AN: Sorry for the ridiculous length of time between updates. Half a year? I should be shot. I sincerely apologize for my tardiness, but I promise that I haven't given up on these two! There's still so much more to come! Lots of life has gotten in the way recently. I ended a 7 year relationship, my uncle tragically passed away at Christmas, and I started paramedic school this year. Everything has been taxing emotionally on me, and I haven't had a whole lot of motivation to write, but I promise that my muse is most certainly returning!

So here's my well overdue update- with some sexy times to appease all of you wonderful readers. Really, you have driven me to keep going through such a rough time. For the sake of speed, this is most definitely not beta'd, so any mistakes are mine and you are more than welcome (actually encouraged) to point them out and hold me accountable. Reviews and favorites are most welcome and highly appreciated. I love seeing the suggestions you guys make.

Once again, I wholeheartedly apologize, but I hope this update finds you well.

~Anaëlle

Nyota

A sleepless, medically uneventful night passed in medbay. Nyota cried and cried and cried; until there were no tears to shed, her throat was dry, and her sinuses congested. It was hard to quietly grieve the loss of your husband… and she tried her hardest to hide such vulnerability whenever Leonard came to check in on her, but the control was so exhausting, she wanted more than anything to have her own space and just let go. When morning came, she demanded to be moved to private quarters. It was a swift, and easily won battle. She simply let slip some of her strength, exposing the despair beneath, and she could nearly hear her doting doctor's heart breaking at the lost look on her face. By mid-afternoon, her belongings were packed, and she was escorted into the Admiral Suite.

Secluding herself seemed like a good idea. There was no one she wanted to see, save for the Doctor, or the Ambassador, when he made his arrival. There were too many lives she remembered dying on this ship.

Nyota had all of her meals replicated in the suite. Food from the machine always tasted off, but now, everything was ash in her mouth. Nothing could ease her loss of appetite, but she knew that she had to eat, if not for herself, then for the baby. Her heart broke more at the thought. It wasn't that she wasn't overjoyed to hear that the fetus survived, it was the reality that her Spock would never experience the thrills of new parenting with her. He would never feel their baby kick, see it born, speak its first words, take its first step, or grow up. With that thought, the emptiness of the room left her feeling hollow and alone. She headed towards the bathroom, seeking comfort in the smaller space.

As she entered, she refused to look at her reflection in the mirror. She could feel how haggard she looked; she didn't want or need a visual confirmation of her condition. After she turned on the faucet for the shower, she began to gingerly slide out of her clothes. Her soft hands rested upon the smooth planes of her stomach. She wasn't showing yet, and she wouldn't for some time, but she wanted to reach out to her little one, assuring it that no matter what, they would get through this together. Eventually, Nyota would become strong enough to be the best for the both of them, but now wasn't the time, and tears threatened her vision. She stepped under the spray and sank to the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and curling around herself. The needle pricks of the water over her body were soothing in her pain; she felt hollow on the outside, but the burning sensation on her skin assured her she was still whole on the outside. Nyota didn't move and finally, wept openly. Her tears were washed off her face and the sound of her cries was muffled by the echo of the water in the room.

Nyota gripped Spock's hand tightly while the Vulcan doctor began her pelvic examination. Gynecological tables were always uncomfortable, and the room was sterile. Her human physician soothingly had a holovid of rambunctious puppies on the ceiling above the examination table in order to ease the patient; but, such sentiments would be illogical to a Vulcan, the exam being necessary and all, she supposed. She sighed and looked over the paper blanket around her waist as the doctor scooted away.

"The embryo successfully implanted and the body is not activating any immunoresponse towards the cells. However, we will continue to monitor your condition closely over the next few weeks so that we may be certain there are no complications. Until then, I advise against any rigorous or strenuous activity to ensure the safety of the embryo until further notice." The doctor made eye contact with both of them and bid them congratulations before slightly bowing and taking her leave.

