger and more varied than the one on the ship, and for the first time in days finds himself beginning to relax. The smell of the plants is soothing, and he stays there for longer than he intended, wanting to hold on to that peace for as long as possible.

Eventually, though, he moves on, and spends some time exploring the various stores and other activities. He purchases some incense sticks and, on impulse, a small, round children's toy that bears a resemblance to one he once played with as an infant, then decides to return to the ship. He is tired, and the constant glances at his stomach are becoming uncomfortable.

Kirk is in the transporter room when Spock beams up, and Spock feels his heart skip a beat as their eyes meet.

"Good trip?" Kirk asks, his tone carefully neutral.

"Indeed," Spock agrees, as he steps down from the transporter platform and allows Kirk to take his place.

There are so many more things that he wishes to say.

It would have been better with you there.

You should visit the arboretum.

I'm sorry.

But in the end he stays silent, and Kirk beams down without another word.

x x x

The next day he has arranged to give Uhura a lesson on the ka'athyra. He began teaching her around a year ago, but the strain and illness of early pregnancy (although Uhura did not know at the time what it was) caused him to suspend their lessons. In truth he is still not in the best frame of mind to be teaching her, but when she asked he found it difficult to say no. After all, it is not as though there is anything physically wrong with him.

They usually take the lesson in her quarters, but this time she asks him to meet her in one of the lesser-used recreation rooms instead. Spock is confused, but agrees, arriving at the requested spot at precisely 2000 hours. But when the door slides open he is confronted with not just Uhura but half a dozen others, all bearing brightly wrapped parcels.

"Surprise!" they shout in unison.

If that was their aim, they have succeeded. Uhura beckons him in and Spock steps into the room, letting the door close behind him. His gaze roams around the room, taking in Nurse Chapel, Lieutenant Sulu, Ensign Chekov, Lieutenant Commander Scott, and Lieutenant M'Ress.

"We wanted to do something to show our support," Uhura says, stepping forward. "I don't suppose Vulcans have baby showers, but we thought we'd throw you one anyway."

"Baby shower?" Spock asks, deciding that his initial mental image cannot be the one intended.

"It's a party where people give you presents for the child," Sulu puts in. "Clothes and toys and diapers and stuff. It's traditional."

"I see," Spock says. "And what does one do at this… shower?"

"Well, first you sit down," Uhura tells him, ushering him towards the nearest chair. Spock sits. "Then you open your gifts, and later there'll be cake."

She hands him a package wrapped in shiny blue paper, and Spock turns it over in his hands. It's small and hard, and he is not sure what it could be.

"Open it," Uhura urges, and Spock obeys.

He removes the paper carefully to reveal a computer tape.

"It's a tape of lullabies," Uhura says, before he can ask. "Along with the sheet music in case you want to play them yourself."

Spock nods slowly. "The thought is appreciated," he says, and sets the tape carefully on the table next to him.

Scotty is next in line, and he has just handed Spock his gift – a rather oddly shaped parcel wrapped in undecorated brown paper – when they are interrupted by the door sliding open.

Spock glances around, and immediately freezes. Standing in the doorway is Kirk. Spock can see McCoy behind him, but the doctor's presence barely registers in comparison to the sight of his… Spock does not even know what word to use.

"Sorry we're late," Kirk says, smiling. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, but no one comments. "I hope we haven't missed everything?"

"Oh, no," Uhura says, and waves them in. "Come in. Take a seat."

McCoy does so, taking the chair next to Nurse Chapel, while Kirk leans against a table. He's holding a small red package in one hand, and Spock's heart beats painfully against his side as it dawns on him that Kirk has brought him a present.

Scotty clears his throat, drawing Spock's attention back to the gift in his lap. He opens it to find a metal cross with several plastic moons and stars hanging from it.

"What is it?" he asks, holding it up to get a better look.

"It's a mobile," Scotty says, in a tone that indicates he thinks Spock should already know that. "You hang it over the baby's cot, and it gives him something to look at."

"Ah," Spock says.

One by one he unwraps the other gifts. Sulu gives him some baby clothes, Chekov a set of rattles, Chapel, being practical, gives him two bottles and a box of formula. M'Ress's gift is a strange toy made of lines of intricately woven thread, which she explains are a standard toy for cubs on her world.

Apparently everyone has decided to let Kirk go last, as Spock's next gift is from McCoy. The doctor gives him a blanket with a special thermal lining, which he explains with the words, "If he's anything like you, he'll get cold easily."

