A/N: Okay, here's a new fic. I've had this one on the brain for a few weeks and really wanted to do this storyline. Warning upfront—don't read this story if you like warm and fuzzy romances. Lots of angst, lots of drama here.

Also—many of you know that I'm a ST09 newbie—not familiar with much of the intricacies of the fandom. That being said, I'm using the Memory Beta (is that what it's called?) as a reference—and that's the science I'm referring to in this story. If you see something in this story that's out of place—please let me know.

This story takes place after the movie—Uhura is a Lieutenant and Spock is First Officer, so that's where the viewpoint of this story begins.

Otherwise—I would love your reviews. Thanks so much!

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I'd waited long enough.

We'd been busy working patrols at the edge of the Klingon Neutral Zone and the atmosphere was tense. Animosity between the Klingons and the Federation had heightened over the previous weeks and the entire ship was on alert. The crew knew that we were in place to strike at the first indication of trouble.

It had been days since I'd seen Spock for any extended amount of time, save for a few stolen moments with one another between 12 hour shifts. We'd been like passing ships for days and I needed him now more than ever. I was tired, anxious to see him.

I was anxious after my conversation with McCoy.

It was late by most everyone's standards when I set out to find him. The bright, clean halls of the Enterprise were empty as I padded toward his favorite observation deck with slippers on my feet.

He stood in his trademark stance, hands clasped behind his back in the dark of the deck. I knew this was a place where he liked to come and wind down after a long day on the bridge.

Silently, I walked closer, appreciating the strong lines of his face, illuminated only by the stars. He was so still and peaceful in the silence of the deck, I almost hated to disrupt him.

"Spock," I kept my voice to a whisper, despite the fact that we were the only two people in the room.

He stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the stars.

"I have missed you, Nyota," he said softly. "These few days have been hard on everyone. You must be exhausted," he turned to face me, eyes glancing at the entrance to the deck. No one there.

"I am. How are you holding up?" I asked, standing at his side. I knew he tired less easily than anyone else on board and could work shift after shift without fatigue. Still tonight, I could see the wear of the stress on his face.

"I am…fatigued. Still, I find that while my body wants to rest, my mind cannot. That is why I came here tonight," he took my hand in the dark, a gesture that I appreciated. We could not show affection to each other unless we were alone. The privacy of our relationship was sacred.

He turned to face me. "Tell me what troubles you, Nyota. I can feel your turmoil," he said, voice soft and soothing. I took a deep breath.

I'd rehearsed and rehearsed this conversation over and over again in my mind. During those long shifts, I'd considered the outcome of at least a thousand scenarios. I was tired, I needed him, and I was ready to talk.

"I have some unexpected news," I started—finding that my voice wasn't as strong as I'd hoped it would be.

He quirked an eyebrow at me, as if to compel me to finish.

"I wanted to wait until all of this Klingon madness was over, but I sense we'll be here for a while, and I don't know how to bring this up. Maybe this isn't the best time, I know you're tired—"

He cut me off with a kiss that I had not expected. For Spock, that was an especially risky move.

"Tell me what ails you, ashayam."

I let out a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant." I choked the words out, flinched—waited for his response.

His eyes, black as ever, went flat. He dropped my hand.

"Impossible."

In my head, I had gone over ever scenario. Anger, happiness, guilt, worry. I'd come up with answers and kind words and reassurances for all of them. But never in my wildest dreams had I anticipated denial. I didn't think I'd ever heard him say the word "impossible" before. I felt heat creep into my face.

"It's not impossible. It's possible and it's real. I'm almost 6 weeks along," I said slowly. I reached for his hand again and he pulled away.

He said nothing.

My next words were hurried, frantic. "McCoy gave me some antibiotics when I had that sinus infection. They nulled my shot, I didn't realize…"

He cut me off. "Am I to understand you have been with someone else?"

I felt the sting of his accusation acutely.

"What? Spock, of course not—never! I am having your baby, I haven't been with anyone else. How could you even think that?"

My stomach was churning—I could feel my apprehension growing into real fear, bubbling up inside of me, burning my throat.

"There is no other explanation," he said—words terse and acidic. "I cannot impregnate you without medical intervention. You would have to be on a strict regimen of hormones and vitamins to prepare your womb for my child. And to my knowledge, Nyota, you are not," he practically spit the words at me, face brimming with fury.

My mouth dropped open and I could feel tears in my eyes, threatening to fall. "I don't know how to explain…"

"You cannot!" He was raging at me, more furious than I had ever seen him. I felt the panic and fear that were inside of me boiling, turning slowly into anger.

"How dare you, Spock? How dare you?" I was loud now, I didn't care who heard me. "I have done nothing but love you—I would never betray you. How dare you accuse me of something like this?" I yelled, angrier now.

His eyes were narrowed, brows close together. "Science cannot lie, Nyota. Humans can."

I slapped him clear across the face.

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