You wonder why Leland is always away, Chris. But you don't see the obvious answer. He's upset about the babies. He wants a child but you can't seem to give him one. So he avoids you.
Chris lay with his head resting on the back of Leland's hand. Eyes closed, pressing down on the heating pad to increase the temperature. He could feel Leland, rubbing behind Chris's ear with his left hand and tapping on a padd with his right. There was always work to be done.
The sheets felt cold and sterile. They'd been changed before Chris had been released from sickbay so it just felt dishonest, without the feeling there. When he climbed back into bed there had been no sign that Chris or Leland had been there before, no smell or give in the sheets that people had lived and loved there. Had dreams.
They did have dreams. One of a little dark-haired baby (previous goals of 5-6 children had been amended for realism) curled up in its fathers' arms against a Californian sunrise. Tonight that dream had left an empty feeling in their hearts (and a tenderness in Chris's abdomen.)
Chris thought about speaking up. Telling Leland that he didn't want to try again, because he hated getting let down and letting Leland down. But his anxious, deep fear was that it would sever them forever, and Leland would leave and not come back because Chris finally gave up on trying to give him what he wanted. That emptiness in Chris ran deep, feeling like he could never give Leland that dream because something kept failing, his body kept shaking its head at him and saying he wasn't enough, he didn't deserve Leland or the dream.