The young couple returned home and Spock prepared a feast of Nyota's favorite foods. They ate in excitement, talking about all the endless possibilities of the future ahead. Would their baby be a girl or a boy? What would they name it? Would they like to carry out their naternity leave on New Vulcan or on Earth? Would it have psionic capabilities like Spock? Who would it look like? When they had happily reached their fill, Spock shooed Nyota out of the dining room, instructing her to relax while he cleaned the table and dishes. With a loving kiss and a hard look, she consented and left the room.

With a bright smile on her face, she pulled the hem of her shirt up to her bra line and looked at herself in the mirror. Her stomach was flat and toned; after all, she was only four weeks along. She began to hum and delicately placed her hands over the low part of her abdomen. Tears prickled her eyes and she began to turn this way and that, her long skirt twirled with the motion. She tried seeing if there was any kind of difference in her appearance and imagined how big her belly would swell later on. She wiped her eyes and noticed Spock leaning against the door frame, he made his way over to her then, coming behind her and sliding his arms around her waist to caress her abdomen as well. Nyota placed one hand over his, and reached the other up behind his neck, watching their reflection in the mirror. He was crying, too.

"I cherish thee, Nyota", he professed, bringing his forehead to the crook of her neck, and kissing the soft skin of her shoulder. She smiled brighter, sniffled, then turned around to face him, hands caressing up his arms to cradle his face and bring their foreheads together.

Slowly, he reached to place one of her hands on his shoulder, and moved his to the small of her back. When he held her other hand in the the oz'hesta, the most beautiful music fluttered through her mind. He began to twirl her around in a slow waltz, making their way out of the bathroom, dancing throughout their humble New Vulcan home. Nyota could feel Spock's happiness through their bond, and couldn't help but smile at the fuzzy feeling he was broadcasting. She had never experienced him this happy before. He was even smiling in a big grin that stole her breath away. She couldn't help but laugh and taste the rare expression on his lips.

When the music quieted, they found themselves in their bedroom, and energy of another sort flowed between their bond. Beaming, Nyota stood on her tip toes to place a kiss over his soft lips. She couldn't contain her happiness either, and she began to step around him, resting her hands lovingly over his chest. Before she could move away, however, Spock gently grasped her wrists and pulled her closer to him. The chaste kiss she had given to him was returned with nothing short of fire.

She smiled into his lips as he pressed them against hers, but her smile quickly faded as his tongue began an intricate dance with hers. "Spohk," she breathed and slightly pulled away. At the new distance, he shifted his attention to her neck, nibbling and laving at the long column of skin exposed by neckline of her blouse. The sensation made her sag against him, and he growled in approval, her body flush with his; she reveled in feeling every prominent inch, every hard contour of his form. Soon, he trailed his hands around her body and cupped a breast. He was using psyonic energy to set her nerves ablaze and she moaned. Her hands cradled his head against her neck, where he began to lightly bite the mark he'd made years ago. Battling against her quick breaths, she finally pulled him away far enough for him to meet her gaze. "You heard the doctor; no strenuous activity." Nyota let out a controlled sigh to attempt to steady her breaths. "If we have to be abstinent for the rest of my pregnancy, you are only making things worse for the both of us."

A devil of a smirk she'd never seen before curved his lips and filled his eyes with mirth and mischief. Spock's hands cupped her cheeks, weary of her psy-points, and he kissed her deeply. He stepped back to hold her gaze and then slide the material of her blouse over her head, and down her arms. He made short work of her bra, after.

When she stood bare before him, his forehead rested against hers, as his eyes continued to appraise her body. Slowly, his hands came to caress the hard planes of her clavicles and her skin prickled at the touch. "Do not worry, k'diwa," he began, "I will ascertain that you do not undergo any strenuous activity." After a full kiss on the mouth, he continued. "I want to show you how perfect you are-."

"-Perfection is illogical, adun."

