The twins' development of telepathy brought about a turning point in the pregnancy for both Spock and Jim. For Jim, it brought about the end of his nausea, mood swings, and exhaustion. He was positively giddy, always offering favors or seeking out the necessities for his soon-to-come offspring. Spock's old quarters had been transformed into a nursery, and Jim (with unsolicited assistance from Nyota) was setting about equipping it with everything an infant could possibly require.

For Spock, it was the first inklings of discomfort in his pelvis.

It was mild to start, though irritating. Spock would find himself shifting to accommodate the rapidly growing twins and feeling the slightest twinge of pain from his lower back. Sometimes, he would awaken at night and stretch himself out on his right side before a dull ache in near his left hip would subside. At times, it seemed there was no reason for the pain, but it was there anyway.

He was placed on bed rest at thirty-four weeks, immediately after which M'Benga was brought on board the ship. It was difficult to readjust to sleeping without Jim at his side, and there were times when even he couldn't ignore the steady sounds of the monitor. And the constant stream of tests exhausted him.

He could not be more ready to return to a semblance of a normal life.

It started mid-Alpha shift, the pain in his pelvis skyrocketing. He barely uttered a command to summon a doctor before something snapped in his abdomen. There was a surge of alarm associated with the sudden break before the implant – resting before high on his stomach – dropped, pressing hard against his bones.

M'Benga arrived first, just as the alarm from before morphed into absolute panic. Spock cast his eyes to the doctor, refraining from gritting his teeth just long enough to confirm that yes, he consented to the operation they both knew had to be performed.

And then, as he attempted to block the pain from reaching the twins, he felt the surge of alarm from his mate.

Spock? Jim's voice echoed through the bond. He attempted to acknowledge the call. Spock, what's wrong? What happened?

M'Benga thrust his palm against the call button. "Chapel! McCoy! Spock needs to get into surgery right now. Get everything we'll need for an emergency C-section."

Spock tried to sort through the myriad of emotions, sensations, and thoughts surging through him. I believe I have gone into labor, he managed to inform his mate, unable to keep from attempting to shift his hips. A dart of pain stabbed through his back, and M'Benga pressed a hand against one of his thighs to hold him still. It is worse than I anticipated.

Jim's concern was still evident, despite Spock's attempts to calm him. Thankfully, the pain was starting to ebb. The Vulcan glanced towards M'Benga, curious as to what painkiller he had administered – but there were no hyposprays in sight. Curious.

The door slid open, and Spock didn't need to look up to know it was McCoy coming through. He flexed his fingers, brow furrowing at the prickling that rushed through them when he moved them. It was a symptom of…something. He couldn't recall what it was. But the pain was nearly gone, as it was, and that was a good thing.

The twins were still projecting alarm and stress in remarkably high levels towards Spock, and that was disconcerting. He attempted to calm them, but like with Jim it was ineffectual. He was vaguely aware that Jim was attempting to ask him something else, but he couldn't quite make it out. McCoy was swearing, eyes locked on his monitor.

Really, he hadn't known just how exhausting labor was. Certainly nothing he had read suggested that he would become tired so quickly. Perhaps he should rest.

He'd barely closed his eyes before someone slapped his face. He opened them again to find M'Benga standing above him, hand poised to strike him again. He attempted to raise an eyebrow, but found himself unable to tell whether he had been successful. To the side, McCoy was filling a hypospray, and Spock opened his mouth to ask what he was going to be administered. All that escaped was an odd sigh, a half a lungful of breath. But he didn't particularly care.

McCoy glanced at the monitor again, cursed once more, and jabbed Spock in the neck with the hypo. And then, the universe itself turned to black.

He awoke to the bright lights of sickbay shining overhead, and it took Spock a long moment to adjust to the intensity. The beeping of the monitor reached his ears, and for a few seconds, he wondered how long he'd been unconscious. The pain in his pelvis was gone, and his mind was peaceful and warm.

The sound of someone moving beside him alerted him to another presence. M'Benga. He turned his head to the doctor, meeting his eyes with some confusion. When had been the last time he'd seen him?

He tried to block the confusion and slight irritation from the twins—but there was nothing there to block those things from. A swell of alarm bubbled in his chest, and he glanced down his abdomen, jaw falling open as he took in just how flat it was.

"Doctor?" he managed. He wasn't certain what to ask. Had he given birth? Or…?

"Relax, Spock," M'Benga murmured, scanning over him with a tricorder. "I'm not surprised you don't remember; your body released the most bizarre mix of chemicals I've ever seen when we got you into surgery. I'm assuming it was due to the change in the implant."

