Mischief (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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cjs_own2009-10-17 08:31 pm
katydidmischief) wrote in cjs_own2009-10-17 08:31 pm
Fic: Make Myself Believe, 2/4. Kirk/Spock.
disclaimer. Not mine. Never have been and I'll only ever be playing in the sandbox.
title. Make Myself Believe
rating. PG-13 for Content
Pairing. Kirk/Spock, past-relationship.
summary. Ten thousand things in the universe to fear, dozens of battles and attacks he'd survived, and Jim could not bear to look at his own son with the pale hint of green on his skin, the points on his delicate ears.
warnings. WIP, mpreg, angst.
notes. Written for this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
st_xi_kink.
By the time Jim gave birth, Spock had returned to the Vulcan Colony, still none the wiser as to his role in the life of his former partner's child. They had not spoken since that night three weeks earlier, hadn't even said goodbye when Spock had departed Enterprise for the wife his father had picked out and a home he'd never before stepped foot in.
It'd eaten away quietly at Jim's resolve, that time alone, until his heart twisted at the mere thought of holding the babe; when the child was pulled from his body, he'd been unable to dismiss that anxious feeling even as Bones had looked expectantly at him, waiting for the permission to flop the wailing infant onto Jim's chest that never came. McCoy had quickly reassured him that he'd expected Jim to experience Post-Partum Depression as his body dealt with the leftover hormones, but the look on the man's face as he'd spoken had been one of disappointment.
Time went on, the first few days passing in a haze as Jim re-acclimated to working full shifts on the Bridge and learned that yes, he could sleep on his stomach once more, but the depression never lessened; Jim left the infant he had yet to name in Medical with McCoy and avoided all contact, ignored calls to please come talk to him at least – he's looking for his father, Jim.
Uhura tried to talk him, Sulu. Scotty offered booze in an attempt to give Jim some courage and confusion before walking him by sickbay's doors, only to watch Jim flee when they slid open.
Ten thousand things in the universe to fear, dozens of battles and attacks he'd survived, and Jim could not bear to look at his own son with the pale hint of green on his skin, the points on his delicate ears.
;;
It was McCoy who started the ruckus over the baby having a name, telling Jim over lunch, “We can't keep calling him 'The Baby' or 'Jim's son' – it's not fair to him.”
Uhura had joined in a moment later; she was gentler, knowing that even though two months had gone by, Jim still suffered with his depression, struggling everyday with it. Her sister had dealt with Post-Partum, had spent close to a year getting past what everyone had called the baby blues despite her pleas for help because a mother shouldn't want to smother their child so they'll be quiet, Nyota!. But as soothing and helpful as she wanted to be, she knew more that the babe needed advocates while Jim was unable to parent, and damn if she wasn't going to take up that mantle with pride.
“Maybe after your father?” she tried, pushing Jim's plate toward him with a nod, silently telling him that three bites was not nearly enough to sustain him through his shift.
“No,” Kirk answered. He pushed a spoon of reconstituted potatoes into his mouth and swallowed, barely tasting the fake butter the kitchen staff had ladled over it, and muttered, “Call him Grayson. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm due on the Bridge.”
Then he was gone and the two looked at each other, sighing; they'd privately agreed, standing over the seemingly permanently affixed bassinet in Medical Bay where the infant was kept, the night before, that if Jim continued to avoid his child then the next step was to somehow alert Spock that his inability to trust Jim, to not assume Kirk was sleeping around during their relationship, had resulted in some rather upsetting circumstances.
“I can't be involved in the call. I don't want to know what you tell him and it's completely off the record when you do it,” Bones told her, dropping his utensil to the tray with a thunk. “Just... if there's some medical reason he's rejecting the kid, drop a hint so I know what I should do before Jim goes off the fucking deep end.”
She nodded with eyes closed, heart twisting as she began steeling herself for the call she would inevitably have to make. It was not fair of either Spock or Jim to have put her in this position and for a moment, she hated them both – they created the child, together, and it should be their problem to decide the infant's name, where he would grow up, what he would learn. Instead it was herself and McCoy stuck between a rock and hard place as they attempted to rectify the completely heartbreaking situation.
Still, her heart sang with some bitterness over it all, wishing like hell she'd given Spock the verbal reaming she'd wanted to at the start.