It is an unusually thoughtful gesture from the doctor, and Spock tries to convey as much as he looks at McCoy. But part of him is nervous about what is to come, and he can feel his heart speed up as Kirk pushes off the table and comes forward.

His expression is closed off, but there's something in his eyes that gives Spock hope. He holds out a gold-wrapped package and Spock takes it, unwrapping it with even more care than he did the others.

Kirk's gift turns out to be a stuffed sehlat, around eight inches in length. Spock studies it in fascination, marvelling at the detail. Aside from the size, it is an almost perfect replica of the creatures he knows so well.

"I got it a while back," Kirk says. "Never had a chance to give it to you until now."

Spock doesn't miss the message behind the words – that Kirk acquired the present prior to their argument, when their relationship was still strong and unbroken. Still, the fact that Kirk decided to give it to him anyway, indeed, that he is here at all, gives Spock a warm feeling in his chest. He murmurs a thank you, fingers stroking absently over the toy's fur.

"Right," Scotty announces, bringing Spock's attention back to him. "Who's for cake?"

x x x

Kirk leaves swiftly once the party is over. Spock wants to follow, but he is besieged by the other guests, all wanting to offer him good wishes and make sure he liked their gifts. By the time he is finally free, Kirk has disappeared.

Uhura helps him carry his new acquisitions back to his quarters, and then leaves him there with a smile. Spock packs everything away in his closet, except for the sehlat, which he places carefully on a shelf.

That done, he crosses the room and picks up the tape with the images of his child that he left lying on the desk. He knows what he has to do.

"Computer," he says clearly. "Location of Captain Kirk."

"Captain Kirk is in his quarters."

Spock nods once, satisfied. Wrapping his fingers around the tape, he heads out of his cabin to the next one along. In times past he would have just gone through their shared bathroom, but of course that route is closed to him now.

He glances around quickly before pressing the door chime. The door slides open at once, and Spock steps forwards, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

Kirk is wearing loose clothing, apparently on his way to the gym. "Spock," he greets neutrally. "Is there something you want?"

Spock swallows. "I wished to thank you for the gift," he says. "It was much appreciated."

Something flickers in Kirk's eyes, before he shrugs and turns away. "Just something I picked up."

"And," Spock continues, taking a hesitant step forwards, "I came to give you this."

He holds out the tape. Kirk stares at it, making no move to take it. "What is it?"

"My last prenatal appointment involved a full scan of the foetus," Spock says. "I thought that you might like to see the images."

Kirk reaches out slowly and takes the tape. "Why are you giving me this?"

Spock meets his gaze, trying to break through the barrier that has separated them these last few weeks. "Regardless of my failings, you are still his father."

He stares at Kirk for a moment longer, then turns to leave.

"Spock," Kirk calls, as he reaches the door.

Spock turns back. Kirk is still standing in the same place, his fingers clasped tightly around the tape. "Thank you," he says, and there's a hint of the old warmth in his eyes.

"You are welcome," Spock replies, then leaves without another word.

x x x

He sleeps poorly that night, tossing and turning, by turns too hot and too cold. At just after 0400 hours he awakens to a severely upset stomach and barely makes it to the bathroom in time to be violently ill. When he rises from the floor to rinse out his mouth the world spins, and he has to grab on to the sink in order to keep upright.

His stomach rebels again and he drops to his knees beside the toilet, his body wracked with shivers. Even during the worst of the morning sickness he cannot remember feeling this ill.

He hears the door slide open, but cannot summon the energy to raise his head.

"Spock?"

Kirk's voice, swiftly accompanied by Kirk's hands on his back and shoulder. Spock is sure he would appreciate the contact if he didn't feel so utterly wretched. "What's wrong?" Kirk asks, sounding worried.

Everything, Spock wants to say, but he just shakes his head, one arm wrapping protectively around his stomach.

A cool hand presses against his forehead, and he hears Kirk hiss. "You're burning up," Kirk says, concern bleeding through his touch. "I'm calling sickbay."

He retreats, and Spock curls in on himself, shivering violently. The room is spinning again and he closes his eyes, trying to centre himself.

"Spock?"

Kirk has returned. Spock forces his eyes open and immediately closes them again as a wave of vertigo hits him.

"Hey," Kirk says, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Stay with me. I spoke to M'Benga, and he's on his way. Just try to hold on, okay?"

