TimeSkip: Part the Eleventh

Of course, keeping the fact that she was pregnant was easier said than done.  After undergoing several tests, including a rape test that was complete embarrassing and which created more questions than anything, Bella was allowed to go home.

Bella couldn’t figure out if it was a good or a bad thing that Dr. Cullen replaced her original doctor and with the permission of Charlie, became her primary care.

“There is an unknown substance in your vaginal tract,” he informed her and her father carefully.  “We cannot identify it.”

Frankly, Bella felt raped by the entire situation.

She was curled up in her bed at home—or what was home here on Earth—crying, when she felt the bond furl to life and a familiar presence sit down on her bed beside her.  Looking up, she took in the unfathomable eyes of Spock.

“Am I dreaming, adun’a?” he asked, glancing around.  “Is this your planet?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice shaking, and she pulled herself into his arms.  His hands tangled in her hair and then he was kissing her desperately.  Putting all of her emotions into the tangle of her tongue, she didn’t hesitate when his lips traveled down her neck and he kissed her bare shoulder.

“You are so beautiful, ashayam,” he whispered against her skin and she sobbed. 

He pulled away, perhaps sensing her confusion and pain and asked, “What is wrong?”  His thumb ran down her tear tract, a gentle caress that spoke of years instead of mere weeks together.

“I’m pregnant,” she told him.  “Somehow Dr. McCoy’s birth control acted as some form of hormone booster.”

Spock’s brows furrowed and it was clear he was thinking.  It was only then she noticed he was wearing his blue uniform.  “That explains much,” he finally whispered.  “All is well, adun’a,” he promised.  “You gave birth on the Enterprise, three years ago, and our child is well and living on New Vulcan with my father and his wife, Perrin.”

She looked at him in absolute shock.  “You knew about the baby,” she practically seethed.  “Spock, I am seventeen!”

“Are you?” he wondered.  “I knew not.  You never told me when you gave birth.  I also did not know at the time I believe the child was conceived.  It was a shock when you originally informed me.”

“So, the child is safe,” she murmured, and he pressed his hand under her camisole against her stomach.

“The baby is healthy.  I understand that you need to consume less iron than is suggested.  You—you later told me you refused all medical scans or care so as to preserve our daughter’s physiology and uphold the Prime Directive.”

“I think,” Bella responded carefully, “that I was more worried of my child ending up in a government lab.”

“That does not occur,” he reassured her, kissing her nose.  “Our child brings great joy, adun’a, I assure you.  I would take you away to the stars if I could—but I didn’t even realize you could bring me to your planet.”

“What’s her name?” Bella asked, desperate to grasp onto the worlds that lay beyond her own solar system.

Spock paused, clearly indecisive.  “T’Mana,” he eventually shared, “for my mother, the Lady Amanda.”

It was a strange name, but this child would not be of Earth, would never be of Earth or her peoples.  Reaching up and clinging to him she pressed her forehead against his, sniffling slightly.  “Everyone believes I was raped—I’ve told them I wasn’t—but no one believes me because I went missing the last two times I saw you, and returned in the woods in the middle of a thunderstorm.”

“Let me take away your pain,” he murmured against her lips.  “Adun’a, we will see each other soon, I know it.”

She didn’t allow herself to think as he slowly stripped her of her camisole and bloomers, pulling his uniform shirt and regulation undershirt over his head.  She breathed in deeply as she took in his pale chest, completely smooth, and she ran her hands up from his stomach to his clavicle. 

Bella didn’t have time to react because he was kissing her deeply, his own fingers tickling the side of her breast as he ground against her, still wearing his boots and his uniform pants.  She threw her head back, swallowing a gasp because she knew Charlie was in the next room.

Spock’s desperation filled her mind, his lust rising, his love everlasting, his lips sucking on her pulse point, which she knew was singular to humans.  Not even Terrans had a pulsepoint in their neck, she had learnt one day when she was speaking to the twelve-year-old Spock.  He had been fascinated with the idea and had timed her heartrate with a childlike wonder.

Clearly Spock had never gotten over the fascination with this peculiarity of her physiology.

He whispered dark promises in Vulcan against her skin, and even though she couldn’t understand, she felt the intent across the bond.

