Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was difficult to ignore the grating laugh wafting from the woman with the light brown hair and the teeth that were just a bit too large for her mouth. The braying bounced off nearby hard surfaces in an unfortunate demonstration of acoustics.

She was speaking with another woman via hololink and the conversation was quite personal in nature. Her companion did most of the talking, her rapid speech only occasionally interrupted by the receptionist's giggles and fragmented interjections.

The tiny holographic projection shrieked, "Lish, wait, you're not going to believe what he said next though!"

The woman at the desk responded with a languid, "What?"

"He said I remind him of his sister! Like, what does that mean?"

This amused the receptionist and she slapped her hand on the desk. "Shut up!"

"And the other night we were at his apartment and he just started clipping his toenails on the couch. Right in front of me."

"Eeeeewwww."

"I know! Why is it so hard to find a guy who isn't weird or gross or stupid? I'm not even going to be picky about species at this point. Just give me someone normal."

The woman behind the desk flicked her eyes in Sarek's direction, lowered her voice, and said, "Speaking of different species, there's this new astrophysicist in cartography that Garrett just hired. Vulcan. Nice-looking."

"Oh, do tell," the holographic projection insisted.

Her voice dropped another few decibels, but not enough to evade Sarek's sensitive ears. "He's waiting for Garrett in the lobby."

Sarek turned his attention to the news holocube in the center of lobby, drumming up as much interest as he could muster in a story about rising narcotic use among Tellarite teens. There were two women in Starfleet uniforms sitting directly across from him, their eyes darting between the chatty receptionist and Sarek. Smirks grew on their faces.

Rather than force himself to feign interest in the habits of modern Tellarite youth, he opened his PADD. Three messages from his mother stared back at him, but he ignored them and swiped across the screen to view the application with his preferred Vulcan news streams. The featured story concerned the Vulcan Security Service thwarting another attempted bombing of a Solarian temple by Ask'era Ozhikersa extremists, but beneath that was an article highlighting a familiar face. He tapped the link even though he could easily predict the story's contents.

The Vulcan High Council has appointed Ambassador Skon of Shi'Kahr, son of Solkar, to negotiate with the Orion Free Traders on behalf of Vulcan interests in the disputed territory between Orion and Ithen. Many consider the High Council's attempt to negotiate peace with the Free Traders as futile in light of the growing power of the Orion Syndicate...

Sarek skimmed the rest of the story, noting briefly the short paragraph at the end commenting on the appointment of Skon's son, Silek, as Ambassador to Earth. The story used nearly three hundred words to say very little, but there was so much more information concealed within the text that many would recognize.

Anyone with even a rudimentary awareness of Vulcan politics would know Ambassador Skon was extremely overqualified for such a task as negotiating with the Orion Free Traders. Additionally, anyone familiar with his family, which was a sizable fraction of the Vulcan populace, would recall that Skon had two sons, and some of them would likely remember that Silek was the younger of the two. Perhaps they would contemplate what it meant that no mention was made of the elder son, particularly when Vulcan tradition placed an expectation on the eldest son to follow a father's path. 

"Sarek?"

A tall man with brick-red hair and a full beard approached. Sarek stood and dipped his head. "I presume you are Mr. Garrett Fischer."

"Please, call me Garrett," the man laughed. He began to extend a hand but paused. "Are you the hand-shaking kind of Vulcan or do you prefer the thing?" He attempted to form his fingers into the shape of a traditional Vulcan salute.

"I do not prefer to shake hands, but whatever greeting you are comfortable with is sufficient."

"Right," he said, stuffing the offending hand into the waistline of his trousers. "It's great to finally meet you face-to-face."

Sarek nodded, thinking their virtual interview had only taken place eight days ago so the idea of finally meeting in person was an unnecessary exaggeration.

"We're lucky to get someone with your credentials," Garrett continued. "And the team is very excited to meet you."

Sarek sensed he should give a reply, but he had neither the talent nor patience for human small talk. He followed his new supervisor through the expansive lobby, crossing the ornate emblem carved into the floor featuring the company's name and logo, the blocky letters spelling Cary Cartographic circling six five-pointed stars of varying sizes.

"The first few days should be pretty relaxed," Garrett droned. "HR will subject you to a lot of training and forms. We got your visa late last night."

"May I ask what HR is?" Sarek asked. His new employer's slight drawl made it difficult to determine whether he'd said hey-char, which was a word he was unfamiliar with, or if he'd said the letters H and R, indicating some form of acronym. 

Garrett shrugged. "HR is...HR. I think it used to stand for human resources, but I guess that's not the most fitting terminology in the 23rd century, eh? I suppose that's why it's always just abbreviated."

Sarek said nothing. 

They passed through a sleek set of semi-opaque glass doors into a brightly lit office space littered with people in well-tailored clothing navigating narrow rows between eclectically-colored cubicles. After a few paces, they were greeted by a man who appeared Vulcan in only a biological sense.

His hair was neatly shaved around the sides of his scalp and worn long on top, slicked back into a style worn by many of the human men in the office. He wore clothes designed after the human fashion and brandished an open smile on his face. A line of Vuhlkansu script inked into the flesh of his right forearm read, "Live long and die young." He switched a mug full of steaming liquid to his left hand, raised his right, and said, "Live long and prosper. I'm Vedek."

Sarek returned the greeting and introduced himself, finding it difficult to draw his attention away from the man's tattoo.

"Vedek's going to show you around and get you settled in," Garrett said, gesturing to the grinning Vulcan. "I'm late for a meeting with some Starfleet types."

"As usual," Vedek teased, slapping Garrett's shoulder. "I'll take care of him, don't you worry."

As Garrett trailed back toward the lobby, Vedek turned and said, "Most Vulcans living in this town are some flavor of V'tosh Ka'tur, but I don't get that vibe from you."

"I follow logic," Sarek explained.

"Where on Vulcan are you from?"

"Shi'Kahr."

"Me too, or at least I was from there a long time ago. Who's your family?"

Sarek dismissed a fleeting feeling of discomfort. He would have preferred some degree of anonymity but he could see no reason to conceal such information. "I am of the S'chn T'gai family."

Vedek uttered a low whistle. "If you don't mind me asking, and I'm sure you probably do, what brings you to Earth?"

"I have come for employment."

Vedek tossed his head back, giving the impression he was thinking deeply to himself. "Not fleeing Vulcan on the road to apostasy?"

"No." His reply was automatic and perhaps might be construed as curt, but he greatly disliked his current state of transparency. He had only just met this unorthodox Vulcan man and he felt so exposed. "Will you show me where I will be working?"

"Sure thing. You're in the cubicles on the left with all the other brainy types. I personally hate these open office plans but Garrett likes being able to know who's here—not that many people are at any given time. Most departments work out of their homes and hardly ever come in, but for the classified stuff, you have to come here to access the servers. As a cartographer, I'm guessing you'll be here a lot."

He directed Sarek to a space that resembled most of the others in the expansive room. The desk sported a thin layer of dust covering a computer console and ports for various duotronic devices. All of it was guarded by a mostly dead potted plant and a figurine that loosely resembled Zefram Cochrane with an oversized, wobbly head.

"Your predecessor left that." Vedek smiled and flicked the doll's head downward and it erupted into discordant bobbing. "Anyway, take a seat."

Sarek did as he was instructed but a moment later, a pair of heavily made-up eyes peeked over the top of the adjacent cubicle. "Is this the new Jason?"

"I am Sarek. What is a Jason?"

Her response was a high-pitched laugh. Was it his name or his question that amused her? Vedek intervened, explaining, "Sarek is the new chief cartographer, yes. Sarek, this is Kyla, she's our—actually, remind me what you do again, Kyla?"

"I'm an interstellar geospatial engineer," she said, rising to her feet and extending her hand over the cubicle. "It's nice to meet you, Sarek. I look forward to working with you."

Sarek gazed at her hand, reluctant to join in this grossly intimate human custom but eager to avoid causing offense. He took it gently—how frail her bones were!—and shook it up and down exactly one time before releasing it.

"Are you new to Earth?" Kyla asked, eyelashes aflutter.

"I relocated here three days ago."

"Hey, do you live in the Village?" asked Vedek.

Sarek blinked. "This is a large metropolis. I would hardly call it a village."

"Not a village, the village," laughed Vedek. "Vulcan Village. It's the Vulcan district in town."

"I was unaware housing was segregated by species," Sarek explained.

That made them both laugh. Vedek said, "There's no official segregation, but some species prefer to stick to themselves. We have a lot of V'tosh Ka'tur but I guess some elitist habits die hard."

"I see."

"So where do you live?" asked Kyla. "I'm always looking for someone to carpool with."

"I have secured accommodations two blocks from this building adjacent to the city's main university."

"Excellent choice," Vedek exclaimed. "Lots of good bars down here and the ladies are prime."

Rather than continue their inane discussion, Sarek asked, "Garrett says there is training I must complete. Can you assist me with this?"

Five minutes later, Sarek was alone, or as alone as he could be at an open cubicle, attuned to his computer, earbud in his right ear, listening to a woman in a training video discuss the company's equal opportunity policies. She droned on for an hour, informing him that Federation law required private companies to provide special environmental accommodations based on the biological needs of an individual's species. She was explaining company procedures for requesting such accommodations when he noticed Vedek talking to a woman with severe eyes and coal-black hair several cubicles over.

They were both looking at him and smiling but Sarek preferred to ignore it. The day went on that way, with more videos on topics ranging from sexual harassment to respecting Federation and Terran environmental laws, and all of it cast against a background of co-workers casting curious glances in his direction. No one else approached him and he suspected he had the earbud to thank for that.

Garrett collected him at noon to consume a midday meal in the official breakroom, where he met half the marketing department waiting in line for the replicator. There were so many introductions and handshakes and peculiar human names to commit to memory and were it not for his logic, he imagined he could have felt overwhelmed.

It was no secret that humans were a very inquisitive, friendly, and assertive species, but by the end of his meal, he was certain he had underestimated their ability to socialize. The human females in particular were keen to openly discuss any facet of his or their own lives no matter how trivial or personal. After explaining to a woman named Shannon from the information technology department that despite his physique and "graceful walk," he was not a great dancer because he did not dance at all, he politely excused himself from the conversation, but not before overhearing her whisper to her friend, "Ugh, he's so adorable!"

He went home at 1700 hours. It was a short walk and the spring weather was wet and chilly and he arrived at his mostly empty, entirely silent apartment eleven minutes later. He sat on his stiff sofa in a state of semi-meditation until 2030 hours, prepared himself a simple meal of vegetable stew from the replicator, and retired to bed at 2100.

He repeated this basic routine the following day and the day after that and the day after that, occasionally being forced to make a new introduction and be probed with any manner of personal questions. On the third workday when he completed his training, Garrett assigned him to a project to map a cosmic anomaly in a distant sector. It was tedious and simple work, but he greatly preferred it to training videos about effectively resolving interpersonal conflict.

On the fifth and final workday of the standard week, he was in the telemetry lab completing a series of diagnostics in preparation for test transmissions the following week when Vedek approached, his face wearing his usual carefree smirk. "How was your first week?"

"Satisfactory." Sarek walked past him to return to his cubicle and Vedek followed.

"Got any plans for the weekend?" Vedek murmured.

"I intend to remain in my apartment."

"You've got to get out and explore. This is a great town and Earth is a great planet."

Sarek took a seat at his desk and Vedek invited himself to lean on the attached cabinet. Before either of them could speak, the office manager, Petra, strolled into his workspace.

"Having a good first week?" she asked, brushing her glossy black hair over her shoulder with a casual toss of her head.

She had asked him this very question the day before and the day before that. In fact, she had a curious habit of appearing at random throughout the day, regardless of where Sarek was or what he was doing.

"It was satisfactory."

"If you ever want to get together for drinks, let me know. I'm free all weekend."

Sarek gave a small nod and she was gone just as quickly as she had appeared. Vedek leaned toward Sarek and muttered, "Petra's pretty but she can be a bit aggressive. I'd steer clear if I were you."

"Will you permit me a query?"

Vedek's left eyebrow jerked upward. "Sure."

"I have observed that the human females in our office seem preoccupied with me. Do you know why this is?"

"Because you're Vulcan, obviously," he laughed. "I don't know what it is about human women—and they usually prefer the term women over females, by the way—but there's something about pointy ears and a cool, logical demeanor that seems to really do it for a lot of them."

"You are Vulcan but you hardly have a cool, logical demeanor." Sarek's eyes shifted to Vedek's paradoxical tattoo.

"I'm capable of turning on the old logical charm when it suits me," Vedek winked. He stood up and with a voice stripped of all emotion, recited the first three lines from the Teachings of Surak.

Sarek repressed a twinge of shock. "You imply you do not follow logic yourself but pretend to in order to gain the affection of women."

"I'm not completely without logic, Sarek. I just prefer everything in moderation. I was a lot like you when I first got here. I left Vulcan thinking I needed to see what life was like outside of Shi'Kahr and I have to tell you, it's liberating. On Earth I can smile without causing a minor scandal."

"I see."

"You've got to lighten up. Why don't you come out with me tonight? I was thinking about going down to one of the bars on 6th Street. That's over by your apartment, right?"

"I do not consume drinks for the purpose of altering my mental state."

"I believe you," Vedek laughed. "But you don't have to drink. Just come out and socialize. You can have cookies and milk if you want."

Sarek considered Vedek's proposal. He was leery of an excursion to a location dedicated exclusively to intoxication, but the prospect of spending another night in his apartment was equally unappealing. "Very well."

"You'll have a good time, I promise. Besides, it's right next to the university and unless I'm mistaken, it's the last Friday of spring break."

"What is spring break?"

Vedek's grin broadened. "You'll see."

"Missed one!" Amanda called, pointing to an oversized wooden puzzle piece.

"Okay," Amani mumbled through his chubby toddler cheeks.

He turned in a hurry, dropping some of the pieces in his hands.

"Why don't I help you out?" she asked, stooping down to pick up the remaining pieces on the floor.

"Yes," nodded the little boy. "Yes help."

Amanda smiled. As much as she loved the toddler room, working in it for ten hours straight had a way of sapping her energy like nothing else could. She glanced at the clock and frowned. Two more hours until she got off work and her physics homework wasn't going to do itself. Why had she procrastinated her entire spring break away?

"Hey 'Manda."

The sound of his voice made her smile. She had never gone by 'Manda in her life but she didn't mind when he called her that. She made a mental note to play it cool and turned to see Adam, her boss' son and the center's assistant manager, standing in the threshold. "What's up, Adam?"

"Nicoletta says you've got a physics exam to study for."

"Yeah." She wished she were clever enough to come up with something more interesting to say.

"You've been here all week. You've done your hours and then some. Why don't you cut out early?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's slow and I've got nowhere else to be. My girlfriend went home to Vulcan to visit her parents for a few weeks."

As it always did, her heart sank a little at the mention of his very smart, very lovely Vulcan girlfriend. "If you're really sure…"

"I am. See you Monday evening."

"Okay," she nodded. "Amani's helping Lola put the puzzles back where they go. Lola didn't nap hardly at all today and-"

"'Manda, I've got this," Adam laughed, approaching the tiny humans. "Go study."

On her way out, she was assaulted by a barrage of warm fuzzies as she listened to Adam ask Lola why she was feeling so cranky that evening and smiled when even Lola admitted, "No nap." He was so good with kids. Everything about him was good. Close to perfect, actually.

It was unseasonably warm for late March and the streets were packed, even for a Friday night. The moment she stepped foot inside her room Mara cried, "Get dressed! We're going out!"

Amanda sighed and glanced at her tall red-headed roommate, who was applying a thick layer of maroon lipstick to her bottom lip. Piles of clothes lay heaped in a circle around her like a nest.

"Can't," she muttered. "I have a physics exam on Monday that I'm not even a little bit ready for."

"So?" Mara asked, stepping back to look at the end result in the mirror. "Study tomorrow."

"Adam let me off early so I could study."

"Oh, Adam," Mara teased. "Don't want to disappoint Adam."

"You don't have to say his name that way."

Amanda hated that she was blushing. She also hated that everyone knew just how much she liked her boss and she lived in a constant state of semi-terror that it would get back to him. She shoved a pair of Mara's high-heeled shoes over to their owner's side of the room and flopped down on her bed.

"You've spent your entire spring break working at the learning center. You deserve a night out. What's the point of being young if you're going to waste it studying Newton's laws and picking up after little brats? Adam would understand."

"Mara, I'm failing physics. Failing."

"And you think an extra couple of hours studying on a Friday night is going to make a difference? Just come out and have one drink."

Amanda sat up, rubbed her face, and yawned. Her eyes came to rest on the static picture of her mother on her nightstand. If her mom were here, she would tell her daughter to go out and live a little. She sighed and kicked off her shoes.

"Who else is coming?"

"Diana and Lourdes for now. Maybe Lourdes' boyfriend."

"So where are we going?"

Mara squealed in delight and said, "Glad I could pressure you! The plan was to tour 6th Street."

"I'm not staying out all night," Amanda insisted, pulling off her polo shirt as she lumbered to her closet.

"No one ever plans on it," Mara laughed.

Amanda shoved a purple top over her head and found a pair of off-white flats at the back of her closet. They had a few scuff marks but they looked presentable enough.

"You're wearing those?"

"If we're walking 6th Street, I'm going to wear comfortable shoes."

"Let me guess, you're also wearing sensible underpants?"

"What do my underwear have to do with anything?"

"What if you meet a guy?"

"When would I possibly have time for a guy in my life?" Amanda sneered. "Seriously, where would he fit? I spend all day in class, all evening interning, and all night studying before I panic myself to sleep about how I need to study more."

"No one told you to register for so many hours this semester and besides, I wasn't saying you were going to meet the love of your life tonight. I was just implying you could have a little fun."

"Hooking up with strangers is your thing." Amanda pulled a brush through her hair and wondered if there was any point to putting on makeup.

"I like to sample," Mara murmured with an unapologetic shrug. "But suit yourself."

They met Diana and Lourdes at the Just Bar and shared a round of pineapple vodka shots. Most people were engaged in a billiards tournament at the rear of the bar and it wasn't ten minutes before Mara rose from her barstool, smoothed out her tiny, shimmering top, and insisted they try their luck elsewhere.

The next stop was the Tourmaline Tiger, a trendy place that was quite clean compared to most of the other neighboring establishments. No sooner did they enter than Mara was whisked away by a tall Vulcan man with a stylish haircut and a weird, loopy tattoo on his right arm. He didn't seem very Vulcan but few of the Vulcans around the neighborhood fit the typical prototype.

She never had figured out what their deal was. She remembered when she first arrived, she found herself sitting next to a Vulcan man on the bus. He was the first one she'd ever actually met—there weren't any Vulcans back in Alaska—and she'd been very proud to form her right hand into a Vulcan salute and say "live long and prosper." He had looked her dead in the eye and said, "okay" before returning to the business of updating his status on his global account.

She sipped down two whiskey sours and listened as Lourdes complained about her boyfriend. They somehow got on the subject of his penis and began discussing it in detail until Amanda eventually interjected, "Is there literally nothing else we could talk about?"

Diana gave her shoulder a playful push. "You're such a prude."

"I'm not a prude."

They both turned to face her and said in unison, "You're a prude."

"I am not."

"I've never even seen you talk to a guy," Lourdes replied.

Amanda was grateful Mara wasn't present to make a comment about Adam. "That doesn't mean I'm a prude. It just means I'm busy."

Diana and Lourdes roared with laughter. The bartender slid a third whiskey sour in her direction and it took a lot of effort to keep from chugging it all in one go.

"I dare you to go talk to a guy," Diana announced.

"I could talk to any guy in here," Amanda insisted. The instant the words left her mouth, she wished she could suck them back in.

"Oh really? Any guy?" Diana scoffed.

Amanda scanned the crowd and grimaced when her eyes landed on the heavyset, balding man with excessively hairy arms tending the other end of the bar.

"What about that one?" Lourdes asked.

Amanda had to turn to see who she was pointing at and was surprised to find a Vulcan man at a corner table sipping what looked like a glass of water. Unlike Mara's new best friend, who had his tattooed arm comfortably wrapped around Mara's shoulder at the table behind them, this man looked like the dictionary definition of Vulcan, right down to the high-collared shirt, perfect posture, and severe haircut. She suddenly wished she could try for the grizzly bear masquerading as a bartender after all.

However, a dare was a dare. "Fine. Watch me."

She took a long swig of her drink and stood up, surprised by how unsteady she was on her feet. Was she really already so tipsy? She stole another look at the Vulcan man in the corner and decided he wasn't bad. He was just a guy. A guy with an unfortunate haircut who went to a bar to order water. He was non-ugly and non-threatening. He was basically fine.

One foot went in front of the other and she began to cross the room much more quickly than she anticipated, spurred on by the sputtering of Lourdes and Diana's giggles. The man must have sensed her walking in his direction because when she was about five paces away he looked up and made eye contact. Her nerve began to fail but her drunk tongue blurted out the word, "Hello."

"Hello," he replied.

"I'm Amanda."

He hesitated but replied, "I am Sarek."

"Nice to meet you. Mind if I sit down?"

Chapter Text

"I don't ordinarily do stuff like this, you know."

The chorus of ambient music began to repeat and the volume was so loud he struggled to hear her correctly. He raised his voice and said, "Clarify."

"Walk up to strange men in bars. It's not something I usually do."

"Then why have you done it now?"

The woman, Amanda, glanced back in the direction from which she'd come. "I don't know."

Sarek took another sip of his water and studied her. Many women had approached him in the past week to engage in idle small talk and pose intensely personal questions, but her demeanor was unique. She was the first who hadn't seemed impressed by his existence and it was for that reason he'd agreed to let her have Vedek's seat.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," she said, bringing her drink's straw up to the corner of her mouth.

He greatly appreciated her remark but it only made him even more curious about her desire to occupy a seat at his table. "Why come ask to sit with me if not to speak with me? There are other seating options."

She looked over her shoulder again. "It's complicated."

"I can appreciate that."

"I appreciate that you appreciate that." She gave him a tiny smile and studied her hands. Her fingers drummed along with the rhythm of the music. "Thank you for letting me sit with you."

Approximately fifteen seconds of silence passed between them before Sarek asked, "Is it customary to play music at this volume in places such as these?"

Her head tilted to the side, her lips spread into a narrow smile, and the skin around her eyes wrinkled. The tempo had shifted again and several more instruments had joined the fray, turning it into a discordant din.

"I guess so. The truth is, I don't go out to bars all that much. I don't drink very often."

"I had thought the purpose of this type of establishment was to socialize. How can anyone be expected to do that if they can barely discern the words of another person, even one sitting in close proximity?"

"Maybe that's the point," she shrugged, slurping down half of the amber liquid in her glass, leaving the tops of the round ice cubes exposed to the air. "Maybe it's a convenient excuse to force strangers closer together."

Glancing around the room, he decided there might be some truth to her hypothesis. Most of the bar's patrons were arranged in pairs or very small groups and despite the generous size of the main room, many people elected to stand so close to their companions that they were physically touching. Vedek was speaking directly into the ear of the orange-haired woman he had met twenty minutes earlier, his tongue within striking distance of her neck.

His new tablemate began swiveling her thin straw in the remainder of her drink. The sour odor tickled his olfactory senses, causing him to wonder if her cocktail had gone rancid.

"Your drink is quite pungent."

"You can smell it?" she asked, raising the glass halfway between the table and her nose.

Even though he knew Vulcans had a superior sense of smell compared to many species, he was mildly surprised that she could not. "Yes. It smells of organic acids."

"No kidding," she laughed, taking a deep whiff. "I can sort of smell it when I try."

"And you find the odor appealing?"

"I don't know that appealing is the right word. It's sour, but it's a whiskey sour. That's kind of the point—to mask the bitterness of the whiskey."

"What is whiskey?"

Her brow furrowed. "It's a kind of liquor. You know, alcohol?"

"Which particular compound?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"There are many compounds classified as alcohols."

"Oh, uh, the one that gets you drunk? Ethanol, I think? I don't know all that much about chemistry."

"I see. So you consider whiskey to be bitter?"

"Very."

"Fascinating."

Her eyes widened and she uttered a two-syllable laugh. "Is it?"

"You have exchanged currency for this drink, yet you do not seem to prefer either of its principal ingredients. Why drink it?"

She folded her hands on the tabletop and replied, "Because it's more exciting than water. And it gives me courage."

He pondered what she might have to fear. This place was an assault on the senses, but he could discern no obvious threat. "Explain."

The cacophonous song ended abruptly and because both of them had been forced to elevate their voices to be heard over it, what she said next seemed akin to shouting in the sudden relative quiet. "It's hard for me to talk to complete strangers in a bar."

Several people at nearby tables turned to look at her and despite the dimly-lit room illuminated by green and purple lights, he could see red color streak across her cheeks. Two of the young women she'd arrived with howled with laughter from their places at the bar.

"Anyway, I guess, um, I should go. Thanks for letting me sit with you," she mumbled. She said something else, but her words were lost to the roar of another song.

She began to push her chair away from the table and he also rose in accordance with Vulcan custom. It occurred to him that he did not want her to leave. Of all the humans he'd met thus far, she was easiest to converse with. Their discourse was polite, simple, and informative. Perhaps most importantly, she did not seem keen to exchange details of their private lives.

Vedek and the orange-haired woman had migrated to one of the couches by a wall covered in a long mirror and appeared quite besotted with one another. It was logical to conclude he had no intention of returning to their table in the near future, so Sarek could contrive no reason to remain in this location. "Would you prefer to talk somewhere else?"

"What?" she shouted, leaning closer toward him.

"You indicated it was difficult for you to communicate with unfamiliar individuals in a bar. If you prefer, we could relocate elsewhere." He sometimes struggled to interpret human facial expressions, there was no questioning the surprise in her features. "Uh, well—" She cast yet another look at the two women at the bar. They were no longer looking in Amanda's direction and laughing, but were instead studying the screen of a PADD.

"You know, it might be the alcohol talking, but sure, why not? Where do you want to go?"

"I am not well acquainted with this city," he admitted. "Where do you recommend?"

"Do you like coffee?"

Many people in his office consumed the unique tea called coffee and Petra often asked if she could get him some whenever she passed his cubicle, but he had yet to actually sample it for himself. It would be a minor breach of etiquette to accept refreshment from a woman who was not his mate or a close relative, but he supposed rules of etiquette he knew were irrelevant here. "I am unsure."

She flashed a wide grin. "Because you've never tried it or because you're taking time to make up your mind?"

"The former."

"There's a coffee shop about a block away from here," she explained, pulling her PADD out of her bag to pay her bill. "And if it turns out you hate coffee, they have other things. Tea, juice, water. And if nothing else, it's quiet."

"That will be adequate."

She laughed and gave a small shake of her head. "Well, I'm happy to provide an adequate experience for you."

He stepped aside to allow her to lead the way to their next destination. Sarek briefly considered informing Vedek of his plan but decided against it when he discovered the man's association with the orange-haired woman had progressed to a level of intimacy that any traditional Vulcan would regard as obscene in a public space. He had no desire to interrupt or confront his companion in the throes of such passion, so he followed Amanda onto a bustling street without so much as a nod in Vedek's direction.

The yellow sun was sinking fast into the horizon, casting shadows and cool hues onto the scenery. Packs of people wandered in all directions, crossing streets and sidewalks with no semblance of order, much to the chagrin of slow-moving vehicles. Amanda was unfazed. She deftly weaved between the masses, aided by confidence and her small size, and it was all Sarek could do to keep pace with her.

