Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Something's wrong with the captain.

They've been in spacedock for a week now (itself practically unheard of), and although he's on the ship according to the computer, almost no one has seen or heard from him the entire time. As soon as the Enterprise was docked he put Spock in charge and went to his quarters claiming he wasn't feeling well, and that was that. Word among the crew is he's still struggling with what happened on Majalis a few months back (although who can blame him, really), but there are also rumors that he's been going to and from sickbay a lot.

So that's where Una is headed. If he won't answer his comm, then she'll track him down personally. She's determined to get to the bottom of this. After all, it's her job as his friend and first officer to make sure he's okay, right?

Una rounds the corner on her third loop of the corridor. The computer said Pike was in sickbay, so it's only a matter of time...passing a bulkhead, she catches sight of a familiar gold shirt, standing in the doorway with the doctor. Gotcha. Pike and M'Benga exchange a few words that Una can't quite make out, then the doors swish shut just as she draws close. Pike raises his eyebrows at her, looking rather caught out.

"Fancy seeing you here, stranger," Una says brightly, and extends her hand as if to shake his. "Una Chin-Riley. And you are...?"

"Ha, ha," Pike deadpans, although there's a hint of a smile. Una withdraws her hand.

"The crew's starting to think you've deserted," she teases. Pike snorts.

"Noo, no. Just...haven't been feeling my best."

"Anything I should know about...?"

There's an awkward pause. Pike eyes his first officer, looks down the hallway, back to Una. "Walk with me?"

Una nods, and they set off down the corridor. They walk in silence for a minute or two, until it gets too loud not to interrupt. "So," says Una, tentatively, "What's going on?"

Pike sighs. Opens his mouth to speak once or twice, tries again. "I'm pregnant."

Una blinks, then smiles. "Oh Chris, congratulations! I didn't know you were involved with anyone --"

"It's Alora's."

She stops in her tracks. "...Oh. I'm so sorry."

He shrugs. "Not your fault." they arrive at the turbolift, and wait a moment for the doors to open.

"Do you...do you know yet what you're going to do?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have a baby."

They step into the turbolift; the doors shut, but neither of them gives a destination. The compartment hums placidly around them. Una hesitates. "I...I know it's not my place to tell you what you should do --"

"You're right, it isn't." Pike's words come out sharp, clearly more so than he intended. He grimaces apologetically. "Sorry. Please, continue."

"I know it's not my place to tell you what to do," Una tries again, slowly, "but you shouldn't feel obligated because of what happened."

"I don't feel obligated. I want this." Pike fidgets with a loose thread on his uniform. Is his shirt tight around the middle? When did that happen?

"I never really thought of you as a family man," says Una. "No offense."

Pike quirks a half-smile. "None taken." he's silent for a long moment, clearly gathering his thoughts, and when he speaks again, it's halting. "Most Starfleet captains never get the chance to have a family. Too many obligations, too many demands on their time. I've always liked the idea of having a kid, just...never got around to it. Something always came up. But it's been dropped in my lap, regardless of circumstances, and..." he shrugs. "Opportunity doesn't knock twice, as they say."

Una smiles slowly. "Well, I think it's wonderful. I'm happy for you."

Pike smiles too. He looks almost bashful. "Thank you."

Another awkward silence. Pike gives the computer his destination, and Una feels her stomach drop as the turbolift whirs into motion. "I guess that explains where you've been all week."

"What, sick as a dog? Yeah. Morning sickness is no joke."

"Do you want me to tell the crew? 'cause they're going to start getting ideas pretty soon."

"No. No, I should tell them myself, they deserve to hear it from me." Pike does a double-take. "...they don't actually think I deserted?"

"No, but the rumor mill has been very busy...although most of them just think you're trying to cope with what happened on Majalis."

"Well, they're not entirely wrong." the turbolift glides to a stop, and the doors open. It's the hallway to the crew quarters. Pike takes a step into the hallway, stops and half-turns. "I should be back at my post in another day or two. M'Benga wants to make sure everything's as it should be; cross-species pregnancy and all. In the meantime...thanks for keeping my secret." he cracks another half-smile; it occurs to Una that he's got gray circles under his eyes. She smirks.

"What secret?"

That gets a laugh out of him, albeit a tired, half-hearted one. With a nod, he turns and makes his way down the hall as the turbolift doors shut. Una stands there, processing what just happened. The computer gives a polite beep.

