AN: Thanks so much guys! I had no idea that so many people would like/read this little thing I made! I feel like I'm spoiling everyone with a rapid update, but the story blew up overnight! Thanks to everyone who stops by and may Vulcans finger kiss anyone who leaves a review!

Nyota

Before she opened her eyes or became fully conscious, her senses slowly returned to her. She could feel a cold wetness on her cheeks and streaks on her neck; she'd been crying, then. After peeling her eyes apart, every single lash seemed to be stuck together, her eyes adjusted; she could make out his form. He was meditating. A small smile played on her lips and she reached to push her hair behind her shoulders, only to discover that she could only lift her hand a couple inches. She looked down at the restraints and called to him through their bond. /Spohk./ A torturous pain filled her psyche and her head fell against the pillow with a yelp. "Spohk" she called, vocalizing his name. "It was only a dream. Thank god." Instantly, he came to her bedside, his mannerisms awkward, hesitant. She reached for him again through their bond, growling at the pain, and meeting his gaze with a terrified confusion in her eyes. "I cannot feel you, yet you stand mere meters from me. Why can I not feel you?" She cried, desperately trying to reach him with her mind. She began to squirm in pain with her effort. She was so confused, if it was all a dream…?

Instantly, her body froze. "Did I lose it?" She asked in a small voice, insurmountable fear laced her question. She looked into his eyes; he was so stoic, so distant. There was no familiarity towards her presence in his posture. She hadn't seen him behave this way around her in years. He seemed almost confused at her query; more so, he looked uncertain of what to say. Her eyes widened in horror at his silence, and she turned to look down over her chest; hands desperately straining against the leather straps. The pit of her stomach bottomed out and a hole seemed to rip into her chest. Tears were spilling over her lashes now; she could feel herself hyperventilating in rapid, shaky breaths. "Oh God," she whimpered in standard. Her bottom lip was quivering and she wept earnestly.

Nyota absolutely did not want to accept that reality alone. She needed his comfort and used the rest of her strength to reach to where he always was in her mind; she could even feel the strain of her wrists against the restraints, desperately trying to grab a hold of him, leather cutting into her skin. As she strained for contact, her hearing left her but she could vaguely feel herself screaming. The sight of Leonard rushing into the room was the last thing she saw before she started seizing.

"Nyota? Nyota, can you hear me?" Someone was shouting in her ear and an agonizing, bright light burned her retinas; she could vaguely see the grumpy features of her friend.

"I can hear you, Len." She swatted him away, glad that she was no longer restrained. She blinked back the spots in her vision and rubbed her eyes. At her new freedom, she slid her hands up to the sides of her head and squeezed as she sat up, resting her elbows on her knees. She was silent for a moment, finding relief in the pressure. "I am… confused." She said to her lap, before looking up at the two men; the sadness she felt manifested itself as a frown on her face. "I watched you die," her intense gaze met Spock's then traveled to Leonard, "yet here you are." Her voice quivered. She looked back at Spock, tears falling down her cheeks again. "But I felt the pap'il'ay…" Her brows furrowed. The look on her husband's face was something she'd never seen before: a mix of excitement, concern, and understanding.

Leonard cut through the tension, the look on his face seemed to express he just wanted to avoid the conversation at hand. "Well, darlin'," he began, leaning with both hands against the bed rails. When Nyota turned to him, he continued. "Can you tell me what the stardate is?"

"How long have I been here?" She could see that he was assessing her for neurological damage, but it was a silly question to ask her if she was unable to account for time while being unconscious.

"About two days."

"Two days!?" Nyota was shocked, but began to process the information. "Then it has to be 2264.157." Her response was rather matter-of-fact, she was confident in her answer, and wanted to prove that she hadn't sustained any cognitive injuries. Regardless, her head was killing her.

"Oh boy," Leonard sighed, crossing his arms as he turned towards Spock. "Well, Commander, you want to handle this one?"