They turned off the main thoroughfare onto another street where the crowds were thinner. Once around the corner, they encountered two Vulcan men walking hand in hand, laughing to each other. Both possessed human-style haircuts and one had a neatly-trimmed beard, the other had dark purple hair and a ring in his nose. Both faltered when they encountered Sarek and he briefly wondered if he had ever been acquainted with them or if they recognized him. The S'chn T'gai family was very well known, especially in Shi'Kahr.

Sarek paused a step and the man on the right smiled and raised his right hand in the ta'al and said, "Live long and prosper."

The other man dropped his partner's hand and did likewise and Sarek gladly returned the greeting. Despite their very eccentric manner of dress, they were the first Vulcans he'd met since arriving on Earth to offer this exchange without any prompting, which sent a ripple of nostalgia through him. He repressed it and just as quickly as the men had stopped to acknowledge him, they rejoined their hands and continued on their way.

Amanda had stopped several paces ahead and was wearing a peculiar expression on her face. "You know, I tried that with a Vulcan guy on a bus when I first got here and he blew me off."

"Clarify."

"The whole Vulcan greeting thing," she explained, holding up her hand and parting her fingers into a V-shape. "I guess I just assumed it wasn't a thing Vulcans did here."

He held up his right hand to mirror hers, grateful she would try to honor his culture. A thin smile snuck onto her lips and she shrugged. "Live long and prosper?"

The inflection in her tone was more indicative of asking than telling. He replied, "Peace and long life."

She smiled again but it caused him no discomfort, unlike when the women in his office smiled at him. They dropped their hands and continued on their way. "Are you familiar with Vulcan traditions?"

"Not really," she confessed. "I learned a little bit in social studies class about logic and Surak and whatnot, but I never actually met a Vulcan until I moved here from Alaska to go to school. But the Vulcans here, they—" Her words abruptly halted and she cast a sidelong glance at him.

"Continue," he urged.

"I don't want to say anything inappropriate out of ignorance."

"The only way out of ignorance is through education. Perhaps it would be better to pose a question rather than a statement in this case."

"Fair enough," she grinned. "Okay, so when I learned about Vulcans in school, I pictured someone more like you, not like the guys we just ran into. But the Vulcans I've met here seem basically like humans. Why is that?"

Sarek nodded. "It would be illogical to attempt to speak on behalf of all Vulcans in this city, but this region of Earth is home to many V'tosh Ka'tur."

"What is that?"

"Not what," he corrected. "Who. Literally translated, V'tosh Ka'tur means Vulcans without logic, though it is a term casually used to describe any Vulcan who doesn't firmly adhere to Surak's teachings, not only those who reject logic entirely."

"So they're like Vulcan atheists?"

"I had thought atheist was a term reserved for someone who does not believe in some form of supernatural being, force, or power as a creator or controller of existence," Sarek replied. "Surak's teachings offer a rational investigation of truth, which I believe renders them closer to a philosophy than religion. Though I admit my command of Federation Standard is imperfect so perhaps I am mistaken in the precise definitions."

"Really? You speak Standard better than most of the humans I know."

"It is not my first language and I rarely spoke it on Vulcan. I consider myself functionally fluent, but I occasionally find it difficult to discern nuances in vocabulary."

She stopped outside a green concrete building with large, circular glass windows. The interior was small and packed with eclectic furniture, from sofas and armchairs to low tables and irregularly-shaped benches. Warm light bathed the handful of patrons in an ochre glow.

"This is it," she declared, opening the door.

He was greeted by a rich, humid aroma and the soft melody of instrumental music. Sarek greatly preferred this place to the one they'd left.

Amanda escorted him to a long bar. Mounted on the wall behind it was what appeared to be a menu, though he recognized very few of the words. Options such as cappuccino, macchiato, and café au lait defied the phonetic rules of Standard as he understood them.

They took their places in the queue, which gave him time to witness the process of making coffee. Sarek marveled at the specialized machinery that appeared to involve steam. Just as he was wondering what temperature coffee was served at, Amanda said, "I love this place. Coffee from a replicator tastes fine, but there's something special about having it made the old-fashioned way."

"I am unsure what to order," he admitted, turning his attention back to the complex menu.

"I've had everything here at least a dozen times and it's all great."

"The greatness of a thing is relative and subjective," he replied.

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "True. But I will say coffee is an acquired taste for most people. I would probably start with something flavored."

Sarek studied the menu, unable to discern which of these drinks were served with added flavor or what that flavor might be. He was considering ordering a caramel macchiato because he knew caramel was a Terran confection, but when Amanda stepped up to the counter and asked for a large mocha latte, he decided it would be polite to emulate her and ordered the same thing in a smaller size.

The man behind the counter began the intriguing process of mixing their drinks. Sarek was engrossed in watching the machine froth the white liquid into foam when Amanda said, "I come here a lot."

"I had deduced that," he replied, without taking his eyes off the steaming appliance.

"Really?"

"Yes, you indicated you enjoy this establishment. Your exact words were, 'I love this place.' Furthermore, you admitted to having ordered everything they sell at least twelve times, and assuming you only order one beverage per visit, based on a menu featuring—" Sarek paused, scanned the board on the wall, and continued, "—sixty-three individual items, you have frequented this business on at least 756 separate occasions, which I believe may objectively be considered 'a lot' in this particular scenario."

Amanda's mouth slowly fell open. The man who was making their drinks stole a glance at Sarek out of the corner of his eye, then made eye contact with Amanda. They both smiled. Sarek wondered what was so humorous about basic arithmetic.

As he soon learned, coffee was served at a very high temperature, but the drink was so saccharine and delicious that Sarek drank it readily. He took a slow sip to avoid scalding the inside of his mouth and announced, "I do not find this bitter at all."

Amanda took a sip from her own cup. "Mochas are pretty sweet. Do you like it?"

"Very much."

Another smile emerged on her face, this one different than the others in that it seemed to stretch onward into her eyes. "I'm glad. Anyway, you want to sit down?"

They tucked themselves into a booth in the corner by a window. Sarek busied himself observing the activities of the humans in the shop, content in the silence. Amanda—what peculiar names humans had!—was not.

"You seem pretty good at math."

"An arbitrary observation."

"I guess," she nodded, craning her neck to look out the window.

His mathematical abilities were exceptionally good. Not rising to the level of genius, perhaps, but certainly well above average compared to his peers at the Vulcan Science Academy. Not that he was employed there any longer. It pained him to think of the fellowship he'd left, then baffled him that he had trouble suppressing his anguish over the loss of his career on Vulcan. Why was he allowing his thoughts to become disorganized?

He took another drink of his mocha latte and attempted to focus, but momentarily got lost in his enjoyment of the physical sensation that accompanied every swig of this delightful concoction. After traveling down his throat and into his stomach, the hot liquid seemed to continue on toward his extremities. He felt warm and as long as he concentrated on the warmth, he felt content, despite all the deep, dark thoughts of T'Rea and his father and the meeting with the chancellors.

"So what do you do with those amazing math skills?" she asked, not bothering to look in his direction. "Are you an engineer or—"

"I am currently lead cartographer at Cary Cartographic," he interrupted.

"So, you make maps?"

"I assist in estimating the topology of space in distant parts of the Alpha and Beta quadrants based on astrometric data collected from various labs and space stations throughout the Federation."

"That's interesting," she said, finally tearing her eyes away from the window. "I've never been to space. I've always wanted to go."

Sarek took another sip of his drink, dismayed by how little of it he had left. He blinked several times. His head felt wonderfully light. "What prevents you from traveling off world?"

"Time, mostly," she replied, cupping her hands around her drink. "I spend most of my time either in class, studying, or interning at an early childhood learning center."

"You are a student," he acknowledged. "What do you study?"

"Elementary education. I want to be a teacher."

They were engaging in the human custom of small talk and for once he did not find it tedious and burdensome. He learned she came to this coffee shop nearly every afternoon on her way to a childcare center where she worked in the evenings, supervising young children whose parents were occupied outside the home. He told her he had only relocated to Earth from Vulcan thirteen days ago and had just completed his first week at his new place of employment. Information flowed back and forth readily, that was until she asked what made him want to become a cartographer.

For no reason at all, he nearly admitted the sordid details of his self-inflicted demotion and hasty relocation to Earth. Why was he suddenly so willing to be so forthcoming with this stranger? Silence hung between them as Sarek struggled not only to answer her question, but also to grasp what was happening to his mind. Amanda watched him closely, which only made him feel self-conscious. Why was he feeling all these feelings?

"I'm just impressed by what you do is all," she murmured, taking another drink of her beverage. "You're clearly very smart. I can barely pass physics. In fact, I should be studying for a physics exam right now but my friends dragged me out."

Sarek blinked. "You study physics?"

"Yes, I needed another math credit and I registered late and the classes I needed for my degree plan were full so they let me substitute physics and I hate it," she sighed. She offered him a thin smile. "Don't suppose you tutor?"

He was about to explain to her that he had a professional degree in astrophysics from the Vulcan Science Academy when her eyes suddenly grew wide.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, looking around for some sign of danger.

"Uh—no. Um, can I—do you want something else to drink? Another mocha?" Redness rose in her cheeks.

He prepared to tell her that according to Vulcan custom, it was somewhat unusual for an individual to wait on a another unless they were relatives or employed expressly for that particular purpose, but she was already sliding out of the booth. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go get myself another coffee."

She tripped on her way out of her seat, catching herself on the table. Humans were so peculiar.

"Who is this guy?" she thought as she listened to him explain that his human coworkers were a source of near constant confusion.

He had been so uptight at first. There was simply no other way to describe a man with perfect posture and a shirt buttoned to his chin sitting in a bar nursing a glass of water. Then he had delivered that savant-like display of estimating, or rather, calculating, how many times she'd visited this coffee shop, and her opinion had changed a little bit. He was fastidious but he was smart.

Now tucked into the overstuffed booth at Pete's Place, he seemed to have transformed yet again and she had no idea what to think of him. His rigidness had given way to sociability and she found she didn't mind the conversation. It flowed easily and he was a very interesting person at his core.

If she didn't know better, she'd think he was drunk. Not falling over drunk, but certainly buzzed. His speech had slowed slightly and began to exhibit more noticeable inflections in tone, making him sound more natural and less stilted. Meanwhile, the benefit of coffee and time had rendered Amanda all but stone-cold sober.

"So what made you want to be a cartographer?" she asked, giving her cup a half twirl between her hands.

"I didn't. There was—" He wavered. Obvious conflict spread across his face, sending Amanda into empathetic distress in response. She needed to change the subject and now.

"I'm just impressed by what you do is all," she mumbled. She took another drink of her mocha and added, "You're clearly very smart. I can barely pass physics. In fact, I should be studying for a physics exam right now but my friends dragged me out."

He gazed at the table. "You study physics?"

She explained how she had gotten roped into taking a physics class and joked, "Don't suppose you tutor?"

His eyes darted side to side and she was about to tell him she was only kidding when the bell above the door rang, heralding the arrival of a new patron. Her heart must have skipped about a dozen beats when she saw who it was.

Adam was here. Adam. In the year she'd been coming to this shop, she'd never seen him in here once. It was only two blocks away from the learning center, but he lived in the opposite direction—she wasn't proud of how she knew that—so it never occurred to her he would walk out of his way to get a cup of coffee at this late hour.

She sunk down into her seat but she was facing the door and he was bound to see her sooner or later. What could she do? He had let her off early to study and now here she was with some Vulcan guy in a coffee shop. What would he think? Her face was on fire and her heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest.

"Is something the matter?" Sarek asked, looking around the shop.

"Uh—no." Her cup was still half full but she was pretty sure he'd already polished his off. She could go hide in the bathroom and pray Adam was getting his drink to go, then she could swing by the bar and get Sarek a refill and no one would ever be the wiser. "Um, can I—do you want something else to drink? Another mocha?"

He glanced at the unfinished drink in her hand and she knew what he was about to say. Unfortunately, Adam's head began to turn in her direction and she blurted, "I'll be right back. I'm going to go get myself another coffee."

Her plan might have worked too, if she hadn't gotten her ankles crossed under the table. By some miracle her coffee cup remained on the table and she managed to catch herself on the edge of the booth rather than fall face-first onto the stained concrete floor.

"So much for keeping a low profile," she thought dryly. When she stood up, there was no question Adam was looking directly at her.

He crossed his arms and smiled. He smiled. Had he seen her fall? Had he seen her get out of the booth? Deciding she had no other choice but to approach him now, she quickly straightened herself and did her best to casually stroll, not pitifully stumble, in his direction. When she was halfway there he cocked his head and said, "Hey 'Manda."

"What's going on, Adam?"

A tiny voice in her head was screaming at her to be cool. What was Adam thinking? What was Sarek thinking?

"Thought you were studying physics?" He winked. She swooned.

"My roommate decided I needed a night out after working most of the week," she muttered, her mouth instantly dry at being called out.

"I'm just giving you a hard time," he laughed. "I remember my college days. They were only like five years ago, but you know."

She laughed. "I've never seen you in here before."

"Oh, I come to Pete's every once in a blue moon," he said.

"And of course it had to be tonight," Amanda thought helplessly, daring to look in Sarek's direction. He was still facing the wall.

"So, is this a date?"

Amanda nearly choked. "What?"

"The guy you were sitting with?" he explained. "Are you on a date?"

For a brief moment, she thought he was asking her if their chance encounter in a coffee shop counted as a date, then a second later, her heart was being crushed under the weight of disappointment. Adam nodded toward Sarek, playful curiosity plainly written in his eyes.

"We—uh—we just met," she stammered.

"Ah, so it's new."

"Uh well—it's um—"

Why not just tell the truth? Because the truth was pathetic, obviously. Was she really supposed to say, "Well Adam, my roommates' friends dared me to go talk to this dork in a bar and I did and now here I'm in a coffee shop with him because I only slightly preferred his company to theirs and I don't even know his last name and all I've wanted for the past year is for you to ask me out?"

Adam gently patted her bicep. "It's okay. You don't owe me an explanation. I think it's cool that you're open-minded about interspecies relationships. A lot of people aren't."

Suddenly she was cool for dating a Vulcan guy? It was hardly a secret that Adam was dating a Vulcan woman. T'Vara, the tallest, chicest woman Amanda had ever met in person, often waited for Adam in the lobby of the learning center at closing time. The line shifted and he moved to the counter to place his order, leaving Amanda to wonder whether she should let him think she was casually dating a Vulcan guy. Very casually, of course.

"Amanda?"

She wheeled around, horrified to discover Sarek had migrated from his place at the booth to join them in line. "H-hey, Sarek."

All of her internal panic alarms were shrieking at full volume. Adam turned toward them and it was evident from his body language that he was expecting an introduction.

She closed her eyes and started. "Uh, Sarek, this is Adam. Adam, this is Sarek."

"Great to meet you," Adam said, delivering a warm smile. He parted the fingers on his right hand into a V-shape and asked, "Should I offer one of these?"

Sarek hesitated and gave a small nod, then lifted his hand to return the gesture. "Live long and prosper," both men said simultaneously.

"I work with Amanda at the learning center," Adam explained.

"He's my boss," Amanda added faintly.

"Yeah, we work together, so no worries. I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend away." He tacked on a little laugh to the end of his sentence but it did nothing to ease her mortification.

Amanda wished she had hands capable of digging a hole right through the copper-colored concrete floor so she could crawl in it and die. Why would Adam say that? She should do something, but what? Should she correct her boss? Play along? Any words to fill this awful silence would be better than nothing. She couldn't bear to look at Sarek. No doubt he assumed she told Adam they were dating, which must make him think she was sad and desperate.

The barista handed Adam his medium black coffee and he raised it in their direction. "It was great to meet you, Sarek. You both have a great night."

"You too," she managed to squeak.

She barely remembered ordering two more medium mocha lattes. When they returned to their seats in the booth, Sarek took a long drink of his mocha and asked, "What did he mean when he called you my girlfriend?"

Amanda felt too emotionally destroyed to be deeply affected by this fresh round of embarrassment. She opened her mouth to explain that her boss was just confused about their relationship when he added, "Would 'woman friend' not be more appropriate? I am fairly certain a girl refers to a female who has not reached sexual maturity. And are we friends? I would have thought the word 'acquaintance' was more fitting."

All she could answer with was a stunned, nervous snort. She threw her hand over her mouth and tried to keep from roaring with laughter. He didn't know what a girlfriend was. He seemed to think it was literally a friend who was a girl. And he had explained his confusion using the term "sexual maturity." Who was this guy?

"Why is my question so amusing?" he asked, downing a third of his mocha in one go.

She shook her head and exhaled slowly to compose herself. Was it worth explaining that she wasn't actually his girlfriend and adding to her humiliation? No, it probably wasn't, especially considering that after tonight, she'd probably never see him again. She took a long sip of her coffee and replied, "I'm just being an illogical human. Don't mind me. And you're probably right about the 'woman friend' thing. Language is weird. And we can be friends if you want. Or acquaintances. It's up to you."

Sarek bobbed his head in agreement and finished the remains of his mocha in three huge gulps.

"You really seem to like mochas," she mused.

He peered through the small hole in the coffee cup lid, smiled the tiniest of smiles, and said candidly, "I do. Very much."

Amanda smiled back and shook her head to keep from laughing again. As quirky as he was, she was actually halfway enjoying her night out with this stranger who was so clearly adrift in a strange land.

Chapter Text

Sarek's eyes shifted between his calculations and the current listing of accessible Federation telescopes. The long-range systems at Io Station would be the most logical choice for his needs. As he prepared to send a message to Giannina to ask her to contact the necessary personnel at Io Station to schedule time, his keen ears detected the sound of his name in the distance.

He noted Vedek speaking with Petra. He only moved his eyes but despite this, they both seemed to sense his gaze had fallen on them. Petra looked directly at Sarek, smiled, and offered a small wave with her fingertips.

"Good morning, Sarek," Kyla exclaimed, plopping down in her chair in the adjacent cubicle.

Sarek turned his attention from the conspiratorial glances of Vedek and Petra and back to his computer. The small clock at the bottom of his screen read 0918 hours. The beginning of the traditional workday was eighteen minutes ago, but since beginning at Cary Cartographic the week before, he had yet to observe Kyla report to her place of duty prior to 0915. Punctuality among humans seemed to be a flexible concept but for Kyla Perry, it appeared to be utterly optional.

Rather than immediately begin work in penance for her tardiness, she leaned back and took a bite of a circular piece of bread with a hole in its center. Sarek was unclear whether this was a doughnut or a bagel—humans had such a fondness for shaping breads in this fashion—but he supposed the specific label didn't matter.

Why had she not taken her first meal at home? What could she have been doing to make her not only late for work, but also unable to set aside time to consume a morning meal? But then again, she was hardly the only person to eat at her work station. In fact, this seemed to be the rule rather than the exception.

With a mouth still full of partially-chewed bread, she swiveled in her chair and asked, "How's your Monday?"

Why should she be so concerned with the progress of his morning? He was about to explain that he could not offer an assessment of his day when so little of it had transpired when the bright, sing-song voice of the company's receptionist pierced his thoughts.

"Good morning, Sarek!" Alicia called.

Sarek blinked and replied with the traditional response to such a greeting. "Good morning."

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, gripping the tops of his cubicle and leaning into his workspace.

"Clarify."

Alicia's eyes met Kyla's and they both smiled. Alicia said, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"I had thought you worked as the receptionist," he replied. "I was unaware you also functioned as a domestic servant."

After a false start of fluttering choking sounds, both women erupted into laughter. Sarek uttered a sigh, grateful it wouldn't be heard over their mirthful squeals. When they calmed sufficiently for conversation to become possible once again, he asked, "Why am I so often an object of amusement?"

Alicia's demeanor changed into something more serious. She took in a deep breath and blurted, "We're not making fun of you. You're just so different than anyone we've ever worked with."

"Yeah, it's actually nice," Kyla added, stuffing another bite of her first meal into her mouth.

"Anyway, no, I'm not a servant, I was just trying to be friendly because I was already on the way to the replicator to get myself a coffee," Alicia explained. "It would be no trouble for me to get something for you while I'm there."

Sarek set his hands on the desk, sending the figurine of Zefram Cochrane with the oversized, wobbling head into a flurry of barely perceptible nods. Ingesting anything at his workstation was so contrary to Vulcan custom, yet approximately two-thirds of the present office staff—the ones he could see, anyway—were currently either eating or drinking something. Based on his experiences the previous week, this almost ritualistic snacking would continue until it was time to consume mid-meal. Perhaps humans had a greater demand for constant caloric intake.

"So," Alicia murmured, accentuating the vowel sound at the end of the word. "Can I get you anything?"

Sarek briefly pondered the idea of requesting a Vulcan breakfast tea and wondered whether the replicators could manage his preferred first meal drink, but Alicia continued talking in her quest to coax him into a beverage. "I could get you tea, juice, coffee. The replicators make a pretty smooth macchiato if you ask me."

Sarek wasn't sure what a macchiato was, but her mention of coffee for the second time made him think of the superb saccharine concoction he shared with Amanda.

"Is the replicator capable of generating a beverage called a mocha latte?" he asked.

"A mocha?" A wide smile swept over her features. "Can do. Coming right up."

Sarek nodded and then, remembering humans had an almost constant need for appreciation and validation, called after her, "Thank you."

Interacting with this species was a constant source of exhaustion and discomfort. All the questions and prying. Perhaps the only time he'd felt even moderately at ease conversing with a human since his relocation to Earth had been with his so-called girlfriend, or woman acquaintance, Amanda. Why was that?

"Morning, Sarek!" Garrett's voice bellowed over the wall of his cubicle.

Sarek's eyes flicked upward in his direction. "Yes, it is morning."

"How are you settling in?"

Sarek sat back from his desk, folded his hands in his lap, and studied his boss. "I have accomplished very little."

Garrett delivered an expression that looked strangely both like a smile and a frown. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Sarek admitted. "It is merely that I have experienced an almost constant barrage of social interaction since my arrival this morning."

Garrett threw his head back and howled with laughter like a pack predator calling others to a hunt. "That's just how Mondays are. People do stuff over the weekends and then they have to come in and talk about it. Welcome to Earth."

"It is customary on Earth to sacrifice productivity in a professional environment for the sake of social engagement?"

"It sounds weird when you say it like that, but I guess so."

"Then why not instruct the staff to arrive at work early, so that they can debrief each other prior to beginning their duties so as to not impact efficiency?"

"Because efficiency would also take a hit if I turned into a slave driver."

"Slavery is illegal within the Federation."

Garrett pinched bridge of his nose and laughed silently to himself. "What I mean is that morale is also important to efficiency. Socializing makes people happy, happy people do better work. If the folks around here want to blow off the first twenty minutes of work and catch up with office friends, I'm okay with it."

"Is participating in this custom mandatory?"

Garrett laughed again. "Not mandatory, no."

Their conversation and Garrett's amusement drew Vedek's attention. He strolled in the direction of Sarek's cubicle, asking, "Having a good morning, Sarek?"

"Hey Sarek, got your mocha!" Alicia said brightly, trotting up behind Vedek.

His eyes closed for a brief moment as he tried to mute his frustration with the increasing size of the impromptu gathering forming around his desk.

"Mocha, huh?" Vedek grinned.

Sarek inquired, "Is something amusing?"

Vedek shrugged. "It's just a little early, don't you think?"

Alicia set the cup on his desk. "It's coffee. Most people drink coffee in the morning, don't they?"

"Sure. It's just that mocha is choc—" Vedek faltered, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Uh, chock full of vitamins."

"It is?" Alicia scoffed.

"Is it inappropriate to drink mocha lattes before a certain time of day?" Sarek asked, wondering if he'd inadvertently broken some human custom.

"No, no," Vedek replied hastily. "In fact, drink up. I just didn't know you liked mocha lattes. Might go get one myself here in a minute. Gotta get those…vitamins."

Sarek reached for the drink, took a sip, and paused a moment to enjoy the pleasant warmth hitting his stomach and spreading outward to his extremities. He was pleased that his new preferred drink was not only tasty, but also healthy.

Garrett turned to Vedek. "How'd your weekend go?"

"Pretty good. Met this amazing girl on Friday. I actually met her at a bar with Sarek." He shot Sarek a small wink.

"Really?" Garrett asked. "You'll have to bring her to my barbecue next weekend."

"I just might."

Garrett turned back to Sarek. "Speaking of which, I have a Federation Day barbecue every year and the whole office is invited. You should come. Bring your family."

"My family remains on Vulcan," Sarek reminded him.

"Oh, right. Well, bring a friend, bring a girlfriend, or a boyfriend or really, bring whoever you like."

"Sarek's single," Vedek laughed. "But we're trying to get him to meet people."

"I'm still looking for a plus one," Alicia sighed. "But there's no shame in going alone."

Sarek wasn't entirely sure what a barbecue was but it was obviously some kind of social gathering. He knew so few people on Earth and almost all of them currently worked in his office, but he did have a girlfriend. Or was she a woman acquaintance? They never had settled on a preferred term. "I will invite my girlfriend, if you require I bring a guest."

Alicia coughed and Vedek's eyes grew large. Garrett smiled. "It's not required but more the merrier."

Vedek held up a hand. "Wait—since when do you have a girlfriend?"

"I met her on Friday night. It did not seem necessary to inform you who I associate with."

Vedek crossed his arms, a huge smile brimming on his mouth. "Wait, are you talking about the one with the brown hair you ditched me for at the Tiger?"

"Could you explain the function of the word 'ditched' in your sentence?"

"You left the bar without me. You ditched me."

"I see. I did leave you, but you appeared quite occupied with that woman with the orange hair and I—"

"Wait, you took him bar hopping to troll for college girls?" Alicia interrupted, slapping Vedek's shoulder in open disapproval.

"What? I thought he could use a night out after his first week and besides, it seems like it worked out for him," Vedek replied, slinking forward to tap Sarek on the shoulder in a playful motion.

Like so many other human expressions, the looks on Garrett and Alicia's faces were impossible to interpret but distinctly different. Garrett seemed amused, Alicia seemed hurt. Moments later, the informal meeting around his cubicle adjourned and Sarek found himself free to resume his duties. Unfortunately, his mind was now occupied.

He wasn't entirely sure what the precise function of girlfriends were or why Garrett wanted him to bring one, but it appeared appropriate to invite them to his employer's barbecue, whatever that was. He did not object to spending an afternoon in her company—she was so much easier to converse with than most other humans he knew—but there was a problem. He did not have Amanda's contact information. They parted ways at the coffee shop on Friday with a simple goodbye. Amanda had even gone so far as to wish him luck at his new job, which was illogical because luck was illogical, but he sensed she meant well.

He had no way to conveniently message her and extend the invitation, but that did not mean he could not find her. A recent memory of the coffee shop drifted into view in his mind's eye, of Amanda leaning over the bar and declaring that she frequented the establishment "a lot" and Sarek explaining that she had already implied as much and estimating she had made at least 756 visits to the place. The coffee shop was on the way to the learning center where she worked in the evenings: he could look for her there.

With that settled, Sarek returned to the business of scheduling the telescopes at Io Station. He sipped his mocha, pleased with the way the drink soothed and relaxed him. Much to his surprise, few people bothered him throughout the day. It was impossible not to notice the rest of the staff discussing him, but he had no interest in illogical chatter and gossip. When he entered the lunch room to consume his midday meal, he overheard Shannon from the information technology department lean toward her friend and mutter, "Did you hear Sarek has a girlfriend?" to which the friend replied, "What? Who?" He could not discern Shannon's answer, but it did not matter.