"Oh, sorry -- Bridge."

An affirmative beep, and she's moving again. She smiles to herself. Things just got a lot more interesting.

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Chapter Text

The smell of food hits Uhura in the face as soon as the doors swish open. Grilled food, no less. It's instantly nostalgic, like the ancient cartoons she watched on the datascreen as a kid; suddenly she's starving. She takes a deep breath as she steps across the threshold.

"Uhura, hey!" a cheerful-looking Captain Pike steps around the corner, tying on an apron. "Glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss it, sir," Uhura quickly scans his face. He does look like he's been ill; he's very slightly gray in the face, and his eyes are glassy like he hasn't been sleeping much. Interesting.

"Well, you're just in time, the food's all ready. We've got corn on the cob, pasta salad, hamburgers and hotdogs with all the trimmings, and a couple non-human dishes if none of that appeals to you. Plates are over there, help yourself."

Pike bustles away to the kitchen, and Uhura does as she's told, humming a little nonsense tune as she carefully arranges sweet pickles on a hamburger bun and tries to keep the corn from rolling off her plate.

"You're lookin' kinda underdressed, Ensign, I thought we were supposed to wear formals for this." Ortegas sidles up next to her with a plate of her own and a rather devious smile. Uhura laughs to herself.

"Nice try, that trick only works once. And speak for yourself," she adds, gesturing to Ortegas' jeans and zip-up hoodie. Her friend shrugs.

"Can't blame a gal for trying." she takes a spoonful of the pasta salad, then drops her voice. "So what do you think this is all about?"

"It's called food," Uhura enunciates carefully, "you're supposed to eat it."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I mean, what d'you think the captain's up to? The whole damn senior staff is here. He only throws shindigs like this when he has some kind of big news to tell us."

"Well, then, whatever it is, I imagine he'll tell us at some point."

Ortegas makes a little frustrated noise. Clearly Uhura isn't playing along. "Aren't you curious??"

"Of course I am. But my original dinner plans for tonight were a replicated peanut butter and jelly sandwich, in my quarters, while catching up on translation work. So whatever the news is, I'm sure the captain will tell us when he's ready, and in the meantime I'm going to enjoy some good, real food and some good company."

"God, you're boring," Ortegas laughs.

"And you're mean," says Uhura lightly. "Let's go sit down, I'm hungry."

The pair make their way over to the couch, upon which Hemmer is already perched. He shows no sign of acknowledging their presence, but his antennae twitch minutely, and he scoots over to make room for them both. Uhura sits next to him, and Ortegas next to her. Uhura eyes his plate -- something orange-ish with red sprinkled on top.

"Oh, he made gristhera! I didn't think the captain knew any Andorian recipes."

"He doesn't," Hemmer grunts, "not very well. It's hardly even spicy." he takes a bite anyway, and shrugs. Good enough.

"So what do you think this is about, Chief?" Ortegas leans forward, nearly tipping the hotdog off her plate. "Last time Pike called a meeting like this it was to tell us we were going head-to-head with the Gorn."

"I have no idea. I don't participate in gossip. I trust the captain to run the ship as he sees fit, it's not for me to speculate about."

Ortegas groans. "You people are no fun at all."

"I've often been told that," says Hemmer placidly, taking another bite of his food. Una walks by with a couple of drinks in hand; Uhura waves. When she turns her attention back to her friend, she finds Ortegas' eyes fixed on her plate and her ears unmistakably red. She smirks.

"Speaking of speculation," she says slowly, "are you ever gonna do something about that? She is single."

"You shut your mouth," Ortegas growls. Uhura laughs, but before she can say anything further a light, clear ting ting ting cuts through the chatter of the room. All eyes turn toward the kitchen, where Captain Pike is setting a wine glass and fork back on the counter.

"Sorry to interrupt your conversations," he says, "just wanted to thank you all for being here. First of all, I'd like to settle some rumors I've heard flying around: I am not resigning my commission, I am definitely not deserting, and I'm pretty sure I'm not dead." there's a light ripple of laughter. "The last few months have been a lot for all of us. Think of this as my way of thanking you for continuing to perform your duties admirably in spite of it all. But, as you might have expected, I do also have an announcement to make." the captain pauses; he looks hesitant, almost nervous.

Ortegas elbows Uhura in the side. "See??" she hisses, "I told you." Uhura waves her into silence.