Spock tries, but he's so tired. His son kicks, feebly, and he rubs a hand over his stomach, trying to soothe him. It is all right, my precious one. It will be all right.

His last memory before he slips into darkness is of Kirk calling his name.

x x x

When he looks back afterwards, he will only remember flashes of that time. Shivering under a pile of blankets, giving in to a sudden urge to vomit, aching all over and being unable to stop the pain. And deeper down, behind all the discomfort, the constant, desperate hope that his son will be all right.

x x x

When Spock finally awakens fully, he is in sickbay. It's warmer than usual, and he realises they've put him in a private room, apparently to make him more comfortable. One hand immediately goes to his stomach, and he is reassured by the familiar movement.

"Ah, good, you're awake," McCoy says, and Spock looks up to see the doctor watching him from the doorway. He comes over and looks up at the displays over Spock's bed. "Vitals look good, though I'd like to keep you in another couple of days just to be safe."

Spock rubs his stomach gently. "And my son?"

"Oh, he's perfectly healthy, don't worry. He was a little distressed when we brought you in, but once we got your fever down he was fine. Better than you, in fact. You've been out for over two days."

"What happened?" Spock asks.

"You had a virus," McCoy replies. "Must have caught it on the Starbase. Spiked a pretty high fever, but, like I said, we got it under control. How are you feeling now?"

"Better," Spock says immediately, which is true. Then, after considering it, "Mildly fatigued. And hungry." The nausea from before has vanished, and he feels as if he could eat anything.

McCoy nods. "That's a good sign. I'll have Chapel bring you something to eat. You need to get your strength up."

Spock nods absently, still caressing his stomach. When he looks up, McCoy is watching him with a faint smile.

"I did a full scan while you were sleeping," he says. "He's fine, Spock. I promise."

Spock draws in a breath and nods, stilling his hand.

McCoy's gaze strays to the doorway before returning. "Jim's outside," he says quietly. "He's been pretty worried about you. Do you want me to let him in?"

Spock's head jerks up. "Yes," he says instantly. "I wish to see him."

McCoy leaves the room, and a moment later Kirk enters, looking concerned and very, very relieved. "Hey there," he says, coming over to stand by Spock's side. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Spock tells him. "Although Doctor McCoy wishes to keep me under observation."

Kirk nods. "Yes, he told me." He reaches out, fidgeting with the blankets near Spock's hip, and adds softly, "I'm really glad you're okay." He takes in a trembling breath, gaze fixed on the blankets. "You really scared me back there, you know," he says. "When you passed out… I don't think I've ever been more terrified. I thought I was going to lose you, both of you, and all I could think of was how awful I was to you." He looks at Spock, then, and his eyes are slightly wet. "I'm so sorry, Spock."

Spock reaches out and wraps his fingers around Kirk's. "You don't have to apologise," he says. "I was the one at fault. I lied to you."

"Yes, but-" Kirk cuts himself off and sighs. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone," he says quietly. "Hopefully it'll explain why I reacted the way I did."

He is silent a moment, before beginning slowly, "About ten years ago, I was on shore leave, and I met a woman. Carol, her name was. Carol Marcus. We hit it off, and ended up spending the leave together. I know what you're thinking – how is that different from any other shore leave? Well, it wasn't. At first. At the end of the week we exchanged details and parted ways – her to some science conference, and me to my next assignment."

Spock has no idea what this story has to do with their current situation, but he assumes it will become clear in time.

Kirk takes a breath and continues, with a touch of bitterness, "It was six weeks later when she sent me a message. She was pregnant, and keeping it."

"It was yours," Spock puts in. It isn't a question.

Kirk nods. "Yes. I didn't know how to react. I'd never really thought about children, wasn't sure I even wanted any. But Carol took the decision out of my hands. She told me she didn't want her kid to grow up with a father in Starfleet, someone who was off in space most of the time and only came round occasionally to disrupt his life. She said it would be easier on everyone if I just… stayed away." He closes his eyes briefly and adds, "David's nine now, and he doesn't even know I'm his father."

Spock's chest aches. "And I almost did the same thing to you." He reaches out desperately and grabs Kirk's sleeve. "Jim, I'm sorry. I never meant-"

"I know," Kirk interrupts. "I know that it wasn't like with Carol, that you were just trying to protect me. But when you first confessed, it felt like you were saying the same things she did, that I wasn't… acceptable as a father, and it hurt."