By 1645, half of the office had already left work for the day. Sarek was tempted to do as the others did and leave early, mostly because he wasn't sure when Amanda would make an appearance at Pete's Place, but he continued working until the appointed time out of a rigid sense of routine. The instant the clock read 17:00:00, Sarek rose from his chair, donned his coat and scarf, and quickly strode out of the grand lobby of Cary Cartographic, mildly caught off guard by the sudden realization that he was actually looking forward to something for the first time since relocating to Earth.

The lines of text started to morph into a nebulous blob of nonsense. Her stomach grumbled and an alkaline taste permeated her mouth. Was it getting hotter in here? Why was it becoming so hard to breathe? Amanda closed her eyes and clutched her hands into tight fists, desperate to control her terror.

Just as she started to calm herself, her PADD dinged and a pleasant voice drifted through the earpiece in her right ear. "There are ten minutes remaining on your exam."

Her heartrate spiked into the stratosphere, her eyes wrenched open to stare at the questions that could allegedly pass judgement on her understanding of physics. It might as well have been written in Klingon.

"Calculate Earth's mass given the acceleration due to gravity at the North Pole is 9.830 m/s/s and the radius of the Earth is 6,371 km from center to pole."

"The mass of the Earth? What?" she hissed under her breath.

The girl next to her shot her a disapproving, quizzical look. Amanda almost felt giddy with despair and swiped her finger over the PADD, broken to realize she was only two-thirds of the way done with the exam.

She skimmed the other questions and upon deciding they were just as impossible to answer, went back to the question about calculating the planet's mass. She picked up her stylus and tried shuffling some numbers around on the page to see if she could get an answer that even remotely made sense. When the voice told her she had five minutes remaining, another shot of panic ricocheted through her mind, hampering her ability to think clearly so much that she doubted she would even recognize her own name.

"This completes your exam," the earpiece tyrant proclaimed.

The screen went blank, a little spinning wheel faded into view, indicating the device's algorithms were considering the worthiness of her answers and soon a new screen appeared, heralding the delivery of her score. Amanda nearly threw up. Confirming the words scrawled on the PADD, the pleasant voice began to read along.

"Your score for this exam is 46.92%. If you have questions or comments concerning this exam, please contact your professor within three standard days. You are prohibited from discussing this exam with—"

Amanda ripped the tiny bud from her ear, too distraught to listen to the instructions she'd heard dozens of times before. She grabbed her bag and fought through the crowd of students in the auditorium. The teaching assistants were waving and urging them to turn in the secured testing PADDs and Amanda dumped it unceremoniously into a bin on her way out, ignoring the guffaws about being gentler with the equipment.

She was going to fail physics. The computer would drop her lowest of four exams but because she only scored an abysmal 53.02% on the first midterm, she had been counting on doing better from then on, not worse. Even if she got perfect scores on the rest of her exams and assignments, the best she could get in the class was a B.

She drifted back in the direction of her dorm on autopilot, fighting back tears and trying to find any positive thought swimming around in the gloom and panic of another bombed physics midterm. Before she knew it, she was standing at the door to her room. She hovered there for a moment, staring at nothing in particular.

She had studied so hard. Maybe she had gone out Friday night but the rest of the weekend had been devoted to physics. Why couldn't she just learn this stuff?

All the fears she had about school as a child crept back into her mind, the years of struggling with words that seemed to move around on a page and classmates that would call her stupid and well-meaning teachers who told her she just "learned a little bit differently than everyone else." Intensive tutoring really had made a massive dent in her learning disability but the old anxieties and lack of confidence never went away. Oh how she felt them now.

When she finally mustered the energy to open the door, she found Mara sitting in the disaster that was her side of the room, applying a layer of makeup.

"Hey," Mara called coyly.

"Hey," Amanda mumbled in reply, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall. If she didn't get dressed for work and leave in the next twenty minutes, she would be late.

"I had the best weekend with Vedek."

"Who?" Amanda asked, kicking off her shoes.

"The Vulcan guy from the Tourmaline Tiger."

"Okay." Of course she'd wondered where her roommate had been all weekend but hadn't invested too much time in worrying about it. Mara found new guys all the time and frankly, the room was quieter without her there.

"Do you have any idea how hot it is to have sex with a Vulcan?" Mara gushed, smacking her lips together. "I swear, I'm never going back to humans."

"Uh huh." Amanda wasn't sure what else to say and to be honest, she was only half-listening. Mara talked this way about every new guy who wandered into her life.

"He did this thing where he touched my face and it was like a whole-body orgasm. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

"Not really."

"Lourdes said you left with that other Vulcan guy," Mara said, winking at Amanda in the mirror. "I thought you might have—"

"Yeah, we went out for coffee," Amanda interrupted with a sneer. "No incredible whole-body orgasms for me."

Mara shrugged. "Anyway, we had this hotel room and spent the entire weekend in bed. He's such an attentive lover."

"Did you just say he's an 'attentive lover?' That sounds like something out of a trashy holonovel."

"I know!" Mara giggled. "But it's so true. He spent so much time trying to make sure I felt good. It's like he really cared, you know?"

"Great."

"And he knows how to treat a girl too. We emptied the mini-bar on the first night—hey, did you know Vulcans get drunk on chocolate?"

"No, sure didn't," Amanda sighed, grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder. "Anyway, I'm going to be late for work."

"We should go out again soon!" Mara called after her. "But not tonight because I'm seeing Vedek again!"

Amanda rolled her eyes, wondering how long it would be before she dumped Vedek and moved on to some other shiny new toy. Poor Vedek had no idea the broken heart waiting in store for him.

She walked briskly, cutting through campus buildings to shave time off her walk. A coffee shop run was just what she needed and if the line wasn't too long, she should have enough time to grab a blended smoothie and still be on time for work. It wouldn't do much to improve her physics grade, but her mood definitely needed a boost.

When she turned the corner, her eyes were immediately drawn to a dark-clad figure standing in front of the entrance. She almost wondered if he was a cop or a security guard but then she experienced a spark of recognition. The Vulcan guy from Friday. Sarek. She put on a cautious smile and approached him.

He noticed her when she was about twenty paces away and nodded in acknowledgment, giving her the impression he'd been waiting for her. It became a very long, awkward walk to the front door of her favorite coffee shop.

"Hey, Sarek," she finally said, unsure if she should stop and actually talk or keep walking inside. "How are you?"

"Hello, Amanda. I have been waiting for you."

She lurched to a halt, his declaration gluing her feet to the sidewalk. It was a very creepy thing to say but for whatever reason, she wasn't all that unsettled. He was odd, but he wasn't putting off stalker vibes. Not yet.

"Okay," she stammered. "What's up?"

"I have a proposition."

Chapter Text

"A proposition?" Her mouth thinned to a slim line and her eyebrows rose.

"Yes, I would like to invite you to a barbecue," he explained. "My research indicates a barbecue is a traditional social gathering where a meal is served after having cooked food out of doors over an open flame."

Her head tilted to the side. "I know what a barbecue is, but…why are you inviting me?"

"Because my supervisor said I was encouraged to bring a guest, but all the individuals I am familiar with on Earth currently work at the same company and will already be in attendance. Because you are my girlfriend, I thought it appropriate that I invite you."

She didn't move or give any indication she heard his offer, other than widen her eyes to a point where he could see the whites that encircled her uniquely blue irises.

"Do you accept?" he asked.

Amanda took a deep breath, clasped her hands together, and trained her eyes skyward. "Look, Sarek, this is probably my fault for not really explaining exactly what a girlfriend is."

"Would you prefer I used the term woman acquaintance?"

"Sarek, a girlfriend is woman who is a romantic partner."

Sarek was stunned by this revelation. There was nothing in the term girlfriend to suggest it had romantic connotations. "Why did you not explain this on Friday evening?"

"Because I was embarrassed that my boss thought we were dating," she groaned, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I didn't want to make things weirder and I didn't think I'd ever see you again. And look where that got me."

"Yes, the truth is generally preferable to a lie."

"I didn't lie."

"Concealing the truth is still lying by omission."

"You're really going to lecture me?"

Sarek glanced down at the pavement. "My apologies."

"Look, I'm sorry about the misunderstanding. I hope you have fun at the barbecue."

"I have already told my boss I was bringing a girlfriend."

Amanda wrinkled her nose. "Then un-tell him. Or go out and find yourself a real girlfriend and take her."

"I find you pleasant enough," he replied.

Amanda's face went blank. "That's…nice? But I don't want to be in a relationship with you. No offense."

"You have given no offense."

"Well, this has certainly been a very weird conversation," she mumbled, inching forward to enter the coffee shop. "Good luck with everything."

Sarek stepped aside to let her pass, suddenly troubled by the prospect of losing Amanda as a girlfriend, even if only because he had misunderstood what the term meant. He didn't have any interest in being involved with her romantically either—interspecies relationships were so peculiar, after all—but the attitudes toward him in the office had changed dramatically when it became public knowledge that he had a girlfriend.

People bothered him less. They certainly talked about him more, but he had longer stretches of uninterrupted time to focus on his duties. Perhaps the illusion of being romantically attached to a person conferred certain social benefits according to Earth custom, such as the freedom to navigate one's day unmolested by mindless chatter.

He supposed he could always simply fail to correct people when anyone made mention of his girlfriend, but that would be a lie through omission, which he had just chastised Amanda for. He pondered the logic of lying. Falsehoods were illogical, but this would be a small lie and one not likely to cause harm. In fact, the benefits would surely outweigh any potential negative consequences in the form of increased productivity at work because he would be free of the burden of unwanted female attention.

But eventually the truth would come out. When Amanda failed to appear at the barbecue, it would certainly raise suspicion. He could try to do as she suggested and find a new suitable girlfriend, but who? He liked Amanda. She was easy to converse with and besides, Vedek had seen her. If Sarek brought a different person to Garrett's barbecue, Vedek would recognize the switch and he would very likely tell the rest of the office.

Acting on a rare impulse, Sarek strode into the coffee shop and approached Amanda. She was waiting at the end of the bar and studying her PADD but she seemed to sense him coming. Her eyes performed an amazing display of acrobatics and she groaned, "What?"

"I know that it would be an inconvenience, but I would be very grateful to you if you were to attend this barbecue with me. I could compensate you for your time, if you like."

Her features turned very serious. "Excuse me?"

"Have I offended you in some way?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't sell any part of myself for money. Not my time, not my body, not anything."

Embarrassment was illogical, but Sarek could not deny a certain degree of mortification upon hearing her accusation. "I did not mean to imply you were for sale, neither your time nor...." He dropped his voice and added, "I- I would never attempt to, your body is your own and I—forgive me, but did you mean to imply I expected sexual intercourse?"

"Lower your voice," she snapped, jerking hard on his sleeve.

"Strawberry smoothie for Amanda!" the man behind the counter called, sliding a bright pink drink in her direction.

"I have to go," she added.

She snatched the drink from the counter and in her haste to flee the scene, her right foot clipped a brightly-patterned rug on the floor, sending her crashing to her knees and her drink sailing in a neat parabola across the copper concrete.

The few patrons in the shop turned to look and when Sarek bent down to ask if she was alright, she shoved the palm of her hand at him and growled that she was fine. She stormed toward the bar, grabbed a fistful of towels, and fell to her knees in an effort to sweep up the remains of her pink beverage.

The man behind the counter called to her, telling her there was no need to trouble herself and that he would tend to the mess, but she either did not hear him or did not care to. Sarek approached cautiously, knelt down, and began to assist with cleaning up.

"I've got this," she barked, scrubbing even more vigorously.

"Amanda, it's fine," the barman said, emerging from his station with a mopping bot in hand. "And I've already got another strawberry smoothie started for you."

"You didn't have to do that," she sniffed. Sarek noticed pools of moisture were forming around the lower lids of her eyes.

"You're one of our best customers," he laughed. "Of course I do. We all have bad days. Now step aside and let the sweeper work its magic."

Sarek stepped back as the employee requested. He turned to Amanda and muttered, "It is unfortunate about your drink."

"Yeah," she murmured through clenched teeth, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath as her cheeks began to flush crimson.

Sarek knew any further entreaties would be in vain and had no desire to cause further distress. "I am sorry to have bothered you. I'll leave you alone."

Her face grew redder. "Listen, I'm pretty sure you didn't mean to come off like some kind of weird pervert, but even if I wanted to, which I don't, I don't have time to be your girlfriend. I also don't have time to be your pretend girlfriend, even if you pay me. I'm registered for way too many hours this semester and my internship is running me ragged and no matter how hard I study, I'm going to fail physics and I'll probably have to move back home with my dad and I don't really need that right now. I don't even have time for my regular friends, let alone a fake boyfriend."

It was regrettable that the two men sitting on the nearby sofa were clearly listening to their conversation and giving Sarek some very suspect looks. The barman left the bot to its task and whipped back to his station to produce a drink identical to the one Amanda had spilled moments earlier. She took it, mumbled a word of thanks to the drink's creator, gave Sarek a brisk nod, and headed for the door.

"Have you attempted to remediate your physics knowledge with supplemental education?" He was uncertain what made him call after her, whether it was a desire to convince her to play the part of his girlfriend or genuine concern regarding her situation. He held his breath and awaited her response.

She halted in her tracks and without turning around asked, "What?"

"Have you sought an additional lecturer to bridge the gaps in your understanding of physics?"

"Are you talking about a tutor?"

"Precisely."

She glanced over her shoulder, revealing a face wearing features that could only be described as annoyed, even by Sarek, who was not adept at deciphering such things. "Pretty much all the tutors on campus are just idiot undergrads whose only qualification is they've already passed this class. They're terrible and a waste of time."

He took several steps toward her, careful to keep his posture submissive. "I would be willing to tutor you."

Her lip curled into a sneer. "And what makes you more qualified than some dopey sophomore who reeks of marijuana?"

He ignored the fact that he was unfamiliar with whatever marijuana was and explained, "I confess I am not sure which subdiscipline of physics you require assistance with, but I do hold an advanced degree in astrophysics from the Vulcan Science Academy and I have a strong background in optics, relativity, quantum mechanics, and-"

She held up a hand and shook her head. "I thought you were a map maker."

"I am currently employed by a firm that does interstellar cartography," he confirmed. "But generating accurate interstellar maps requires advanced knowledge of physics."

She blinked a few times and then shrugged. "You're really an astrophysicist?"

"I believe I mentioned it on Friday evening but you seemed occupied by the arrival of your supervisor."

The muscles in her throat twitched, suggesting she was swallowing.

"Also, it would be illogical to lie about my credentials. What branch of physics do you require remediation in?"

She waved her left hand in a dismissive semi-circle, frowned, and squinted her eyes. "Regular?"

"Specify."

She closed her eyes and held her hand to her forehead. "Do you know how to calculate the mass of the Earth?"

He thought about her question for a fraction of a second and said, "There are a number of instruments that could render a highly accurate measurement but it could also be estimated using simple gravitational laws. Do you know the average radius of the planet? Also, what system of units would you prefer the answer in?"

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. She remained silent for nearly ten seconds, her lips frozen partly open. "And you could calculate it, just like that?"

"With sufficient information, yes. Do you know your planet's radius? The planet's circumference or diameter would also be acceptable, as would some other information that would allow me to calculate the radius of the Earth, such as the Earth's volume or—"

"I don't know off the top of my head," she sighed, taking a hasty drink of her strawberry smoothie. "I'm going to be late for work. Do you mind walking and talking?"

"Not at all."

They set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, presumably in the direction of her work but also in the direction of Sarek's apartment. Amanda took a long sip of her drink and asked, "You only need a girlfriend for this barbecue of yours, right? As in, you want me to go and act like your girlfriend?"

"That is correct."

"And if I show up at your barbecue, you'll tutor me in physics?"

He probably would have agreed to tutor her anyway, but thought it wise to avoid saying so. He also thought it strange she would be offended by his offer of financial compensation in exchange for appearing in public as his girlfriend, but not by his proposal of educational reimbursement.

"When is this barbecue again?"

"Twelve days from now, in honor of Federation Day."

"Oh, that is coming up, isn't it?" she scowled, pushing her straw into her drink to stir it. "This semester's gone by so fast. So that's next Saturday."

"I believe so."

"And is it an all-day thing or do you just need to show up for an hour, eat a burger, and then dash?"

"I am uncertain. Why would I dash? Does dash not imply running—"

"Look, if we're going to do this, I want it to be fair," she interrupted. "I'll pretend to be your girlfriend in public for an hour in exchange for an hour of tutoring."

"That would be quite equitable, yes."

"So that's why I asked how long this barbecue is supposed to last. So if the barbecue is three hours, that's three hours of tutoring."

"I am capable of performing basic arithmetic."

She scowled. "But are you actually any good at teaching? Have you ever tutored before?"

"To obtain my degree, I was required to teach at least one class every term to junior physicists. I taught twelve classes in total."

"Right, but that doesn't mean you're good at it."

"None of my students ever had any complaints."

"But they were all Vulcan, right? Would they have complained?"

"Probably not," he admitted.

"Tell you what—tutor me for an hour and we'll see if there's any point in actually pursuing this. Regardless of how it goes, I'll agree to spend an hour at your boss' party."

"That is acceptable."

"So what are the rules?"

"Clarify."

"Well, I'll lay out one very specific and non-negotiable rule: this fake relationship isn't going to be a sexual one."

"No, I would never ask that—" 

"Good."

"We do not have to have any physical contact," he said. "In fact, I would prefer—"

"If you really need me to pretend to be your girlfriend, you're going to want to make it believable. No physical contact would be weird."

"I do not understand."

"There's a lot of stuff in between sex and no physical contact whatsoever," she continued.

"Perhaps you should be the one to determine what is appropriate," he replied, trying his best to stifle feelings of discomfort. "Since you are familiar with what humans do in romantic relationships."

She took another sip of her drink and said, "I'm fine with side hugs as long as you don't get too handsy, maybe a quick kiss on the cheek when we get to this barbecue, and I guess occasional hand holding."

He gave her a cautious glance. Hand-holding? As far as he was concerned, touching hands was far more intimate than touching their mouths together, but he knew from casual observance of Terran culture that humans had no such taboo over the practice.

"I would not be comfortable holding your hand," he said, surprised by how quiet his voice was.

"Fine then. No hand holding. I still think the relationship would be a bit more believable if we did, but it's up to you."

Her stride slowed and she stopped outside a bright yellow door with depictions of animals drawn on it. Long glass windows revealed a lobby steeped in primary colors and early childhood educational posters wrapped around a small central desk, where a woman with dark hair was watching them. He was very familiar with this place; his own residence was directly across the street.

"This is my stop," Amanda said, nodding toward the door.

"When would you like me to tutor you?"

"According to my syllabus, I have a quiz on Wednesday and I agreed to come into work early tomorrow, so could you meet me tonight?"

"Where?"

"Is Pete's Place okay?"

"Yes, but at what time? I would prefer to not have to wait for you outside again."

"Give me your PADD," she said, pulling hers from her bag.

He did as she instructed and she tapped the two receiving ports together. A soft ding indicated the devices had synced the necessary contact information.

"Here," she said, thrusting his PADD back into his hands. "Now I really have to go. See you tonight."

"You did not specify a time."

"Message me," she called over her shoulder, slamming the door of the learning center in his face.

The woman with the dark hair at the desk was still watching him. When she saw Amanda enter the building, she smiled. Sarek straightened himself, turned, and walked across the street into his apartment building to meditate and await her message with the details of their impending tutoring session.

Amanda leaned against the door, stunned by what had just transpired. Beads of condensation were forming on her smoothie cup, making her hand feel wet and gross.

"You okay?" Nicoletta called, giving her a smug look.

There were so many unspoken words written in her expression. "Yeah, fine."

"Who was the Vulcan guy?" she teased.

Much to her chagrin, Adam's head popped out of his mother's office. "Was that Sarek dropping you off?"

How she wished there were a way to keep herself from blushing involuntarily. "Yeah, he walked me to work."

"Who's Sarek?" Nicoletta asked, over-pronouncing his name and slapping her palms on the table, feigning shock and pretending to be scandalized.

"Amanda's new boyfriend," Adam winked, excusing himself from further conversation by ducking back into the office.

The last thing she wanted was to be teased by Adam over her fake boyfriend. Not that she could ever tell anyone they weren't really dating because that would just make her look even more pathetic.

"What's this about Amanda's new boyfriend?" Sarah prompted, sticking her head out of the infant room.

Why had she imagined any of this would ever remain a secret? The whole idea was to pretend to be Sarek's girlfriend for his benefit, not hers. 

"Amanda has a new boyfriend," Nicoletta cooed. "He's Vulcan and he just walked her to work."

"Walked her to work in a sweet way or a creepy, controlling way?" Sarah asked, touching her index finger to her lip.

Amanda rolled her eyes. As weird as Sarek was, he never once had he come off as creepy, but neither was he sweet. She decided to say what she needed to say to minimize the gossip. "The sweet way, I guess?"

Sarah touched her chest in dramatic fashion and sighed. "Ah, my heart!"

Amanda groaned inwardly. Why had she let Sarek walk her to work where other people could see him?

"Which kids are still waiting to be picked up?" she asked Nicoletta, desperate to change the subject.

Sarah glanced around the infant room and said, "I know the Peterson twins are still here, plus the usual suspects."

Amanda spent the next three hours chasing after rambunctious toddlers, changing diapers, and singing inane songs designed to teach young children about shapes and colors and numbers. She didn't mind the chaos and repetition. She loved children and they were an amazing distraction from a failed physics exam and her fake Vulcan boyfriend. One by one parents came to collect her charges and when the last child left at 2015, she set to work sanitizing the toddler room for the next day.

"Everything alright, Amanda?" Adam asked, peeking his head into the play area.

Amanda's mouth formed into an automatic, half-hearted smile. "Great."

"Need any help in here?"

Under any other circumstances she would have jumped at the chance to spend time alone with Adam, but today she didn't feel up to it. The last thing she wanted was to strike up a conversation about her new, albeit pretend, love interest. "I think I've got everything under control."

"Nah, I don't mind." He began wiping the toddler-sized tables down with disinfectant.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"Any time," he said, giving her a smile. "So how long have you and Sarek been dating?"

Amanda's heart sank. He couldn't have even given her a tiny segue before grilling her about Sarek?

"Uh, not long," she replied, grimacing.

"Aren't relationships the best when they're new?" he asked.

Amanda turned her back to him and made a face. "Sure, yeah."

"It's hard to believe T'Vara and I have been together for six months. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, and other times it feels like we just met."

She hated that they were talking about dating other people, but she couldn't deny she liked having this time with him. She cleared the throat. "Is she still on Vulcan?"

"Yeah, but she's supposed to be back on Friday."

"You must be excited," Amanda replied, hoping she was concealing the disappointment in her voice.

"Can't wait. I have this whole amazing date planned. She's really into nature and the bats just migrated back so I thought I'd take her on a late evening picnic to the lake so we could watch them cascade over the horizon at sunset."

"That sounds romantic," she said, unable to control her jealousy and despair that she wasn't the one being invited on this date.

"Her birthday is coming up soon and I'm still trying to figure out what to get her. Vulcans don't celebrate birthdays, but that's what she gets for having a human boyfriend. She gets to celebrate human traditions, whether she likes it or not."

"That's sweet of you," Amanda replied. "My birthday's in couple of weeks."

"That's right," he said. "April 12th, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she replied, secretly ecstatic that he would remember such a trivial detail about her life.

"And you'll be nineteen?"

Her heart beat faster. Adam remembered things about her. "Yeah."

"Can you believe T'Vara is going to be fifty?"

"Did you say fifty? Like, five-zero?"

He nodded.

Amanda's jaw hit the floor. "T'Vara is fifty years old? There's no way."

"Vulcans live almost twice as long as humans," he replied.

Amanda's brow rose. "Isn't it weird though, dating someone old enough to be your mom?"

"She's actually eight months older than my mom, but please don't tell my mom that," he laughed. "The age difference was weird at first, but I got over it. Besides, if she lives twice as long as I do, that means that relatively speaking, we're both about a quarter of the way through our lives so we're kind of like the same age."

"I guess," Amanda shrugged, unconvinced.

"How old is Sarek?"

"I don't know," she admitted, suddenly both dying to know and desperate to avoid ever knowing.

He looked so young but then again, so did T'Vara. Before Adam's revelation, she would have been shocked to hear the beautiful Vulcan woman was a day over thirty, let alone fifty. Sarek did say he had an advanced degree in astrophysics, but it was hard to say how long that might have taken him to achieve, since she knew nothing about the Vulcan educational system. Could he really be as old as fifty?

She laughed aloud. So what if he was fifty? It would just add another complicated layer to an already complicated situation, this idea that she was fake dating someone old enough to be her dad, or maybe even old enough to be her grandfather.

"Something funny?" Adam asked.

"Not really," she sighed.

When she was finished cleaning the toddler room, they held their usual end-of-day staff meeting to discuss upcoming events, potential issues with some of the kids, and scheduling conflicts. On her way out of the breakroom, she finally checked her PADD and saw she had a message from Sarek, asking what time he should meet her at the coffee shop.

She was in the middle of messaging him back on her way out the door when she looked up to see him standing on the sidewalk.

"Oh h-hey," she blurted. "What are you doing here?"

"You never replied to my message," he explained.

Sarah pushed past Amanda on her way out the door, giggling. She turned halfway around and made a heart shape with her hands and told Amanda to have a good night. Amanda pressed her lips into a slight frown and approached Sarek.

"Sorry, uh, things just got busy at work and I forgot to message you. Did you seriously just wait here for four hours for me to come out?"

"No, I live in the building across the street and researched the operating hours of this business."

"Oh good," Amanda lied.

"You stipulated it would be appropriate to engage in a light, chaste kiss on the cheek upon meeting," he said.

"First of all, tonight isn't a date: tonight is you tutoring me," she said, wagging her index finger. "Secondly, the whole point of a hello kiss is to keep up appearances in front of your social circle, not mine. I don't need my coworkers thinking we're dating, even though they already do."

"You are correct, forgive me," he responded. "I did not mean to offend you or insinuate I was owed this expression of favor. I have never entered into such a partnership with anyone before and I am unsure what the correct protocols are."

Amanda laughed. "Such a gentleman. You're the best fake boyfriend a girl could ask for."

"Was that a compliment?"

She hung her face in her hands to hide her expression. "I don't know. Let's go learn some physics."

Chapter Text

"A mocha for Sarek," called the man behind the bar, sliding a tall, slender cup in his direction over the quartz countertop.

"Thank you," he replied, picking up the drink with eager hands, cupping the container and enjoying the sensation of heat against his chilled fingers. Earth was so very cold.

Amanda was already sitting in a corner booth, sipping a cup of tea and studying the screen of a tablet with careful intensity. When he slid into the seat across from hers, she declared, "The radius of the Earth is 6,371 kilometers."

"I presume you tell me this based on the question you posed earlier, about being able to calculate the mass of the Earth?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink, which sent warmth spreading from his belly to his extremities.

"Yes, so what's the mass of this planet?" she asked.

"Perhaps you could tell me how you think you should go about calculating it with the data you just provided me."

"Are you that kind of tutor?" she scowled, pulling the PADD toward herself.

"Clarify."

"Are you the kind of tutor who's just going to sit there and offer positive affirmations about how I should think through the answer without offering me any real help? Because I can pull my hair out in frustration on my own time without an audience heckling me from the sidelines."

He set his coffee on the table, ignored all the euphemisms he did not understand, and gestured toward her PADD. "I am merely trying to gauge your current understanding of classical mechanics."

"And I asked you if you knew how to calculate the mass of the Earth because I'm trying to figure out if you're actually any good at physics."