"Nothing about you ever has been. You are always a matter governed entirely by my heart." He kissed her again, this time, gently lying her down on the bed. "You are a wonderous being, S'chn T'gai Nyota. A goddess in your beauty, a warrior in your strength, a saint in your kindness," he gently removed her skirt and then began working at divesting himself of his own clothing. "You have never held so much power over me as you do now, as the mother of my child." Spock's hands trailed soothing circles over the butterflies dancing in her stomach, then gently slipped her underwear down her legs. When his weight settled above her, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Let me show you extent of my adoration for you, my love." Nyota could feel her heart churning with emotion and the sensation was distorting her face, her eyebrows were curled up, her eyes were watering, her lips were slightly turned down, and quivering, but she could feel the happiness from his gaze. His soft hand wiped another errant tear from the corner of her eye; she placed her forehead against his cheek and nodded, a smile bursting onto her countenance. Slowly, he brushed her hair behind her ear, and placed her right hand in his, curling her knuckles against his lips before sliding their index and middle fingers together.

Spock's eyes never wandered from her's, as he fully lowered himself on to her, and the feeling of his anticipation to their coupling through their ozh'esta had her more than aroused. His right hand approached her temple and she moaned. He spoke the ritual words against her lips, drinking in her audible pleasure. "My mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts."

They cried out in unison as everything he was, was pushed inside of her, the heady weight of his body on her frame, the fulfilling stretch of his lok in her core, and the pleasurable pressure of his psyche mingled with hers. The pace he set was slow, and titillating; he was going to make sure her body was worshiped, tonight. The positioning of his pubic bone ground against the delicate nub of nerves at her center. It was frustrating, maddening. She pulled at the firm globes of his behind, tried lifting her hips to meet his at a faster pace, but his resolve prevailed. Nyota growled, and she heard a chuckle rise up his throat, but the tempo dragged on. "Patience, k'diwa," he whispered through a smile.

Irked, she tore her mouth from his. He could feel the ire building inside her through their bond, so he stilled his motions to meet her eyes with concern."If you don't make me come right now, I swear to you that I won't make love to you again until after this baby is born." Her voice was commanding in its challenge—and in Standard, nonetheless. She had never been so forward or demanding of him before. Maybe it was her raging hormones doing the talking? Spock resumed his agonizing pace and she vocalized his name in warning. Suddenly, his mouth moved to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and she tensed, sensing what he was about to do next.

When his blunt teeth bit hard against her flesh, she finally felt the stimulation she needed to push her over the edge. Her body had its own will as she crested; her hips convulsed, forcing her back to arch her body flush against his, her toes curled and flexed, and sensation exploded across their bond. Her muscles contracted around his body, desperately trying to pull him in farther and her eyes glazed over as she cried his name.

Nyota had just started to boil water for tea when her door chimed. When she answered, there he was, a man that she knew still existed in her reality. He was exactly the same as she remembered him; his studious posture, aged face, peppered hair, and knowing eyes.

"Ambassador, please, come in." An emotional relief welled in her stomach.

"Lieutenant Uhura," He bowed, as she ushered him in.

She chuckled as she closed the door behind them. "I have long surpassed the rank of lieutenant, and I would rather do away with formalities. Please, call me Nyota." Ambassador Spock smiled in that secret way she had only been able to detect with years of familiarity. It sent an ache through her heart, and she stared into his eyes with errant reminiscence. When she realized what she was doing, she simply cleared her throat and offered him some tea, which he kindly accepted.

When they were both seated at the table, he spoke. "Please, tell me more of your situation. You were only able to divulge so little on the subspace communications."

Nyota nodded, and solemnly began. "We were married for five years, just after the Khan incident." She paused for a moment, and he nodded for her to continue. "We were serving our fifth year aboard the Enterprise when we were attacked. Spock ejected my escape pod, and self-destructed the ship to propel me away form the red matter. But I was sucked into the singularity anyway." She paused for a moment, holding back a quivered sigh. "Where I'm from, the stardate is 2264."

"And you have not yet succumbed to tel-has-mar?" He asked quietly.

"No." Nyota felt tears start to swell in her vision. "There have been some close calls, but... not yet, at least."

