Growth: Chapter Four
The injury would not scar, the doctor told Spock. The bone would take some time to heal, but it wouldn’t restrict his movements very long. His chest was immobilized, bandaged heavily - and he had to remind himself that it was for the best. Besides which, Jim seemed more relaxed with the knowledge that Spock would not be impeded in his recovery.
The barely audible whir of the machinery around him reverberated through his body, and despite how brief the scan itself was, it felt altogether too long before he was out of the scanner.
Jim immediately gripped his hand the moment he emerged, helping him into a sitting position. Once he was upright, Jim’s fingers pressed firmly against his, his slow pulse beating through his skin. They fixed their eyes on the screen as McCoy brought up the image from the scan. For a moment, the man just looked, brows furrowing with every passing second. Finally, after zooming in twice and changing his angle several times, he sighed.
“That explains a lot,” he muttered. Jim froze.
“What? Is-is there something wrong with the baby?” he asked, hand wrapping around Spock’s entirely. McCoy shook his head.
“Nothin’. ‘Cept it’s two.”
It took Spock a few seconds to begin interpreting the man’s statement, his shoulders suddenly feeling loose and weak. “That is highly unlikely,” he heard himself say. “Vulcans do not birth multiples. It is an event occurring only once in every 400,000 births. Aside from which, my implant releases only one ovum per fertility cycle. The chances that I would conceive twins-”
“-is made higher by your human DNA,” McCoy drawled. “Looks like you must’ve released two eggs this cycle; readings indicate the twins are fraternal.”
“Highly improbable.”
“But still way more likely for you than any other Vulcan, right? Besides, aren’t you hobgoblins all about repopulation? This is a two-for-one deal here. Be happy,” the doctor told him. Then, turning to Jim, he smirked. “You must be thrilled. More Kirks to dilute the gene pool.”
Spock turned to his bondmate, trying to sense anything through the bond - but all he could find was a buzzing, a hum of congealed thoughts, of integrated emotions so complex he was certain not even the strongest computers could have separated them, and more than anything, an all-encompassing and overwhelming sense of awe. “Jim?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, his grip going lax as Spock felt his mind struggle to calm itself, to reflect his intellect over his wonder. “I mean-Bones, you’re serious? We’re seriously having two?”
“You are,” the man agreed. “Give me a sec and I’ll pull up their genetic profiles. You do want to know, right?”
“Indeed,” Spock confirmed. “Sex, genetic makeup, developmental stage, any and all genetic abnormalities, and approximate date of viable delivery.”
McCoy snorted. “In other words, you wanna know everything I can tell you,” he said, reaching for his PADD. “Why wouldn’t you just say you wanted to know everything?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am disinterested in the physical characteristics of the embryos unless they somehow relate to a disability or possible handicap.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, tapping his screen. He zoomed into the image once more, focusing on a tiny conglomeration of cells adhered to the lining of his prosthetic. “Baby one: female.”
Jim’s hand tightened on Spock’s again. “A girl?”
“That’s what female means, Jim,” McCoy deadpanned. Spock felt Jim’s tiny surge of annoyance, but it was hidden beneath the steadily growing wonder seeping through the bond. “Anyway. Female. Approximately four weeks gestation. Genetic makeup seems to be forty-two percent Vulcan, fifty-eight percent human. No abnormalities I can see so far, though those things can develop later. Assuming your length of gestation is more similar to a Vulcan’s, she’ll be born in April, probably around the sixteenth. So will her brother.”
Spock contemplated the information quietly, sinking into Jim’s awe. “And this would be the second fetus, I presume.”
“What else would he be?” the man muttered, tapping his PADD a few times and zooming closer to another cluster of cells, tiny and barely shaped like anything. “This’d be him: baby two. Male. Also no genetic problems I can see. Thirty-nine percent Vulcan, Sixty-one percent human. Four weeks gestation. Anything else you wanna know?”
“Nothing in your ability to tell,” Spock told him, turning again to look at Jim. “Is there anything you would like to know, Jim?”
“Uh,” Jim articulated, eyes still fixed on the image. “I mean. So it’s-I mean, there’s nothing wrong, right? At all?”
McCoy rubbed his chin. “The only thing I’m worried about is what happens when they reach eighteen weeks. Either they’re gonna be strong enough to handle being crammed in there together against Spock’s muscles or they’re not. If not, we’re going to have to find a way to loosen him up,” he said, and before Spock could protest, the man was looking directly at him. “Don’t tell me anything about how Vulcan fetuses develop, Spock. These are more human.”
“They are more Vulcan,” he argued gently. “I am confident there will be no complications.”
The doctor flushed slightly. “We don’t know what aspects of their physiology will be Vulcan!” he insisted. “For all we know, their musculature or skeletal structure could be human, in which case your Vulcanoid muscles could crush them! That’s a definite complication.”
It was, Spock had to admit, a valid concern. Feeling Jim’s concern flash through the bond, he simply looked the doctor in the eyes. “I have utmost faith that you are capable of ensuring a successful delivery, Doctor,” he stated simply. “I would expect no less from the best physician in Starfleet.”
McCoy’s shoulders loosened noticeably. “Flattery? Thought Vulcans didn’t believe in that,” he said, but he sounded more certain of himself. “I can only do as much as medicine lets me, though. You’re gonna have to deal with that.”
“Acceptable,” he murmured. “Correct, Jim?”