Sarek repressed a small hint of annoyance at her intransigence. He just so happened to know the acceleration due to gravity at the Earth's axis was 9.83 meters per second squared because he'd seen it in a draft of a report on Cary Cartographic's satellite capabilities only that morning. Armed with that constant variable, plus the one she'd just given him about the Earth's radius, he began mentally placing the numbers into an equation, rearranging the terms for convenience, and sliding decimals and exponents until he arrived at an answer approximately three seconds later.

"I presume you prefer the answer in Standard metric because you gave me the radius in meters, so the solution is 5.982 septillion kilograms, or 5.982 times ten to the twenty-fourth power kilograms."

Amanda glanced down at her PADD, her eyes flickering in surprise. Her face froze then turned sour. "You looked that up while I was at work."

"I did not," he replied, quashing another twinge of annoyance at her implication that he would cheat or would be unable to solve a very simple physics problem.

"Oh, so you just did it all in your head in a matter of seconds?"

"Yes."

Amanda sneered, then closed her eyes and sighed. "I find that hard to believe."

"Why?"

"Because people aren't calculators."

"A very plain observation."

"So how did you do that then?"

"Because I have been trained since the moment I began learning to read to mentally solve mathematical equations and this particular problem was not difficult."

Amanda buried her face in her hands. "It is to me."

"Would you like me to explain how I arrived at such an answer?"

"Isn't that why we're here?"

"Are you familiar with the law of universal gravitation?"

"You mean like Newton's laws?"

"I believe Terrans have named a number of classical physics laws after the preeminent Terran physicist called Isaac Newton," he replied. "Could you specify which ones you're familiar with?"

"I know that every action has an equal and opposite reaction," she sighed, propping her elbow onto the table and leaning her face onto the palm of her hand. "Um, also, force equals mass times acceleration? That's the second one."

"Are you familiar with the law that states that every point mass in the universe attracts every other point mass with a force that is directly proportional to the product of their masses, and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them?"

Amanda's eyes slammed shut, creasing the skin around the corners. "I know the words you said were in Standard. I mostly know what all of them mean when said individually. But when strung together like that, they just sound like a bunch of gibberish."

Sarek took another long drink of his mocha, surprised that she could not grasp such a basic concept. He had learned about classical mechanics so long ago that the ideas seemed as elementary as the alphabet.

"Do you understand what gravity is?"

"It's a force."

"General relativity would actually define gravity as a constant acceleration."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're splitting hairs."

Sarek cocked his head. "I do not underst—"

"You're making trivial distinctions," she interrupted.

"It is not trivial," he insisted. "There is a difference between force and acceleration. You yourself stated only moments ago that force equals mass times acceleration, and if force and acceleration are interchangeable as you claim, that would render the concept of mass as constant, and it is clearly not."

"I guess that's a fair point."

"It is a correct point," he insisted. "So I ask again, what is gravity?"

"It's a…" She waved her hands around in a semi-circle. "Well, you just said it's a constant acceleration."

"Yes, but what does that mean?"

She crossed her arms and placed her forehead on the table. "I guess I don't really know."

"Gravity is a concept that describes how energy, whether light or mass, falls along the bending of spacetime."

Her head jerked upward from the table. "What?"

The exasperation in her voice was evident, even to an ear untrained to detect emotion. In an effort to avoid frustrating her further, he thought of how he might explain it to a very young child.

"I presume you sleep in a bed?"

She scowled. "Yes. What does that have to do with physics?"

"Think of your mattress as spacetime."

Her expression softened at the prospect of an analogy. "Okay?"

"If you were to place a very heavy spherical object on your mattress, what would happen?"

"Like a bowling ball?"

"What is a bowling ball?"

"A heavy spherical object," she smirked.

"Then I suppose yes, like a bowling ball." His tone came out with an unusual lilt that mildly surprised him.

"Did you just get sarcastic with me?" she grinned.

"Sarcasm is illogical," he rejoined, lifting his cup to his lips to indulge in a sip. "What would happen if you placed it in the center of your mattress?"

She sighed. "It would sink inward. Obviously."

"Precisely, because it has mass. If your mattress represents spacetime, the mass of the ball is creating a curvature within it."

"Okay," she said, taking a sip of her tea. "But how does that make gravity a constant acceleration?"

"Because unlike the bowling ball on your mattress, the Earth and other forms of energy that bend spacetime are not motionless throughout space and time. Are you aware of the definition of acceleration?"

"It's a change in velocity."

"Correct," he said quickly, relieved she at least understood that very simple point. "The bending of spacetime changes the acceleration of an object like the Earth, based on its velocity not only through space, but also through time."

Her nose crinkled. "This is starting to get very complicated."

Sarek sat back in his chair. He was uncertain how he could make his lecture any simpler. "What if we were to return to the mattress example?"

"If we must," she shrugged. "I do better with practical analogies anyway."

"Say you were to place another heavy spherical object on the mattress alongside the bowling ball, what would happen?"

"Um, I guess it would roll toward the other ball because the mattress is curved in."

"Possibly," he agreed. "But would it always do this?"

"I guess if they were really far apart or if one was a lot heavier than the other, maybe not."

"Exactly, you have just described the law of universal gravitation."

A glimmer of recognition entered her eyes. "That's the one where force equals the gravitational constant times the masses of both objects divided by the distance between them?"

"Divided by the distance between them squared," he corrected.

"Yeah, I know that one," she said, sounding excited.

He was skeptical, considering he'd had to correct her, but he was pleased that she was no longer glowering at every word coming out of his mouth. "How could you apply that simplified equation to determining the mass of the Earth?"

"Uh, well, you could…" She trailed off. "Wait, I don't see how you could, unless you were comparing it to some other object. And what would you do with the radius?"

"May I see your PADD?"

She slid it across the table. He searched for the holographic projection function and quickly generated a sphere. A small blue orb glowed between them.

"Instead of conceptualizing the force generated between two separate objects, consider that the Earth is an object that has spatial extent—that is, it takes up space across three dimensions."

"It's a three-dimensional object." She nodded wryly. "Yes."

He used her stylus to mark the uppermost pole and center point on the holographic orb. "You agree that the distance between these points comprises the radius, yes?"

Her response was brisk. "Yes."

"Because a sphere is symmetric in all directions, the gravitational force at any point on the surface of this sphere going inward is equal, do you agree?" He moved the stylus around the orb for good measure. "You wouldn't argue there is more gravitational force here at the equator than there is here at the bottom pole, for example?"

"No." A spark flickered through her face, lighting it with palpable joy. "So I don't need two masses? I'm supposed to treat each point you just drew like an object in space?"

"Precisely," he said. He was startled by the sudden enthusiasm in his voice and judging by her raised eyebrows, so was she.

"So the equation still works with only one mass? It's okay to just get rid of one term entirely?"

"Only in the very special case of a sphere, because it is possible to regard these objects as mass points with the entirety of their mass concentrated at the center," he explained. "So if we place a point as physically far away from the center as possible while still being within the sphere, what we are essentially describing is a gravitational field. And using a known gravitational constant, plus the known values of the Earth's gravity at the poles and the Earth's radius, we could derive the mass within this gravitational field, which is equal to the mass of the Earth."

"Can I have it?" she motioned toward the stylus in his hand, which he offered to her.

She rearranged the equation and plugged in the relevant data. She was slow in her calculations and her notation was quite irregular, but with the help of her PADD's auto-calculate feature, she eventually arrived at the same answer he'd given her earlier.

"5.982 times ten to the twenty-fourth power kilograms," she declared. "Isn't that what you said?"

"It is."

She leaned back in the booth. "That was weirdly satisfying."

"Performing calculations?"

"The math isn't the hard part for me, or rather, not the hardest part. I can rewrite equations and crunch numbers, but I don't know what's going on half the time. I had never thought of gravity as a thing that bends spacetime and to be honest, I'm still not sure how it fits within the bigger picture."

"I had thought that was the purpose of my tutelage, was to illuminate the broader concepts."

A soft smile crested her lips. "What else do you have for me?"

They dove into a discussion of uniform circular motion and it slowly became clear to Sarek that Amanda's trouble wasn't an inability to understand the subject, it was merely that she'd been provided with equations and definitions but had never been taught to think abstractly about what the field of physics literally described.

He was on his third mocha latte and feeling quite pleased when the barman approached. He dropped off another steaming mug of tea for Amanda and said, "I've never seen you in here this late."

He glanced at Sarek and back at Amanda and smiled. "I've been here past dark before."

"Yeah, but never past midnight."

"It can't be that late," she exclaimed, toggling back to the main screen of her tablet. "Woah, it is that late."

Sarek balked. "It is?"

"I really didn't mean to keep you here for three hours," she sighed, stuffing the PADD into her bag. She turned back to the server. "And thanks for the tea but I guess I should be going."

"We're open twenty-four hours and I'm here until 0200," he shrugged, heading back to his station. "No rush."

"I'm so sorry to have kept you out so late," Amanda sighed, scooting toward the edge of the booth.

Now that the topic had shifted from physics to more personal matters, Sarek was surprised to find his mind was having difficulty in forming independent, coherent thoughts. He wanted to tell Amanda he'd enjoyed their time together, but that would be inappropriate and besides, he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd also lost track of the time, which was unusual. He wasn't sure how he felt about that either. He especially wasn't sure how he felt about feeling about things.

"You should stay and drink your tea," he blurted, fighting to suppress a feeling of horror that his speech was slow and slightly stilted. Was he overtired?

"So you can earn another half hour of my time next Saturday as your public girlfriend?"

"I- I did not intend—"

"Relax, Sarek, I was teasing you."

He cleared his throat and took time to properly form the words he wished to convey. "I am unaccustomed to teasing."

"It shows," she laughed.

"If you wish to stay and consume your beverage, I will not consider it time you owe me at the barbecue." His voice was barely a whisper.

She shifted in her seat, sighed, and reached for the mug of tea. It pleased him. Why did it please him?

"I guess if I'm not being charged for this, I might as well," she murmured, taking a sip of her tea and locking eyes with him over the brim of the mug. "And I have to give you credit where it's due: you are a pretty good physics tutor."

"You are a decent pupil."

"That's debatable," she laughed.

"I gladly defend my claim," he insisted.

She pursed her lips, allowing her eyes to scan his face. "Maybe we should get to know each other a little better."

Their eyes met and much to his surprise, his pulse quickened. Seconds dragged by until she finally looked away. She set her mug down on the table with shaking hands, adding, "I just meant if we really wanted to pull off this whole fake relationship thing, it might be good to have a little background information about each other. People will eventually ask questions."

He wasn't eager to reveal many details of his life to her, but there was obvious merit in her suggestion. "What do you wish to know?"

Amanda faltered. What did she want to know? She liked him well enough, but truthfully, she wasn't sure she cared if he liked old movies or hated eating lima beans or whatever. He was an interesting person, not to mention probably the smartest person she'd ever met, but she was happy to keep a certain personal distance between them. Still, the idea of exchanging a few nuggets of personal information had been hers, so she rambled off the first question that came to mind.

"Um…where are you from?"

"Vulcan."

"Oh really?" she asked, casually rolling her eyes, unsure whether at herself or at him. "I'm from Earth."

"Yes, I know."

She was having a hard time deciphering the expression on his face. He looked torn between being confused and being disappointed. "I know you know I'm from Earth. What I meant was, where on Vulcan are you from?"

"Are you familiar with Vulcan geography?"

"Not really, no."

"So my response would be irrelevant."

"Just tell me where you're from," she snapped.

"Shi'Kahr."

"Isn't that the capital?" she asked, thinking back to the days of elementary school when she forced to memorize such things.

He took a deep breath. "Shi'Kahr is the capital city of the planet where the government is situated, but it is also a state."

"So are you from the city or the state?"

"I grew up on an estate approximately sixty kilometers from the capital, near Vulcan's Forge."

"An estate?"

"An estate is a large piece of property, usually ancestral—"

She cut him off. "I know what an estate is. It's just not a term you hear thrown around much outside of old British novels."

He furrowed his brow. "Vulcans have never made the same efforts to bridge gaps in inequality as humans have, but our adherence to logic has never allowed for the creation of severe inequality that once plagued Earth. There is no poverty or want on Vulcan, but there are those who have considerably more than others."

"So you're wealthy?"

"It is not polite to speak of such things."

She chuckled under her breath. "Are you going to ask me where I'm from? Do you care?"

He reached for his mocha and found it nearly empty. "Where are you from?"

"Alaska."

"Is that an off world Terran colony?"

"No, just a place pretty far north of here. I've actually never been to space," she admitted, raising her mug to her mouth. "I've always wanted to see it. It's on my list of things to do before I die."

Sarek offered a nod of his head. "I myself have traveled the quadrant extensively. There is a certain allure to being out amongst the stars."

"Is that why you chose to study them?"

The muscles in his face relaxed, giving him a momentarily warm expression. "Perhaps."

Their conversation began to fade and she wondered if a natural cue to say goodnight was forming, but her earlier conversation with Adam popped into her head. Before she could really consider the propriety of the question, she asked, "How old are you?"

"I am sixty-four, measured in your years."

She had been drawing her mug to her lips once again. She was relieved there was nothing in her mouth to spit out in shock. The man was only a few years younger than her grandfather.

"Your face suggests you are surprised," he continued. "If my interpretation of the arrangement of your features is correct."

"You don't look that old," she stammered, gripping the mug tightly. Unsure whether she'd just accidentally insulted him, she added, "I mean, if you were human, which obviously you're not. I know Vulcans live longer. And I'm a terrible judge anyway of what constitutes old. I'm only eighteen."

His eyes registered a tiny hint of surprise. "You do not look so young."

"Well, my birthday is in a few weeks. I'll be nineteen on the 12th," she replied weakly. After a long period of silence she asked, "Did I just make things weird?"

"We are of two different species," he said slowly. "We live our lives along different trajectories, maturing and aging at different rates."

"True." She took a long drink of her tea and watched Sarek fold his hands on the table. He was so prim, polite, and proper. Of all the people on this side of the universe, he was among the last she would ever peg as wanting a fake girlfriend.

"Can I just ask…why are we doing this?"

"Clarify."

"Why are we pretending to be in a relationship?"

"I have found that the females—the women—in my office began speaking to me less when they believed I had a girlfriend. This was before I understood the correct definition of the term."

"And you don't want women to talk to you?"

"The constant personal queries of the women I work with often make it difficult for me to focus on my duties."

"So to avoid making friends at your job, you thought it would be easier to act like you're in a relationship with a college student?"

"Yes."

"How do you justify the logic in that?"

"When confronted with two illogical paths, one must choose the least illogical of the two."

"And this," she waved her hand back and forth between them. "This was the more logical choice?"

"There are other benefits to spending time in your company," he admitted. "I find you far more tolerable than most other humans I've encountered and you've taught me much about the planet and your species."

"I'm tolerable, huh? Am I supposed to take that as high praise?"

"Do you seek my admiration and approval?"

"Not really. But why the charade? Why not just tell people you're single and you don't like small talk?"

"I do not wish to be rude."

"You're such an odd duck, Sarek," she said with a laugh, consuming the last of the mug's contents.

"I am unfamiliar with this expression."

"I figured," she smiled. "Anyway, I really should get going."

"Should we plan to meet again?"

"I'm pretty busy this week," she said. "And I already owe you three hours of my time at this barbecue in exchange for your tutoring tonight. Besides, with how terrible I am at physics, I'm probably going to need so much tutoring that I can't really afford to pay you back timewise, unless you plan to fake marry me."

His face didn't move and she instantly felt embarrassed. "That was a joke. I wasn't insinuating we should get married or—"

"I am not in the habit of joking."

Amanda's face burned. "No, of course you're not."

"Would you like to leave now?"

They exchanged awkward goodbyes outside of Pete's and Amanda replayed their conversation over in her head several times on the walk home, cringing harder with each retelling. It was stupid enough to joke about marriage with human men—what had she expected from a Vulcan?

She was so wrapped up in her humiliation that she barely even noticed Mara's visitor when she opened the door. A roll of rich masculine vocalizations mingled with Mara's ecstatic shrieks drifted from the opposite side of the room, causing Amanda to instantly turn on her heel in preparation to bolt away from the scene. She'd walked in on Mara having sex more than a few times and even though Mara claimed it didn't really bother her, it bothered Amanda.

"Ugh, yes!" Mara cried. "Wait, Amanda? You're back! You remember Vedek, right?"

Amanda froze facing the door, recoiling at the thought of turning around to witness her roommate in the throes of lust with one of Sarek's friends.

"You can turn around, you prude," Mara said. "We're both dressed."

Amanda flipped around in surprise and found Vedek holding Mara's cheeks tightly between his palms. It seemed like it should be such a tender gesture, but there was no sweetness in the body language. Mara's deep breaths and arched back indicated his touch was supremely sexual. It was the most bizarre thing Amanda had ever seen in their shared room, which was saying something, because Mara had a fondness for some unusual things.

"Uh, so…hey," she mumbled.

"Ugh, I lost our connection," Vedek groaned, stretching his hands toward the ceiling. A vibrant grin tore across his playful face and he leaned forward and passionately kissed Mara.

"Still, that was amazing," Mara breathed, tearing her mouth away from his.

"It's kind of late, don't you think?" Amanda asked, eager to remind them they had an audience.

"Yeah, I was wondering when you were coming home," Mara said, finally looking at her.

"I should get going, I have work in the morning," Vedek said, running his hands down the sides of Mara's neck, over her breasts, and down to her waist.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Mara asked as he leapt off the bed.

"Yeah, maybe at your place?" Amanda added, giving him a curt smile.

He began pulling his shoes on. "Sure."

When the door closed behind him Amanda asked, "What was that?"

"Mind melding," she breathed, falling back on the bed. "Oh my stars. It is…wow."

"That whole-body orgasm thing you were telling me about?" Amanda muttered, sorry that she couldn't muster up more sarcasm.

Amanda began to undress, trying to fight her intense feelings of annoyance. This was her room too and just because Mara didn't mind if Amanda was in it while she entertained guys, it didn't mean Amanda didn't mind having them there. She'd had this battle with her roommate too many times to count and knew how pointless it was. But at least they hadn't been naked this time.

Mara was in the middle of prattling on about the merits of Vulcan men when Amanda turned and asked, "Don't you wonder if maybe he's too old for you?"

"No," Mara sneered. "And he can't be that much older than me."

"Sure he can," Amanda laughed. "Sarek is sixty-four."

Mara's jaw dropped. "Shut up! He is not."

"Yeah, he is."

Mara rolled onto her side, propping her chin in the palm of her hand. "Who knew you were into older guys?"

"T'Vara, Adam's girlfriend, she's fifty."

"You mean the model he's dating? No way. You're lying."

"I swear I'm not. Vulcans apparently have the secret to aging."

"So, your boyfriend is sixty and looks like he's in his mid-twenties," Mara mused. "How long do Vulcans live then, I wonder?"

She was about to correct Mara on ascribing boyfriend status to Sarek, but thankfully caught herself in time. Mara was very close to Vedek, for now, at least, and Vedek worked with Sarek. The whole point of her spending time with Sarek was to convince his coworkers. As she pulled her pajama shirt over her head, it struck her how complicated this was going to be. Their social circles were linked. How long would it be before Mara started insisting on going out together as couples?

She roamed toward the kitchenette to get a glass of water and much to her chagrin, there were piles of mess everywhere. Amanda had cleaned only yesterday. A glass half full of brown liquid sat on the counter. She held it up and asked, "Were you drinking chocolate syrup?"

"That was Vedek's!" Mara called.

"Vedek drinks chocolate syrup? That's disgusting."

"He wanted a buzz," Mara shrugged. "I wasn't going to say no."

"A buzz?"

"Didn't I tell you Vulcans got drunk on chocolate?"

Amanda vaguely remembered their conversation from earlier. Then it hit her. Sarek drank mocha lattes like water. She started deliberating whether he was an alcoholic—or was chocoholic the correct term?—or he if just needed to be drunk to be around her. Before she knew it, she was doubled over laughing with tears streaming down her face while Mara harassed her in the background, demanding to know what was so funny.

A failing grade in physics. A roommate with no sense of boundaries. An unrequited love for her boss. A fake Vulcan boyfriend with possible substance abuse issues. How had it all come to this?

Chapter Text

His fingers deftly weaved between the material, pulling the onyx beads through the little slats in the soft fabric until his over shirt was adequately fastened. He turned to examine himself in the mirror. He looked much as he always did in his subdued, well-fitted clothing.

His bangs appeared too long again, even if only marginally. He stepped closer to his reflection, holding up his index fingers to approximate the distance between the top of his eyebrows and the bottom of his hair. There was sufficient time before he was scheduled to begin his duties at Cary Cartographic to trim them back into submission.

No sooner did he extract his scissors from his personal hygiene kit than he was interrupted by a sharp trill from his bedroom. An unexpected incoming transmission.

When he saw the identity of the caller, a soft knot formed in his throat. He quickly swallowed, centered his thoughts, and deliberated whether to acknowledge this communication request. Whatever his brain might think, his fingers seemed to act on instinct and swiped the small green bar at the bottom of the screen.

He lifted the device into an upright position and waited for the face at the other end to appear. When she came into sharp enough focus, he delivered a small bow of his head and stiffly said, "T'Rama."

"Sarek," she replied, pausing a moment before adding, "My son."

A long silence stretched through his bedroom and all the way back to his former home in Shi'Kahr. It was nighttime there and he could see the brilliant image of T'Khut, Vulcan's planetary neighbor, glowing through the window in his mother's study. The sky was vivid green and blue, indicating strong disturbances in the planet's magnetosphere from solar wind. It was a common phenomenon during the Vulcan season of Silkar, and something about the dazzling dance of colors caused him to ache with nostalgia.

He took note of the telescope behind her and recalled many fond memories of stargazing there with her, carefully charting the movements of nearby planets and watching for comets and asteroids. His love of astronomy and physics was born in that room with her.

"What is the purpose of your transmission?" he finally asked.

"You are my son. It is logical I should inquire after your wellbeing, particularly since I have not spoken to you since your departure. It would have been polite to inform me you had arrived safely on Earth."

Sarek nodded but could think of no defense against such accusations of filial neglect. Whatever disagreements he had with his father, they did not extend to her. Perhaps he had been unfair to avoid correspondence.

"I see there is a geomagnetic storm this evening," he said, preferring to turn to simpler subjects.

"Yes, quite early this year. The colors are remarkable."

"You anticipate a cool summer then?"

"Yes. It will be a good season for the garden. The Silkar holiday approaches, as you know."

The Vulcan commemoration of spring was considered a minor holiday on most of Vulcan, but was a significant observance in Shi'Kahr. Traditionally it was a time when communities came together for planting and feasting with the last of the winter harvest. In modern times it had adapted to a three-day festival when neighbors met to clear away the dead refuse of winter and plant community gardens, trees, and all forms of flora in public and private spaces.

It also marked the beginning of a season when males were prone to enter pon farr, likely due to the slight hormonal changes brought about by longer days and warmer weather. And the length of the Vulcan year very nearly coincided with that of Vulcan fetal gestation, and so it was also a time when many offspring were born from the previous year's pon farr cycles. Silkar was a season of mating, renewal, and birth.

"Silek will be returning home in twenty days' time to honor the season," she remarked.

"Did you intend to imply I should return with him?"

"I did."

The memories of T'Rea's refusal and his father's admonishments flashed through his mind. "I will not."

"T'Rea has left Vulcan," his mother said. She always had an uncanny skill for deciphering his deepest thoughts.

It was logical that T'Rea would leave following such a scandal. Sarek himself had left Vulcan. He longed to ask his mother if she knew where his former asha'kan had fled to, but it was illogical to speak of things that could never be again.

"Come home, Sarek," his mother urged.

"I am not welcome at home."

"I believe you could be reconciled with your father if you would only apologize and agree to take a sensible mate."

"Skon has acknowledged Silek as his heir, rejecting my implied right as his eldest child. He has made it very clear he has no intention of being reconciled with me."

"You did not wish to be your father's heir."

That was true. Following completion of his advanced degree, Sarek had acquiesced to his father's wishes and attended the Vulcan Diplomatic School, completed a three-year course of study, and even served a year as an aide to Secretary T'Lora before receiving an attractive offer to pursue research on a two-year project at the Vulcan Science Academy.

His father had been amenable to Sarek's scientific diversions back then, likely because he believed they would be short-lived. An assignment that was scheduled to last only two years turned into decades as new discoveries led to new projects. Skon became impatient with his son, urging Sarek to pick up the family mantle of diplomacy with increasing urgency and reminding him their family had served as diplomats since the time before Surak.

Then the affair with T'Rea happened. Sarek swallowed and took great efforts to compose himself before replying, "Nor did I wish to be cast from our family's home, yet here I am."

"You were not cast out. Your father merely indicated it would be prudent for you to take an extended leave of absence and find some clarity. There is no logic in bitterness."

"Perhaps you should tell that to Skon," he replied coolly. "I myself harbor no resentment. I only wish to live privately and perform my current duties to the best of my abilities. I must go."

There was no outward change in her expression, as was appropriate for any logical Vulcan, but he knew her well enough to sense her disappointment. "Live long and prosper, my son."

"Live long and prosper, mother."

His walk to work was solemn and he arrived at precisely 0850 hours. Sarek removed his fitted cloak and draped it over the back of his chair, collected the plant from his desk, and carried it to the break room to provide it with water. It was a very fine specimen called a pothos plant, according to his research. His predecessor, Jason, had left the plant with the green and white teardrop-shaped leaves to die, but a few weeks in Sarek's care saw it thriving.

He sat down to find Kyla had arrived early, which was highly unusual, and that she also had a sprinkled covered donut in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, which was less unusual. They exchanged quick greetings and only seconds after he sat down, Alicia poked her head into his cubicle to ask, "How's your Wednesday?"

He turned to regard her. "Adequate."

"How's life? How's the girlfriend?"

"Life is well. Amanda is well."

Alicia's mouth formed a thin-lipped smile. "Can't wait to meet her at the barbecue this weekend. She is coming, right?"

It had been more than a week since Sarek had last seen or heard from Amanda but he believed she would honor her commitment. "Yes."

She left him to his work and he spent the next three hours shifting between his desk and the telemetry laboratory. When he returned from his midday meal, he discovered a new message on his PADD.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.25; Time 1249
Any chance you're willing to do some more tutoring?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.25; Time 1301
Yes. How did you perform on last week's examination?

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.25; Time 1302
The quiz? I almost passed so that's something. I don't have work tonight so can you meet me at Pete's Place at 1700?

Sarek took a moment to respond. In truth, he'd spent most of his day struggling to suppress the conflicted feelings that the conversation with his mother had elicited, but the thought of seeing Amanda suddenly filled him with a different set of emotions. Why was he experiencing such an increase in illogical sentiment lately? He wondered if living on Earth was affecting him more than he realized.

His eyes flicked in the direction of Vedek's cubicle and he spied the tattooed young Vulcan leaning far back in his chair and tossing bits of food from a brightly-colored bag high into the air in an attempt to catch them in his mouth. However much Earth was eroding his logical faculties, he knew there was little risk he would ever turn into that.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.25; Time 1305
I shall see you there.

It was around 1715 by the time Amanda made it to Pete's. It was busier than usual, probably thanks to the guy with the oversized green hat by the back wall, plucking at a guitar and attempting vocals that seemed a bit ambitious for his range. But he was good enough and a lot of people had stopped to listen.

