Pain coiled through her with every contraction of her uterus as her body fought to expel the child. It was distant, easy to ignore with her use of the Disciplines, honed to an art over the years. Physical pain was one of the easiest to deal with, one of the first things she had learnt to shield. It would be over soon. She had laboured for hours, walking the ancient halls of the lower levels of Gol until the midwife had led her to the bed. Soon she would be free. Free from him and his child. His death had been more painful than she had anticipated even though she had hated him so much for what he had done to her. For how he had failed to be what she wanted, had destroyed all her dreams and ambitions. She had collapsed when the link was broken, driven to the floor by the acute sensation of loss. For three days, she had meditated to restore her equilibrium before she was able to re-join the other acolytes at their rituals. The agony had ebbed to a tolerable level in the months since. Once she rid herself of his child, her healing would go faster. Forgetfulness would not come to her, she was Vulcan but surcease from pain would be enough. Peace would follow, if she kept to the path.
A foster mother would take the child. In normal circumstances, one of the other priestesses would take the child and care for it, raise it as her own. In this case, the baby was Sarek's grandson, and T'Pau would make arrangements that suited her. T'Sil had not asked. She had no interest in the child's fate. Perhaps Spock would be amenable to adopting and raising the child as he had Saavik. T'Pau's refusal to acknowledge Spock's recent marriage would suspend that decision, at least until Spock pushed the issue. Sarek would not make other arrangements; he turned his mind from any discussion of the inevitable. Denial was common in these situations, it was most logical for spouses to be the same age so the problem would not occur except in case of premature death. Matriarchs made the important arrangements, it was not logical to leave them in the hands of those whom logic had fled. He would not have time after. As T'Amanda aged, the bond would suppress his hormones in response to her aging. On her death, they would re-emerge, all the stronger for the suppression and T'Lind would be there.
With one last spasm, the child slid into the waiting arms of the midwife, who turned, her body blocking T'Sil's view, to hand the child to the nurse while she completed her final duties, collecting the placenta and healing the small tear. The shrill cry of a newborn tore the silence that had prevailed in the room. T'Sil's head rested on the pillow as the midwife moved around, running the sonic cleaner to remove the blood then rolling her to remove the disposable sheet from beneath her. She wanted to put her hands over her ears to block the crying but forced herself to keep them at her side. The nurse finished the health scan and began bathing the child.
She sneaked a look. She intended to continue her studies of kolinahr to obtain the peace that would come from the full purging of her emotions. Thus, she had not made any arrangements to do with having a baby after the birth. She had assumed they would remove the child from her, not leave it to scream in her presence. Taking a breath, she tried to calm her nerves. It was hormones, she told herself. They are making you susceptible to emotion. She had been using that excuse for the last nine months. Nature designs a baby's cry to be distressing to the mother but you can move beyond the dictates of your body. If you want to be a kolinahru, you must move beyond emotion. Her declared status would be why they were removing the baby, they deemed it unnecessary. It was unnecessary. Emotion did not affect her, she told herself.
"Would you like to hold the child?" asked the nurse, offering the small cloth wrapped bundle to her. T'Sil blinked in surprise. She couldn't answer the question without lying or revealing more than she intended. "Why?" she prevaricated, stone faced.
"It helps your milk come in," the nurse explained. "You will need to express for the first six weeks at least. They are the most vital for the immune system." She placed the baby on T'Sil's chest and held up the breast pump to demonstrate to T'Sil, who fought her growing horror. She had thought it would be over once the child was born. The small weight of the child belied her sense of suffocation. Her breath stirred the small tufts of fluffy black hair. Brown cloth obscured the baby's face until a yawn shifted the blanket back, exposing the small gummy mouth beneath the snub nose. Delicate black lashes framed large dark eyes, glimpsed before the heavy lids closed over them. The baby grizzled and made sucking motions at the air. Tiny fingers clutched in vain for purchase, grabbing at its own pointed ear.
By the time the nurse returned, the T'Sil was deep in thought as to a suitable name while her son clamped strong jaws around her nipple, pulling and sucking, drawing not just colostrum, but emotion from some ancient reservoir deep within her, the breast pump abandoned on the side table. Without comment, she assembled all the other accoutrements for caring for a baby. Few Vulcans became kolinahru when their children were so young. Even fewer were women.
The harsh cry of a seagull echoed in the distance as waves broke over the sands, collapsing into white foam and he relaxed, feeling some of his anxiety ease. He was a country boy not a surfer but now the sights and sounds of the ocean attracted and welcomed him as much as the green leaves and melodic songbirds of his childhood home always had. More and more often, he found himself walking beside the ocean, inhaling the salty smell instead of lurking at home drinking to get rid of stress and loneliness.