;;
When Uhura turned up a few hours later in Medical, ashen faced and shaken, Bones immediately feared the worst - it took a lot to make the woman look as she did at that moment.
Closing the wound in Scotty's thigh as quickly as he could and directing Chapel to tend to the squalling infant that was currently housed in his office; he had few options as to where to talk to Nyota in private, the best and fastest option being one of the private IC rooms. He could lock it easily, tell Christine to interrupt him only if absolutely needed, and find out precisely what the Vulcan had told her.
He quickly directed her toward a room, ushering Scotty along with them when he said, in a whisper, "He's my friend too, doc," and then closed them in with a monotone recitation of his command code. The lock snicked audibly shut, the room plunged into solitude and the sound of their breathing the only noise.
"What happened?" Bones demanded after a second had passed.
God, but his mind, always pessimistic, danced with worry - had Spock injured himself? Had there been some sort of irreparable injury? Worse, had he died of something? Illness, accident, Pon Farr? And the longer her lips remained pursed in a sharp white line, the more convinced he became that they were going to have to deal with something so horrifying, he couldn't describe it.
"I couldn't talk with Spock. He was preparing..." she murmured, strengthening herself to explain in a sharper tone, "Spock's betrothed told me he would be unreachable until next week but that we're invited to the wedding the week after that."
"Wedding? That bastard's completely abandoned Jim and run off the fucking ship to get married?" Bones' face went red with anger; the bastard had discussed with him the ability of Human minds to handle psychic bonds just a few weeks before he'd broken up with Kirk, and now it was like a one-eighty. From wanting to bond, to break up, to marriage and like so many times before, Jim had gotten the short end of the stick as he remained on the Enterprise trying to cling to his ship to keep him sane.
He growled as he said, "Well, best not cause a ruckus by not making an appearance at the nuptials."
Scotty looked at him oddly. "After what tha' arse has done?"
McCoy's eyebrow went up in a conspiratorial manner, the corner of his lips quirking upwards in a bitter half-smile, and he added, "You didn't let me finish - Nyota, think you can get us a nice, comfortable suit fit for the son of Jim Kirk?"
In reply she smirked, nodding, and twined her arms across her chest. "If I can't, Janice will."
title. Make Myself Believe
rating. PG-13 for Content
Pairing. Kirk/Spock, past-relationship.
summary. Ten thousand things in the universe to fear, dozens of battles and attacks he'd survived, and Jim could not bear to look at his own son with the pale hint of green on his skin, the points on his delicate ears.
warnings. WIP, mpreg, angst.
notes. Written for this prompt at
st_xi_kink.Chapter One
Chapter Two
By the time Jim gave birth, Spock had returned to the Vulcan Colony, still none the wiser as to his role in the life of his former partner's child. They had not spoken since that night three weeks earlier, hadn't even said goodbye when Spock had departed Enterprise for the wife his father had picked out and a home he'd never before stepped foot in.
It'd eaten away quietly at Jim's resolve, that time alone, until his heart twisted at the mere thought of holding the babe; when the child was pulled from his body, he'd been unable to dismiss that anxious feeling even as Bones had looked expectantly at him, waiting for the permission to flop the wailing infant onto Jim's chest that never came. McCoy had quickly reassured him that he'd expected Jim to experience Post-Partum Depression as his body dealt with the leftover hormones, but the look on the man's face as he'd spoken had been one of disappointment.
Time went on, the first few days passing in a haze as Jim re-acclimated to working full shifts on the Bridge and learned that yes, he could sleep on his stomach once more, but the depression never lessened; Jim left the infant he had yet to name in Medical with McCoy and avoided all contact, ignored calls to please come talk to him at least – he's looking for his father, Jim.
Uhura tried to talk him, Sulu. Scotty offered booze in an attempt to give Jim some courage and confusion before walking him by sickbay's doors, only to watch Jim flee when they slid open.
Ten thousand things in the universe to fear, dozens of battles and attacks he'd survived, and Jim could not bear to look at his own son with the pale hint of green on his skin, the points on his delicate ears.
;;
It was McCoy who started the ruckus over the baby having a name, telling Jim over lunch, “We can't keep calling him 'The Baby' or 'Jim's son' – it's not fair to him.”