She couldn’t help but reach for him when he fell off of her to take off his boots and pants, and then she was in his arms again, straddling him, her chest pressed against his chest. 

“I’m glad love created T’Mana,” she admitted, “and not what they say.”  Her hair was falling over her breasts, and he pushed it behind her shoulders, his lips latching onto a breast and suckling at almost the same instant he entered her.  Biting her lip to hold in a moan, the same numbness encased her, and then she was riding him.

Their eyes held as they made love to each other for what seemed like hours, Spock rolling her onto her back and lying between her legs, Bella resting on her stomach as he kissed the line of her spine before taking her again. 

It was only when Spock heard Charlie move in the next room that he disengaged, leaving her still wanting despite the long night of being in each other’s arms, and when the door knob turned, he rolled to the opposite side of the bed and onto the floor, reminding her of a day in the rain so long ago, and Bella pulled her covers over her head, pretending to sleep.

They waited until they could hear Charlie treading down the stairs, and then Spock was crawling back into her bed, his hands entwining with hers in a Vulcan kiss.

She turned toward him, nestling against his chest, and fluttered into sleep, complete love and admiration humming in his mind.

When she woke up, Spock was gone.  Only his undershirt there, as if he had dressed quickly, feeling the pull back to the other side of the galaxy.

Flopping back onto her back, she turned off her alarm that was telling her it was time to get ready for school.

Her shower was absolutely decadent, and she was determined more than ever to introduce Spock to the joys of shower sex.

She dressed conservatively, layering several shirts, and wearing loose jeans. 

Charlie had gotten her an old Ford, that was more rust than paint, a dark blue, and she got in with her backpack and drove off to school, having forgotten breakfast.  Her vitamins, though, were fortunately in her school bag as she took them with every meal.

Everyone watched her silently, the whispers following her when her back was turned, and she was surprised when Edward Cullen who had returned to school after pleading ‘guilty’ and agreeing to 100 hours of community service, came up to her and whispered, “I saw that man in your room.”

“Spying through the window again?” she asked dangerously.  “You can’t tell anyone otherwise they’ll definitely lock you up this time.”

“I was worried about you,” he practically growled and then he went and bought her a piece of pizza, an apple, and milk even though she protested.  “I’m vegetarian,” she told him bitterly as she picked off the pepperoni.

“It’s not for you, it’s for the baby,” he told her flippantly.

“The baby is vegetarian,” she seethed back. 

“Oh my god,” Lauren gasped, clearly having heard.  “It’s true?  You’re pregnant?  Who’s the father?”

Bella felt like flipping the girl off, but didn’t.  She simply turned back to the pizza and tried not to feel revulsion at it.  She took a deep breath and took a bite, thinking that maybe the fake tomato paste might be vaguely nutritional. 

When Edward sat across from her, she told him quite firmly—“No.”

“Bella,” he wheedled, and she shook her head.

“You’re a total creeper.  Get out.”  She indicated the table where his siblings were sitting and definitely not eating.  “I don’t want your help, I don’t want your friendship, and I definitely don’t want your opinions.”

“Where did he go?” he whispered when he was directly beside her, having been making to walk away.  “He can’t face your father like a man.”

“Huh,” she remarked. 

“Will he still want you when you’re several months pregnant?  When you’re bloated with child?”

“You’re disgusting,” she returned, her eyes flashing up to him. 

“Who is he?” Edward demanded, his voice rising.  “Is he this ‘boyfriend’, this ‘husband’ you’ve been going on about since Tyler’s van almost hit you?”

“Stay away from me and stay away from my windows,” she seethed, her voice rising as well.

Everyone began to hush as they were standing in the middle of the cafeteria, glaring at each other, both a mystery to everyone, both the subject of gossip.

“Let me guess—his name is Spock, Son of Sarek, Son of Skonn.  What kind of names are those?  They’re positively barbaric.”

“You’re so pathetic, you can’t bear to see anyone remotely happy, anyone having a connection with another soul as you know that no one will ever want you.  I see your siblings.  All paired up.  Where’s the girl for you, Edward Cullen?  Can’t find one?  How long have you been looking?”

Clear shame etched itself on his face and he didn’t answer. 

“That’s what I thought,” she returned.  “Don’t presume to know me, don’t presume to know Spock, and don’t presume to know our child.”

