Nyota Uhura

True to her word, Nyota had been giving Jim space to think. Of course, there was no way she could completely avoid her CMO, but she did her best to keep things professional. Trying to be professional alerted her to the fact that she'd never been completely professional with him. They'd bantered and teased one another long before they were involved, so acting more distant was decidedly awkward. She did it anyway.

Her intention was to give Jim at least two weeks before she even asked to see him alone, but after he spent the entirety of the senior staff meeting hacking up his lungs, she had to at least know what was going on. She was his Captain, after all, and that meant she was allowed to worry about him. "Jim, hang on a moment," she said as everyone started filing out of the room. Once they were alone, she continued: "You're obviously sick. What's wrong?"

Uhura was furious. Even though she tried not to let herself be this angry, a part of he couldn't let it go. She was used to sexist men - that descriptor fit most men in the Empire - but this had been too much. Cadet Johnson was her junior, and had absolutely no right to speak to her as if she were garbage. Not when she was the best linguist in all of Starfleet.

She stomped back to her quarters, planning to kick Gaila out as soon as she got there and wondering if she shouldn't go in search of Johnson and make an example of him. When the door to her quarters slid open she froze. Something wasn't right. Quickly flicking on the light switch, she took in the scene, eyes widening slightly in surprise and then narrowing in understanding.

Christine Chapel. A woman who was as skilled at saving life as she was at taking it away.

Cadet Peter Johnson. The man who'd dared to speak to her as if she were trash. Bound and gagged.

A slow smile spread across her face, one inquisitive eyebrow arching. "You brought me a present?"

After their last meeting, Nyota had tried her utmost to talk herself out of ever seeing Jim again. Then she'd spent just as much time trying to talk herself into keeping their agreement. She knew that try as she might there was no way of avoiding him forever. She'd given him her word, and even if she tried to vanish again he'd always find her. He wasn't just a man who knew her very well; he was her teacher, and he knew all the tricks she used to mask her trail.

But staying out of sight was crucial. Nero had given her very specific instructions, and if any of her actions appeared contrary to the goal of seeking the music box, people she loved would end up dead.

A few weeks later she had a window of opportunity, and went as stealthily as she could to Christopher Pike's house. Jim wasn't home yet, but Mr. Pike said she could wait in his room. She'd never been inside before, and as she examined his living quarters she couldn't help thinking about the time they'd spent living together. The dream they'd had of being together forever. Trying to put it from her mind, she glanced at the newspaper clippings on his table, picking out one that had a clear connection to the music box.

*wandering island beach, glancing around curiously*

Nyota was trying, unsuccessfully, to understand how she'd gotten to this point. It hadn't been the most pleasant of days, mostly because she'd already thrown up several times, but nothing had gone horrible wrong. She'd been glad to get off shift and return to her quarters to rest and go to the bathroom for the seventeenth time that afternoon. She'd even been planning to read that bawdy Ancient Andorian ballad Yaxaria sent her. Then she'd walked in the door, seen the picture of her sisters on the mantle....

...And instantly burst into tears. Now she was sitting on the couch bawling her eyes out for no apparent reason and wondering why there were no pickles in her room. She grabbed her PADD, sent John a message asking him to bring some, and curled up on the couch, staring at the picture and wishing Sadiki and Chiedza were there with her.

Every thirty seconds Nyota's mood switched between overzealous joy and abject terror. She left sickbay in a daze, walking purposefully enough that no one would talk to her but with absolutely no thoughts as to a destination. Part of her wanted to seek out John, but she knew she wasn't ready to talk to him yet. She needed to sort out some of her own feelings before she showed up at his door with the news.

It was supposed to be a routine medical examination. By now she and Leo were friends, albeit not very close friends, and they'd been talking amiably when suddenly he stopped mid-sentence. Before she could even ask what was wrong he told her. "You're pregnant." There was no sugar-coating, just the words, just like that. She'd stared at him for a long, incredulous moment, and then let out a slightly hysterical laugh. The rest of the conversation was about as awkward as any she'd had in quite a while, though they both tried to keep the discussion professional. Apparently the electric fields on Meridius II had made her birth control implant malfunction. As soon as McCoy started talking about her "options" and prenatal care she'd stopped him and asked if they could postpone the remainder of the conversation. Then she'd fled out the door.