Jim nodded mutely. McCoy took the hint, handing Spock the PADD and making his way out of the bay. As he left, Spock distinctly heard a mutter of, “Damn idiots should’ve told me they were planning to reproduce. Jesus Christ.”
Spock ignored the tiny outburst, carefully positioning himself to look at his mate. “Jim,” he implored gently, turning his wrist to press his palm against the man’s. Jim snapped into awareness, eyes immediately fixing on Spock’s. “Jim. I have every confidence this will proceed well. Do not allow Dr. McCoy to worry you unnecessarily.”
His husband shook his head. “I’m gonna worry whether it’s necessary or not, Spock,” he said, using his free hand to tip the PADD towards him. “What if they’re not strong enough to beat the pressure? What if a complication develops? I mean, anything could happen.”
“Anything won’t,” Spock informed him, attempting to project calm back to him. “One reason we are seeing a Vulcan healer is to ensure this.”
Jim was quiet for a moment. “It’s just--” he started, the words stilted. After a deep breath, he cleared his throat and looked to Spock again. “It’s just…we already lost one baby, Spock. What are we gonna do if this doesn’t work out either?”
Spock brought a hand to Jim’s face, aligning his fingers on the meld points. “With your permission?”
“Always,” his mate deadpanned, closing his eyes. Spock closed his own, initiating the meld.
Despite the bond they shared, the depth of transfer seemed infinitely greater in a real meld. There were no shields, no boundaries - there was no need. They were completely one, all intricate knowledge and merged emotion and knowledge of pasts, presents, hopes, and fears. And yet they were also separate - Jim’s thoughts and emotions tinted with an inherently human aura, seeping through the confines of Spock’s logical mind and filling the cracks; a welcome, yet infinitely alienating presence the likes of which the Vulcan doubted could be rivaled by even the greatest of his people.
Jim’s worries and grief were at the top, encompassing much of his reason. Spock dug through this as best he could, pushing aside thoughts of miscarriage and deformity, the memories of shock and loss, and the overwhelming burden pressing upon him already.
And of course, it was there.
It was covered in doubt, but still completely intact. Spock brought it to the surface of their mind once more, reveling in Jim’s immediate awe. It was something they shared, in some ways more intimate than their bond.
Family.
The feelings suffused in that single thought wrapped around them tightly, pressing every bit of Spock’s consciousness against Jim’s. Images of growth and controlled chaos and even nights without sleep brought on by the wailing of a newborn flitted across their minds, along with the tiniest bit of wonder.
I never had one, Jim projected. Neither of us really did.
Spock pulled out of the meld slowly, opening his eyes to find Jim’s staring at him. For a moment, there was silence.
“I’m interruptin’ somethin’, aren’t I?” a familiar voice murmured. Spock whipped his head to the side, finding the chief engineer standing awkwardly in the door. Jim shook his head.
“Come on in, Scotty,” he invited, sliding his hands into his lap. “Now’s as good a time as any to fret like a mother hen.”
Spock made a mental note to inquire as to the origins of that idiom later. Scott merely followed directions, giving them a nervous smile.
“I thought it’d be a good plan to, you know, come by when no one else was around,” he explained, coming to a stop in front of them and scratching above his right ear. “Lieutenant Uhura and Chekov kept coming down in shifts; it’s the first chance I’ve had to ask--”
“Yeah,” Jim interrupted. “He’s still pregnant.”
Scott paused for a moment, then nodded, a relieved grin spreading across his face. “Good,” he said softly. “I been more worried’n I knew I could be since I heard what happened. That’s good news.”
And it almost seemed like those words were a trigger for Jim. All traces of worry vanished from his bondmate, replaced with an immediate sense of astonishment and wonder and hope. “It is good news,” he said firmly, a grin on his face. “Damn right. It’s the fucking best news there could be. But for now, it’s good news in private. Right?”
“Of course,” the Scot beamed. Spock quirked an eyebrow. “Lieutenant Hunt’s making sure of that.”
Jim’s mind went blank, and Spock blinked, processing the statement. “Clarify?”
Scott shrugged. “Komack’s been hootin’ and hollerin’ up a storm down there in the brig,” he answered. “He’s loony, that one. Might be the only thing keepin’ people from askin’ why he keeps sayin’ you an’ your ‘spawn’ need to be ‘neutralized’. Lieutenant Hunt’s arranged security details so that the same folks go down there every time. Even if people did believe ‘im, there are only seven with access to the source. Secret’s safer’n Admiral Archer’s underwear drawer.”
There was utter silence for a split second, and then Jim sighed. “I don’t doubt it,” he admitted. “Hunt’s a damn scary woman. She’s probably got everyone down there sworn to silence.”
“Acceptable,” Spock agreed. “Though I imagine the security team on The Edison will have far more difficulty determining what is fact and what is paranoia.”
“Which is ace,” Jim cut in. “I’ll see if Admiral Pike can make the proceedings private so no one has to hear testimony about Enterprise’s best kept secret.”
Spock nodded wordlessly. The engineer stood awkwardly for a moment. “I, uh,” he stuttered. “I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. I’ll be going now.”
“Most wise,” Spock agreed. Scott inclined his shoulders slightly at both of them, an awkward sort of goodbye, before heading out with a tiny wave. Spock turned his attention back to his husband. “You are content?”
“Damn straight,” he murmured. “And you’re coming back home tonight. That makes me fabulous.”
Spock extended two fingers. “Indeed,” he replied softly. “Indeed.”
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