She had hesitated to reach out to Sarek after her awkward gaffe the last time they met, but realized she would have to see him again anyway at the barbecue. Still, she couldn't deny she felt relieved when he agreed to tutor her a second time.

She squeezed her way through the crowd and found Sarek sitting at the bar by the western-facing window, squinting through the vivid sunlight pooling through the glass. His hands were wrapped around a paper cup. He didn't seem to notice she'd arrived but that was hardly surprising considering the noise.

"Let me guess," she said from behind him. "A mocha latte?"

He jumped ever so slightly and twisted on the barstool. "You are late. And correct."

She offered an apologetic smile and wondered once again if he was a situational drunk or a garden variety alcoholic. "I got hung up talking to the TA after my last class. And it's really busy in here."

"An astute observation."

"That sounded so sarcastic."

"Sarcasm is—"

"Illogical, I know. You want to go somewhere quieter?" She was forced to nearly shout over the guitarist's brave falsetto.

"Please."

He followed her from the coffee shop and once they were out on the street she asked, "Is the park okay?"

"If that is what you prefer."

They set off, turning left down the alley and were soon weaving through a residential neighborhood. The cries of children at a playground up ahead mingled with the thrum of engines from passing vehicles. The weather was good and the sun felt nice on her face. They both seemed content enough in their silence, but as they approached an area with several picnic tables, Amanda felt compelled to ask if he minded the location.

His eyes darted toward three children playing tag on a jungle gym and she worried he would make some comment about their unnecessary exuberance, but to her surprise he gave a conciliatory nod and took a seat at one of the green metal tables.

"How's your week been?" she asked, extracting her tablet from her bag.

"Satisfactory," he replied.

"So I failed last week's quiz," she announced, opening the app for her physics notes.

"You told me earlier."

"I got a 68.4, which is the highest quiz grade so far."

"Out of how many marks?"

"A hundred."

He took a casual drink of his coffee. "That does not even rise to the level of mediocrity."

She wanted to be offended but he was right. "That's why I messaged you. I figured it was worth it to spend a few more hours at your barbecue if I could figure out circular motion."

"We covered circular motion during our last remediation."

"Yes, and I finally get the difference between centripetal and centrifugal force and I know all the equations for angular acceleration and velocity, but then after our tutoring session last Monday, my professor went through all this other stuff about reference frames and Euler acceleration."

"I am unfamiliar with the term Euler."

She shrugged. "It's probably some old, dead physicist."

"I had deduced as much. I presume it is a term in relation to rotating reference frames, since the topic is circular motion."

"Yeah."

"There are three—"

His words were cut short by the sound of a scream so piercing Amanda would have sworn someone was being flayed. Instinct made her leap to her feet at the sound of a howling child, but she quickly saw her care wasn't needed. A little girl of about four years-old was crawling to her feet from the concrete sporting a pair of very bloody knees, but a woman, probably her mother, was already running toward her.

"Oh baby!" the woman cried, scooping her into her arms. "Oh Hannah, it's okay."

The boys, her older brothers by the looks of it, had stopped running and stood by, observing the scene with very panicked eyes. Amanda still felt a powerful urge to see if she could offer any assistance but the woman was already snapping her fingers at her sons and telling them they were going home.

Amanda slid back into her seat, surprised to see a semi-perplexed look on Sarek's face. He remarked, "Those children were not in your charge and I do not believe the girl was injured so badly as to warrant the assistance of bystanders."

"No, but I still care if a kid gets hurt. I work at a nursery school: it's a habit to come running when I hear a child screaming."

"I see," he replied, folding his hands over the table. "As I was saying, there are three fictitious forces relating to circular motion."

"Fictitious?" she laughed. "Like you made them up?"

"No," he replied. "It is interesting that you are not familiar with the term. A fictitious force is one that appears to act on a mass in motion based on a non-inertial frame of reference, including a rotating reference frame. You are already familiar with centrifugal force, which is one of these forces."

Amanda was barely listening, not only because her mind was trying to wrap itself around such a dense topic, but also because it was so stunningly impressive to listen to him ramble about physics in such a confident way. She would almost call it attractive.

She began asking questions for clarification and he commenced his usual attempts to simplify the subject matter. They eventually determined that what her professor had called the Euler force was a thing he knew as azimuthal acceleration—even if she still wasn't clear what that was. He also broke down the Coriolis effect and offered numerous examples, from the rotation of tropical storms on Earth to its various applications in astrophysics. She thought she was getting it but then he began to quiz her and it was clear she had no idea what was going on.

The familiar feeling of overwhelmed frustration formed an enormous ball of anxiety in her gut. She folded her arms on the table and buried her face between them, wondering what her dad would say when she came home at the end of the term because she'd failed out of college.

"Are you ill?" Sarek asked.

"In a manner of speaking," she groaned. "I hate being so dumb."

"You are more intelligent than you believe," he insisted. "Even if you are not very skilled at physics."

His very honest rebuke was endearing and offensive at the same time. She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself.

"Will you come with me?" he asked.

Amanda looked up and saw he had risen to his feet and was looking in the direction of the empty playground. She followed him to the merry-go-round and when he told her to "mount the apparatus," it took everything she had not to burst into a fit of immature giggles. She did as he asked, then crossed her arms and turned to him. "Now what?"

"This peculiar contraption the children were playing on earlier also provides a very simple example of many of the concepts we've discussed," he said, gripping one of the steel bars and pushing it hard to the right.

She nearly fell from the sudden motion but managed to steady herself. She glared at him. "What was that for?"

"Why did you move?"

"I didn't move. I almost fell."

"Yes, but why?"

"Because you pushed the merry-go-round."

"That is the name of this apparatus?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

"Yeah," she answered dryly.

"Fascinating," he mused, skipping a beat before asked, "If you were to describe in physics terms why you nearly fell, what would you say?"

She almost said the Coriolis force because that's what they had been discussing, but she caught herself. "Inertia."

"Precisely. When the merry-go-round began moving, your body initially resisted the change in velocity."

"Yes, an object at rest stays at rest," she droned. "I'm an object. Hooray."

"Technically you stayed at rest with respect to the Earth," he replied. "Because the Earth is moving through space, rotating around your local star, and you are moving with the Earth."

"Okay?"

"But if I turn the merry-go-round to the left and you eventually reach a constant speed, will you continue to be unsteady and have a tendency to fall to the right?"

"No, because I'll be in motion with the merry-go-round," she responded, more out of a sense of having played on merry-go-rounds and being able to sense what would happen rather than explain it in physics terms. "We'll be like one object."

"Will other forces act on you while you rotate?"

"If you spin it fast enough, I'll get flung off because of centrifugal force," she said, adding emphasis to indicate she accepted the difference between centripetal and centrifugal force.

"Correct," he replied, stretching his arms out by his sides and turning to face her. "The centrifugal force goes out, forming a straight line from the center of the rotating object through you."

"Right."

He gestured with his left hand toward the center of the merry-go-round. "And what force opposes that with equal and opposite force?"

"The centripetal force."

"Yes. And what vector bisects this 180-degree line perpendicularly when the merry-go-round is in motion?" he asked, positioning his right arm straight out in front of his body, making a 90-degree angle with his arms.

Amanda bit her lip. "If we're moving, then it's…velocity?"

"Precisely."

"So how does the Coriolis force fit in?"

He looked around and spied an abandoned rubber kickball underneath the jungle gym and returned with it. He handed it to Amanda and said, "Throw it to me."

She did as he instructed, unsure where he was going with this.

"It traveled in a generally straight line, correct?"

"Yes."

"Would you agree that it would be impossible to throw a ball in anything other than an approximately straight line? You can't throw it and cause it to turn mid-flight in a completely different direction?"

"Unless it's acted on by an outside force like wind," she shrugged.

"True," he agreed. "But the wind is a separate force from the force your arm provided. Now, if you were rotating and threw the ball, what would happen to it?"

"It would go straight. We just decided that."

"I agree that it would travel in a straight line with respect to you, the thrower, but because you are rotating, it will actually appear to curve."

Amanda frowned, holding the ball up and trying to imagine what he was saying. "That doesn't seem right."

"We can test it experimentally and assuage your doubts."

It was hard not to smile when he went to the other side of the merry-go-round. He ordered her to brace herself and started turning it, accelerating slowly but eventually picking up moderate speed. He leapt aboard with the grace of a cat, gripping one of the bright yellow poles to steady himself. It was funny to watch a grown man, one old enough to be her grandfather, approach a common playground staple with such seriousness. And it was kind of fun to be spinning on a merry-go-round, even if she had abandoned such things years ago.

Without his efforts in pushing, they were quickly losing momentum. "Throw the ball to me," he called.

She did and much to her shock, the ball turned midair, going nowhere near Sarek's outstretched hands like common sense would predict, but instead bounced off the merry-go-round before landing in the grass. She stifled a childlike laugh with her hand and stared at the pink orb in wonder. He jumped off and slowly halted the merry-go-round's spin.

Amanda took a seat on the edge, still staring at the kickball. "That was...interesting."

"That was what you refer to as the Coriolis force, seen in this example as a discrepancy between real and apparent trajectory. The Coriolis force appears to exert a force on the ball, but the ball actually travels in a straight line. It is you who was moving."

She looked up at him, touching her index finger to her lips. "I think I get the idea now. Quiz me again."

The returned to the table and began working through several examples from her homework. She tactically neglected to mention he was helping her with an assignment just in case he would jump on some kind of academic honesty soapbox. Within the hour, it was complete and she felt a little smarter.

As Amanda packed her tablet to leave she very nearly said, "At the rate we're going, we're going to be spending the night at your boss' house after this barbecue."

Then she remembered her awkward joke about being fake married and sucked the words so far down in her belly they would never stand a chance of being uttered aloud. On their way out of the park, they followed a different dirt path around the other side of the playground so Sarek could dispose of his empty mocha cup in a recycling receptacle next to a community bulletin board.

"So your barbecue is Saturday," she mentioned.

Sarek suddenly stopped and she wondered if she'd once again said something weird. She frantically analyzed her language, wondering what might have put him off, but quickly realized he was looking at lovely loopy graffiti stenciled on the shiny community board, partially obscuring a screen that was flashing notices about Shakespeare in the park and youth sports leagues.

"Isn't that Vulcan writing?" she asked.

He tightened his jaw. "It is."

"What does it say?"

"It says, "Ask'era Ozhikersa is rising."

"What does that mean? Askera…I'm sorry, my tongue is too dumb to repeat what you just said."

"Loosely translated, it means logic prevails. However, it also refers to a group of logic extremists."

She could scarcely believe what she'd just heard. "What do you mean, extremists?"

He pulled his PADD from the wide inner pocket of his jacket and took a picture. "They believe in Vulcan superiority and reject contact with off-worlders."

"Sounds kind of racist. But Vulcans do kind of stick to themselves though, don't they? Most of the ones here aren't as logical as you, but even still, they choose to live in a relatively closed off community."

"Yes," he agreed, glancing around. "Let us go."

They resumed walking but Amanda sensed a shift in his mood. He was clearly preoccupied and she didn't feel the urge to ruin his thoughts with idle conversation. They finally turned back onto the block where his apartment building was situated and she mentally prepared herself to say a quick and casual goodbye when a woman across the street shouted, "Sarek?"

Amanda's eyes landed on a tall woman with the build and gait of a greyhound, brandishing the shiniest black hair and sharp, eagle-liked features. She couldn't decide if this woman was beautiful or intimidating. She waved at Sarek, looked both ways across the street, and then crossed to greet them.

"Hello, Petra," Sarek said.

"Is this your girlfriend?" the woman asked, eagerness dripping from her voice.

There was something else in her tone that Amanda didn't like. It felt like a strange mix of condescending and dismissive. Amanda linked her arm with his and smiled. "Sure am."

"Petra, this is Amanda, Amanda, this is Petra. Petra and I work together."

"Ugh, you're so gorgeous!" the woman proclaimed.

If Amanda were a less polite person, she would have rolled her eyes so hard that the centrifugal force would have flung them right out of their sockets. It's not that she thought she was ugly, but no one would have ever described her as gorgeous in such a breathless way. "It's nice to meet you. Sarek and I were just headed back to his place for dinner."

Petra gently touched his forearm, a gesture that seemed more possessive than friendly. "I hope you're a good cook, Sarek. You're going to have to be to keep such a pretty lady in your life."

"Well, the garlic's not going to peel itself, so we should get going," Amanda said, leaning closer into Sarek. She was surprised how warm he was.

The women exchanged goodbyes in pitches a full octave above their normal speaking voice, indicating to anyone even remotely familiar with human women that they couldn't stand each other but were pretending to for other people's benefit. They continued on toward Sarek's building arm in arm. He seemed stiff and uncomfortable, but she couldn't decide whether it was from running into his coworker or the writing on the park community board.

When they were out of earshot of Petra she murmured, "She seems really into you."

"Clarify."

"She likes you. A lot."

"What gives you cause to think so?"

"Uh, my eyes and ears?" she laughed.

He craned his neck to look at her and they fell out of step, which made walking with linked arms awkward. They broke contact and Amanda stopped to look at him. "She's kind of fake but she's pretty in her own way. You're not interested in her at all?"

"No."

"So what's your deal then?" she blurted. "What are you into? Women? Men? Both? Neither? Are you pansexual? Asexual?"

"I am capable of sexual reproduction."

She didn't mean to laugh in his face but she couldn't help it. "Asexual is also a term for people that don't tend to feel sexual desire. I think they still like to have romantic and emotional attachments, they're just not interested in sex."

He straightened his jacket. "I do not wish to discuss my sexual proclivities."

"Not even with your fake girlfriend?"

"No."

"Well, thank you for your tutoring then," she said, feeling like she'd once again overstepped a boundary with an uncomfortable joke. "What are we up to? Five hours?"

"Four hours and fifty-three minutes precisely."

"Is that counting the minute or so we just spent with Petra?" Amanda asked with a smile. "We did say any public appearance as your girlfriend, not just at the barbecue."

He cocked his head, acknowledging her question. "Correction, four hours and fifty-two minutes."

"Let's just make it an even five hours," she said, taking a step back. "I'll see you Saturday. Speaking of which, where should I meet you?"

"I would prefer that we arrive together," he said. "I can collect you, if you prefer."

"I'll message you my address," she said, giving him a warm smile. "Or I guess you could just ask your friend Vedek, because he's over in my room all the time."

This seemed to surprise Sarek, which forced her to clarify that her roommate and his coworker were still in a very passionate and likely short-lived relationship.

"Does he intend to bring her to the barbecue?"

"No idea," Amanda admitted with a casual shrug. "Either way, it should be weird. See you Saturday. Live long and prosper."

He perked up at her offer of his traditional greeting. "Yes, live long and prosper."

They parted ways. She smiled all the way back to her room, but that smile faded when she opened the door and was greeted with Vedek's bare buttocks moving rhythmically from Mara's side of the room.

"Dammit, Mara!" she yelled, storming back into the hall and slamming the door behind her.

"I thought you'd be at work!" Mara called back, panting heavily. "We're almost done!"

Amanda rolled her eyes and headed for the library to study for Friday's government exam. Mara could ruin anything.

Chapter Text

Sarek folded his hands behind his back—a gesture widely considered neutral among most Federation members—and resisted the urge to crane his neck in the direction of the building's entrance. Watching the door would not make her emerge from it any sooner. He considered confirming the address and his hand journeyed toward the interior pocket of his cloak to extract his tablet, but his hand faltered at the sound of a creaking door.

"Sorry I'm late." She was clad in a short yellow skirt and a cream-colored blouse with long, billowing sleeves. He'd never noticed what a delicate form she possessed until now and it took conscious effort to avoid staring at her.

"You are not late," he corrected. "You are precisely on time."

"Have you been waiting long?" she asked.

"Nineteen minutes."

"Why so early?"

"It was logical to arrive early to ensure I could locate your dwelling."

"You look like a lost puppy, standing out here by yourself."

Sarek was unsure what facet of his being reminded her of a young canid creature but he chose not to remark upon it, since she often said things he didn't understand. He led her to the self-driving vehicle he'd requisitioned for the day and opened the door for her. "Will your friend be joining us?"

"Mara?" Amanda asked with a noticeable wince as she slid onto the wide, forward-facing seat. Sarek was relieved to discover her skirt was not truly a skirt at all, but was instead a form of short-cropped trousers. Not that he had been looking. "I didn't want to mention it to her and she hasn't said anything about it. I'm not sure Vedek invited her. If he had, she would have spent hours dissecting her closet for the best thing to wear. Speaking of which, I hope this is okay."

He took a seat opposite her, closed the door behind him, and answered more quickly than he probably ought, "Your attire is acceptable."

"Good," Amanda said, tossing her smooth, brown hair over her shoulders. "Anyway, I can't guarantee Mara won't be there, but it doesn't seem likely. And I can't stress enough how lucky that makes us."

"Explain."

"Mara has a talent for sniffing out social situations," Amanda replied with a grim smile. "She would probably figure out we weren't really dating if she spent more than five minutes with us."

"Are all humans so intuitive?" Sarek asked, wondering if this charade was doomed to fail.

"No. I would say most aren't and besides, Mara knows me really well. Based on everything you've said, you don't seem all that chummy with your co-workers, and so as long as we keep conversations about our relationship to a minimum and look reasonably happy with each other, I bet most people will buy it."

"Many of the people I work with are very inquisitive," Sarek said.

"You know the best way to keep people from asking too many questions?"

"No."

"Ask them questions first. Ask people about their lives, what they like, where they went to school, what they do for fun, their kids. People love to gush about their kids. And really listen to their answers and ask follow up questions. It keeps the attention off of you and people will walk away from the interaction feeling like they know you, even if you never said a thing about yourself."

"Is such manipulation really so common in human discourse?" Sarek asked, experiencing discomfort at the idea of making deliberate inquiries of a personal nature.

"I don't know," she laughed. "I'm sure some people would just call it social skills. But if someone does ask you a question you can't really avoid, just give an answer as short and as close to the truth as possible. If someone asks where we met, tell them we met at a bar."

Sarek nodded. "Logical."

They sat in relative silence for the rest of the journey to Garrett's home. The house was situated at the rear of a circle of houses overlooking a lake. As they exited the car, Amanda turned and asked, "I know you're not into hand holding, but did you mind linking arms the other day when we ran into Petra?"

Her touch that day had been surprising, not only because he hadn't expected it, but also because he had enjoyed her willingness to openly express her affection for him. Not that he would ever tell her so. "That was acceptable."

"What's your boss' name again?" she asked, wandering toward the portico.

"Garrett Fischer," he answered. "And his mate's name is Tracy."

"His mate?" she laughed.

"I believe the Standard, gender-specific term is wife."

"Garret and his mate Tracy," she repeated to herself with a chuckle, stopping and turning at the front door. "You ready?"

"I am."

Amanda took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pressed a small button by the door. She conjured up a wide smile and turned just in time to be greeted by a woman with pale golden hair.

"You must be Sarek!" she proclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Garrett's told me all about you!"

Sarek was surprised to learn he was a topic of conversation in his employer's private residence. He was about to inquire what she'd been told but the woman was already hugging Amanda.

"Are you closely acquainted with one another?" he asked as they pulled apart.

"Oh, I'm just a hugger!" Mrs. Fischer claimed.

Amanda flashed him a smile that looked like it contained a considerable amount of information beyond simple joy or amusement. "Some people are just huggers."

This greatly alarmed Sarek.

"But I won't hug you," Mrs. Fischer continued. "Garrett says you're not the hugging type and he's been reminding me all week to leave you alone."

"I see. Thank you, Mrs. Fischer. I will thank him for his courtesy regarding my comfort."

Mrs. Fischer laughed again and demanded to be called Tracy. Amanda gave him a sidelong glance, a thin smile forming on her lips and her eyes glowing with obvious emotion.

"Everyone's out back if you want to follow me," said the lady of the house, stepping aside to allow them into a grand entrance hall.

The Fischers' home reminded him quite a bit of his own family estate in Shi'Khar. The style was decidedly Terran, but the openness and minimal décor felt familiar, as did the sound bouncing off exposed hard surfaces. Before he could properly reflect on his nostalgia, his thoughts were interrupted by Amanda's arm linking with his. Another touch, unsolicited, but not altogether unwelcome.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he replied, following Tracy out into a large yard.

A handful of his colleagues were already present, along with three children throwing a thin disc to each other, or in the case of the pudgy boy, at each other. Garrett was standing with Shannon from IT but waved exuberantly when his wife heralded their arrival from the deck.

"You two go ahead," Tracy said, stepping back inside. "Sounds like more people are at the door."

Sarek led Amanda down the wooden stairs and onto the lawn. "I had believed there would be more people in attendance."

"What time was this supposed to start?" she asked.

"Noon, which I believe is synonymous with 1200 hours."

Amanda glanced down at the device on her wrist. "It's exactly noon. It's common for people to be fashionably late to things like this." Before he could ask her to clarify, she added, "People don't usually show up right on time. I'm sure more will come."

"I see."

When they were within several paces of Garrett and Shannon, Sarek stopped and delivered introductions. Shannon carefully observed Amanda before shaking her hand and acknowledging her in a tone that was somewhat shriller usual. More introductions followed and continued periodically as more people joined the festivities. Amanda had been right: humans had so little regard for punctuality that it was considered appropriate or even encouraged to arrive late.

Her presence made conversing with his colleagues easier, particularly because he tried following her advice and asking personal questions of them, even if it went against every instinct. People were friendly to her, even if a lot of the women were casting sidelong looks at her when they thought she wasn't paying attention. It appeared he had chosen a perfectly acceptable mate, even if his relationship with her was fictitious and purely contractual in nature.

She naturally gravitated toward the children and soon was talking with a woman holding a rather fat baby. Sarek hung back and considered finding some refreshment when a hard slap on his shoulder startled him.

"How's it going?" asked Vedek.

Sarek had seen him arrive earlier but had made no effort to introduce him to Amanda since they were acquainted through her roommate.

"I am well," he replied. "How are you?" He honestly did not care how Vedek was faring, but he'd spent the afternoon inquiring after other people and it slipped out of his mouth as a matter of habit more than genuine interest.

"Good, good," Vedek nodded, taking a sip from an amber-colored bottle labeled chocolate stout. "Isn't this much better than a stiff, conservative Vulcan party?"

"Better is a matter of opinion," Sarek responded, glancing in the direction of raucous laughter emanating from the direction of the barbecue grill. "It is simply different."

"Very different," Vedek said darkly. "Don't guess you saw the news this morning?"

"I did not," he admitted, privately acknowledging his disappointment with himself over his negligence in keeping up with current events.

"Ask'era Ozhikersa raided three temples in Gol and killed a priest."

Despite six decades of logic training, it was difficult to rein in his shock. Vedek must have noticed Sarek's expression because he offered a thin smile and added, "Yeah, just barged right in, took the priests hostage, and declared the temples heretical."

"Gol has been plagued by partisan politics for many years," Sarek said, quickly composing himself.

"True," Vedek agreed. "Though it makes you wonder how anyone could argue killing a priest is logical."

Sarek turned to look Vedek directly in the eye. "This murder is abhorrent and their actions do not speak for all Vulcans."

"No, not even most Vulcans," Vedek conceded. "But there are people who believe Chief Minister Sendak is a viable candidate for First Minister."

"Sendak may be popular in Gol, but he lacks planet-wide appeal. He will never win the general election."

"Not all people come to power through elections."

"Do you mean to imply Vulcan is at risk of falling victim to a revolution intent on installing a totalitarian regime?" Sarek asked.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"It would be the first time in more than six centuries."

"Political movements go in cycles," Vedek shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. "I'd say we're about due for some upheaval. Don't underestimate these logic extremists."

"I do not," Sarek insisted, thinking of the advertisement he'd seen on the community board in the park the other day. "I merely assert they are members of an extremely small minority."

"True, it is small. For now. But even small movements can make big impacts."

Sarek could not deny this and prepared to extricate himself from the conversation when Vedek quickly switched subjects. "I hear Ambassador Skon is considering a candidacy for the position."

"Speculation is illogical," Sarek replied, bristling inwardly.

"There is logic in it when Ambassador Skon is widely believed by many to be the logical choice."

"I am not certain Ambassador Skon would prefer planetary administration to interstellar diplomacy."

"Many people would say 'my father' when speaking about their dad, rather than use formal titles."

"It is perfectly acceptable for anyone to refer to a person by their formal title, even those who are related to them," Sarek retorted. "Perhaps you have been on Earth too long."

"Maybe," Vedek grinned. "And maybe your father would prefer interstellar diplomacy to running a planet, but since when has Vulcan culture ever been about what anyone wants? Doesn't Surak himself say the needs of the many—"

"Must outweigh the needs of the few," Sarek finished.

"You know, there are a lot of people who would feel better if your father were to become First Minister."

"I cannot say what he will or will not do."

"You could set a lot of minds at ease if you just asked him."

"I am not inclined to."

Vedek took another long swig of his drink and said, "I heard you were disowned by your family for some very shady business involving a Vulcan princess."

It took everything Sarek had to maintain his outward calm, even if his mind was reeling in horror at just how pervasive the story of his scandal had become at fury at Vedek for speaking of it. He glanced at the remnants of the chocolate drink in Vedek's hands and said, "I believe you are drunk."

"You're probably right," he laughed, tipping the last of the bottle's contents into his mouth. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your dirty little secret, though I wonder if any of them would really care. All the women in the office swoon over you because of who you are."

"Explain."

"You come from one of Vulcan's most powerful political families."

"I find it difficult to believe our colleagues would have any knowledge or interest in Vulcan politics," Sarek replied. "And I have never spoken of my family to any of them. What could possibly cause them to swoon, as you say?"

"I might have mentioned something to a few people," Vedek drawled, laughing to himself as he tossed his empty bottle into a portable reclaimator and headed toward the beverage table in pursuit of a replacement.

"What is there to mention?" Sarek demanded to know, following him. He lowered his voice and added, "I come from a prominent family, but I live on Earth now."

"You come from the S'chn T'gai family," Vedek said, cracking the top off another bottle of chocolate stout. He held it out to Sarek, "Want one?"

"I do not consume chocolate," he replied. "There is no logic in inebriation."

"Oh, right." Vedek took a sip of the drink for himself. "You just drink tea and mochas."

"Yes," Sarek replied, quenching his exasperation and feeling eager to finish their previous conversation despite Vedek's attempts to derail it. "What have you told the employees of Cary Cartographic about me or my family?"

"Look, I did you a favor," Vedek sighed. "I was trying to help you find some bedroom company when you first got here. Not that human women really seem to need any excuse to find you attractive, but coming from a wealthy and powerful family doesn't hurt. I'm pretty sure I overheard Giannina telling someone you were the Vulcan equivalent of a duke."

"You have made me the subject of rumors," he said slowly, taking care to control his tone. "And for what purpose? I can think of none but that you did it for your own amusement."

"Every wild story usually has a kernel of truth to it." Vedek shrugged with a mischievous smile and glanced over at Amanda, who was now holding the woman's baby and making strange faces at it. "Does she know who you are?"

"What she knows is none of your business," Sarek said, taking a step back. "I would prefer it if you would refrain from speaking of my private matters to others in the future, particularly since you are not well informed on the subject."

Sarek turned to leave but immediately encountered Petra. She wore a tight-fitting bronze-colored shirt that displayed much of the top half of her breasts. Sarek wasn't trying to look at them, but they were impossible to miss.

"Sarek! Are you having fun?" she squealed, taking a long drink of a bright blue liquid in a clear bottle.

"This gathering is enjoyable," he said, even if it had become less pleasant after his conversation with Vedek.