A baby. A child. A new life. It was utterly wonderful and completely terrifying. She'd always wanted to have children, had daydreamed about having them with John, but not yet. And certainly not without any discussion whatsoever. We would have such beautiful children - which is not at all the point. She didn't even know if he wanted kids, didn't even know if he -

Her thought process was interrupted by the realization that she was standing outside the open door of Liz's office. She almost turned around and left, but she desperately needed to not be alone with her tumultuous thoughts right now. Her thoughts... Liz will know any minute, if she doesn't already. She took a deep breath and walked inside, rapping her fist lightly against the the open door. "Hey..."

Finally it was Monday. Nyota usually went several days without seeing Jim during the week, but the wait between Saturday and Monday always felt like forever. Thankfully her father had mostly recovered from his illness and told her he didn't mind if she kept her weekly dinner date with “Anna.” She felt a little twinge of guilt every time someone used the name she'd invented to cover for her relationship with Jim, but as always she ignored it. She deserved her happiness.

Besides, she really needed to be out of the house tonight. Trent and his mother were coming over for dinner, and she'd been avoiding him since Saturday night, which was... Just what in the world was that? He usually managed the diner on weekdays, but because her father was ill he came in on Saturday night. After closing they found themselves alone in the kitchen, and while she was talking to him about Jim's music he tried to kiss her. She panicked and turned her head away, downright nauseated by the idea of anyone but Jim kissing or touching her. She knew about her father's hopes, of course, but had never known that Trent wanted any part in them. He apologized profusely when she told him how very improper it was, and she fled before he could say anything more.

She had been hoping to steal a few moments with Jim that night, but perhaps it was for the best that he was already gone when she left the kitchen. There could never be anyone in her heart but Jim, but she knew she'd have to reconsider her assumption that Trent opposed their marriage. But surely... surely he didn't actually want to marry her? They'd been close friends for so long that she thought of him as a cousin, almost a sibling. Maybe he was just trying to please their parents. She knew on some level that she'd have to figure it out eventually, but for now she just wanted to spend time with the man she loved. Smiling a little to herself and putting Trent far from her mind, she walked into Jim's building and took the elevator to the top floor, where she knocked quietly on the door.

Of the many strange occurrences she could attribute to the community, Scotty being transformed into a woman definitely ranked among the top few. Of course, there was no way to be sure that it was community-related, but it seemed likely given that they'd encountered nothing in their universe that seemed to explain it.

She knew he was extremely distressed by the situation, but it was still a little comical. She just had to keep reminding herself that he was still Scotty, and certain areas of conversation were always going to be awkward, no matter what genders they were.

But she wasn't going to leave him to face his transformation alone, so she packed up what she saw as the essentials and walked to his quarters, ringing the com when she arrived.

The only way Nyota could keep from tapping her foot impatiently was to keep moving. Unfortunately, every moment spent in the diner and not the kitchen was a moment she had to exercise concerted effort not to look at the empty place where Jim should be. She hadn't seen him since Tuesday morning when she'd woken up in his arms. Spending the night was becoming a dangerous habit, but even if they got to spend all of Monday evening together it simply wasn't the same if she didn't get to fall asleep with her head on his chest and his hand in her hair. She was considering asking her father if she could spend all Monday nights at “Anna's,” but her guilt was making it difficult. She still had no idea what to do about the fact that her family could never know, but she couldn't regret a moment of it. She couldn't regret kissing him or touching him or falling asleep in his arms. She couldn't regret that when she next saw him they'd look at each other and smile and know. She couldn't regret loving him.

But Jim was already an hour late to work. She refilled a few coffee cups and collected empty plates before heading back to the kitchen, the restaurant sounding strangely quiet without Jim's guitar. Her father was hanging up the phone, a slight frown on his face. When she asked what was wrong he replied in Swahili, “Kirk isn't coming. Sounds like he's sick.” The words stopped her in her tracks, mind flashing instantly to an image of him standing in the cold without a coat, pleading with her to listen to him because he loved her. Clearly there was a horrified expression on her face, because her father was looking at her with open concern. “I'm sure he'll be all right, princess.”

“Of course. I need to... brew more coffee.” She chastised herself for overreacting, knowing that her family could never suspect just how much she cared or where it was she actually went on Monday nights. The remainder of the evening dragged on to the point that she was certain the clock must be broken, but she found time to make soup. She made a show of eating some of it, then packed the rest to take to Jim. When the diner finally closed, she made excuses that as usual went unquestioned and hurried off to the subway that would take her to the Bronx and to Jim. It was late, but she had to make sure he was all right, especially since it was her fault he'd been out in the cold to begin with. When she got there she dusted the snow off her jacket and rang the bell, hoping he wasn't asleep.