This fic is very typically kind of shaped around the plot. It's been done before for this fandom, but it's not a happy fluffy-bunny story. Especially not at the beginning. Even the children are slightly odd, and not particularly cutesy. I've also made up a lot that isn't canon. In this fic Vulcan's never, or at least very rarely have twins.

I've read a few fics where one person (usually Jim Kirk) is scorned and abandoned by the rest of the crew, because of a screw up with his current relationship (usually with Spock). I wanted to play, too. But my story is rather unforgiving.

This is standard trashy-novel material. Done for fun. It's not crack, but it gets cracky in places and as I already said it's not very faithful to canon terminology either, so please bear that in mind so you won't be too disappointed. I've also changed a lot of Vulcan physiology for the sake of making the Mpreg work. A few people will appear OOC here, it's all very much a "what if...", but with the extra "...the character also happened to be..." Still, relax and enjoy.

Oh, and I couldn't do Chekov's accent. It was just too stressful, sorry guys. He fazes it out a little as this goes on, anyway.

Summary: After the end of a second disastrous relationship, Chekov can't help but notice that it's him whom always gets screwed over. Mpreg fic. Chekov/Spock mpreg, Spock/Uhura, Chekov/OC previous mentions of McCoy/Chekov.

PROLOGUE:

Pasha felt sick. It had only been three weeks since he'd arrived back on Earth, and already he'd had an offer to serve aboard another ship. He wasn't sure if he could do it. He had no intention of letting his career diminish, but the thought of sitting behind a different set of controls, being ordered by anyone other than Spock and Kirk, sitting next to anyone other than Hikaru, was right now more than he could stand.

The headaches were the same as ever, and he'd nearly fainted twice since the last time. The nausea was constant, and Pasha supposed that being so depressed recently had lowered his immune system and made him susceptible to a bug going round. Except, infuriatingly, he was not only being sick a lot, but he was often hungry, too.

The doctor was a woman, a Dr. Edwards, and Pasha felt a little embarrassed as he tried to explain what he thought might be the problem.

She smiled at him gently, the first positive gesture he'd had from anyone in about a month, and he tried not to burst into tears. She must have noticed this, "You say you've been fired, recently?" she said, maintaining eye contact.

Pasha nodded, not trusting himself not to sob if he opened his mouth.

"And you weren't ready for it, were you?"

He shook his head, biting his lip hard.

"You seem a little overemotional as well. It's understandable given the circumstances, but how would you say your outward emotions have been? Sad? Hysterical? Or are you usually calm?"

To his horror, a predicted loud, choked sound emitted from his throat as he tried to answer her. He clapped a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut as tears ran over his cheeks and fingers.

The doctor smiled again, gently, "Now that's alright, you're clearly under stress."

Pasha sniffed and removed his hand, "I-I suppose I haven't really thought about my behaviour, just how I feel. I... I have been a bit hysterical, yes."

"It doesn't sound like a bug, more like nerves, but I'm going to have a proper look at you, anyway," she said, standing, "If you'd just like to sit yourself up on the bed here and remove your shirt?"

Pasha did as he was requested, wondering why he felt so embarrassed. Even when Dr. McCoy had examined him, he'd been unabashed at removing his shirt, and he'd actually had a crush on the man, once. He wondered if he should suck in his stomach and tense his muscles, but then figured that, as his doctor, Edwards really needed to know exactly what was going on with his physique.

Dr. Edwards was facing her desk, and she turned back to him as she pulled on her old-fashioned stethoscope with one hand and programmed a scanner with the other.

"Always preferred using these," she said, tugging on the stethoscope gently, "I don't feel like a real doctor unless I'm wearing one."

Pasha smiled and felt himself relax a bit. He sat up a little straighter.

"Hmm, now these look a little sore." Dr. Edwards gently brushed a thumb against Pasha's right nipple, and then looked up at him. "Or are they usually that colour?"

Pasha craned his neck to look down at his chest properly, "They... they do look a bit pinker." He felt himself blush harshly, remembering the dull throb he'd had in his left pectoral a few days previously.

Gently, she pressed them both with her thumbs, "Sore?" she asked.

"The left is, a little bit. It was aching the other day, actually."

The doctor frowned slightly, "Hmm, well let's get down to business." She placed the stethoscope over his heart and instructed him to breathe deeply at random intervals. "Heart rate's quite fast."

She retrieved the scanner from the table next to the bed, "Lie down, please Mr. Chekov."

Pasha rested his head on the scratchy material of the pillow and allowed the doctor to push his limbs to wherever she needed them. As the scanner was waved up and down above the surface of his body, he found himself thinking back to about five months ago.

Reviews are love, hope people enjoy this!