"Garrett's barbecue is like an opening act for my birthday party tonight," she grinned.

"Is it customary to hold parties to venerate the anniversary of one's birth?" he asked, suddenly intrigued.

"You don't celebrate birthdays on Vulcan?" she asked.

"Being born is hardly an achievement worth honoring and if it were, the honor should be my mother's due to birth being such an arduous process."

This made Petra laugh candidly enough that he could see the teeth at the very back of her mouth. "Well, we celebrate birthdays here on Earth. Today is my birthday."

"I see."

"Most people usually say 'Happy birthday.'"

"Forgive my ignorance," Sarek replied. "Happy birthday."

"My friends are having a party for me tonight over at the Gallery if you want to come."

"I am unable to attend." He was perfectly able, he merely did not want to. He had not lived on Earth very long, but he had already learned that being so frank as to admit he had no desire to attend Petra's party would be considered rude. Humans made such an extraordinary effort on behalf of illogical pretenses.

"Why? You have plans with your girlfriend?"

"Yes." It was a lie but it felt like a necessary one to avoid further unwanted social interaction with Petra.

"Oh right, Amanda," Petra sighed, scanning the crowded yard.

"Her birthday is approaching," Sarek admitted. "What other human traditions surround this occasion besides a customary greeting?"

Petra shrugged. "Cake, balloons, presents?"

"You mean a gift?"

"Yes, at the very least, you have to get her a gift."

"What form of gift is appropriate?"

Petra put a finger to her lips and smiled, clearly pleased that Sarek thought of her highly enough to consult her on such matters. "Not sure. How long have you been dating?"

"Not long."

"What does she like?"

Sarek wasn't entirely sure. "She is fond of coffee."

"Don't you dare get that girl a boring coffee mug," Petra insisted, observing Amanda cheering on the children in their game with the peculiar plastic disc with the baby still attached to her hip. "She clearly loves kids."

"I do not feel a child is an appropriate gift."

Petra howled with laughter once again. "No, I guess not. Why don't you get her jewelry and flowers? That's always a safe bet."

"Flowers?"

"Yeah, flowers."

"Is it common to give the reproductive parts of plants as gifts?"

Petra's ability to laugh at such simple things was boundless. "Yes, very common."

"I see. I will ask what kind she prefers."

"You can't ask," Petra scolded. "It has to be a surprise."

"How can it be a surprise if it is common to honor human birth anniversaries with gifts? She will surely anticipate receiving a gift and if I do not ask, how can I ensure she will like what I select?"

"That's the whole point of gift giving, isn't it? To show you care about a person so much that you know them well enough to buy them something they would like without needing to ask what they want?"

"Highly illogical."

"If you say so."

"What flowers are common to give on birthdays?" Sarek asked.

Petra's eyes flicked in Amanda's direction and upon noticing she'd handed the infant back to its mother and was approaching their position, she grinned and said, "I can't give you all the answers. You're her boyfriend. Put a little thought into it."

She quickly darted away and ten seconds later, Amanda was at his side. "How are you holding up?"

"I am well. You?"

"Good. What were you talking to Petra about?"

He thought to himself for a moment. The question regarding her preference of jewelry and flowers was on the tip of his tongue, but he chose to keep it there. "Nothing of consequence."

Hours had flown by but Amanda was genuinely having too much fun to notice, much to her surprise. Sarek's coworkers were like any other set of young and middle-aged working professionals, but they were all likeable enough and their kids were adorable. Added to that, the food was good and plentiful, the weather was unseasonably pleasant, and Sarek was actually trying to be sociable rather than stilted and awkward.

When he got caught up in a discussion with a woman about geospatial engineering, she politely excused herself and wandered to the outer yard to find the kids had once again taken up the frisbee and were playing a game they called cups.

The object was simple enough: two players had staked two sticks into the ground, set plastic cups atop them, and endeavored to knock the opposing player's cups off with the frisbee. She shouted encouragement to Jenna, the awkwardly tall eight-year-old with the glasses, then eventually joined her to give her pointers on turning out her wrist to get the most accurate throw.

They played several rounds and eventually the children convinced Amanda to face off against Tommy, a freckled boy who was the exact right age to still be the apple of his mommy's eye but a real turd to everyone else. She planned to be a good sport, but decided she wasn't going to go easy on him like she did the others. The kid deserved to be knocked down a peg.

She was in the middle of re-staking her poles when a voice behind her murmured, "Why do you seem to prefer the company of children?"

Her cheeks grew hot and she turned to find Sarek watching her, an almost bemused look on his typically neutral face. She was supposed to be here posing as his girlfriend, not playing frisbee with his colleague's kids.

"I've always loved kids," she replied with a dismissive shrug. "Even when I was a little kid. Care to join us?"

He took several cautious steps forward. The children were watching him with interest but said nothing.

"What are the rules?" he asked.

"They're easy enough. These are our cups," she said, perching a cup face down on the end of one of the reedy poles. "Our job is to defend them from the other team, who will try and knock them off with the frisbee. We take turns throwing it."

"The premise is simple," Sarek agreed, accepting her offer of the frisbee.

Amanda turned to Tommy and said, "Wanna play teams?"

Tommy gave her a thumbs up, called his younger brother Jake to his side, cupped his hands to his mouth and cried, "You're gonna lose!"

Amanda shot Sarek a lopsided grin, suddenly feeling embarrassed that a couple of adults were watching in the inner yard. He was turning the frisbee over in his hands, running his long fingers over the bottom plastic lip. "Do you want to let me throw first so you can see how it's done?"

"It seems evident," he remarked. "It's merely a matter of achieving the proper velocity, angle of attack, and angular momentum."

"Are you going to turn this into a physics lesson?" she teased.

"Do you want me to?"

"No," she laughed. "If you want to throw it first, go ahead. You ready, Tommy? Jake?"

"Ready!" the boys cried.

She gently touched Sarek's elbow. "Don't go too easy them. They're pretty good."

"I see," Sarek said, twisting his arm back in preparation to aim.

His form seemed a bit unusual, but the moment his forearm and wrist flicked forward and the frisbee left his hand, she knew he had the right idea. The plastic disc flew from his fingers with such speed that it took her brain time to catch up. The children all whooped and laughed and Amanda turned to see that Sarek had struck the boys' left pole so hard that it was no longer rooted upright in the ground. The cup had obviously flown off and struck the neighboring pole, knocking that cup off too. In one fell swoop, Sarek had won the game.

She laughed and stammered, "That was…okay. Wow."

"Shall we play again?" he asked, looking between her and the boys with mild expectation.

They let the boys go first in the next game and when they missed, Sarek picked up the frisbee and crushed them a second time, then a third. The children who were watching seemed to find Sarek's skill equal parts amazing and hilarious, but Tommy's beet red face told her their opponents didn't find it all that funny.

"Okay, maybe we can cut them a little slack," Amanda muttered in a low tone.

"Slack?"

"You don't have to destroy them in a single throw. Let them get a few throws in."

"You imply I should not play to my full potential."

"They're kids," she said, looking around at the half dozen young faces observing them.

"There is value in losing," he countered. "Failure is a great educator."

"But mercilessly dominating them every single time will make them not want to play the game anymore," she said gently. "Kids learn best when they're having fun, and it's no fun being slaughtered."

"I sense you speak hyperbolically," he remarked, cocking his head slightly and offering her the frisbee. "I would not seek to cause physical harm, let alone slaughter them."

"Just try it," she insisted.

Sarek carefully studied the frisbee for a moment and then threw it hard at the boys' poles, this time, missing the right one by centimeters.

"Ha!" Tommy squealed, chasing after it.

Amanda gave Sarek a wry look. "You missed on purpose?"

"I thought it would be strange if I suddenly threw it slower," he confessed, deftly catching the frisbee Jake hurled at him without even looking in the direction it had traveled from.

"How are you so good at this?" she marveled.

"It is simple physics."

Despite the fourth game being closer than the first three had been, she and Sarek were declared the victors. Apparently Sarek didn't have it in him to actually lose. They turned the frisbee over to the kids and followed the steps back up to the inner yard.

"It has been six hours and forty-nine minutes since our arrival," he announced, opening the gate for her to walk through.

She paused and observed the sun hanging low over the lake. It would be setting within the hour. "Are you saying we should go?"

"I am merely acknowledging you are free to leave, since I have only spent four hours and fifty-two minutes tutoring you."

"I thought we agreed to call it an even five hours?" she reminded him.

"And you have still exceeded that requirement."

"I don't mind staying if you don't," she said, turning to face him. "I'm actually having a lot of fun and I bet the view of the fireworks will be spectacular from here. I won't charge you the tutoring."

"We made an agreement and I will honor it," said Sarek. "If you elect to stay, I will tutor you in exchange for your time."

"Okay," she said. Something in his matter-of-fact tone mildly wounded her. She was beginning to consider Sarek a friend, but did he really prefer to keep their interactions purely transactional?

They strolled back into the inner yard and took a seat at a picnic table at the outer edges of a very lively gathering. Vedek was regaling the group with a story about a time his parents took him camping in Vulcan's Forge and how he had to fight off some kind fanged animal with his bare hands. Amanda found it more interesting to watch Sarek watch Vedek. If she didn't know better, she would suppose Sarek didn't like him.

Amanda leaned back and turned so her mouth was only a few centimeters from Sarek's ear. He startled, but she spoke in a soft and reassuring voice, asking, "That tattoo in Vulcan writing on his arm—what does it say?"

"It says 'live long and die young.'"

Amanda unsuccessfully stifled a smile and very soon was laughing. Thankfully, everyone else was already laughing at something Vedek said and her laughter blended with theirs.

Sarek turned his head to speak more directly into Amanda's ear. "Why are we speaking so conspiratorially? And what do you find amusing?"

"He and Mara deserve each other. That's all. Are there really fanged bears on Vulcan?"

"I believe a sehlat is similar in size to a Terran bear. I'm not sure what other similarities the two species may share."

"Do you ever miss your home planet?"

"No." His answer was swift and she wasn't sure she believed him.

Sensing it wasn't a subject he wanted to discuss further, they sat and listened to Vedek's stories and jokes about Vulcan, with Sarek quietly providing private commentary as to the truthfulness or feasibility of his claims. Amanda ignored the continued glances of the women as best she could. She was certain most of them thought she was too young for him, among other catty things, but she focused on playing the best, most attentive girlfriend she could without being saccharinely disgusting.

As daylight faded and people meandered down to the lower yard to view the fireworks, Amanda found herself regretting she hadn't brought a jacket. The day had been warm, but the night promised to be cool. She shivered. Sarek noticed.

"Are you well?"

"A little chilly," she explained. "I'll live."

He removed his light, ankle-length outer garment, revealing a sensible black tailored shirt beneath, and offered the vestment to her. She wavered, biting her lower lip.

"You may take it," he encouraged.

She inched closer and spoke quietly, just in case anyone was listening and said, "I want to, not only because I'm cold but also because offering your coat to a lady when she's cold is extremely chivalrous and very boyfriend-like."

"Then why do you hesitate?"

She scowled. "Because I have too much pride."

"Illogical."

"Also because I'm not tall enough to wear it. The bottom will drag the ground."

"It can be cleaned."

She sighed, accepting the garment. "You won't be cold?"

"I will endure. Please, put it on."

It was heavier than she expected and impossibly soft. The high collar tickled the bottom of her jaw and every so often she caught the soft scent of something that smelled faintly like smoky cedar. Did Sarek really smell so delicious and if so, how had she never noticed?

They took a seat on the grass near the back of the large group and turned their gaze up to the night sky. A few wisps of clouds blocked the sliver of moon rising in the east.

"May I ask, what do humans find so appealing about deliberate displays of pyrotechnics?"

"They're beautiful. I'm guessing you don't watch fireworks on Vulcan?"

"No."

"Do Vulcans find anything beautiful?"

"I cannot speak for all Vulcans, but I acknowledge the universe is full of many beautiful things."

"What's something you find beautiful?"

He thought to himself for a moment. "It is currently the season of Silkar on my homeworld. Humans call it spring. Geomagnetic storms are quite common during this time of year due to our local star's increased activity, and when the charged particles emitted by the star collide with Vulcan's magnetic field, and they illuminate the night sky with many remarkable colors. I believe Terrans refer to the phenomenon the aurora borealis."

She smiled. "The northern lights, yeah. We see them back home sometimes."

Before he could respond, the first whistle of fireworks rang through her ears and the purple-gray sky lit up with cherry red starbursts. She pointed upward and said, "It's not the northern lights, but it's the best they can do in this part of the planet."

They both turned their faces upward to observe but as the show went on, Amanda sensed Sarek was watching her more than he was watching the fireworks, which made her very self-conscious. She tried to lean back and act casual, but her hand slid over his on the cold grass. A jolt of tingling warmth pulsed through her fingers and up her wrist and she pulled her hand away.

She shot Sarek a look of confusion and apology, but the moment her eyes met his face, he quickly turned his head to look away.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I'm not trying to hold your hand or anything."

The glow of the fireworks lit his face well enough for her to see him swallow hard. "I believe the colors of the explosives come from metal salts."

Had he not heard her apology? Or was he not accepting it?

"Barium chloride and barium nitrate burns green," he explained quickly. "Copper chloride burns blue."

"Oh," she replied, sitting up. "Okay."

"And calcium chloride is orange," he added, refusing to peel his eyes away from the dazzling display.

Amanda gave him a wan smile and placed her hands in her lap. He had heard her; she was sure of it. Maybe science was just easier for him. She put on her best smile and asked, "So what chemical makes the red ones?"

Chapter Text

The images were indistinct—blurry around the edges and full of anachronisms. Her breasts were exquisite and impossibly soft, but the harder he tried to appreciate them, the fuzzier they became. He turned his mouth to the tiny hollow at the base of her throat, showering her with kisses and taking delight in the vibrations of her moans.

"Strontium compounds?" she asked.

Sarek shook his head. What did strontium have to do with mating? He pushed himself up to observe her face, but all he could see was her wave of rich brown hair.

"Clarify," he insisted, trying to keep his voice steady.

She didn't. She grabbed at his hips and drew him closer to her body, then ran her hands along his flanks, tracing her thumbs over his hip bones. How he burned for her!

He returned to the business of pleasure, this time meeting his lips to hers and readying his hands to make contact with her face and join their minds together.

"So they're all alkali metals?" He jerked away. Her face was pleasant and inquisitive.

"What are?"

"Colors that burn red. Strontium and lithium are alkali metals, right?" A sly smile crept onto her mouth. "Don't you want me?"

"Yes, or that is to say, yes they are alkali metals. And I—I am—"

She shuffled on her back to get out from underneath him, sat up, placed his hand between her legs, and whispered in his ear, "It's been a while since I looked at the periodic table."

"I fail to see how the periodic table is relevant to—"

"Electron configurations. Don't you want to be with me?" she asked, reaching a hand toward his genitals.

He tried to gauge the expression on her face but found it difficult to discern any features. He whimpered, "Do you have any interest in being with me?"

The laugh she emitted was piercing and harsh. When he opened his eyes, he found himself alone and staring at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. His pulse was accelerated and he felt supremely agitated.

It was the fourth time that week he'd experienced such vivid dreams featuring Amanda Grayson. Last night, dream world Amanda been asking about uniform circular motion any time he attempted to initiate intimate contact. The night before that, she'd kept insisting that gravity was a constant acceleration, which of course he already knew.

He sighed and closed his eyes. His memory brought him back to the moment when their hands accidentally touched during the fireworks display, and how dumbfounded he'd felt by the powerful sensation it elicited. Touching hands with anyone other than a mate was a thing most Vulcans avoided at all costs because of innate telepathic abilities common among his species. But Amanda was human.

He had unintentionally touched hands with acquaintances and strangers at different times in his life and never felt anything other than a mild sense of embarrassment at such a blunder. How could such a casual touch from a member of a different species provoke the same physical response that he had only previously experienced with T'Rea?

As he had done the past three nights, he began to consider what might be lurking within his subconscious. Perhaps his bond with T'Rea wasn't fully severed and he still wanted to experience the pleasure of mating, but because T'Rea was gone, he'd turned his focus to the only other non-related female with whom he felt comfortable out of practicality rather than out of genuine affection.

Or perhaps he was experiencing an aberrant pon farr cycle. He was not due to face that most regrettable condition for approximately four more years but he wondered if living on Earth was altering some poorly understood facet of Vulcan physiology. Or perhaps his subconscious was reminding him that unless he wanted to either abandon logic entirely or undergo kolinahr, pon farr would come for him eventually. He could not remain a bachelor for the remainder of his life.

There was another option but it wasn't one he preferred to seriously consider, which was that he legitimately desired Amanda Grayson. She was aesthetically pleasing enough and he found her company tolerable, but she would make a most illogical mate.

He reached his hand under the light blanket and gingerly touched himself, wincing at the intensity of his prolonged erection. He exhaled slowly and rolled onto his back, but he could neither relax his mind nor quell his arousal. Desperate for any form of release, his hand wandered back to that most sensitive area, but almost immediately the thought of Amanda's breasts reemerged and he stopped. Thinking of her that way was enough of a violation, let alone thinking of her that way during such a private act.

He tried to force himself to think of T'Rea, but focusing was difficult and he ceased his efforts after twenty minutes. He flung the covers from his body, paced the room, and then did what decades of training demanded. He sunk to his knees, adopted the necessary posture, and meditated until the morning sun peeked through the drapes and it was time to prepare for work.

His ruminations had been helpful but hardly curative. If he let his mind become idle, Amanda would immediately occupy the space. Was he losing his logic? Just as he began considering whether it would be beneficial to reduce or even eliminate his interactions with her, at least until he could get his scattered mind under control, his PADD vibrated with a message. He glanced down and upon seeing it was from her, quickly opened the message.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 1120
Can you tutor me on Saturday?

His fingers moved on instinct and less than five seconds later, he sent his reply.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 1120
Yes.

Then he recalled that Saturday was tomorrow and was also an important date for her. Without waiting for her reply, he sent a second message.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 1121
Is Saturday not your birthday? I was informed birth anniversaries are significant occasions for humans.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 1122
It is, but I don't have any plans. Ordinarily Mara would demand to take me out, but she's been pretty distracted lately. Haha.

Initially, he couldn't figure out how to interpret the last word but upon saying it aloud, suspected it might be a written form of laughter. How odd that she felt compelled to indicate laughter via text.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 1123
Can you meet me at my dorm at noon?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 1123
I await our meeting.

He felt less agitated for the rest of the day but noticed his tendency toward distraction had increased. At the end of his shift, he began the short walk back to his apartment with the full intention of spending the evening in intensive meditation but hesitated once he reached his doorstep.

Petra had said it was necessary to get her a gift to honor the day of her birth. Had she meant it was appropriate to get his girlfriend a gift, or that humans generally expected gifts from all their acquaintances? She had recommended jewelry and flowers, but she had endorsed that option under the assumption that Amanda was his legitimate girlfriend. Would Amanda be offended if he failed to present her with a gift?

He stepped down from the front step of his building and set off down the sidewalk. He walked for nearly half an hour, enjoying the warm feel of the late afternoon sun on his face as he waited to encounter a shop that dispensed plants. Soon he found himself in an area where many of the signs had familiar Vulcan text below the Standard words and the majority of passersby shared his Vulcan heritage.

Many people dressed and carried themselves as traditional followers of Surak, but just as many others were dressed similarly to Vedek and would have easily blended in to the Terran landscape if not for their pointed ears and upswept eyebrows. A few of the more conventional Vulcans offered Sarek the customary salute and greeted him in their native tongue and when he readily delivered his reply, the sound of the lyrical Vuhlkansu rolling from his tongue filled him with longing.

How strange it was to see two opposing cultures merged together in this way, to hear Vuhlkansu mingled among the laughter of people sitting on patios of Vulcan restaurants and to see the juxtaposition of things like a boisterous nightclub situated across the street from a temple to Surak. It had clearly been illogical to assume the population in the so-called Vulcan Village would consist almost exclusively of V'tosh Ka'tur dissidents.

Most surprising of all, everyone appeared indifferent to the jarring display of diversity and seemed generally tolerant of each other. Such profuse public expression of emotion on his home world wasn't illegal, but it would certainly be met with widespread disapproval and suspicion. Repeat offenders would be ostracized. His earliest memories were of his parents and caregivers training him to suppress his feelings, warning that logic must be vigilantly safeguarded and asserting that a Vulcan society that permitted even small displays of emotion with any regularity was under persistent threat of collapse. Yet this corner of Vulcan civilization on Earth didn't seem on the brink of apocalypse. 

What would it be like to live without logic as Vedek did? As Amanda did? As so many of the inhabitants of Vulcan Village did? They all seemed content. For the first time in his life, Sarek felt curious about embracing emotion and this realization stopped him in his tracks.

It dawned on Sarek that until that very moment, he'd always expected his sabbatical on Earth would be temporary and that one day he would return to Vulcan. Whether he would ever speak to his father again was unclear, but Sarek was Vulcan, and Vulcans belonged on Vulcan. Didn't they? He surveyed his surroundings and was no longer certain.

Someone slammed into him from behind, disrupting his reflections and causing him to stagger forward. A hand clutched his bicep and he instinctively pivoted to keep both himself and the stranger upright. She was a Vulcan woman with glossy auburn hair, a color he suspected she owed to chemicals rather than genetics. 

"So sorry!" she squeaked, laughing as she tried to steady herself.

When she caught sight of Sarek, he detected a healthy green flush beginning on her round cheeks. She was beautiful but strange to behold, with a face layered in human makeup, a body barely covered in a glittering gold dress, and a short stature made artificially taller with a pair of towering shoes.

"Wow, T'Reka!" giggled another woman behind him.

The auburn-haired woman swallowed and repeated her apology in a crisp Shi'Kahran accent. "Ni'droi'ik nar'tor."

"It is I who should apologize," he insisted, choosing to speak in Standard since it was the language the woman had used first. "It was illogical of me to stop in the middle of the walkway and hinder foot traffic."

Another woman joined her. She was clad similarly but was far taller and plainer than her auburn-haired friend. She smiled at Sarek and said, "Excuse T'Reka, she's not the best at watching where she's going."

"I believe we are both to blame," Sarek replied.

"We should get going," said the woman called T'Reka, whose cheeks were growing greener by the second.

"I have no wish to detain you further," Sarek agreed.

As the two women scurried off, his ears made out the beginning of their conversation.

"He looks so familiar!"

"He's not bad. You should have asked him to come with us."

"I didn't even get his name and besides, with a haircut like that, it's not like he'd come."

Their next words were drowned out by the muted music coming from the nightclub and moments later, they joined the queue of people forming outside it. Rather than encounter the stares of the women a second time, he crossed the street and found himself outside the temple. How long had it been since he'd visited a formal place of reflection?

The urge to enter was countered by the apprehension of what he would find there. Would it be a true sanctuary of logic or another unconventional hybrid of classic Vulcan culture warped to fit on an illogical Earth?

"You hesitate, brother." They spoke in Vuhlkansu. The tenor of the voice was serious yet welcoming.

He glanced in the direction of the speaker and his eyes met a priestess in traditional white robes standing in the temple's open doorway.

"It has been some time since I have been to a temple," he admitted.

"The present time is appropriate, if you wish to cleanse your katra. Any time is appropriate."

He noticed her steal a glance at the rowdy club across the street. What did she think of her raucous neighbors? Sarek wasn't even sure what he thought of them.

"I prefer private meditation."

"As do most people," she admitted with a nod. "Yet sometimes it is helpful to seek solace in the familiar, especially when one is far from home."

He resisted the desire to confess his many recent offenses against logic to her. "I regret I must decline. I do not feel fit to enter a temple."

"Do you wish to seek the serenity of logic?"

"I have always preferred the serenity of logic over the burden of emotion," he automatically answered, even though he was newly mired in doubt.

"Then you are always fit to enter a temple," she replied. "We will soon honor the season of Silkar with a traditional Shi'Kahran festival. Perhaps you may be tempted to visit us then."

"Perhaps," he agreed, suspecting she deduced his place of origin from his accent. He raised his right hand in the ta'al and they parted ways.

He wandered further into the Vulcan district, his mind riddled with conflict. Was logic really serene, or had he deluded himself for his entire adult life? His logic dueled with his growing sense of disillusionment. When he happened upon a nursery preparing to shutter its doors for the evening, he welcomed the mental distraction of admiring the display of budding favinit plants on the sidewalk.

His mother favored this species and grew hundreds of them in the family garden and kept dozens more in pots throughout the house. In turn, they rewarded her handsomely for her devotion, delighting her with fragrant blooms of every color each spring.

He left the shop with two of them in hand, one so purple in color it was nearly black, the other, bright red. Petra had said flowers were an appropriate gift, but it seemed far more logical to bequeath Amanda a living plant that could produce flowers every year if cared for properly.

He recalibrated his path based on the setting sun and headed in the direction of his apartment, cutting through a narrow alley behind a group of busy restaurants. Half a block later, the gleam of an aquamarine stone in the front window of a consignment store caught his attention. Unless he was mistaken, the diamond-shaped amulet was vokaya, a mineral found only in a handful of small mines in the Go'an region of Vulcan. Petra had also indicated jewelry was an appropriate gift and though it was clearly Vulcan in origin, its vivid beauty paralleled Amanda's human personality.

It took a considerable amount of time and money to convince the elderly Vulcan shop owner to part with it, but once the transaction was complete and the necklace was tucked in a box in his breast pocket, Sarek resumed his journey home, relieved to have an errand done but still lost in a maze of his own conflicted existence.

"It's nighttime, it's bedtime," Amanda sang, clapping her hands in rhythm to the music. Her audience of three and four-year-olds didn't seem impressed by her efforts to lead them in a rousing rendition of the sleepy time song.

Her night at the daycare had been impossibly long, with boring stretches punctuated by ugly tantrums and defiance without warning. She wasn't sure if the kids were feeding off her sour mood or vice versa, but she wondered how she was going to survive two more hours of this.

When she asked Owen Jacobs to help her clean up the stuffed animals at the end of circle time, he threw a fit and bolted out of the room. When he slammed face first into the edge of the door, splitting his head open and unleashing a spectacular shower of blood, Amanda knew her night wasn't going to get any better. An hour of chaos ensued beginning with calling the paramedics and notifying his parents and ended writing the necessary statement detailing what had led to his injury.

When she knocked on Adam's door to submit her report, tears brimmed in her eyes. When he told her to come in, she prayed he wouldn't ask too many questions and actually make her cry. She set the PADD on his desk without comment.

"Are you okay?" he asked, giving her the distinct impression that he himself could be better.

"Have you heard back from the hospital?" she asked slowly, trying to sound calm.

"Owen's going to be fine," Adam reassured her. "He's not the first kid to smash his head and won't be the last."

"It happened on my watch," Amanda sniffed. "I'm sorry."

"And sometimes kids are kids," he replied. "Don't apologize."

She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the knuckle of her index finger and nodded.

"Isn't your birthday tomorrow?" he asked, clearly desperate to change to a more cheerful subject. What Adam didn't know was how little she was looking forward to officially turning another year older.

"Yeah."

"Any plans? Sarek taking you out?"

She grimaced. Sarek had agreed to tutor her in the afternoon, so saying yes wouldn't exactly be a lie. "I think so. Anyway, how's T'Vara doing? She came back a while ago, right?"

His face darkened with anguish. "She's not coming back."

It took Amanda an awkwardly long time to process his words and come up with the most probable meaning. Was T'Vara dead? Sick? In prison? "I don't understand—"

"She broke things off."

"Oh Adam, I'm so sorry." And to her surprise, she truly was.