“So you weren’t raped?”

She screamed in frustration and picked up her tray and threw it at him.  Of course, she missed.

They were both sent to the principle’s office.

“What is this?” he asked, as Bella sat in front of him, her hands neatly folded.

“Edward Cullen came to my window—again—last night and we were having an argument about it.”

“You have evidence?”

“Our conversation,” she returned with a shrug.  “I didn’t actually see him.  I tend to, you know, sleep and read in my bedroom, not stare out into the darkness.”

The principle looked her over and picked up his telephone, dialing the local police.  It wasn’t Charlie who showed up but the female officer.  She took Bella’s statement and then went to question Edward Cullen.

Charlie came and picked her up even though she was capable of driving home, but the principle held her even after Edward Cullen was taken back to the station.

“Right,” he told her, placing his hand on her shoulder.  “Cullen again?”

“I think he’s strangely jealous,” she admitted.

“I saw the report.  Edward claims your rapist came to your room last night—”  His brown eyes, so like hers, looked into her gaze.

“I was not alone,” she answered carefully. 

“That explains why you didn’t put away your clothes,” he groused, clearly irritated.  “You’re going to have to come clean and give us a name or a description.  I’d look into Edward Cullen first, but he had an alibi and you clearly have no problem reporting his bizarre nocturnal activities.”

The two got into the cruiser, everyone watching them, and she just held her backpack to her.

There really must be a solution to all of this, but what was she going to say?  She was abducted by aliens?  That would be something.  They would lock her up in a psych ward and pump her full of drugs.

She didn’t really like that option.

Breathing through her nose, she looked out the window.

The next few months passed in isolation, no one wanting to talk to the pregnant girl.  Bella spoke to no one in class, she ate her lunch alone, and took her vitamins.  She never took iron, not wanting to hurt her baby.

Of course, there was hell to pay when she had her first check up with Dr. Cullen and refused to be examined.

“I’m seventeen,” she returned, “I know my rights.  It’s my body, my baby, I don’t want you touching me, taking my blood, scanning me, nothing.”  Folding her arms, she brooded silently.

“We need to check up on the baby,” Dr. Cullen told her carefully.

“No,” she stated resolutely, not stating the reasons.  “This is an all natural pregnancy and birth.  No medicine.”

Dr. Cullen sighed and then released her. 

She didn’t tell Charlie anything that night, although he did ask when she was going to make something with meat.  Of course, the answer was ‘never’ but she’d let him figure that out. 

Every night she spent dreaming of Spock, feeling him moving deep within her, but she woke up alone, on earth, her stomach slowly getting larger.

When it came time for prom, she went and bought the dress she had tried on so many months before, or at least it seemed this way, after having made over $50,000 in betting off of the Mariners.  She frequented different bars and even went so far as driving to Oregon to place bets, not wanting to be caught.  A young pregnant teen, after all, was not so forgettable. 

“Are you sure, Bells?” Charlie asked as she walked down the stairs, the smallest of bumps at her belly.  “I know what kids are like.”

“I know,” she responded, putting on her jacket and had strangely accented the outfit with her Vulcan sandals.

She walked out of the door and got into the car, just breathing deeply.  Angling the mirror, she looked into her eyes and whispered, “I miss you, Baby.”  She knew that Spock couldn’t hear her, but when she closed her eyes, she felt the familiar shift.

The hum of a ship vibrated up her legs and she took in a deep breath, searching the bond within her mind.  Relief flooded over her as well as abject fear, and she screamed before she decided to open her mouth.

As her eyes flew open, she realized she was in the transporter bay.  Molecules flew in front of her eyes and then, after the longest moment of her life, Spock materialized in some strange armor. 

She heard the doors slide open behind her, and she didn’t even look behind her when she greeted, “I seem to have arrived again, Baby, when you need me most.”

Although his face was hidden behind the glass of his helmet, she nonetheless felt relief and a quirk of amusement.  “I do remember you had that particular talent on Vulcan, adun’a.”

“Mr. Spock!” the familiar voice of Jim Kirk called and she turned to see her old friend, somehow wearing a metallic wet suit.

Behind him was none other than Dr. McCoy, wearing the same suit.

