S'Brin

Redundant disclaimer: They still aren't mine.

Redundant pairings: Where have you been these past 10 chapters?

Redundant rating: Sigh.

Reviews:

BaNg-bAnG-LycanPunkRocker: I have no intention of abandoning this story after ten chapters without confirming or denying everyone's suspicions on whom the baby's father is. And I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Allergic-To-Paradox: Such a cliffie, but look, here's the next chapter! On the meditation… uh… Read the chapter… Actually, for all your guesses, read this chapter. Answering them here would defeat the purpose of having written it!

Quarksbar: I know you didn't actually submit a review, but I did get your private message and so I'm giving you a shout-out, too. As I said, this chapter is focusing on McCoy, just for you. The first part of the chapter is different, but you'll understand why.

Kohaku Kawa: I am most relieved that you aren't dead. I totally empathize with your homework woes… After the big reveal there will definitely be at least one sort of 'resolution' chapter, and maybe more…

Lord of the Shadows: I think this chapter begins to answer your questions/comments… Or perhaps I'm stealing your ideas for my chapters? Lol, no. I think I'll say great minds think alike and leave it at that.

((Inevitable Author's Note: It's a little angsty, but bear with me. It gets happier later on.))

Chapter 10: Being Needed

The baby was crying. I slowly tried to rise and tend to him, but my mate was up first.

"Don't worry; I'll get him. You go on back to sleep."

I nodded and rest my head on the pillow, watching my mate rise. He faded into the darkness and as he entered the baby's alcove, a light switched on. My mate picked the little one up, their silhouette interesting and pleasant. I could hear my lover humming an old Earth lullaby to the little one, and could see the shadow rocking back and forth. The baby's wails softened.

I rose from the bed and replicated a bottle of formula. When I walked in the sight of my mate –shirtless and gently rocking our little one in his arms – stole my breath. I offered my love the bottle.

"I thought I told you that you could sleep."

"I did not wish too. He is hungry."

"I know; I can feel it. Here," he replied taking the bottle and putting it into the baby's mouth. My mate half smiled at me. He looked tired, but peaceful nonetheless. I walked behind him and wrapped my arms around him, looking at our son.

"He is so like you." I commented. My lover scoffed. "You cannot tell?"

"Vulcan ears, Vulcan blood, Vulcan telepathy – he's nothing like me."

"He has your eyes, Leonard."

My mate tensed in my grip…

McCoy sat up right on his biobed, gasping for breath. For a moment he wondered where he was, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark he realized he was in Sickbay. If he was here, where had he been before? He closed his eyes and tried to remember, but he hadn't seen anything… Just himself holding little Blue… But he hadn't been himself at the time; he'd been Spock.

Len shivered at the memory. It felt so real. It must have been a dream. He had had dreams about himself and Spock for years, but this was over the top. It wasn't as physical, as base or sexual as all his previous dreams, but he knew it wasn't a memory. Unfortunately.

"You're focusing too much on fantasy, Len," He reminded himself. "The little one isn't yours, he can't be – and Spock… He won't be and you know it. He doesn't even want to be." He yawned. "It isn't logical."

He got up and went to a nearby sink and splashed his face with water. His hands were shaking. He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep any time soon. He went to the little one's nursery. The baby was sleeping contentedly. McCoy walked over and stroked a finger along the puffy cheek, getting a bit of drool on his finger in the process. He wiped it on his pants and sighed.

"Hope isn't logical either…" He muttered.

He stood there for a while, just watching the baby breathe and listening to the monitors beep in time to the boy's rapid heartbeat. It was comforting… He hadn't felt like this since Joanna had moved out of the house. Even when she was a teenager, occasionally he would crack her door just a tiny bit and watch her sleep. No matter how old she got, she was always her daddy's baby girl. Maryanne couldn't take her away in the custody hearing, and Starfleet couldn't keep him away when he was stationed on alien worlds. But now Joanna was all grown up… A nurse at Emory Hospital… Engaged – perhaps this Simon fellow was the one who took her from him; no, she was a grown woman. He didn't lose her. He was so proud of her but he felt useless, like he wasn't needed anymore.

Or he had until this little boy had been dropped into his Sickbay. Even if his career was winding down, even if his friends were going their separate ways soon, and even if he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with convincing Spock not to leave for wherever he called it… There was someone now who needed him. It was a nice feeling.

A nice feeling he shouldn't even have. The baby wasn't his – he couldn't be. Hernandez hated him and the universe just didn't work that way. There's no way something so wonderful could happen to him. He didn't deserve it…

He heard the main Sickbay doors swoosh open.

"I'm in the Nursery, Geoff." McCoy whispered, not wanting to wake the baby or worry M'Benga.

"That is nice to know, but I am not Doctor M'Benga."

McCoy looked over his shoulder. Spock stood just inside the nursery. In the light of the monitors, the angles of his face looked sharper and his dark eyes looked more intense. McCoy looked quickly back at the baby, his face flushing for a reason he pretened not to understand. "Oh. What brings you here? Couldn't sleep?"

"I could not focus on my meditation." Spock corrected him. "I decided that I would tend to the child." He did not come over though. Out of the corner of his eye, McCoy thought Spock looked distracted, transfixed.

"He's sleeping peacefully. You should be, too. You have duty in a few hours…"

"Two point four two three hours…" Spock whispered. McCoy's shoulders tensed, but for once it wasn't because Spock's precision was annoying him, but the tenor of his voice… It sounded odd.

It sounded sensual.

"Well," McCoy said clearing his throat and trying to seem at ease, "I should be asleep then. My blood pressure is still going haywire and all these painkillers I'm on have me loopy." He tried to walk past Spock, but the Vulcan put his hand out, pressing it against McCoy's chest. He winced at the dull pain caused by the contact. Then McCoy looked into the Vulcan's eyes and saw something he's never seen directed at him before…

Mine.

Len had seen Spock give Zarabeth that look, and T'Pring before her. It was an incredibly possessive look, one that spoke not just of ownership but also of something a great deal more intimate.

Len's only conclusion was that he was still dreaming.

"Good night Spock." He said very sadly. "I'll see you in the morning."

He pushed past Spock and lie back on his biobed.

Just as his eyes began to slide shut, he could hear the baby cry.

He wiped a tear off his own cheek and was quickly reclaimed by sleep.