"She was wrong," Spock tells him, imbuing the words with as much strength as he can manage. "You will make an excellent father. I can think of no one I would rather have chosen."

Kirk smiles, then, and gently places a hand over Spock's where it rests on his stomach.

It's at that moment that Nurse Chapel walks in with a tray. She falters briefly as her gaze comes to rest on their clasped hands, but then she continues, striding over briskly and setting the tray on the table next to him.

Kirk pulls away but remains standing at his side as Chapel swings the table around so that it is in front of Spock. The food – a kind of vegetable stew – smells wonderful, and Spock's stomach rumbles loudly.

"Eat up, and I'll come check on you in a little while," Chapel says. Her gaze flicks to the panels above Spock's head, and she must be satisfied with what she sees because she turns and leaves the room.

"Do you want me to go, too?" Kirk asks, as Spock begins tucking into the stew.

Spock has to swallow a mouthful of food before he can answer. "No," he says. "I would like you to stay." His son kicks at him, and he amends, "We would like you to stay." The spoon is halfway to his mouth before something occurs to him. "Unless you have somewhere else to be?"

Kirk smiles, a broad, happy smile. "Nowhere that's more important than here."

x x x

Kirk spends the rest of the afternoon with him, leaving only long enough to retrieve the chess board from his quarters. McCoy and Chapel and even M'Benga stop by occasionally to check on Spock and the baby, but most of the time he and Kirk are left alone to reconnect.

Spock wins the first game of chess, but near the end of the second his eyelids begin to droop.

"Am I boring you?" Kirk jokes, as Spock's eyes drift closed for the third time.

Spock shakes his head firmly. "No, I just-"

"Relax, Spock," Kirk interrupts, smiling. "It's a good thing. From what Bones said you need all the sleep you can get."

He moves the table with the chessboard round so that it's out of Spock's way, then leans forward and presses a kiss to Spock's forehead, one hand resting briefly on his stomach. The action causes a pleasant warmth in Spock's mind.

"He likes when you do that," he murmurs when Kirk pulls away.

Kirk's eyes widen. "You can feel him?"

Spock nods. "I have been experiencing flashes of his emotions for some time now." He stifles a yawn and adds, "Perhaps when I am better rested I could show you."

"You mean…?" Kirk raises one hand to his face in a crude imitation of a meld. Spock nods.

"I'd like that," Kirk says. He clasps Spock's hand briefly and adds, "Get some rest, okay? You need it."

"Mmm," Spock agrees tiredly. He lowers the bed to a horizontal position and is asleep within minutes.

x x x

Spock's strength returns quickly, and the observation shows no issues with either him or the baby, so after the two days he is released back to his quarters with orders to take it easy, and call at once if he feels any pain or discomfort.

He's confined to light duty for the next week as a precaution, but Spock does not mind. If taking shorter shifts is the price he has to pay to make sure his son stays healthy, he will do it.

He muses on that thought once he is back in his quarters. It is a somewhat strange realisation, how important the the tiny life inside him has become to his existence. He has never had something that meant so much to him that he would neglect his duty before.

Well, perhaps one thing.

Spock is catching up on his messages when Kirk stops by. He is shirtless with damp hair, having clearly come from the gym. Spock tries not to stare.

"Hey," Kirk says, smiling. "Bones said he'd released you. How're you feeling?"

"Good," Spock replies. It is not a particularly Vulcan answer, but he finds he does not care.

"That's good," Kirk says with a nod, before his gaze drops to Spock's midsection. "And… how's our son?"

The words are a little awkward, but warmth surges through Spock's chest all the same. Our son. He tilts his head, observing Kirk. "Perhaps you would like to feel for yourself?"

Kirk's eyes go wide. "Really? Now?" He grins suddenly. "Of course! What do I have to do?"

Spock stands and moves over to the bed. "Perhaps if you sit down." He sits down on the edge of the bed as Kirk comes to join him.

When they are both seated, he reaches up to touch Kirk's face, moving his fingers into the correct position. "Are you ready?"

Kirk nods, and Spock concentrates. My mind to your mind…

It has been months since he last melded with Kirk, but the feeling of it is still so familiar. Spock cannot help but bask in Kirk's essence for a moment before remembering why he is here.

He pulls back, away from Kirk's mind, and begins searching for the other mind that has become so familiar to him. A pulse of joy and love and excitement tells him he has found it.

Wow, Kirk breaks in. That's him? His mind-voice is filled with awe.