“You,” she accused, pointing at him.  “Your birth control served as some sort of super pregnancy hormone.”

He blinked and stared at her, his eyes going immediately to her stomach, which was hidden by her raincoat.  “But it is suitable for Terrans.”

“I’m not Terran,” she reminded him, feeling Spock’s wonder press through her.  Turning, she looked at him in confusion.  “You don’t know.”

“Negative,” he responded, quickly undoing the metallic helmet and dropping it on the floor as if it were unimportant.  “I—”

“I saw you when I first found out.  You told me of our daughter, who already lives somewhere in my future and your past, on New Vulcan with Sarek.”

His eyes were filled with wonder and his metal-clad hand came up to cup her cheek.  “A daughter?” he breathed, completely full of awe.

“According to you,” she told him.  “I’m hiding her from my planet’s doctors.  I wouldn’t know how to explain a Vulcan baby.”

He rested his forehead against hers.  “The prime directive,” he murmured, knowledge passing between them.

“Your prime directive is my attempt at self-preservation,” she whispered, leaning up for a kiss, which was warm and full of promises for their uncertain future.

She fell into his touch, wishing she could strip him from his strange suit, but just caring that he was here, with her now. 

“Right,” McCoy griped.  “Off to Sickbay with you, Lady Isabella.  It sounds like you’re not receiving proper medical care—and I will scan you for the sake of the child.”

Bella sighed and followed the doctor out, waving to Jim in greeting, her mind telling Spock to follow as soon as he could.

“First we had an exploding volcano,” McCoy griped as they walked down the halls of the Enterprise, toward the turbolift.  “Now we have Vulcan babies to repopulate the race.”

“The purpose of my child,” she informed him, “is not to repopulate a race.”

“Course not.  I do understand this was an unplanned pregnancy.  You do realize you have been gone, as far as I know, for three years.”

She looked at him in shock.  “It’s been—about two months since I was last on the Enterprise,” she told him carefully.  “I really need to start studying time-space discrepencies.  I just want to graduate high school while I’m stuck on that godforsaken planet.”

McCoy nodded.  “Yes, well, soon you’ll be having another little life to look after.  I can tell you from experience, your whole life will change once you hold your son or daughter.”

She looked at him, understanding creasing her brow: “You’re a father.”

“Yes,” he agreed and the turbolift stopped at the correct floor and they walked off toward sickbay, Bella recognizing the way.  “Joanna.  She’s on Terra with her mother.”  His voice was disgruntled and Bella decided it was best not to pry.

“Is New Vulcan a good place for a child to grow up?” she asked quietly just before they entered sickbay.

“I wouldn’t know,” McCoy told her honestly.  “I’m sure you can speak to Spock about it.  You still have time to figure out what will happen to your child.”

She was immediately placed on a biobed, her coat taken from her so she was only wearing her prom dress, the slight swell in her stomach barely obvious.  McCoy started barking out orders and went into what seemed to be an office, only to come out less than two minutes later wearing a blue uniform, his hair still wet.

“Well, Missy,” he told her quite succinctly.  “This time, I’m taking blood, I’m doing a full scan, non-invasive, and we’ll see how your little Vulcan is doing.”

Bella tried to force herself to relax and lie back.  “Her name is T’Mana,” she informed him.  “T’Mana, Daughter of Spock, Son of Sarek.”

“She might be the wealthiest heiress in the galaxy,” McCoy commented as he somehow drew blood from a vein in her arm without her feeling anything.  “Huh.  Red blood.  Just like I remember.”

Choosing not to comment, Bella just allowed the sounds of Sickbay to surround her.  She was aware of Spock’s impatience to see her, his desire to reach her, his love for her, his love for their unborn child, and she was so lost in his emotions that she was startled out of her half-daze when his hand slipped into hers in a Vulcan kiss.

She looked up and smiled.  “What is this about a volcano, husband?”  Her voice was stern but she knew the twinkle in her eye was visible, if only to him.

“I was deactivating a volcano.  If it had erupted, it would have destroyed an entire species.”

“Can’t have that,” she agreed, drowsily.  “I’m sorry.  I’m a bit tired.”

“Pregnancy will do that to you,” McCoy explained.  “I haven’t looked up the file of Sarek of Vulcan and Lady Amanda, but I will review it in case it gives us any insights.”

