S'Brin
Disclaimer: I only wish they were mine. Pfft. But S'Brin, Simon, Tzu, and the Hernandez's are, so don't steal them!
Rating: The same.
Pairings: The same.
Reviews:
-BaNg bang-PunkLycanPlushie: Thanks, and here's my update. But you know, you can say a little more than that… If you like. Feedback is fun, but comments are better!
Allergic-To-Paradox: No. We don't. But he is fun when he's disconcerted, isn't he? And, no, not two weeks. Maybe. It could be less! Or not… This time it was about that much… Sorry.
Lord of the Shadows: Well, you'll find if you read this chapter that he isn't the only possibility. Evil grin.
Kohaku-Kawa: Lord, friend, did you die? I've had the chapter up for ages! Anyway, for your understanding as well as everyone else's, no, they haven't told each other how they… I guess the missing word in there was … feel. But they haven't told each other how they dance the chicken dance in purple flippers either, if that was what you meant to say. I probably wouldn't tell people if I danced the chicken dance in purple flippers either. (Shifty eyes.)
((Author's Note: Commander Tzu says a very bad word, one that isn't the usual aresenal of swear words McCoy uses. Consider yourselves warned. And reviews would be nice. You know, I'll even write your name in my chapter and respond and everything. I heart reviews!))
Chapter 9: He Wavered
The next day everyone had either congratulated Spock on his new baby or gone to Sickbay to find out if the rumors were true. McCoy and M'Benga eventually got so swamped with visitors that they had to allot certain visiting hours so the baby could sleep and McCoy could recouperate without a pack of ensigns driving him wild.
"Heck, Len," M'Benga once commented, "I don't think it matters if we find the other father! It seems like the whole ship wants to adopt him!"
McCoy wasn't so sure. At least five blue-eyed junior officers came out of the nursery wringing their hands and wondering the same thing: What if it's mine? Even men with brown eyes looked concerned, many folks had blue-eyed family members and quite a few of them were worried that they'd somehow offended Hernandez. Could he have given them this child out of spite? It could ruin a career officer, who, not wanting to leave the child in the hands of the foster homes, would have to resign their commision and try and learn to be a parent, or it could destroy any other relationships: how many women would believe that the child was a geneticly engineered baby and not the result of a one-night stand? True, some men looked hopeful, but they were few in number.
Even McCoy found himself wondering what he would do if the baby ended up being his. He was retiring anyway… If he could find a way to sort out his… No, Len told himself, thinking like that would only get your hopes up and you know how that's always worked out for you. So, instead of dwelling on who the parent might be, he finished his reports. It was quicker work than he expected, so he spent most of his time taking care of the little boy. His reasoning was that this way the nurses could deal more with patients and he could get some rest. M'Benga thought about not allowing him, but Christine pointed out that the baby needed attention, and tending to an infant had to be easier on McCoy than fretting over Hernandez's medical condition or getting mad because he couldn't patch up Scotty's latest burn or lecture Ensign DeSoto for not wearing her gloves in the lab again.
Spock came back to Sickbay while McCoy was sleeping that afternoon. He had commed a Vulcan healer to inquire about the bonds between parents and children. The news was not good.
He quickly walked into the nursery and took the baby gently from Lieutenant Uhura's arms.
"Would you give us some privacy, Lieutenant?"
"Sure, Mr. Spock. Congratulations, by the way. He's precious."
Spock was getting tired of hearing people congratulate him.
"Thank you."
She left and he took the baby's hand. "Hello, again, my son."
His mind could not truly enter the baby's mind; it's telepatic pathways were far too fragile and it could cause brain damage. Instead he searched for a groping tendril of thought – something the child had been emenating since he had woken in the incubation chamber. He took hold of it and could feel a sudden sense of security. It was not his own sense, he realized, but the baby's. Then contentment… It was difficult to keep the emotions separate from his own conciousness. He wavered slightly on his feet, but was quickly steadied by his vigorous control. He released the baby's hand and blinked.
"Fascinating."
"What is, Mr. Spock?" A rough, almost nasally voice said from behind him. Spock turned to see Commander Tzu looking at him.
"Hello, Commander. I was refering to my parental bond with my son."
Tzu shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Would the child's other parent have to bond with him, too?"
Spock looked at the baby. "Not unless I took a Vulcan mate. Then he or she could bond with him instead. But on his own, my son will only bond with his biological parent."
