She yawns and sighs once again. It's the fifteenth time this morning and that has him worried.

There's a virulent strain of the Kamaraazite flu making its rounds around the ship. It mirrors its Terran counterparts with the exception of its particularly violent sneezes. A few members of the bridge crew across the shifts who have reported to McCoy with these symptoms and with bloodied tissues up their noses, have tested positive for the pestilence.

So now he watches her while trying to look like he's not doing so because she says she feels his eyes and he's being irrational and annoying. Spock thinks she's being cranky but cannot tell her so. Doing so would only make her condition ( and mood) worse. He does not need logic to know where such action will lead.

Instead he comes back to her station, just in time to see the sixteenth yawn, with a large mug of chai tea in hand. He finds it strange that she's already sniffing at the air before he's even five feet from her. She turns in her chair and squeals in delight. "Oh my God, thank you sooo much! Mmm."

She inhales at the steam and sighs in relief. After the first sip she appears much more cheerful. He remains satisfied with this development until he feels a sharp twinge of sadness emitting from the corner of his mind. But he wasn't sad.

He peers towards her station to further research the possible source of this feeling. He's answered by the sight of his bondmate crying into her mug. She's so silent that he hadn't realised she had been doing so.

Spock makes his way over, using his body to block the rest of the bridge crew from view. "Nyota are you well?"

"I miss my mom," she sniffs tearfully.

His face pales, anxious as to her reason for the sudden distress over her mother. A quick glance over his shoulder lets him know that no one has seen her crying and for the sake of her (and his) privacy he wishes to keep it that way as much as possible.

He reaches beneath her station's console and retrieves a tissue. He extends it towards her face and she wordlessly allows him to dab her face with the soft towelette.

"Come with me."

She nods at him with a weepy expression and the pair of them start towards the turbolift. Spock shifts her further over to his side and signals the Captain with a pointed stare in his direction. "Captain, I wish to escort the Lieutenant Commander to the medical bay."

Kirk makes a face of concern that rivals his own as he readily agrees. "By all means. Report back on her condition as soon as you know anything."

Spock says of course as he hurries her onto the turbolift. He notes Nyota's surprise from where he touches her wrist as he requests deck two. She turns to study his face knowing full well she won't find anything there to tell her why they're going to the cabin. " Spock?"

" Just a moment." he says gently. As the lift comes to a stop, Spock leads Nyota forward with a soft touch at her elbow. She goes willing and doesn't stop until they reach their quarters and step inside.

" Why are we here?"

" I would request that you do something for me."

" Really? What? Not drink that nasty tea that suppose to prevent that flu?" she said, pulling a face of disgust.

The whites of her eyes are pink from tearing. She's always had thoughtful eyes in Spock's opinion. Big and bright he always settled his gaze their to admire them. They look back at him now as her mind tried to conclude his reasoning for coming here. If he were to concentrate his focus hard enough he would probably be able to hear her thoughts. As it was, he could deduce some of what she was thinking through her expression.

Vulcans do not lie….in practice and Spock had always labored to work under this tenant. He had told Kirk they were going to the medbay and she can still feel his intent to do so. So why the additional stop?

He left her standing there and in the foyer and went to their bedroom. A quick turn to the right had him in the bathroom and a short stoop down had him at eye level with the room's cabinetry. When he returned, Nyota had moved to face the bathroom, looking more puzzled as to what he could want. When he raised his hand with a small, white box Nyota froze in place.

She took it into both her hands as he extended it towards her. She stared down, wide-eyed and slack down as she turned it over. " A pregnancy test?"

She was smiling without her meaning to. Surprised joy bubbled over from her through their bond as Spock beheld her beaming face. " Yes. Would you?"

Nyota glanced down at the box and back towards his face with a skeptical look. " Do you really think there's a chance that I'm pregnant."

He nodded and stepped closer. " I would not ask if I did not believe otherwise. The test would also rule out the possibility that you are ill with something more nefarious."

The nervous look on her face fell away as she broke out into a loud, whimsical laugh. " Spock! A baby isn't a disease!"

" Please take the test." he urged, gesturing towards the bathroom. He did not comment that he, of course, knew that their child was not a virulent strain of something terrible. It was obvious. He did, however, need an examination for her current condition.

Nyota moved towards the bathroom and shook her head still laughing. Spock took a seat on the edge of their bed and prepared himself to sit vigil.

He tried to give her privacy but that was easier said than done. He could not help that he had hearing well enough to hear the rip of the thin cardboard or her urinating into the bowl of the toilet from the otherside of the door.

Spock reached out within their shared link and frowned. She felt distant, as if their bond had been stuffed with cotton and he could not hear or feel around it. He thought to probe further but thought better of it. If Nyota was obscured as she was, then she was seeking complete privacy.

He sought to calm his mind but found that useless. Endless probabilities strung themselves out before him in an anxiety-birthing jumble. He felt his mouth dry as his thoughts continued to pummel his emotions.

With their differing biologies would the test prove effective? What if she was greeted with a false positive? A false negative? Perhaps-

The door slid open and had he snapping his head up to observe it. Nyota stood silent in the doorway. Her face was just as smooth and muted as it was on the morning she learned of her menstration.

He bolted to his feet though he made no move towards her. He was waiting, needing to know how to approach her. Always in love but in joy or sadness? He couldn't tell. Her face was one that any Vulcan would have admired for its soft serenity. Spock wouldn't have been among their count at present. Her black expression terrified and irritated him. What? He need to know.

Her mouth took pity on him and trembled open. It twitched between a flat line and a shy smile as she drew the test up to chest level. " I can't be for certain until we get to the med bay but I think...I think I'm pregnant."

The last words come out between smiling lips and his hands as he rushed over to cup her face. He rested his forehead against her and drowns them in his elation. What good would words do in this moment anyways. They would remember what each of them said certainly but it will be the emotion of the news that they would treasure this day.

His bondmate cried and laughed between his hands and it was the most beautiful experience he can think of witnessing. She was overjoyed, as human would say. A fraught emotional state where they body expressed a number of emotional cues at once.

" A baby!" she sobbed, happily. " We have a baby!"

She yanked one of his hand from her face, jarring him, and settled it on her flat abdomen. Spock caressed its skin in turn, amazed that Nyota would be so happy over the biological occurrence. There was no other word for it. His wife is dizzy with it and her love for him. " Spock!" she grinned. "A baby!"

She repeated as if he hadn't heard it but he appreciated it. Relief was still rolling over him and making its exit out of his system. There was a part of him that still desired further confirmation and assessment but another, larger more deeply bedded lump of him that thrilled at the words.

A baby. Their baby. Their family.