"You seem to be faring well, considering-"

"-I'm pregnant, Ambassador." With her admission, she felt a relief off her chest, but she grew anxious in the silence that stretched before them. She hesitantly looked up to meet his gaze. If she didn't know better, she would think that he was just looking at her with curiosity. But she did know better, and the awe and bewilderment was so open to her. "I can't tell him. He can't know." At this, the elder Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "I don't know this Spock. And regardless of the fact that I'm in an alternate universe where he's still alive, I'm grieving the loss of my husband, suffering the loss of my bond, and worried about my unborn child."

Ambassador Spock gave a silent nod in resolution. "Then let us not delay your healing any further." Nyota nodded, and wiped her tears away.

They moved over to the living room, and sat in the traditional meditative posture, legs crossed and back straight. "Please," the Ambassador began as Nyota reached to light the asenoi, "Allow me." Nyota gave a small smile and rested back into the proper position. After a few deep breaths, he asked if she was ready. When she gave him her answer, she heard the familiar words, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts," and felt the weight of his aged hand resting against her psy-points.

She cried out at the sensation, sobbing in relief. It was nothing like the intensity of her marriage bond. No. Nothing could ever compare to that. But this was so relieving... she felt instantly exhausted; like she'd been fighting so hard to stay strong without Spock, and now... Her body felt taxed, depleted now that she finally seemed to catch some rest. While relishing in the mind meld, she felt her body slump against the ambassador. Instantly, she felt embarassed.

/Be at ease, Nyota./ His quiet voice flitted through her mind and she relaxed again. /If you are able, please show me the pap'il'ay./ Nyota steeled herself at his request, but led him down a corridor in her mind. They turned to a door on the end. It was an antique door—the old wooden kind with a golden nob—but the wood was burned, scorched in areas, and splintering. Ashes seemed to be flaking off and blowing away like snow in an invisible wind.

The ambassador was very careful and considerate to not let his being broadcast through the bond, shielding his emotions from her. But as she turned to open the door and guide him into the most horrific memory in her life, she could feel a slight hesitation. Nyota couldn't imagine what this must be like for him. What all could he feel from the bond? Would he be able to divine Spock's own thoughts, ones he had shielded from her? How damaging would it be to feel yourself dying?

He broke her train of thought with a wave of his acceptance, not unlike the feeling she last received from her husband. /Kaiidth,/ he told her. She softened at the familiar phrase, feeling the other Surakian proverbs that he was thinking. The spear in the other's heart, is the spear in your own... Offer them peace, then you will have peace... The ambassador's thought pattern was certainly different from her Spock's. His was more proverbial, a nod to his extensive training in kolinahr and study of Surak. Her husband's were a little more carefree, yet still retaining his logic. The feeling of the ambassador passing through the doorway brought her out of her reverie, and suddenly—Fire.

-It seemed to be over as soon as it began, yet lasting an eternity all the same. The familiar surroundings of her quarters appeared through blurred vision. She was hyperventilating—crying freely, doubled over, and latched onto the form across from her. Gentle hands held her shoulders, but she could feel them shaking as well. Nyota tried to calm herself down, slowing the hiccups, and in the silence, could hear him softly weeping.

"I'm so sorry," Nyota choked out, standing and stepping away from him to grab some tissues and offer them to the elder man before her. She had never seen Spock so emotionally broken.

He sat there another moment, struggling to compose himself. "Emotional transference is an effect of the mind meld," he announced. When he stood to his full height, he looked at her with such sincerity. "It is I who am truly sorry. I grieve with thee, Nyota." He brought her in for a brief hug, and made his way to the entrance, stating his need for private meditation and noting the late hour. He informed her that such therapy would most likely need to be repeated and gladly offered his services for whenever she had need of them. Nyota thanked him repeatedly, and gave him the consolation that she was already starting to feel better. At her door, he raised his hand in the ta'al, and bid her "goodnight", parting words that she had never heard him speak before while giving the traditional salute—the sentiment made her smile. She returned his gesture, and the door closed quietly behind him. Nyota turned back to the emptiness of the room, already missing his presence. She walked over to the still-lit fire pot and silently sank to the floor, still feeling the hollowness of her tel-has-mar, but a little less-so than before.