Five year missions were too disruptive to domestic bliss and Starfleet had phased them out in favour of shorter missions. A year or two to collect data for a doctorate or have combat experience was all most people wanted. He'd done two, during the prime of his life and was still paying the price. It had taken years to build a relationship with the daughter who barely knew him except through his infrequent letters. His job kept him busy and he didn't have time to establish new relationships, platonic or romantic. His old friends had understood. They were in the same situation and they had all rubbed along together quite nicely, clinging to each other, assuring themselves they were fine. At least when those two constrained their idiotic impulses to risk their own lives a little. Until Starfleet forced Jim to accept a promotion which took him off the bridge of the 'Enterprise'. Jim's hatred of his job and Spock's advancement in Starfleet while he stayed behind on Earth had begun to damage their friendship in a way Leonard thought nothing ever would. He had gotten his command back, but that wouldn't last forever. He was more at ease with his role in his father's death and wasn't feeling the urge to punish himself so much. He was…discontent with his life. Watching Spock stroll around the bridge smug as a cream fed cat, to those who knew him well, had made him aware of the lack in his own life.
His watch beeped, letting him know it was time to go. It wouldn't do to be late. He'd taken an earlier transit pod to avoid being late, then lurked around the Hawaiian beach waiting for the meeting time. Pedestrians passed in the opposite direction, little more than a blur. The art and landscaping of the walkway wasted on him. He didn't allow himself to slow the pace of his walking. It wouldn't help. Waiting never did. It often made things worse in his experience. He had made up his mind, although not without some help from Gillian, he suspected, looking back over their conversations. Not that he'd be able to point at anything she had said and accuse her. She was sneakier than she looked. Even the invitation to visit her work in Hawaii was a good cover for this visit. He was going to go through with it. Find out, one way or the other. Even if she said no, the death of hope would be a good thing. Closure and all that rot, moving on, whatever you want to call it.
Numbers flicked into his consciousness and he came to a halt before the tall building. White columns decorated the outside of the door. A classic design that reminded him of his old house in Georgia where he still spent his free weeks. He rented a modern apartment in San Francisco but was seldom there, sleeping on the ship or at Kirk's during the work week. Commuting cost a fortune but he spent little on anything else except presents for his daughter Joanna and his incomings covered his expenses without touching the years of Fleet wages which had accumulated in his account.
The doors slid open at his approach and he walked forward to the turbo lift and announced his destination. His voice was firm, showing none of the stress he felt, he noted with relief. Green leafy plants on white plinths lined the corridors, tugging his mouth up at the corners. Gillian had gifted him with a full set of Pratchett's works for his birthday. He reached the door and admired the elegant calligraphy replacing the standard printed number on the door. She was expecting him, he had sent a request for a meeting and received a standard reply with no personal note attached. The door slid open in response to his presence and she was standing there, older, but just as beautiful as the last time he had seen her. "Tonia," he said. She smiled at him and his voice failed after that, abandoning his carefully prepared speech. "Leonard, come in."
A waterfall tinkled in the background. Dark green foliage framed the window, dotted with red and orange hibiscus. Gillian stood illuminated by the soft pearl light, her face turned upward, expression expectant, waiting for her lover. Spock moved into view, placing his fingertips on her jaw, drawing her forward and pressing his lips to her in a passionate kiss and Kirk turned away. From behind Kirk, a gentle touch on his arm revealed Nyota.
"Taken up voyeurism?" She slipped her arm through his and they turned away, walking back along the manicured path to the others.
"A refresher course every now and then is good," he said. Nyota shot him a concerned glance. He rushed to reassure her. "It is overflow from Spock's emotions, now our bond has re-established itself. I remember not thinking of her much at all after the trial. I have to remember that. And not think about how totally my type she is."
"You could remember how she dumped you on Interstellar vids," replied Nyota with a cheeky grin. Kirk groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "They had to include that part."
Nyota snickered. "So, did you steal that guy's girlfriend or what?"
"Could be, that would explain the gleeful laughing when they refused to change it out." Nyota rested her head on his shoulder and they walked on. She broke the silence, not laughing this time. "It seems strange, that this would be normal for Vulcans."
"If I were a Vulcan, I'd have my own bond mate and it would protect me from this." Spock had hinted around the subject. He didn't like to discuss the implications. Two guys and a girl was a bad combination. Spock had dealt with it in the Vulcan way. He had stood back and let Jim attempt to win her. After the trial and Jim's visible failure, Spock considered it was his turn. If Jim had realised how Spock felt he wouldn't have invited Gillian to dinner. Of course, if he'd known she was going to slap him and storm out, he wouldn't have invited her either.
"Is it that bad?" Nyota at least was concerned for him. His feelings for her hadn't been affected by Spock's death and rebirth so at least they were his, which had been a concern of his since Spock had hinted at the side effects of being t'hy'la to a Vulcan. It was a problem with no solution, so he grinned and turned the subject into a joke. He might give it another shot with Nyota after she split up with Scotty. He'd been hoping ever since he'd convinced her strip and dance on Nimbus 3.
"It's terrible. I haven't fallen in love in weeks, months, even." She laughed as the path opened onto the courtyard around the pool where Scotty and Bones sat wearing their ugly Hawaiian shirts. Jim seated himself besides Bones who offered him a brandy "What are you two laughing about?"
"Jim is telling me how he gracefully stood aside so Spock could have a chance with Gillian," she replied. They howled in laughter and Jim grinned, forcing down his disappointment at the soft glow in Nyota's eyes as she smiled at Scotty. It wouldn't be ending soon.
