A/N: Sorry for the long delay, ya'll. Took me a while to get this chapter together. The next few chapters are going to be a little more rapid-fire, few months at a time, so hopefully this one isn't too slow!
Please let me know what you think, I've gotten some great feedback from you guys.
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Four more days pass with little change in Nyota's condition. Each comes and goes in the same manner.
The healers come for Nyota, spend hours performing the cleansing.
I spend my hours reading, studying—trying to distract myself while thinking of her, of our child.
My patience is tested every moment I am not privy to her care and condition.
When the healers they leave, Doctor McCoy briefs me on her treatment, because he has access to what I do not.
At night, I rest at her side.
****************
I can hear my baby crying. I squint against the sun and make out the shape of my child.
She's floating out in the ocean on a piece of driftwood. She's terrified and I'm terrified.
I don't have to think about my next move. I'm in the water, swimming as hard and as fast as I can.
But my arms and legs are getting tired.
I'm getting closer to her cries, but I don't think I can make it.
I fall below the waves, and water rushes into my lungs.
I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.
It isn't a thought so much as a knee-jerk reaction. I'm trying to catch my breath, but there's something in my way.
"She's awake."
McCoy's voice. I know its McCoy's voice, but that's all I can be sure of. I'm panicking, struggling against the tubes and blankets that keep me anchored to this biobed.
"Hey…hey now, it's okay. Calm down for me. Relax."
I make out his shape as he stands over me, starts to pull at the tube lodged deep in my throat. It comes out through my nose and it makes my eyes sting.
But I can breathe.
He stands there, stroking the side of my face as I take in as much air as I can. Let it out slowly. Feel my heart start to calm.
"Can you get her some water?" he asks, and I turn my head and see women, Vulcan women, staring at me. Their faces are blank, wrinkled canvases with deep-set dark eyes that instantly make me uncomfortable.
Is this a hospital?
"…The baby," I croak.
"The baby's vitals have been up and down with yours. So this right here—this is good. This is real good," he smiles, helps me take a drink of water.
Warm relief spreads through my body, fingers to toes.
"Tell me about how you feel."
I move slightly, gingerly, and I can tell I'm stiff and sore.
"I…don't know," I say. "Tender all over. How long have I been out?"
"Almost a week. We couldn't wake you up on the transport. You've been under since we brought you here and started the dialysis."
I look down at my arms and frown at the tubes that run from fresh ports into a machine at my bedside.
"Those are going to have to stay in for a while, hon," McCoy shoots me a sympathetic smile and I glance over at the Vulcans who stand stock-still in one corner of this large room.
I whisper. "Who are…?"
McCoy clears his throat.
"Vulcan healers. Ambassador Sarek set us up with them. This is his house, actually. You're getting the red carpet treatment," he says.
Ambassador Sarek's home. Vulcan healers, caring for me inside his home.
Spock.
I urge the corners of my mouth up into a tight smile for the healers, but they ignore it.
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It is long, too long before the women are satisfied with the day's cleansing. They say nothing to me, but they hand me things to drink and watch me closely as McCoy records my vitals. The silence in the air is thick, but it doesn't seem to bother any of them.
The moment they are gone, he is there.
He surprises me by ignoring McCoy entirely, locking eyes on me as if Bones isn't even in the room.
Seeing him is like a punch to the gut.
"Nyota."
He looks more handsome than I remember in a lightweight shirt and pants.
I entertain vanity for a moment and wonder how I must look right now. It's been far too long since I had a shower, and I know without running my hands through my hair that it's a mess.
Then I remember that I hate him right now, and shouldn't give a shit about what he thinks.
McCoy clears his throat uncomfortably.
"You two…need a moment?" he says, shuffling slightly towards the door.
"Yes."
"No."
We answer at the same time. He shuffles back.
******************
I want McCoy to leave, but she asks him to stay.
My throat is tight with anxiety. I now know, quite literally, the sense of swallowing one's pride.
"Nyota, I am so sorry. Please forgive me." I say, taking a seat at her bedside. She turns away from me.
"I…don't want to do this right now, Spock," her voice is low, dripping with warning.
"I will not push you, Nyota. I just need you to know how sorry I am. I cannot imagine…"
I stop for a moment to compose myself.
"…what I mean to say is that, should something happen to you, or our child…"
She turns to face me, eyes blazing with anger.
"Our child? Is that what it is now? How convenient."
Her words are sharp, but I cannot deny their truth. I will take her punishment without protest.
"I will do whatever it takes to make this right, Nyota. Anything."
I am uncomfortable having this conversation in front of Doctor McCoy, but she has given me no choice.
"Anything?" she says, and I nod.
"Then leave."
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I feel a twinge of guilt when I see hurt flicker over his face, but I ignore it because anger is easier. Without my anger, I am raw—as if every one of my nerve endings is exposed.
I need my anger for protection.
He stands, moves to leave but then hesitates—turns back to me.
"Nyota, I love you," he says quietly.
My breath catches.
"Just go."
*****************
Bones looks relieved when Spock grants my wish.
"You okay?"
"You tell me," I snap.
"You know what I mean, smartass."
"Sorry, I'm just a little wound up," I admit. "I don't mean to take it out on you. I just want to know more about…whatever is happening to me."
He pulls out a PADD.
"So far, the cleansing is doing its job. Copper levels in your system are lower. Bad news is that you're going to have to stay on dialysis for the rest of your pregnancy. We'll have to figure out how often you'll need it…"
Frowning, I touch the tubes in my arm. They feel like chains.
"…Baby's vitals are stronger, improved when yours did. It's really too early to tell how much damage there is to your organs. Your weight has stabilized, but at this point, I really need you to start putting some more on."
"When can I get out of this bed?" I say.
"Not sure. I need you to take it easy. I can't have you overdoing it just because you feel better."
That is not the answer I want. He sees the disappointment in my face.
"Just try and relax. Get some sleep tonight, and we'll see if we can move you in the morning, okay? I can't promise anything."
That's good enough for me.
****************
The room is still and dark when I come to again.
My back is aching after so many hours in this bed, in this position. I try to push myself up on my forearms, try to get some leverage so I can get comfortable, but I can't. I have no strength.
I feel him before I see him, one arm looping under my back, the other slipping a pillow underneath me. It helps take some of the pressure off of my lower back and the relief is almost instantaneous.
"Is this…more comfortable?" he whispers.
I try to ignore the feel of his hands on me, the flip-flop in my stomach.
"Yes," I say. "Thank you."
"Do you need anything else?" he asks.
I clear my throat.
"No, I don't think so."
"Okay," he says, and I see him take a seat in a chair near the foot of my bed.
"How long have you been sitting there?" I ask.
"All night. Every night. I stay with you so Doctor McCoy can get some rest. And I stay with you because…I miss you."
I'm grateful for the dark. Glad he can't see the tears that spring to my eyes. I want to tell him that I miss him, too, but I don't.
I can't.
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