"What?" Nyota asked anxiously. "Spock?" She turned to her husband and silently pleaded for an answer.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Spock said as he approached the bed, an odd inflection in his voice. His hands remained behind his back. As familiar with him as she was, his body language did not go unnoticed and neither did the formality of his address. He did not come to comfort her, his hands never appearing from behind him. He stood ramrod straight; his posture did not indicate any intimacy between them. She noted that he stopped by her feet and looked at her without a trace of recognition. His distance had her breathing rapidly. Whatever he was about to say, she didn't think she was going to like it. After what seemed an eon of silence, he continued. "Two days, thirteen hours, and thirty-six minutes ago, we received a report of a 'lightning storm' on the edge of Federation space. When we arrived at the coordinates, we discovered that an emergency pod had travelled through a black hole. Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy and I retrieved the vessel and found you in critical condition."

"Oh God," her trembling hands covered her face and she took a deep, shaky breath. Her head shook back and forth in disbelief. "It wasn't a dream, then…" her voice was so small. She shuddered as she relived her last conscious moments drifting in space. The explosion from the Enterprise most certainly jostled the red matter… she must not have been far enough away to escape its pull. "I watched you die… and the red matter… it was all for nothing." She sniffled and wiped the tears away from under her eyes. The air grew uncomfortable, and in a way, lonely. It seemed that they had no idea what to say to her. Yet, how could they comfort her? They had no idea what she went through, what she lost. But where was she now?

"So," she began, wanting to break the silence with something other than the sounds of her choking breaths and sniffles. She made her voice strong, in an effort to feel that way herself. "I'm on the Enterprise, I can see that; but, what I really want to know is when I am. What is the stardate?" She looked between the two men before her.

"The current stardate is 2260.45." The information came from Spock; she knew he wouldn't lie.

Nyota's gaze went far away as she processed the news. The room started to spin and nausea was a roaring tempest in her stomach. "Now I understand why you both look so confused…" She lay in a contracted position, trying to soothe her abdomen. When she spoke again, there was a sad tone in her voice. "I'm up on the bridge, aren't I?"

The two men raised eyebrows at each other. Leonard inhaled deeply, and sat down on the foot of her bed. "Nyota, darlin', you were killed in action."

"What?!" Her eyebrows furrowed and her gaze turned to ice. "When?!"

"Stardate 2258.42—there was a war criminal. A Romulan—" Dr. McCoy began, sympathy dripping in every word.

"Nero? The Battle of Vulcan?—No! I… I was on the Enterprise! I –"

"No." Spock stepped forward, the monotony of his voice seemed forced, emotions fighting to spill through. "You were not."

Nyota stared at him with hurt. "No. You changed your mind. I was on th—"

"Nyota." He interrupted her. She could see the pain in his eyes. "I… I failed you."

At his admission, her shaky breaths turned into sobs. Her body tensed, her knuckles were turning white at the force of gripping the white blankets. Tears began to clump her lashes together and the breath she had been holding made a shaky escape. "Leonard, I need to speak with you in private, please." The doctor nodded to Spock, and a moment later, the Commander left the room, apologizing in Vulcan. As soon as the door slid shut, she calmed herself and commanded the computer to soundproof the room. "I was pregnant." It seemed silly that she had soundproofed the room when she gave this statement in barely a whisper. She turned to meet Leonard in a fearful gaze. Her eyes were pleading for any confirmation that she still was, that their baby was safe and had survived pap'il'ay. His eyes bled sorrow at his understanding, but his silence ate at her core. She tried to smother her fear by biting down on her quivering lip, hoping the pain would drown out the deafening stillness.

He padded her legs as he stood up. "How many weeks were you?" He scrambled around the room, grabbing equipment from various drawers and cabinets.

"I was about nine weeks along…" Leonard sat down on the bed again, this time more towards her waist.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to her gown. Nyota nodded, and he gently pulled up the hem to reveal her stomach. "Sorry," he apologized as he squirted a cold gel onto her skin. When he finished, he placed one of the specialized scanners he grabbed onto her stomach. It took a moment to analyze and register, and then, the most beautiful rhythm Nyota had ever heard projected from the machine. A quick, but steady, thump-thump was amplified from the speakers. A second later, the smallest little being she had ever seen appeared onto the view screen. "Looks like you've got a healthy little bun in the oven." At his confirmation, a breath Nyota was unaware she held burst from her lungs in joyous sobs. Somewhere far away, she could feel Len was smoothing the end of the gown back under the sheets, but all she could do was sit there and cry. She still had their baby. Spock would live on through it.