Uhura had joined in a moment later; she was gentler, knowing that even though two months had gone by, Jim still suffered with his depression, struggling everyday with it. Her sister had dealt with Post-Partum, had spent close to a year getting past what everyone had called the baby blues despite her pleas for help because a mother shouldn't want to smother their child so they'll be quiet, Nyota!. But as soothing and helpful as she wanted to be, she knew more that the babe needed advocates while Jim was unable to parent, and damn if she wasn't going to take up that mantle with pride.
“Maybe after your father?” she tried, pushing Jim's plate toward him with a nod, silently telling him that three bites was not nearly enough to sustain him through his shift.
“No,” Kirk answered. He pushed a spoon of reconstituted potatoes into his mouth and swallowed, barely tasting the fake butter the kitchen staff had ladled over it, and muttered, “Call him Grayson. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm due on the Bridge.”
Then he was gone and the two looked at each other, sighing; they'd privately agreed, standing over the seemingly permanently affixed bassinet in Medical Bay where the infant was kept, the night before, that if Jim continued to avoid his child then the next step was to somehow alert Spock that his inability to trust Jim, to not assume Kirk was sleeping around during their relationship, had resulted in some rather upsetting circumstances.
“I can't be involved in the call. I don't want to know what you tell him and it's completely off the record when you do it,” Bones told her, dropping his utensil to the tray with a thunk. “Just... if there's some medical reason he's rejecting the kid, drop a hint so I know what I should do before Jim goes off the fucking deep end.”
She nodded with eyes closed, heart twisting as she began steeling herself for the call she would inevitably have to make. It was not fair of either Spock or Jim to have put her in this position and for a moment, she hated them both – they created the child, together, and it should be their problem to decide the infant's name, where he would grow up, what he would learn. Instead it was herself and McCoy stuck between a rock and hard place as they attempted to rectify the completely heartbreaking situation.
Still, her heart sang with some bitterness over it all, wishing like hell she'd given Spock the verbal reaming she'd wanted to at the start.
;;
When Uhura turned up a few hours later in Medical, ashen faced and shaken, Bones immediately feared the worst - it took a lot to make the woman look as she did at that moment.
Closing the wound in Scotty's thigh as quickly as he could and directing Chapel to tend to the squalling infant that was currently housed in his office; he had few options as to where to talk to Nyota in private, the best and fastest option being one of the private IC rooms. He could lock it easily, tell Christine to interrupt him only if absolutely needed, and find out precisely what the Vulcan had told her.
He quickly directed her toward a room, ushering Scotty along with them when he said, in a whisper, "He's my friend too, doc," and then closed them in with a monotone recitation of his command code. The lock snicked audibly shut, the room plunged into solitude and the sound of their breathing the only noise.
"What happened?" Bones demanded after a second had passed.
God, but his mind, always pessimistic, danced with worry - had Spock injured himself? Had there been some sort of irreparable injury? Worse, had he died of something? Illness, accident, Pon Farr? And the longer her lips remained pursed in a sharp white line, the more convinced he became that they were going to have to deal with something so horrifying, he couldn't describe it.
"I couldn't talk with Spock. He was preparing..." she murmured, strengthening herself to explain in a sharper tone, "Spock's betrothed told me he would be unreachable until next week but that we're invited to the wedding the week after that."
"Wedding? That bastard's completely abandoned Jim and run off the fucking ship to get married?" Bones' face went red with anger; the bastard had discussed with him the ability of Human minds to handle psychic bonds just a few weeks before he'd broken up with Kirk, and now it was like a one-eighty. From wanting to bond, to break up, to marriage and like so many times before, Jim had gotten the short end of the stick as he remained on the Enterprise trying to cling to his ship to keep him sane.
He growled as he said, "Well, best not cause a ruckus by not making an appearance at the nuptials."
Scotty looked at him oddly. "After what tha' arse has done?"
McCoy's eyebrow went up in a conspiratorial manner, the corner of his lips quirking upwards in a bitter half-smile, and he added, "You didn't let me finish - Nyota, think you can get us a nice, comfortable suit fit for the son of Jim Kirk?"
In reply she smirked, nodding, and twined her arms across her chest. "If I can't, Janice will."