"I, uh...well, to make a long story short, I'm pregnant." this time the room is silent. He swallows hard and continues. "I won't get into gory details, but it does have to do with what happened on Majalis -- and no, we will not be going back there. Enterprise has cut all contact with the planet, and their Federation membership has been rescinded. But I'm not going anywhere. I won't lie and say this isn't going to affect my role as captain of the Enterprise -- some priorities have changed, and things will be a little different going forward. You'll probably be seeing Una in the command chair more often, for one. But I'm not going anywhere, not if I can help it."

A few beats of heavy silence pass, backed with the soft hum of the warp drive. The assembled crew look around at each other, unsure what to say or how to react to the news. Then La'an raises her wine glass and breaks the silence.

"Congratulations, sir. Glad to hear you're not dead."

Pike lets out a somewhat wry laugh. "Thank you, Lieutenant, so am I."

The rest of the crew follow suit and raise their glasses as well, and a scattered 'congratulations' goes around the room. The captain smiles and raises his own -- empty -- glass in response, looking distinctly relieved. Then he turns away to fuss with something on the stove, and the room descends back into easy chatter. Uhura looks back to her friends.

"Well, that was...unexpected. I guess that explains why he's been scarce."

"Mm. I don't see why he felt the need to announce it at all," says Hemmer, looking uncomfortable. He picks at his gristhera.

"Don't be a stick-in-the-mud, it's not that unusual," says Ortegas. "My dad carried me and my brother, and I knew a couple guys at the Academy who carried their kids. Everyone's different, 's no big deal."

"It's not that. His identity is his business, he can do as he pleases."

"So what makes it weird?"

"On Andoria, procreation requires four people and is a very private affair. It's considered terribly bad luck to speak openly about it until the child is born."

Uhura nods knowingly. "A little culture-shocked, then?"

"You could say that."

"Humans are just pack animals, I guess. We like to talk, especially about ourselves."

"More than most species, yes." Hemmer takes another bite of his food and falls silent.

"I just can't believe he slept with that Majalan lady," Ortegas continues, thinking aloud. "I never liked her, she gave me the creeps from day one. No way I would've kept it if she'd knocked me up, I'd be scared the kid would be their version of the Second Coming or something."

"Well, it was his choice to make," says Uhura diplomatically. Her gaze wanders across the room. Chapel looks to be telling La'an a story, judging by her big, animated gestures; M'Benga and Spock are standing by the fire, observing; and Una is leaned on the counter talking to the captain. The commander laughs, bowing her head for a moment, and Uhura gets a clear look at Pike. With the apron off, he has a visible bump, and she realizes his uniform has been altered to fit. He still looks like he's been ill, and his body language is exhausted -- but he seems at ease too, more than he did even a few minutes ago. He's lucky, she thinks. Not everyone has a community to support them like this. They make eye contact; he smiles, and she gives him a smile and nod in return before turning her attention back to her friends. She's lucky too, come to think of it, to be a part of it all.

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Chapter Text

It's been an okay few months, Pike thinks, all things considered. Time flies when you're the chief medical officer's latest case study. He could do without the daily hyposprays, but they're a small price to pay for being functional and able to keep food down -- for the most part, he feels pretty normal. Some days he almost forgets he's pregnant.

Not today, though. Today is the ship-wide systems review and it seems like everybody needs something from him all at once, and he's reaching his limit a hell of a lot faster than he's used to. He even had to move his meeting with Una to the Bridge because the steady stream of people coming into the ready-room was driving him crazy.

"Phaser banks?"

"Weapons reports all systems functioning within normal parameters, same with the photon --"

"Captain, could I get your approval on that new flight plan?" Pike turns and gives Ortegas a level stare. To her credit, she looks embarrassed; she gives him a sheepish smile and adds, "when you have a minute."

"Send it to my ready-room, I'll take care of it as soon as I can."

"Thank you, sir."

He turns back to Una, who's watching with thinly-veiled amusement. She opens her mouth to start over and as if on cue, the comm beeps.

"That was stellar cartography reporting in, sir," says Uhura, "all systems normal."

"Thank you, ensign."

Now Una is stifling a laugh. Pike holds up one finger "just a moment", and when no further interruptions are forthcoming, gestures for her to continue. She clears her throat.

"...Same with the photon torpedoes."

"Noted. Engineering?"

"Hemmer says some of the computer terminals are being, in his words, "uncooperative"."