His face reddened and he turned back to his computer. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean to make things awkward. I'm not looking for pity I just…"

"You seem like you're still processing it," Amanda said gently.

"Yeah."

Emboldened by his sudden display of vulnerability and inspired by her own self-pity, she asked, "Hey, do you want to go get coffee after work? We don't have to talk about relationships or anything if you don't want."

He looked hesitant but gave her a weak smile. "That sounds okay. You like Pete's Place, right?"

An hour and a half later, they settled into the same overstuffed booth where she'd sat with Sarek the night they met. She thought she should be excited to be grabbing coffee with Adam, but they were both in too glum a mood for her to revel in the experience.

She searched for a neutral topic but before she could settle on one, Adam blurted, "T'Vara is getting married."

Amanda nearly spit out her macchiato. "To who? She was only gone for a few weeks! How could she go home to Vulcan, meet someone, and agreed to get married in less than a month when she knew she had a boyfriend waiting for her on Earth?"

"She didn't meet someone," he said darkly, taking a sip of his mocha latte. "She's known someone. She's had a marriage arranged for her since childhood."

Amanda blinked at the cascade of shocking information that flowed from Adam like rain. "Wait, her parents arranged a marriage?"

"I hear it's quite common on Vulcan, actually. Particularly in families that are serious followers of Surak."

Amanda slumped back in her seat, stunned by the revelation. "I didn't know that."

"Apparently it's not something they advertise."

Of all the places her mind could have chosen to go with that information, it immediately settled on Sarek. Sarek followed Surak. Was he engaged? Was engaged even the right word, or should it be betrothed? Did it matter? He was older than T'Vara: what if he was actually married? Her mouth went cotton dry.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Adam said. "Part of me feels like I shouldn't be dragging you into this but you have a Vulcan boyfriend and I thought you might understand how deep a connection it really is. The melding, you know: it felt so real."

His voice cracked and he made a poor effort to conceal his growing distress by taking a long drink of his mocha. Sarek loved mochas. Was Sarek married? Should it really matter if he was, since she wasn't his real girlfriend anyway?

"I'm sorry, Adam," she offered.

"I'm sorry too, for dumping this on you. I just don't feel like I can talk to anyone else about it. I understand if you want to leave."

"No," she murmured. She felt like she should be flattered by his willingness to confide in her, but she couldn't shake the thought of Sarek being married. Sensing she ought to be putting on a supportive friend face, she sipped her drink and quickly asked, "If she knew she was engaged, why did she agree to date you?"

"She told me she wanted to make sure she was—" He stopped himself and pulled out his PADD. His voice was now shaking with anger. "Hang on, I want to make sure I get her exact words right. She wanted to be sure she was 'destined for a life of logic' and decided the best way to know was to 'live among an illogical species and determine if she was still devoted to pursuing the serenity of logic after forming illogical close personal attachments.' The goal was to see if she had the 'discipline to give them up in the name of duty.' I guess she did."

Until then, Amanda was sure there had to be some kind of limit on how stunned a person could be. "So she used you like a social experiment? She came to Earth to slum it up with irrational humans and then once she had her fill, she just threw you away?"

Adam's hands gripped his cup so tightly the knuckles turned white. "I would hate her if I didn't miss her so much. She was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Not if she was dating you while she was engaged to someone else."

Adam hung his head. "I keep telling myself that. I thought I had everything figured out. I have a job I love, good friends, I had the perfect woman."

"You still have a job you love and good friends," Amanda encouraged, wishing she could say the same. She doubted many of her friends would remember her birthday over the weekend when they were all too focused on studying for the last round of midterms before finals.

"Thank you for being such a good friend," he murmured.

There was a time when it would have pained her to be referred to as only a friend, but now Amanda felt grateful. Adam was a good guy but it was clear it was going to take him months if not years to get over T'Vara, if he ever did. What had she seen in him exactly, besides the fact that he was great with kids? He'd barely ever given her the time of day until now, when he needed a shoulder to cry on. 

She quickly finished her drink and made an excuse about needing to get home to study. He wished her a happy early birthday and even gave her an awkward side hug as they parted ways. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, pretend like the day had never happened, sleep through the birthday that she was sure no one would remember, and then wake up on Monday ready to fail another physics midterm.

Unfortunately her dorm room had once again been requisitioned for Mara and Vedek's sexual amusement and instead of sinking into her soft bed to cry herself to sleep, she found herself fleeing the building for the sanctuary of the library. She scanned her physics text and read the same homework problem four times, fully aware she wasn't really absorbing the words.

Tomorrow she would be nineteen and begin her last year as a teenager. Two years since she'd literally lost her mother in a traffic accident and figuratively lost her father to grief. She'd spent the past year surviving college and fixating on Adam, but now the illusion of the perfect happily-ever-after she'd made in her mind was shattered by finally seeing how depressingly ordinary he was. She had her whole life ahead of her but on this particular night, shrouded in the gloom of the university library, all she could think about was what she didn't have.

Her eyes blurred as she continued to force herself to read about the basics of the electromagnetic spectrum. Sarek could help her make sense of this. Too bad he was probably married. The tears began to roll freely down her cheeks and soon students were casting nervous glances in her direction. Not that she cared: she was hardly the first person to have an emotional breakdown in the library before midterms.

When the crying stopped, Amanda laid her head down on the desk and began to doze. She was startled awake a short time later by the buzz of her PADD. After wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she reached for her tablet and felt perplexed by the message she found.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2204
I apologize for the late hour and hope I am not disturbing you. Would it be possible to arrive at your quarters fifteen minutes prior to our originally scheduled meeting?

Amanda sighed. What a dork, asking if he could show up early. What a polite, adorable dork.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2204
That's fine. Why?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2204
I have been informed I should conceal my true motivation and reveal it at a later time to build suspense.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2205
What does that mean?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2205
I intend to surprise you.

She laughed. It felt delicious to laugh. 

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2206
It's not a surprise if you tell me you're going to surprise me.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2206
True.

She loved how honest and simple things were with him. Her smile broadened but quickly faded at the memory of her conversation with Adam.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2208
Can I ask you a personal question?

Whole lifetimes seemed to pass in the three minutes it took him to respond.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2211
You may, though I reserve the right to refuse to answer.

She took a deep breath. She wrote and deleted various permutations of her query before finally settling on the shortest possible version. No extra words to conceal any emotion. Better to keep things as neutral as possible.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2215
Are you married?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2215
No.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2215
Engaged?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2215
No.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2215
Betrothed?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2216
I am quite unattached. Why do you ask?

Amanda's heart threatened to burst with joy, then she was forced to confront why she could possibly feel that way.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.34; Time 2222
No reason. See you tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Sarek's eyes scanned the rows of pastries, pies, and cakes and wondered which of these would be most suitable for a birthday. Petra had said a birthday cake, but there appeared to be so many categories and subcategories of cakes available in a wide variety of flavors. He was particularly intrigued by the concept of cheesecake, which appeared to be a hybrid between the fudge contained in the case at the other end of the shop and the pies in the adjacent display rather than a cake made of cheese.

He was currently engaged in a visual détente with the shop attendant, a young human man whose pustule-covered face was trained on a small handheld PADD. Every so often he would laugh at something he read, steal a glance at Sarek, and then return his attention to the device.

Sarek stood in front of the case of cakes and cleared his throat. His signal was sufficient.

"Help you?" asked the young man, sliding his PADD into his pocket. Sarek noticed a small rectangular tag on his shirt, identifying him as Sam.

"I require a birthday cake."

"Okay," murmured Sam. "What kind?"

"I was hoping you could advise me," he explained.

"What kind of advice do you need?"

"What sort of cake is customary for a birthday?"

Sam's eyes narrowed and he chewed his bottom lip. He gestured to the case and replied, "Uh, most of these? Who's it for?"

Sarek was tempted to explain his situation with Amanda, but decided he would receive the most appropriate advice if he told the truth. The limited truth.

"An acquaintance."

"Is it just for them or are you taking it to a party?"

"It is for her only."

"Okay, what flavor does she like?"

"I do not know," he confessed. "Are some flavors more common for birthday cakes than others?"

Sam's face twisted into a mildly pained expression and he shrugged. "Most people go with chocolate or vanilla. Both are pretty safe flavors."

Sarek pondered this. He had been intrigued by the idea of carrot cake. He liked the fibrous Terran vegetable and believed he would prefer a more savory offering to the more indulgent options, but reminded himself this cake was intended for Amanda. Which would she prefer? Chocolate or vanilla?

"Which of those two is more commonly chosen?"

Sam sighed heavily and leaned over the counter. "They're both pretty popular but if I were to guess…vanilla? It's probably the least offensive flavor for a cake. Not everyone loves vanilla, but I don't know anyone who really hates it either."

"Then I would like a vanilla cake."

"What kind of frosting do you want?"

Sarek hesitated. "What kinds of frosting are available?"

Sam scowled and glanced at his baked wares. "You don't order a lot of cakes, do you?"

"No."

"Don't they have cakes—well, do they have cakes where you're from?"

"We do occasionally indulge in sweet desserts but none so decadent as these. And we do not celebrate birthdays."

"Alright. How about I just make you a vanilla sponge cake with vanilla buttercream frosting? It's a very standard birthday cake. And if it's just for…you said an acquaintance?"

"Yes."

"A fifteen-centimeter cake is about six servings, but it's the smallest cake we make short of a cupcake."

"Then a fifteen-centimeter cake will suffice."

Sam cleared his throat and delivered a thin smile. "I'll probably regret asking but do you want any writing or decorations on it?"

"Decoration?"

"Yeah, people usually decorate birthday cakes." He motioned toward a duotronic display at the end of the display case. "Those are some examples of what the replicator can do."

Sarek tapped the display and began to feel more uncertain than ever at the sheer scale of options. Flowers, dots, stripes, balloons, and bows of all colors were available. He scanned, wondering what sort of thing she would prefer when he stopped at a simple image of a cake with black frosting and multicolored starbursts. The label read fireworks. Amanda liked fireworks.

"This one will be acceptable."

Sam turned the screen to see it and said in a flat tone, "Great choice. Do you want writing on it?"

"Writing?"

"Do you want a birthday message written on it?"

"Are messages very common?"

"I mean…it's a birthday cake? A lot of people just put 'Happy Birthday.'"

More questions and exasperated answers followed and thirty minutes later, he left the shop with a replicated vanilla birthday cake and a small package of candles. Despite Sarek's intense trepidation, Sam had convinced him that humans really were in the habit of putting incendiary objects on celebratory baked goods and lighting them on fire when the cakes were intended in honor of a birth anniversary.

He walked slowly with the cake box balanced in the crook of his left arm and the red flavinit pot in the palm of his right hand. He arrived at Amanda's quarters at 1140 hours, checked in with the young woman at the front desk, and found Amanda's room on the third floor of the building.

He flinched when she opened the door. Her face was exactly as he remembered it in his dreams and the pace of his heart quickened. While he fought to suppress several bewildering emotions, she reflexively uttered, "Hey Sarek." Then her eyes caught sight of the cake box and the plant and she balked. "What's this?"

He briefly reconsidered his decision to surprise her with a cake. "It is your birthday and I was informed a cake would be appropriate. If it is not, please forgive—"

"You got me a cake?" she asked, her voice not rising above a whisper. Her eyes darted from the cake to his face and a wide smile broke on her lips. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's done for me in a long time."

This greatly pleased him. "I also wish to present you with this plant. I was informed a gift of flowers would be appropriate, but it seemed more logical to offer the entire plant so that you may periodically experience the enjoyment of flowers if the plant is properly maintained."

Her smile deepened and her eyes began to shine. They were quite lovely when they were like that. "It's so pretty. I've never seen anything like it."

"It is a flavinit plant native to my home world," he replied, offering it to her. "It is yours."

"If it's from Vulcan, that just makes it all the more special," she said, still grinning widely. "Thank you. This is so nice of you. You really didn't have to do this."

"I was told it was the appropriate tradition."

She seemed at a loss for words for a few moments but eventually she shook her head and asked, "Do you want to come in?"

He followed her over the threshold and asked, "Where shall I set this cake?"

"The kitchen counter is fine," she said, escorting him across the cramped space to the smallest kitchen he'd ever seen.

"The man at the bakery said it is customary to set candles in the frosting of the cake, sing a short song which the attendant at the bakery was kind enough to teach me, and wait for you to blow the candles out. This all seems very illogical but I will honor this tradition if you choose."

She hid a laugh behind her hand and stared at the cake box. "You don't have to sing or light candles if you don't want to. Really, it was so nice of you to do anything at all."

She flipped open the lid of the cake box and took stock of his offering, laughed aloud, then clapped her hand back over her mouth. He instantly questioned his final decision of decoration. After much debate with Sam over the excessive familiarity of the phrase "Happy Birthday," not to mention his argument that such a greeting would seem disingenuous coming from a Vulcan, Sarek had settled on the slightly longer and more formal message, "You were born on this day nineteen years ago."

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

Moisture dotted Amanda's lower lashes and her hand dropped from her mouth to her chest. He had upset her to the point of tears and he was in the middle of mentally composing an apology when she quickly wiped her eyes and whispered, "This is so…so sweet. And so Vulcan. I would give you a hug if I didn't know how much you'd hate it."

Would he hate it? He wasn't so sure. "You appear distressed."

She sniffed and drew in a sharp breath. "They're happy tears, I promise."

"Humans cry when they are happy?" This perplexed him. Vulcans frequently cried as children in response to pain or distress until they reached sufficient age to learn to control such effusions, but he had never heard of anyone crying out of delight.

"Sometimes," she said, turning to face him. The broad smile on her face suggested she was genuinely happy, but the narrow streams of liquid glistening on her cheeks was disconcerting. "Thank you, Sarek. Really. I don't think anyone's ever gone so far for a fake girlfriend."

More tears brimmed in her eyes. Desperate to avoid an outpouring of more emotion, he considered presenting her with the vokaya pendant, but before he could, the door burst open.

"Mara?" Amanda sputtered, closing the lid of the cake box. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey!" called a female voice. "Oh, you cleaned!"

"I have company over," Amanda spat.

"Me too," Mara said, poking her head into the kitchen. "Oh hey, Sarek."

He nodded in reply toward Amanda's companion and spied Vedek right behind her. "Hello."

"Hey, Sarek," Vedek said, shooting him a wink.

"Hello, Vedek," Sarek replied, refusing to offer him anything beyond the most neutral of greetings.

"Great, now that that's over, why don't you find somewhere else to go for a while?" Amanda said to Mara, her lips barely moving over her clenched jaw.

"We spent the night at Vedek's place but his roommate was supposed to come back this morning and that's kind of an awkward situation," Mara yawned, wrapping her arms around Vedek's neck.

"Then go somewhere else," Amanda said, waving toward the door. "It's a big city. There's lots to do."

"Honestly, we fancied a cuddle," Vedek said with a shrug.

"Then go somewhere else and cuddle there," Amanda groaned. "Sarek is here to help me study for a physics exam."

"You do know that when we say cuddle, we really mean we're here to have sex, right?" Mara laughed.

This revelation greatly surprised Sarek. Perhaps he should revisit his understanding of the word, or perhaps it was just another human euphemism.

"I know exactly what you meant by cuddling," Amanda countered. "If you literally can't go a few hours without having sex, go get a hotel room."

"But our dorm room is free."

"But it's not free of other people," Amanda said, gesturing between herself and Sarek.

"But Vedek is leaving for some space station later tonight and it's our last chance to be together for a whole week."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Oh no, a whole week."

"You don't get to tell me I'm not allowed to miss my boyfriend," Mara retorted.

"Oh sure, you're the real victim here."

Mara's mouth grinned but her eyes remained cold. "You know what? We don't mind an audience. Go ahead and stay."

Sarek was accustomed to Vedek saying shocking things, but someone declaring their indifference to having witnesses to their sexual activities was among the most scandalous things he'd ever heard.

"I have no desire to watch you mate," he professed.

"Amanda," Mara whined, drawing out the vowels of her name. "You can study anywhere."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have to," she said, her face growing red. "This is my room too and you don't respect the fact that we share this space. I had to shove piles of your clothes under your bed. You're a slob and it's embarrassing."

"I'll try to be cleaner," Mara said, adopting an obviously contrite tone. "Can we please just have an hour?"

"It's my birthday!" Amanda said, raising her voice.

Mara's eyes widened. "Oh my stars! I forgot!"

"Yeah, I know! Everyone forgot!" Amanda's hands were shaking and it appeared tears threatened to reemerge. "Everyone except Sarek."

She stole a glance at him and her expression softened. Not wishing to see Amanda become further provoked and certainly desperate to leave before Vedek and Mara began their coital activities, he seized the brief pause to suggest another option. "It seems clear your co-tenant has no intention of vacating, so perhaps we could adjourn to my apartment."

"See?" Mara began, but Amanda cut her off.

"We shouldn't have to!" I invited you over here. I shouldn't get run out of my own room on my birthday because of my horny, inconsiderate roommate!"

"No, but I also have no desire to watch her mate with my colleague."

The rage in Amanda's face split into a sharp laugh. She took a deep breath, snatched the cake box from the counter, and said, "You're right. Let's go, Sarek."

Mara and Vedek began arguing between themselves, but Sarek didn't stay to hear their deliberations. He had to trot to catch up with Amanda as she fled from the tiny dwelling. The speed with which her short legs could carry her was remarkable, particularly because she appeared to be trembling. As he fell in beside her at a brisk walk she muttered, "I'm so sorry."

"Why should you apologize?" he replied.

"Because I invited you to my room to study and my dysfunctional roommate made things weird. Then I screamed at her. Sorry you had to witness that."

"I still fail to see how you are at fault."

"I'm not, I guess, but I'm still mortified." She stopped at the elevator and gave him a woeful look.

"Embarrassment is illogical."

She gave him a wan smile. "Do you really never feel embarrassed?"

His mind instantly snapped back to his sensual dreams about her and the many emotions those images elicited and replied, "Not in the way I believe you do."

"Are you sure you're okay with going to your place?"

"I would not have invited you if I were not," he explained.

She offered a tiny nod. "Well then. Lead the way."

The walk to Sarek's apartment was familiar because he lived directly across from the learning center. As they approached the stoop of his building, she made out the figure of Adam sitting behind the front desk on weekend duty. She expected the butterflies to erupt in her stomach as they always did when she saw him, but all she felt was a strange sense of generalized anxiety.

When she looked back at Sarek, she noticed he was holding the front door open for her. It was then the butterflies emerged. Brushing them aside as best she could, she silently followed him into the main lobby, out through a beautiful courtyard, and then up two flights of stairs to an apartment overlooking a swimming pool.

She tried hard to think of some compliment but before one came to mind, he opened the front door and revealed his living space and piqued her curiosity. It was both nothing and everything like she'd imagined. It was ruinously tidy, organized, and minimalist. She was certain most of the furniture came standard with the apartment, but there were still a few colorful, personal touches.

A purple flower similar to the one he'd given her sat in the window sill overlooking the balcony on the opposite side of the main room. A three-tiered chess set sat on a side table and a hexagonal piece of wall art with bells hung on the wall behind the sleek black sofa.

"Your apartment is really nice," she muttered.

Sarek glanced around the room. Evidently, he hadn't been anticipating remarks on his living space. "Thank you."

"Where should I set the cake you got me?"

He showed her to the kitchen and she set the box down on a shiny black countertop. Mara's distraction had taken away some of the awkwardness of Sarek going out of his way to celebrate her birthday, but now they were alone with no threat of interruption and once again, her cheeks began to feel warm. She was about to ask if he'd like to have a piece of cake to break the ice when he produced a slender box from the inner pocket of his jacket.

"I have another gift I wish to give you."

She caught herself before she could blurt out a dismissive comment telling him he shouldn't have. Of course he really shouldn't have—she was only his fake girlfriend, after all—but since he wasn't used to celebrating birthdays, he'd clearly gone out of his comfort zone in doing all this. Her heart swelled with gratitude and yet, she wasn't sure what any of this meant.

He handed her the box and she held her breath as she opened it to reveal an impossibly bright turquoise-colored stone encircled in a brass-colored triangular setting. It almost seemed to glow. She was so mesmerized by its luster that for a moment, she forgot it was being given to her to keep rather than shown to her to observe.

"I was informed jewelry was a suitable gift and—"

"This is the most beautiful stone I've ever seen," she interrupted. And she meant it.

When she finally managed to tear her eyes away from the necklace and look at him, she was pleasantly surprised to see him looking pleasantly surprised. "You really mean to give this to me?"

"Yes," he replied. "And it is more correctly identified as a mineral than a stone."

She closed her eyes and laughed. "I didn't know there was a difference."

"A mineral describes a naturally occurring inorganic element with a well-defined chemical composition, crystalline form, and physical properties, whereas a stone is an aggregate of minerals."

She smiled. "I thought you were an astrophysicist, not a geologist."

"Correct, though as part of my studies at the Vulcan Science Academy, I was required to take coursework in every major discipline of science."

She looked back at the necklace and began to brim with anxiety. Had it been very expensive? Had he put serious thought into selecting it? Her mouth went dry and she felt very conscious of his eyes on her. "Uhm, what-what kind of mineral is it?"

"It is known as vokaya, a rare radioactive mineral found in Vulcan's Go'an region."

Amanda flinched. "It's radioactive?"

"It is a form of alpha radiation, unable to penetrate skin or clothing. It is quite safe."

She ran an index finger over the vivid amulet and smiled. "This is such a lovely present. I really wasn't expecting anything half so extravagant. Honestly, I wasn't expecting anything at all."

"I was uncertain what specific protocols would apply to our situation, so I thought it prudent to acquire appropriate gifts. You are free to reject them."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Why would I reject them?"

"It is logical to reject a gift that is inappropriate."

"I would argue that it would be incredibly rude," she insisted. "People should always accept a gift given in good faith."

"Even if they do not approve of it?"

"If someone takes time to pick out a gift, part of what they're giving you along with that gift is a tiny piece of themselves. Even if you don't like or want it, it's the thought that counts."

"So you would accept my gifts even if you did not want or like them?"

Amanda dared herself to look him directly in the eye. "I would, but the truth is, I actually like the things you got me. The cake showed so much thought, the flower is very nice, and this necklace is…"

Her words failed. How could she best explain how she felt about the prospect of receiving such a unique and probably expensive Vulcan necklace from someone she was pretending to date in exchange for physics lessons? If he were anyone else, she would wonder if he wanted something more serious.

"You do not approve of the necklace?"

"I do. It's so pretty, I just worry that it's too much. It's almost the kind of thing a real boyfriend would buy for his real girlfriend." She held her breath. Where had she found the nerve to say such a thing?

"I did not intend to imply anything by offering it to you. I merely saw it in a shop window and thought of you."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Then of course I'll accept it. Happily." She gave him a nervous smile, pulled on the chain to lift it from the box, and asked, "Will you help me put it on?"

He stiffened and Amanda wondered if she crossed a line. She added, "Is that…appropriate in your culture? To put on a gift that someone just gave you?"

"Is it considered appropriate for humans?" he asked.

"It shows that you like what someone gave you."

"I see. Then I will assist you, if you wish."

She dropped the pendant into his palm, noting that he seemed to take great care in avoiding touching her. She lifted the hair off her neck and turned, surprised to detect a faint shaking in the chain as he worked to fasten it in place. She touched the stone again to admire its shine and turned to show him, but he was quickly backing away.

"Thank you so much, Sarek."

"You are welcome."

"Will you eat some of this cake with me?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that customary?"

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't the cake for you?"

"Birthday cakes were definitely made for sharing," she insisted.

He pulled two plates from a cupboard and Amanda was about to ask where he kept forks when there was a knock at the door. Sarek straightened and flicked his eyes in the direction of the entry hall.

"Were you expecting someone?" she asked.

"I have never received visitors here," he replied. "Excuse me."

Sensing it would be weird to follow him to the door to greet his unexpected guest, she leaned against the counter and studied the cake, smiling at the neat green frosting that declared, "You were born on this day nineteen years ago." What a perfectly Vulcan thing to say. What she wouldn't have given to see the baker's face when Sarek asked for that on a cake.

From the next room she heard the creak of hinges, a long pause, and then Sarek utter, "Silek."

Another voice, a man's, replied, "Sarek."

They spoke in Vulcan, their words flowing at awkward angles, often breathy and fading into whispers, with some words that stood out as clipped and stuttered. What a strange language it was. Dying of curiosity about this Vulcan speaker on Sarek's doorstep, she peeked her head around the corner to catch a glimpse. Unfortunately, the stranger happened to be casually looking in the direction of the kitchen and from the fleeting look of shock on his face, he certainly hadn't expected to encounter the left half of a human woman's head.

Sarek must have sensed his visitor's momentary distraction and they exchanged a quick few words while Amanda silently pleaded with the universe to open up a vortex in the floor and allow her to disappear.

"She is Amanda," Sarek said in Standard.

It seemed like the best cue he could give to lure her out of the kitchen and into a very awkward introduction. Amanda slinked out from behind the corner. Instinct demanded she sport a welcoming smile, but her brain reminded her that the very Vulcan man with his very Vulcan haircut standing in the threshold probably wouldn't appreciate it.

"Amanda, this is Ambassador Silek," Sarek said, making a small gesture with his hand toward the man. "Ambassador Silek, this is Amanda Grayson."

Amanda gulped. An ambassador? She worked to twist her hand into the shape of the Vulcan greeting gesture but her fingers suddenly seemed too stupid to form a simple V-shape. "H-hello."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Grayson," the ambassador replied, polite but dismissive.

Amanda had so many questions, each probably more inappropriate than the next. As she waited for one of them to explain what was going on, the man said, "While I am honored to meet you, I would like to speak with Sarek privately, if I may."

"Whatever you have come to say, you can say in front of her," Sarek insisted.

Ambassador Silek's eyes scanned Amanda, noticeably pausing at the vokaya pendant around her neck. He gave a small nod and began to speak in the Vulcan language again, but Sarek held up a hand to stop him. "Miss Grayson is not fluent in Vuhlkansu. It would be rude to hold a conversation in front of her that she cannot understand."

"Would it not also be rude to force your guest to witness our conversation, brother?"

Were her ears tricking her or had this man just referred to Sarek as his brother? Did he mean that in a more general way, like in the way monks or close friends might refer to each other? She took stock of his face and decided he really did look a lot like Sarek, with a slightly rounder face and stockier build.

"She is not my guest, she is my asha'kan."

Ambassador Silek's left eyebrow shot sky high and he returned his attention to Amanda. "I see."

"Uhm, m-maybe I should go," Amanda muttered, inching toward the door.

"Please stay," Sarek said, his tone noticeably softening. "You have been invited here. Ambassador Silek has not."

"I will not stay where I am not welcome," the ambassador responded. "I did not come here to create discord, only to extend an invitation at our mother's request. Ambassador Skon and I depart for Vulcan in two weeks' time and you are welcome to join us."

"I have already told our mother I do not plan to be in attendance this year," Sarek replied. "And I never said you were not welcome in my home, merely that you have not been invited on this particular occasion."

"Very well. It was pleasant to meet you, Miss Grayson," said the ambassador.

She began to mumble the same thing in reply but both men raised their hands and exchanged the Vulcan salute with such speed and grace that it almost seemed choreographed and in the blink of an eye, the door was closing behind him.

Her eyes met Sarek's almost on instinct. "What was that about?"

"Clarify."

"How do you know an ambassador? What's he the ambassador of?"

"He is the Vulcan ambassador to Earth."

Amanda's eyes bulged. That kind of title sounded important. "And also your brother?"