“Never been pregnant,” she admitted to no one in particular.  “God, I’m a teen mother.  I’ve become a Lifetime movie.”

“You are nonsensical, adun’a,” Spock told her with evident fondness.  “If it brings you comfort, know that among our people, young women sometimes bear their first children when in their late teens or early twenties.”

“Sometimes,” she repeated. 

He leaned forward and kissed the back of her hand.  “I will explain further later.”

McCoy was hovering some machine over her womb, and Spock gasped.  Bella followed his eyes to see an image that was hovering in the air of what was obviously a fetus.  It was so tiny, barely perceptible, but it was her child, their baby.

“T’Mana,” she whispered, reaching out toward the image, her fingers lingering in the air just an inch from the sight of her child.

“Thank you,” Spock whispered in gratitude, and Bella knew that he was referring to the fact that she had just named their daughter after his late mother. 

“One quarter Vulcan,” McCoy told them, “one quarter Terran, and one half of unknown origin.”

“That would be my bad influence,” Bella joked, letting her fingers fall to her stomach. 

“I’m going to log your medical information,” McCoy told her as the image of the unborn child flickered and disappeared.  “I don’t know what to call your planet of origin, however.”

Bella blinked and turned to him.  “I don’t know what to tell you,” she answered honestly, wanting to protect Earth, protect the past, the ultimate dimension, and not dilute whatever might come to pass. 

Spock seemed to sense her distress, “I believe it does not translate into Standard,” he clearly lied.  “I could not even hope to pronounce it, and I am an expert in xenolinguistics.”

“Huh,” McCoy responded.

“The counterpart of Vulcan in Roman mythology is Vesta,” Spock stated factually.  “Perhaps that would be appropriate as I, myself, am Vulcan.”

Blinking, Bella was confused.

Spock obviously sensed her confusion, and lifted the back of her hand to kiss it once again in reassurance.

“Right, a—Vestan from the planet Vesta, location unknown,” McCoy agreed.  “Ability to show no signs of aging and cross-galaxy teleportation.”

“I’m the only one who can do that,” Bella told him.

“That you know of,” he refuted.

“We can’t keep our mouths shut,” she refuted with a bit of a laugh.  “Our secrets are badly kept.  If others could do it, we would be in government labs being studied.  I don’t know how the ‘vampires’ on my planet have remained hidden for the three thousand years they have been there.”

“Right,” McCoy commented.  “Complicated planet.  M class, obviously, as you can breathe our mixture of carbon and oxygen.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she refuted and he just shrugged, his fingers flying over a screen. 

“It matters not,” Spock assured her, looking down at her lovingly with his Terran eyes.  “You need to focus on staying healthy.  A hybrid pregnancy, of Vulcan descent especially, will prove difficult.”

“How difficult?” she asked in desperation.  “When I saw you last, you just told me not to take my iron pills but keep up with my vitamins.”

“Oh, you need vitamins all right,” McCoy groused as he attacked her with a hypospray, the nearly-forgotten sensation spreading across her neck.  “We’ll start you on a cocktail.  I’ll write up a list of instructions that I want you to keep on you in case you teleport back to Vesta.”

“Will I be able to read your handwriting?” she asked, and both Spock and McCoy looked at her in confusion.

“Right.  You don’t use paper or pens, do you?” she murmured. 

Spock looked at McCoy.  “May I remove my wife to our quarters?” he inquired.

“Yes, Captain.  I have everything I need—for now.  I’ll be running tests on her blood for the next few hours.”

“Commander Kirk has the comm,” Spock informed him.  “I will inform Starfleet my wife has reappeared, as well as New Vulcan of the new life that is expected.”

Although he was clearly acting professionally, his hand was warm in hers, his mind caressing hers through the bond. 

She was home, Bella realized.  It wasn’t Earth.  It wasn’t Terra, and it certainly wasn’t Vulcan—though that was now lost to them.  No, she was home.  She was carrying their child and she was with Spock, and that was all that mattered.


To Be Continued…

Not entirely certain where this is going or where this is ending up, but it’s still residing in my grey matter.

Published by excentrykemuse

Fanfiction artist and self critic.

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