Yes, Spock replies. And he is very happy to meet you. That is, honestly, something of an understatement. The foetus is radiating joy, its undeveloped mind filled with thoughts of family and joy and rightness. Spock would suspect it was his own love for Kirk bleeding through, but these feelings are much purer and more innocent than his own.

Kirk seems almost overwhelmed. Hey, little guy, he murmurs. I'm your daddy. And I'm happy to meet you too.

While Spock is glad he could give Kirk this opportunity to meet his son, the energy needed to sustain a three-way meld is greater than he anticipated, and it isn't long before he has to end it, for fear of exhausting himself.

Bye, little one, Kirk tells their son, still radiating awe. Hopefully we'll talk again soon.

When Spock pulls back from the meld, he can see Kirk's eyes are wet, but it's countered by the huge grin on his face.

"That was incredible," Kirk says. "Thank you." He reaches out and gently lays a hand on Spock's stomach, laughing when the baby nudges at him.

"He still likes when you do that," Spock tells him.

"I like it too," Kirk replies, but then he pulls his hand away, expression becoming more serious. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Back on Bilaru, when we… slept together, was it just because you were drunk, or was there something more?"

Spock swallows. His first instinct is to lie, but he has already done far too much of that. "It was not just the intoxication," he admits. "I wanted it to happen."

"And now?" Kirk's expression is soft. "Do you still want it?"

Spock nods. "Yes." He takes a shaky breath and adds, "I understand, however, if you-"

That's as far as he gets before Kirk kisses him.

For a moment Spock just sits there stunned, before the situation registers and he begins to kiss back. Kirk's lips are soft, one hand coming up to stroke through Spock's hair, and Spock grabs blindly at his shoulders, in danger of being washed away by the emotions rushing through him.

Eventually Kirk pulls away, and Spock opens his eyes, unsure of when he closed them. Kirk is smiling at him, his fingers still stroking through his hair. "It wasn't about the drink for me either," he says. "I mean, I can't know for sure, but I do know Bilaru wasn't the first time I thought of you that way." He pulls away slightly, shaking his head. "If you'd been honest with me from the start I could've told you that."

The stab of guilt that Kirk's words cause is familiar by now, but when Spock opens his mouth to apologise, he is cut off.

"It's okay, Spock," Kirk tells him gently. "That wasn't a demand for an apology. I understand why you felt you couldn't tell me. I just wish we hadn't wasted so much time."

Spock draws in a breath, attempting to centre himself. "Perhaps," he says, "we can make up for it." Hesitantly he holds out two fingers in the traditional gesture.

Kirk looks from Spock to his hand and back, then slowly reaches out and presses his fingers against Spock's.

It feels like a new beginning.

---

Epilogue

Five months later

Spock stares down at the small bundle in his arms. He is still exhausted from the birth and aching all over, but it is all worth it for this.

His son stares up at him, his eyes a dark dark blue that Spock suspects will quickly turn to brown. His hair is black, like Spock's, but his skin is flushed red and his ears are rounded with only the slightest hint of a point. He is a mixture of both Kirk and Spock, and he is utterly perfect.

Beside him, Kirk reaches out and strokes a tiny fist. "Any thoughts on what we should call him?"

"No," Spock replies. When they discussed the subject in the past, he always maintained that it was more logical to him to wait until after the child was born to decide. Now the child is here, and they still do not have a name.

Kirk shrugs. "Oh well," he says. "I'm sure we'll think of something." He presses a kiss to Spock's temple and stands. "I'm going to go call my mom and tell her the news."

The words spark something in Spock's mind. "Jim," he says slowly. "It is just a thought, but perhaps… perhaps we could name him Sam."

Kirk blinks at him. "After my brother? You'd do that?"

Spock nods. "I realise his given name was George, but this way the child will have his own identity, while still honouring those who came before him." He looks down at the baby, who has fallen asleep. "However, if you object-"

"No," Kirk interrupts. "I think it's perfect." He comes back to sit on the edge of the bed, apparently having forgotten his mother for the moment. "You know," he says, musingly, "he does kind of look like a Sam."

It is an illogical statement, but Spock is willing to let it go. "Then we are decided?"

Kirk smiles. "Yes, sure. Sam it is."

He wraps an arm around Spock's back and Spock leans into the touch, his gaze falling once more on his son. Their son.

Even bruised, aching, and exhausted, Spock does not think he has ever felt more at peace.