"Meaning...?"

"Reports of lag between the consoles and the main computer. Nothing serious, and he says it'll be fixed before our final summary goes out to Starfleet. All other systems normal."

Pike sighs. "Is that it?"

Una taps on the padd in her hand, which beeps reproachfully. "That's it."

"Thank god." Pike pulls himself to his feet, adjusts his shirt where it's rumpled around his belly.

"Captain, if I may have a moment to discuss --"

Now Spock steps forward, but Pike holds up a hand to silence him. "Is it time-sensitive?"

The Vulcan looks bemused. "Not particularly, but --"

"Is it on fire or bleeding?"

The bemusement turns to concern. "No, I wished to discuss --"

"Then it can wait," Pike cuts in. "No offense, Spock. It's not personal, but I can't hear myself think. I'm gonna take a breather, then I'll be back and we can discuss whatever it is. Okay?" Spock nods and returns to his station, and Pike heaves another sigh and heads for the door. "Number One, you have the Bridge. I'll be in my ready-room."

As soon as the doors slide shut behind him, Pike relaxes. It's quiet. "Computer, seal the ready-room doors, authorization Pike-alpha-one." an obliging beep, and a soft click behind him. "And set a timer for...let's say fifteen minutes. Starting now." another beep. He makes his way to his desk. The baby is restless in an irritable sort of way -- it actually has discernible moods now, it's a little uncanny -- and he lightly taps where it's kicking the hardest. "I hear ya, kiddo, I feel the same way. Just a few more hours of this and I'll be off duty." at which point, he thinks, he's going straight to bed. For now, he just needs a few minutes' peace and quiet to get his thoughts in order. He eases himself into his chair and shuts his eyes.

INCOMING TRANSMISSION FOR CAPTAIN PIKE, PRIORITY CHANNEL.

Pike opens his eyes and resists the urge to swear. No rest for the wicked. "Put it on main viewscreen, ready-room," he says grudgingly. A moment later the Starfleet insignia appears on the screen, then it blinks to black, then Admiral April's face looms out at him.

"Good afternoon, captain. Sorry to drop in on you like this, hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Only that I literally just sat down," says Pike with a wry smile. He gets to his feet and rounds the desk to face the viewscreen directly. "What can I do for you, Bob?"

"Well, ah...it looks like there's some news I missed out on, so you could start by explaining that," the admiral says slowly. The words don't process right away, until Pike realizes what the admiral is trying to avoid with his eyes. He self-consciously smooths his uniform over his belly.

"I thought for sure I'd told you about this?"

"This is the first I've heard of it, but I wondered why Starfleet was giving you all the taxi missions." April cracks a small smile; Pike smooths his shirt again just for something to do with his hands.

"Well...surprise," he shrugs.

"That's an understatement. Congratulations, Chris."

"Thanks, but I know you didn't call me on a priority subspace channel just to chat. What do you need?"

"I just got out of a briefing; the Tellarites finally agreed to cooperate, so the conference is proceeding as scheduled."

"Thank god. Only took them what, a month?"

"Six weeks, but don't celebrate just yet. One of the ambassadors has specifically requested to be picked up by the Enterprise for transport to the conference."

"One of the Tellarites?"

"One of the Vulcans. You've heard of Ambassador T'sulaa?"

"The name rings a bell, why?"

"It should. She's Vulcan's foremost expert on human behavior and sociology, and she's...a bit of an acquired taste, as they say."

Pike frowns. "Ominous. What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that she's not the easiest person to work with. You'll see."

"Well, that's brightened my day like you can't imagine, Bob, thank you."

April laughs lightly. "Don't say I never do anything for you."

"Got any more good news?"

"No, but I do have a personal question, if I may."

And there it is. It was bound to come up at some point. "You may," says Pike, reluctantly.

"I can't help but notice," April says, halting and awkward, "it's only since the Majalis incident that Enterprise has been taking the easier missions, staying closer to Earth. Am I correct in assuming that this is --" the admiral gestures at Pike's midsection, and suddenly he's had enough.

"Yes, my child is half Majalan," he says coolly, cutting the admiral off. April blinks.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to --"

"It's fine. Just...don't go around telling people."

"You know I wouldn't." a pause. "Look, Chris...I know it's none of my business, but if you ever need anything, call me. Day or night."