Tzu furrowed his brows. "I see. What are you going to do with the boy? Keep him? Give him up for adoption?"
"I believe I will let the child's other father decide if he wishes to keep the boy. I cannot."
Tzu walked over to Spock's side and looked at the baby. "He's raving mad."
"My son?" Spock asked, confused by the comment.
Tzu shook his head and crossed his arms. "No, Hernandez. He's insane."
"I believe, sir, that is why he was institutionalized."
"He was institutionalized for having a nervous breakdown and threatening to kill himself. I was refering to this… experiment of his." Tzu's tone was one of disgust.
Spock's expression did not show the offence Spock felt about hearing his son refered to like that. This feeling was not logical, the child was the result of an experiment. It was not as though Spock had a mate. The baby began to fuss.
"The child is not harming anyone," Spock pointed out. "One can only be punished for conducting an experiment which proves harmful in some way."
"Not harming anyone?" Tzu barked, "Of course he's harmful! Look around! Half the men on this ship are on pins and needles, wondering what they'll do if the baby is theirs! Many of them have already written up their resignation forms, and the rest are horribly distracted from their work."
Spock blinked at Tzu and put the baby in his crib. "Why are you so upset, Commander? It would not be logical for you to be concerned about the running of this ship. You do not serve aboard her, and tommorow we will reach Starbase 12 and the child will no longer be of your concern."
"Unless he's mine." Tzu pointed out. Spock looked the short Asian man up and down and raised an eyebrow. "I know you're thinking that it's unlikely, but my mother was of American decent and she had blue eyes… I cannot afford a child. My wife would be furious and my career would be over, even if I gave the child up for adoption. The politics of being where I am… I'm trying to become Head of Starfleet Security. If I go home with an illigitamate child or even if I give it up for adoption, it won't matter. My political adversaries would be all over me; I'd never get promoted!"
Spock did not reply. The baby was wailing now.
"Hernandez told me when he was in his cell… He said I could use a baby to soften me a little bit. That I could stand to have to get to know someone for once." The commander straightened his shoulders and let his arms fall to his side. "I have a report to fill out, Mr. Spock. If this child turns out to be mine, I'm not going to bond with him."
"If you do not, the boy could suffer from serious psycological damage, even mental retardation."
Tzu shook his head. "I don't care. I won't let myself be connected to this… freak of nature. This faggot's dream come true. No," He spat and wheeled around. "Good day."
Spock did not look at the commander as he walked out of the room. The Vulcan's hands were shaking ever-so-slightly, even as he gripped the rail of the crib. Humans claimed that they were above hate and prejudice, but it seemed to Spock that that only applied when they were not faced with danger or discomfort. "Good day, Commander." The little boy sobbed a little and he turned his watery eyes up at Spock, almost pleading for him to feel better so he wouldn't feel sad, too. Spock raised his mental sheilds and the boy sniffled away another sob, now more at ease.
"Some people can be such pigs." A more familiar voice muttered.
"Hello, Doctor," Spock stated without turning to face him. "Has Dr. M'Benga been able to narrow down the list of potential fathers?"
"A bit, but it's still inconclusive. You'll be pleased to know that Jim isn't the father," McCoy joked, trying to lighten the mood. "And neither is Geoff."
Spock did not bother to comment. "Should you not be resting?"
"The baby woke me up, and I'm a light sleeper." McCoy walked over and picked the boy up, holding him close. "Shush, Blue. It's okay, that mean ol' man's gone. Yes he is… Doctor McCoy's gotcha, see?" McCoy asked gently tickling the baby with one finger. The little boy giggled and took hold of McCoy's long finger with a tiny green hand. McCoy wavered slightly and nearly fell over.
"Are you alright, Doctor?" Spock asked, quickly grasping McCoy's shoulder to steady him. McCoy's arms tightened around the baby, not wanting to drop him.
"Yeah, I'm fine. That shot's been playing havoc with my blood pressure all day. It was just mild vertigo, Spock."
Spock noticed that the baby was sound asleep in the doctor's strong arms. He blinked. Where had that thought come from? McCoy cleared his throat. Spock dropped his hand.
"You should rest." He murmured. "I don't want you to drop my son."
McCoy nodded. Spock took the baby and bounced him in his arms trying to think about where these bizarre thoughts may have come from. Unfortunately, he couldn't focus; but for the most odd of reasons – his arms had brushed against McCoy's.
And it felt strangely, quite nice.
He would meditate on it the instant he could leave Sickbay.