Spock reached down to feel his abdomen. "What of my offspring?" he managed to ask. M'Benga took a breath.

"They're all right," he informed him. "The implant somehow detached and fell to your pelvis. A few blood vessels also snapped when it happened, and you started to bleed out. McCoy and I got you into surgery and delivered the twins before trying to repair the damage. The good news is that you've got two pretty healthy babies waiting to meet you and you're not dead. The bad news is that we had to remove the implant. You're not getting pregnant again anytime soon."

Spock closed his eyes, trying to reign in the flood of relief. "That is acceptable," he said, seeking out Jim's mind. He was blocked. "How long has it been since they were delivered?"

M'Benga glanced at his PADD. "Thirteen days," he replied. "You lost a lot of blood. We had to wait for a transfusion before we could pull you out of the coma."

If he'd been comatose, that would certainly explain Jim's mental shields. Spock nodded. "I would like to meet them."

M'Benga smiled at him – possibly the first genuine smile he'd seen on the man – before turning to the communication panel beside the bed, keying in Jim's number. "Captain. Spock's awake and anxious to see his kids. Would you like to do the honors?"

There was a long silence, and then abruptly Jim was stepping through a door to their left. He walked slowly to the bed, arms wrapped around a blanketed bundle, and the second he reached his husband, he leaned in to press a long kiss against his lips.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed. The mental block came down, and Spock found himself bombarded with feelings of relief and joy and nervousness. He took them in for a moment before glancing to the bundle in Jim's arms. "Right. Meet your daughter."

She was placed in his arms then, squirming slightly, heavier than he anticipated. Dark hair – well, that was to be expected. Her eyes were open – also dark. But they were definitely shaped like Jim's. Her tiny face was tired, but she fussed a little in his arms anyway. When he attempted to shift her a little higher, she let out a tiny cry.

"Temperamental," he observed. Jim chuckled.

"Ironic you should say that," he admitted. "We've been calling her Temperance. Shortens down nicely to T'Pren."

Temperance. It suited her, he supposed, feeling the gentle calm she emanated once she was comfortable. Jim was quiet next to them, allowing Spock the opportunity to become familiar with his daughter. It was only fair – Jim had had plenty of opportunity to bond with their children while Spock was unconscious. The Vulcan ran the backs of his fingers over her face and arms, marveling a little at the perfect being they'd somehow created.

"What have you been calling our son?" he inquired, meeting Jim's eyes again. The man smiled widely.

"Saul," he answered. "I was originally thinking of calling him Steven, but it just didn't feel right. Saul just seemed like the best name."

Spock considered it for a moment. "Saul is Vulcan for 'shout' or 'yell'," he murmured. "I suppose it is a strong name. Acceptable. May I see him?"

Jim nodded, hitting the buzzer on the wall. McCoy entered immediately, walking briskly to the bed as the infant in his arms wailed. Fitting, indeed, Spock couldn't help but think. Jim gathered their daughter from his arms as Saul was placed where she had been seconds ago. Spock laid a hand on the infant's chest, attempting to soothe him.

Saul recognized him immediately, which thrilled Spock. The child was immediately quiet, relaxing against him as Spock took him in. His son had very fine hair, and it appeared to be a light brown color. He had the same dark eyes as his sister, and his skin was a mottled green from all his screaming. His sister had been pink.

They were both perfect. Of this Spock had no doubts.

Jim moved to sit next to him, pressing a light kiss to his temple. "Did you see this coming when you asked me to marry you?" he asked. Although he knew it was a joke, Spock found himself shaking his head. Jim chuckled. "Me neither."

As M'Benga and McCoy moved off to the side to give them their privacy, Spock moved to examine one of his son's tiny hands, blinking as one of his fingers was captured in a surprisingly firm grip. Spock didn't pull back, instead glancing to Jim, whose smile could've split his face.

"Yeah," he murmured, nuzzling into Spock's jaw lightly. "Yeah. I know."

Spock pulled his son a little closer, turning to kiss Jim on the lips again. In a few hours, he'd probably have guests – Nyota, Lieutenant Scott, and the rest of the bridge crew. He'd need to call his father and probably Admiral Pike. He would need to go through the details of his recovery with McCoy and M'Benga again in greater detail.

But for now, he looked over his husband, his son, and his daughter, and they were all in the universe that could possibly matter. And this time, he turned to Jim, met his eyes, and, allowing himself a tiny smile, murmured, "thank you."

END.