That makes Pike's gut twist with something. He wants to call it shame, or embarrassment, but it's not, exactly. Somewhere between that and guilt. He shoves it down and hoists a smile instead. "Careful what you wish for, I might rope you into planning the reception."

April laughs again, but it's a little stilted. "That's no less than I deserve, after prying into your personal life. I'll keep you posted once I learn more about the conference."

"Thanks, Bob. Pike out."

The Starfleet logo blinks on the screen, then it turns to black. Pike heads back to his desk. So much for getting his thoughts in order. He sits down, feels baby shift and settle and absently taps a little tattoo on the front of his belly. The kid wriggles away from it as though annoyed, and he mutters an apology.

The kid. He knew going into this that it wouldn't be easy, but sometimes he wonders how much damage he's really doing to his reputation, not to mention his career. He's carrying around a little six-pound liability now. He's not ashamed of it -- what happened, happened, and it's not the kid's fault -- but it was easier when he could hide the bump and didn't have to deal with people tiptoeing around the question, and the uncomfortable silence and pitying looks when they get the answer. He and Una have floated the idea of having her take command of the Enterprise for a few months, but Starfleet captains are notoriously protective of their ships and he's no exception, so they've been kicking the proverbial can down the road...but with him at the helm, Starfleet command won't authorize them for anything but low-risk missions, and after months of chaperoning diplomats and charting nebulae, his crew are bored half to death. He can hardly blame them. Maybe it is time to step back and let someone else take the reins for a while -- but not just yet. A few more weeks, then this mission will be over, and he'll deal with it then. In the meantime...

"Computer, how much time remaining?"

"NINE MINUTES AND FORTY-THREE SECONDS."

Ugh. "Cancel the alarm and unseal the ready-room doors, authorization Pike-alpha-one." a couple of affirmative beeps and a click; he takes as deep a breath as the baby will let him, takes his comm from his pocket and flips it open. "Pike to Number One, please report to my ready-room."

"On my way."

No sooner has he put the comm away than Una steps through the doors, looking concerned. "That was a quick fifteen minutes. Everything okay?"

Pike waves away the question. "Admiral April just called, they greenlit the conference. Starfleet brass finally won over the Tellarites."

"Mm. We'll see how long that lasts."

"He also said we'll be transporting a Vulcan ambassador. Does the name T'sulaa mean anything to you?"

"Not especially, why?"

"Apparently she's...difficult to work with."

"How so?"

"I dunno, he wouldn't say. I wouldn't mind a little excitement around here, though."

"Speak for yourself, I like the quiet. Makes it easier to get work done." a pause; Pike runs a hand through his hair, takes another deep breath. "Was there anything else, captain...?" Una prompts.

"No, that's it. Thank you, Number One, I'll be out in a moment." Una nods, turns and heads for the door, but then a thought occurs to him. "Actually, one more thing." she turns neatly on her heel to face him, just shy of the doors. "Can I ask you something? As your friend, not as your captain."

That look of concern comes back as Una retraces her steps to the desk. "Always."

"Would you..." Pike hesitates, tries again. "I would trust anyone on this crew with my life, but you and I go back farther than anyone. You're one of my closest friends, and I trust you implicitly."

Una frowns. "Chris, where are you going with this?"

"Asking if you'll be my child's godmother."

She appears to think for a moment. Then the look of concern splits into a smile. "I'd be honored."

"You know as well as I do that our job comes with some inherent risk," Pike continues, "everyone on this ship has to come to terms with that. But if something were to happen to me, I'd want to go out knowing my kid would be in good hands."

"Not to seem ungrateful, but are you sure you want an Illyrian for that job?"

"I don't care where you're from. You're a damn good friend and an exemplary first officer, that's all that matters to me."

Una smiles still, but smaller and almost self-conscious. "Thank you."

"I mean it."

"I know you do." then she searches his face, considering, and adds, "are you alright? You're not usually this philosophical."

"Something Bob said got me thinking, that's all. I'm fine."

It doesn't sound at all convincing to him, but she seems satisfied; she half-turns to leave. "Well, don't think too long, there are still a few people who need to talk to you."

"Understood. Tell Spock I'll be right out."

Una nods. "See you out there, Socrates."

And then he's alone. Pike swivels his chair idly back and forth. That twist in his gut is still there, but smaller now, and his thoughts are a little quieter. The baby shifts sleepily, bringing him back to reality; he cups his hands under his belly, turns to the window, and stares out at the passing stars.

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