At his memory, she began to cry in earnest; broken by his loss. She felt the bed dip down and a warm body envelope her, stroking her back and soothing her. "Damn it, woman... I'm a doctor, not an interspecies geneticist." Laughter burst through her tears. She held him tighter, and with a smile on her face gave a reply. "Of course you're not ready for this, Len. This was three years in the making with the best Vulcan geneticists in the field."

"I don't even know where to begin on prenatal care for the critter." He sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "How does this even work?"

"The fetus will carry to a normal human term, but will develop at a slightly faster rate than a human. I'm supposed to be taking a supplement to avoid complications with nutrient diffusion across the blood barrier—human blood is iron based and Vulcan copper."

"Do you remember who those Vulcan geneticists were? I wouldn't know what exactly to give in that kind of supplement, but since you've only gone four years into the past, I'm sure that those scientists are still out and about and can whip you up something in a jiffy." Nyota nodded at his insight. Even though she was trapped in a past that she no longer lived in, things didn't feel as hopeless as she thought. She was only thanking her lucky stars that she hadn't gone back more than a century, like Ambassador Spock.

"That reminds me," she began. McCoy just looked at her. "I need a communications terminal. Do you think we're in range to contact New Vulcan?"

"I'm a doctor—"

"—Not a communications officer." She finished for him.

"Right. We picked you up near the edge of Federation space, but I know that we've been en route back to Earth."

"Good. I'll send a subspace transmission out as soon as I can." They sat there together for a moment, enjoying the shift in silence.

"Does… does Spock know?"

"No. And he can't know. I don't know this Spock, much less do I think he's ready to learn he's become a father thirty minutes after a dead girlfriend jumps through space time and wakes up." She tried to laugh and keep the atmosphere light, but she choked up a little. "He has no obligations to us."

"I see." McCoy said as he began to sit up. "Well, we'll do this at your pace, darlin'." He gave a moment's pause before he continued. "Can you explain to me what all has been happening? What was it you were talking about earlier? Paperlay?"

A sad smile spread across her lips. "Pap'il'ay is the Vulcan term for severance of the marriage bond. A side effect of such an occurrence is called tel-has-mar, bond sickness. It should have killed me by now." Leonard reached over and held her hand, recognizing the delicacy of the subject. "I'm surprised I'm not dead… it must be because of the baby."

"Well, that would sure explain the neurogenic shock you've been experiencing and few close calls we've had. Your vitals have stabilized, and your baby is fine, but I can't authorize you to leave medbay until I can be certain that you won't have any more seizure episodes."

"I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen. I plan to contact the other Spock to see if he would be willing to support me in pseudo-bond therapy. I have a feeling he would be open to such a suggestion. Once connection has been reestablished, I should not have as great a risk."

"Let me know what you find out, and if you can arrange such treatment. When I see that you're making progress, I can arrange with the Captain for you to stay in a visitor's suite. There's a console on the wall. You can use it to contact your people."

"Thanks, Len." He gave a light squeeze to her shoulder, and left the room.

Nyota let out a deep breath, centering herself. She didn't want to look like a sad case when she spoke to elder Spock. Lying there alone, she hardly felt human… She looked around the sterile room and saw a brush, a small basin of water, and a wash cloth on the bedside table. After drying off her face, she conquered the knots in her hair. She was starting to feel more like herself, and she was grateful that she didn't have the appearance of someone who just got blasted to a different reality when she made the subspace call.

She opened the communications terminal and found that New Vulcan was within reach. As she started the connection, a pit formed in the bottom of her stomach. She was nervous, reaching out for help and uncertain of what she would receive. When the aged visage of a Vulcan appeared on screen, her fears dissipated into the recesses of her mind.

"Miss Uhura… a pleasant surprise, my friend. You are someone I had never thought I would see again."

"Ambassador, seeing a familiar face brings great comfort in my time of grief."

At her words, the Ambassador's eyes softened. "How can I be of assistance?"