"That is correct."

"Your brother is the Vulcan ambassador to Earth?"

"If Silek is my brother and Silek is also the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, then by the simplest of logical deductions, you could conclude the Vulcan ambassador to Earth is my brother," Sarek replied, turning on his heel to make his way back to the kitchen.

She dismissed his sarcasm and followed him to the kitchen. "You don't seem happy to see him."

"He was not invited here."

"But he's your brother. Does he need an invitation?"

"Yes."

Both his tone and his answers were growing shorter, but Amanda couldn't help herself. "But it sounds like he came here to ask you to go home. Don't you want to go home?"

"I do not wish to discuss this with you."

The words cut like a knife. Amanda swallowed hard and knew the conversation was over, but one question remained. "What does asha—ashakan mean?"

"It does not translate well."

His eyes were dark and almost glowing with ferocious emotion just beneath the surface. Vulcans insisted they didn't experience feelings, but Amanda was beginning to suspect this was a universal lie. Perhaps it was a lie so pervasive Vulcans even told it to themselves. So she sensed she was pressing her luck when she asked, "Can you try?"

He gave her a pointed look, took a slow breath, and eventually replied, "The closest approximation is lover."

Amanda chewed the inside of her cheek. "So I guess this means our fake relationship has moved on to telling our real families?"

"I wish to change the subject."

"And I don't. You just lied to your brother about us and you seem upset. I want to know if there's anything I can do to help."

"You can be of no help in these matters," he insisted. "And it is not your place to help."

That stung, but it also emboldened her. "You might be my fake boyfriend but that doesn't mean I can't have real concern about your feelings."

"Feelings are illogical," he countered, almost before the words had left her mouth. And there it was—the man who didn't feel feelings was clearly feeling feelings.

As tactfully as she could manage, she replied, "And lying about having a relationship to put off lusty coworkers and stir up family drama doesn't seem all that logical either."

"I encourage you to concern yourself with your own affairs and leave me to mine," he said, turning his back to her as he began to prepare two pieces of cake.

This was rapidly descending into a disaster. He was fuming and she was boiling with frustration and anxiety. Why were Vulcans so closeted about everything? A minute ago he was giving her a fancy necklace for her birthday but the moment she started asking personal questions, his tune changed to a repetitive chorus of urging her to mind her own business.

She absentmindedly touched the vokaya pendant at her throat, suddenly moved by a shocking revelation. He was fast becoming a good friend and the fact that he was pushing her away hurt her more than she wanted to admit. She doubted she would ever have romantic feelings for him, but she didn't like the idea that he might one day drop her from his life without warning. The last thing she wanted to do was end up like Adam, who presently seemed doomed to mope himself into an early grave.

"Can I just ask one more question? Then I promise I'll leave you alone," she said, careful to modulate her voice to sound as placid and neutral as possible.

"I will not speak of my family with you."

"You don't have to. It's not about your personal life at all. It's more of a generic question, posed by a human to a Vulcan about Vulcan social norms."

He turned to look at her. His face once again bore its typical impassive expression, which felt right and comforting. "What is your query?"

"What do you think about someone who meets another person and starts a romantic relationship with them, even though they know they're already engaged to be married to someone else?"

His deadpan face shifted into evident surprise. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"My friend was dating this Vulcan woman. They seemed really happy and he was completely in love with her and she went home to Vulcan and married some other guy without any warning. She had an arranged marriage. Is that something Vulcans really do? Arranged marriages?"

"Many Vulcans practice that custom, yes."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

Her cheeks grew even hotter. "Oh."

"But as I have previously stated, I am currently unattached to anyone for reasons I do not care to discuss. I presume discovering this common Vulcan practice was the reason for your line of questioning last night?"

She blushed. "Well, yes. But more than that, this Vulcan woman knew she was engaged to someone else but she still came here and started a relationship with my friend, not because she unexpectedly fell in love, but because she deliberately wanted to. She wanted to blow off logic for a while and see if she had the discipline to go back to it."

Sarek's brow rose and he looked lost in consideration for a moment. "I do not know this woman, but what she did to your friend was exceptionally cruel."

Amanda let out a slow breath. "So that's not something Vulcans would normally do?"

"It is certainly not something I would ever consider doing."

"Really?"

"Perhaps you will permit me to ask a question."

"Sure?"

"Why are you so concerned with the interpersonal struggles of other people?"

That was a good question. Why was she? "I don't know."

"Maybe it would be wise for you to reflect upon it. Would you like to consume some of your cake?"

She gripped her necklace again and nodded. She accepted the small piece of cake he'd cut for her and took a seat at his dining room table. "I'm sorry if I overstepped by asking about your family."

"You are human," he replied. "You are naturally inclined to ask deeply personal questions."

"I hate that I feel like I started the first real fight of our fake relationship."

"Perhaps we might finish our cake and turn our attention to physics. What topics do you wish to review?"

Amanda sensed this sudden shift in conversation was going to be her only chance to duck out of their awkward conflict with any grace. She chose to seize it. She daintily licked icing off her fork and replied, "I'm trying to understand how magnetic fields and electric fields work."

They finished their cake and dove headlong into a discussion about field lines, charges, and poles. The harder she focused on physics, the more relaxed she became as all the awkwardness from the early afternoon turned into a distant memory. When the day faded into evening and city lights began to flicker through his window, he proposed preparing dinner, or as he called it, end meal.

Eager to maintain their steady and renewed rapport, she agreed. Much to her surprise, he actually prepared ingredients to cook rather than make use of his replicator. She offered to help but he insisted she consider why positrons and electrons couldn't exist in a magnetic field.

She sat on the couch and made a show of reviewing her notes, but she couldn't help but sneak glances at him every so often. If someone had asked her a month ago how she planned to spend her birthday, she certainly wouldn't have said she'd be curled up on the sofa of a sixty-four-year-old Vulcan man's apartment reviewing physics homework while he made a casserole the old-fashioned way.

They ate a quiet meal together and she insisted on helping him clean up. When they returned to the couch, Amanda picked up her PADD and mentioned, "You've been tutoring me for seven hours."

"And your grasp on electromagnetism has markedly improved."

"Thank you," she beamed. "I was just wondering if you wanted me to go."

"Do you wish to leave?"

"No, I'm grateful for your help and I'm pretty sure if I go back to my dorm, Vedek and Mara will still be there. It's just that it's getting late and seven hours is a long time to pretend to be your girlfriend in public."

"One hour of our time this evening was devoted to preparing and consuming end meal and I do not believe it should be considered as tutoring. Additionally, I already owe you three hours and twelve minutes from the barbecue."

"I told you that you didn't owe me for that."

"And I told you I would honor our agreement."

"I don't like our agreement," she blurted.

"You wish to terminate it?"

"No, but I don't like feeling that we're literally trading our time back and forth. I feel like you're my friend and I would spend time with you, whether in public or private, even if you didn't tutor me. And don't mind pretending to be your girlfriend when you need me to be."

"So you propose a change to the arrangement?"

"Would that be okay if we just helped each other out when the other one needed it? I promise I won't take advantage of you, I—"

"That is acceptable," he interrupted. "Now that we are agreed, let us continue our review of absolute permittivity."

Amanda bit back a wry smile and nodded. She wasn't sure how much longer they studied, but when she woke up in the pre-dawn hours the next morning, her PADD and study materials were neatly stacked on the coffee table and there was a pillow under her head and a light blanket covering her body.

Chapter Text

He watched the digital numbers on his PADD roll over from 1259 hours to 1300. He really hadn't been counting, but that made it 149 hours since he last spoke with Amanda Grayson. He had no expectation of frequent communication with her, but her abrupt lack of contact following her birthday concerned him. 

Had he inadvertently offended her? Weeks of working at Cary Cartographic and casually observing human interaction had revealed a pattern of lying and avoidance in an attempt to evade conflict. He reviewed all the instances in which he might have caused offense but without the benefit of a human thought process, he couldn't be sure what might have upset her.

The human thought process: what was it really like? His mind returned to the Vulcan district of the city, where he first gave credence to the idea of abandoning logic. Curiosity tickled the back of his consciousness. He glanced around and deciding he was in the privacy of his own home, he wandered to the long mirror behind the door.

He knew what he wanted to do but wasn't certain he had the courage to do it. But why not? He'd felt emotions before. All Vulcans did, even if few would ever admit it aloud. He sighed and straightened his posture, knowing that the occasional emotion slipping past his logical defenses was quite different than deliberately allowing himself to feel something.

He pondered different topics that often caused him emotional difficulty. His father was a natural place to start, immediately followed by T'Rea. He thought and thought, but he did not feel. Intentionally trying to elicit emotion after decades of avoiding it seemed about as difficult and unnatural as intentionally voiding his bladder where he stood. It should be possible but training and instinct refused to permit it.

He closed his eyes and set his mind adrift. His father's face formed in the void, bringing with it the usual flashes of anger and pain. Rather than suppressing the feelings as he normally did, he allowed them to persist but still could not bring himself to latch onto them and truly experience them.

He opened his eyes and exhaled a slow breath. If he was going to commit himself to feeling emotions, why had he chosen a theme such as his father, something he knew would bring distasteful sentiments? Wouldn't it be logical to start with something more pleasant? He shook his head at his own senselessness. There was no logic in emotion so how could there be logic in choosing which emotion to feel? Surely it was all a gamble.

Without consciously directing it to, his mind turned to T'Rea, the woman who had occupied so much of his thoughts in the past year. His heart quickened and his breath stalled in his chest. What a lovely creature she was to have loved him as she had. He recalled his last pon farr and how much he'd longed for her. His eyelids flickered shut again but much to his surprise, it was not T'Rea he pictured. Then his eyes snapped back open, confused by what he'd just seen. Amanda Grayson?

He was stunned. His reflection stared back at him, observing his obvious conflict. He didn't dare think about her again but his mind refused to consider anything else. Amanda Grayson. His stomach flipped and he allowed the emotions to go where they wanted and almost immediately, he was overwhelmed by a sensation of giddiness.

His sensual dreams about her certainly hadn't abated but they had branched into motifs that transcended basic sexual intercourse. He pictured himself bonding with her, living with her, growing old with her. Still convinced he was simply lonely and his subconscious had latched onto Amanda as the most convenient companion, he'd taken to sleeping only every other night so as to reduce the number of inappropriate reveries.

During a moment of inattention his mind went back to the previous Saturday evening and the image of Amanda drifting to sleep on his couch. He saw himself lifting her delicate head to slide the pillow beneath it and catching the scent of her soft hair. A smile tore across his lips before he could stop it and his hand instinctively flew to his mouth to conceal this shocking outward expression. He turned from the mirror and attempted to regulate his breathing. He was embarrassed by such a display, then embarrassed by his embarrassment. Clearly a lifetime of suppressing emotion could be unlearned easily but the shame associated with it was a different matter.

How did Vedek manage to bear it? Then again, why would he consider Vedek a suitable role model for emulating emotional display? Did he want to become someone like Vedek?

Sarek decided that was probably quite enough feelings for one day. Desperate for anything familiar, his hands began the work of lighting meditation candles as if acting on their own accord. He slumped to his knees and quickly slipped into a meditative state, lulled by the familiar smell of the candles and the comforting routine of breathing techniques.

Just at the threshold of the pure serenity of nothingness, a pair of blue eyes blinked at him through the void and a plump pair of pink lips curved into a grin. He pushed away from it but the harder he struggled, the more recognizable the face became. Soon her voice joined the fray, posing questions about the electromagnetic spectrum. Apparently, even his best efforts at meditation were insufficient to strike her from his mind.

He slowly allowed the stale air in his lungs to escape through clenched teeth and just as he considered regrouping and taking a second pass at meditation, a soft ding of his PADD in the other room alerted him to a message.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1337
Hey. What are you up to?

He willed himself to remain calm but a missive inquiring after his activities was most welcome. His pulse commenced the rapid, rhythmic drumming of nervous anticipation. He set his PADD down until he could calm his cardiopulmonary system into a tempo more appropriate of an adult Vulcan male at rest, then he considered how best to respond.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1340
I was meditating.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1340
Oh. So sorry to bother you!

He was grateful for her courtesy but eager to convey any correspondence with her should never be considered an interruption. He was also curious to know her motivation for contacting him.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1341
You have caused no inconvenience. Do you require tutoring?

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1342
I could always use tutoring but I don't want to take advantage of you. I was just wondering what you were doing. I want to get out of my room before Vedek and Mara come back and was curious to know if you wanted to go do something.

His heart threatened to begin racing once again but he managed to subdue it quickly this time. He dictated several responses, deleting each before finally settling on the most suitable reply he could contrive.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1345
What do you suggest?

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1346
Want to meet me at Pete's? Or the weather's really nice. We could meet at the park we went to the other day. It's up to you.

Sarek was already on his feet and heading for the door before he finished reading. Then he faltered, realizing he was acting most illogically because he didn't have sufficient information on how to proceed. When did she want to meet? She was offering him two choices of activity, but which was the better option?

The weather was cool but was tolerable enough. The park would have fewer people than the coffee vendor and if there was a lull in the conversation, they could both enjoy the rigor of a walk. But Pete's establishment would provide the opportunity for a mocha and it had been several days since Sarek had enjoyed his favorite Terran drink. In the midst of his deliberations, he received another message.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1348
Or we don't have to. I know you said you were meditating and I don't want to make things weird.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1349
The park is acceptable. I am available for the rest of the afternoon.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1350
I can meet you at the merry go round in twenty minutes. Does that sound okay?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.41; Time 1350
I will see you directly.

Sarek strode through the quiet residential streets, retracing the steps he'd taken with Amanda when they'd visited the park two weeks earlier. He used the twelve minutes it took to go from his door to the park's entrance to clear his mind—or try to, anyway—and consider what his sudden inability to eject Amanda Grayson from his thoughts meant.

He recalled nearly giggling in delight at the thought of her during his brief experiment to experience emotions, but quickly shoved that memory aside. Still convinced his subconscious was merely trying to communicate that he was eager for her company because he felt bereft and isolated on this cold, wet planet far away from everyone he knew, he strode into the park with confidence, pleased that he would soon be meeting his only friend on Earth.

The park was peaceful and largely empty, excepting two humans escorting a pair exuberant canines at a trot on the path ahead. As he approached the digital community billboard and prepared to turned toward the merry-go-round, a pair of figures emerged from behind the hedgerow and turned onto the pavement from the dirt path, nearly colliding with him. They were Vulcan, dressed similarly to himself and wearing their hair in tribute to Surak.

Their right hands quickly rose from their sides and formed the ta'al; their mouths formed the traditional salutation urging him to live long and prosper. They spoke in his native tongue in a clear Shi'Kahran accent, prompting Sarek to return the greeting in Vuhlkansu. They were well-proportioned young men wearing demeanors that would widely be considered cold and severe, even by Vulcan standards.

The taller of the two folded his hands to his front, scanned Sarek from head to toe, and said, "You are a follower of Surak." He continued to speak in Vuhlkansu and his tone was caught somewhere between a question and a declaration, with a slight trace of accusation buried among the words.

He considered his emotional exercises in front of the mirror less than an hour earlier. Despite his doubts and the singular instance of experimenting with purposefully feeling emotions, he was hardly ready to abandon the philosophy that had guided his entire life and certainly unwilling to express his misgivings about the benefits of logic to two strangers in a park. Just as he opened his mouth to acknowledge that he was indeed an adherent of logic, the shorter of the pair barked, "Or are you a logic traitor?"

He stiffened, turning to the shorter man and squaring his frame to adopt a more authoritative stance. "Why are my beliefs any of your concern?"

"Evangelizing the truth of logic is my concern," he insisted, straightening his posture just as Sarek had done. "Particularly in an illogical place such as Earth."

"This is Earth." Sarek conceded the point with a flatter than usual tone. "It is primarily populated by humans, a species whose reverence of emotion is well documented."

"My comrade is being overzealous," interjected the taller man, shooting the other man an icy look. "And you are correct: humans are a very illogical species. But so were we once, before Surak led us out of our folly."

Sarek's eyes darted back and forth between their faces before coming to rest on the bulletin board behind them. Someone had removed the graffiti that had once adorned the bright screen, promoting the motto of the terrorist organization Ask'era Ozhikersa.

"We believe humans can be taught to appreciate the tranquility of logic, and that the Vulcan apostates currently residing on Earth can be convinced to return to logic's sanctuary," the taller man continued.

"Logic traitors, you mean?" Sarek queried, turning his gaze back to the shorter statured man. His eyes were hard, cold, and unyielding.

"A Vulcan who has known logic and rejected it is a logic traitor," the shorter man maintained.

"Perhaps instead of selectively quoting Surak's teachings when they are convenient to your agenda, you should seek the truth that Surak revealed in the principle of Kol-ut-shan."

"It is easy to celebrate infinite diversity when it obeys a logical order." The biting tenor of the shorter man's voice was unmistakable.

"It can hardly be considered true diversity if everything is perfectly ordered and logical," Sarek countered. "There mere existence of logic implies the existence of a force that runs counter to it."

The taller man's lips formed a thin slash. "But it does not mean that irrationality must be embraced and celebrated."

"I would argue that it ought to be appreciated, at least, because experiencing an illogical existence allows us to better appreciate a logical one."

The shorter man's voice dropped to an even more dangerous tone and he took a small step forward, a gesture clearly designed to invade Sarek's personal space. "A reckoning is coming. You would be wise to be on the right side of logic when it does."

"Are you threatening me?" Sarek asked, refusing to step backward and yield to intimidation.

The primitive part of his brain, the part he inherited from ancient plains-dwelling ancestors who scratched a living from nature and fought wild beasts in the night, began to awaken. His muscles twitched. Sounds became sharper and objects in the distance faded out of focus in favor of the immediate threat standing in front of him in the form of two fanatical Vulcans who were very likely to be members of Ask'era Ozhikersa.

The three men were at an impasse and Sarek marveled at how such a brief, chance meeting seemed on the verge of erupting into violence, particularly from a pair of men who claimed to revere logic so highly. There was no logic in any of this but he was prepared. That was until he saw the slim figure of Amanda Grayson coming up the path behind them and the equation changed.

The springy tension of his body preparing to engage a threat to himself morphed into a quivering mass of uncertainty and panic as the situation shifted to potentially needing to defend her. The logical part of his brain clashed with the primitive part, both sides demanding to be heard.

They could not be so foolish to attack him in broad daylight, or worse, to attack a human woman on Earth and start an interplanetary incident. But why not, if their comrades were content to assault temples on Vulcan? He wished she would just keep walking and avoid any association with him for her own safety, but when she was about five meters away she called, "Hey, Sarek!"

The interruption shattered the immediate tension and created a vacuum for worse things to unfold. The shorter man craned his neck to identify the woman behind him while the taller one kept his eyes focused on Sarek. He suddenly recognized they had been trained to work in tandem. If they were truly individuals who just happened to be walking together, both of them would have experienced a natural inclination to turn and identify the speaker, but without uttering a word to one another, they had divided their efforts to retain maximum visibility of all immediate potential threats.

She slowed about ten paces from the impromptu group, scanning each of their faces, clearly expecting some kind of introduction or explanation for the unexpected gathering. Before he could offer one, the shorter man said in Standard, "Hello."

Amanda, sensing she was being welcomed into the fold, smiled and replied, "Hi there. I'm Amanda. Are you friends of Sarek's?"

"They were just leaving," Sarek interrupted, walking between the two men to partially block their access to her.

She shot him a bewildered look but before she could respond to his curtness, the shorter man replied, "There's no reason to be rude, Sarek. Amanda was merely introducing herself."

He disliked hearing these men speak their names. "We are late for a meeting. Please, excuse us." Sarek took two long strides toward Amanda, forcing her to step back to maintain a comfortable radius of personal space. He looked straight into her gray-blue eyes, trying to convey a sense of danger. Slight creases formed on her brow and around her mouth and though he couldn't be certain she understood, she nodded and began to turn around.

He gently grabbed her elbow and steered her back the way they came. He trained his ears to the sounds behind them, glancing over his shoulder when he dared to ensure they were not being followed. Half a minute later, Amanda asked in a low voice, "What was that?"

"I…am not certain."

"Who were those guys?"

"I do not know."

"They seemed to know who you were."

"Only because they heard you use my name. You also told them yours."

He saw her looking at him out of the corner of his eye and he turned to see her face was growing pale despite the brisk pace they kept. She asked in a quavering voice, "What did they want?"

They were approaching the edge of the park but rather than continue straight into the residential neighborhood, he turned left to quickly obscure them behind a small shop. He glanced around the corner to survey the park but the men had disappeared.

"Sarek, what's going on? Is everything okay?"

The truth was, he wasn't sure how to answer her, nor was he sure what to do. He did not even know their names, so how could he go to the authorities? He could attempt to report the incident, but given the paucity of the details, what would they do? He had no proof they were logic extremists, and even if they were, simply holding radical beliefs wasn't a crime. 

But they knew his name. Sarek was a relatively common name, but the men shared his sharp Shi'Kahran accent. It wouldn't take the trained ear to recognize they all came from a similar region on Vulcan, and with those two facts alone, it wasn't entirely inconceivable that they could deduce he was S'chn T'gai Sarek, eldest son of an influential Vulcan diplomat. Or perhaps they had known all along.

His mind raced back to the moment they first met. Sarek had been surprised by the appearance of two Vulcan strangers emerging from behind the bushes. They had seemed considerably less startled. Had they been waiting for him? How could they have known he would be entering the park, how could—his hand fumbled for the PADD inside his wide breast pocket.

He had arranged to meet Amanda in the park by the merry-go-round thirteen minutes before encountering them. His personal PADD was linked to a Terran network with adequate security, but any moderately skilled computer scientist could have hacked it. Securing all communications was the sort of thing his diplomat father took very seriously, but Sarek was a private citizen with no reason to suspect anyone would be interested in his mundane life. Until now.

Whatever happened between Sarek and his father, he would always be Skon's eldest son, and Ask'era Ozhikersa was notorious for kidnappings. Spouses and children of influential federalists were occasionally abducted as leverage when important Federation politics was at stake, a phenomenon which was becoming more common in recent years. Unrealistic demands would be made, they would never be met to the extremists' satisfaction, and the abductee would be tortured, maimed, or killed.

He felt very exposed, but his primary concern was Amanda. They knew her name. She was innocent and it would be a difficult thing to bear if anything should happen to her based solely on her association with him.

"Sarek?" She gripped his forearm with a light, shaking hand. "You're frightening me."

His chaotic thoughts abruptly stopped. Her touch was intoxicating, but he had other things to concern himself with. The last thing he wanted to do, aside from risk her safety, was upset her. Humans did rash and irrational things when they were upset. Rather than lie and say there was nothing to fear, he said, "They were only strangers who wished to speak to me about logic. I had no interest in hearing what they had to say. Let us walk."

They started off in no particular direction and he took several seconds to review the facts again, realizing his theory about being a potential kidnapping target sounded extraordinary. There was no logic in paranoia...until there was. Or had his prolonged stay among humans and dalliance with emotion eroded his carefully ordered mind to the point of inventing far-fetched scenarios?

"Where are we going?" she asked, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

It was a valid question. He considered their options. If they really were being watched or followed, he had no desire to lead them back to his apartment or Amanda's dormitory. Then again, if they had hacked his PADD, they already knew or at least suspected where he lived. He decided if kidnapping really was a possibility, then it would be logical to seek out a public space with a large volume of traffic, to hide in the open with as many witnesses as possible. But what kind of witnesses? Humans were so unique in that they could observe everything but see nothing, often too engrossed in themselves to perceive much of the world around them.

"Sarek?" Her tone was bitter and apprehensive. "Where are we going? What's going on?"

"Have you ever been to Vulcan Village?" he asked.

The weather was nice and she was with a good friend, but Amanda would hardly say she was having a good time. Sarek, usually so dry and stoic, seemed agitated. Spooked, even. They were walking so fast that several times she'd had to beg him to slow down to avoid having to break into a trot to keep pace. He kept looking around and twice they'd doubled back or reversed course, like he was trying to lose a stalker.

She suspected it had something to do with the two men in the park. What kind of trouble could he have gotten himself into? Were they private detectives? Old rivals of some kind? Relatives? She considered the strained relationship with his ambassador brother and figured it was a possibility.

She'd already tried asking him about the men in the park several times and each time he would simply say he did not know them. He wasn't the type to lie and he sounded sincere enough, and she was eager to avoid the same type of argument they'd had about his brother, so she decided to drop it. Still, she couldn't shake her curiosity.

Eventually they reached a part of the city where they began encountering the occasional Vulcan passersby. With each block, there were more and more of the elegant aliens with the pointed ears and she knew they'd reached Vulcan Village. It seemed so calm for a populated area and was surprisingly colorful.

Some of them dressed like humans while others donned clothing she suspected was styled after more traditional Vulcan fashion. Sarek often wore subdued colors like black, gray, or navy, but many of the women wore elaborate multicolor gowns with large, ornate jewelry. Some of the men did as well. It would have been rude to stare but they all looked so beautiful.

"Do you come here a lot?" Amanda asked, desperate for any conversation and wondering if she could find a way to snap him out of his peculiar mood.

"I have been here once before," he replied as they came to a stop at an intersection.

"Well, since we decided to skip the park, what would you like to do?"

Sarek glanced around and took some time before replying, "Have you ever been to a Vulcan tea house?"

"I've never even been to Vulcan Village," she laughed. "But I do like tea."

She followed him across the street and past several shops to a dimly lit room that smelled of wonderful spices and otherworldly flavors. It was hard not to feel awkward and out of place, but she was relieved to see two other humans sitting at a low table by the window. The seats were backless and so low that they were really more like stools to squat on rather than chairs to sit in, but before she could sit down, Sarek directed her to the long counter by the back wall full of what looked to be dried herbs.

He spoke to a woman who gave him a small tray with a large decanter of hot water, two small, clear teapots, and two glasses that almost looked more like stumpy flower vases than tea cups. Then he escorted her to the counter. He removed the lid from one of the pots and extracted a glass cup in the center, then motioned to the rows of herbs.

"It is common for Vulcans to blend their own teas, depending on individual taste or specific health needs." He took a tiny spoonful of an herb and added it to the glass cup he'd removed from the pot. Each contained leaves and had signs clipped to them, but that did her no good since they were all written in Vulcan. He stole a quick glance toward the front door, scanned the street outside, and asked, "What sort of flavors do you prefer?"

Amanda swallowed. "I don't really know. I'm starting to understand how you must have felt the first night at the coffee shop though."

They walked together along the length of the counter, stopping frequently to smell different herbs. Some seemed familiar, touching on a buried piece of old nostalgia, while others were appropriately alien. She began selecting ones that reminded her of winter holidays, adding herbs that smelled of nutmeg and cloves.

When they were done, Amanda started to venture toward a free table by the window, but Sarek said he would prefer to sit in the back of the shop. She inched toward the seat next to the wall but he stopped her, asking if she wouldn't mind if he sat there instead. She teased, "You're being picky, you know."

"I merely prefer to sit separately from the rest of the patrons," he insisted.

They poured the boiling water into their tea cups and the water in Amanda's tea pot began to turn a dusky shade of orange. "How long do we have to wait until we can drink it?"

"Approximately four minutes," he replied, flicking his eyes in the direction of the door.

"This is a lot of fun and very elegant," she said, enjoying the ribbons of color spiraling out of the herbs and into the water. "I've never made tea before, at least not tea that didn't come from bags or a replicator."

"Tea houses are common on Vulcan," he explained, glancing over her shoulder toward the door a second time.

"Are you waiting for someone?" she asked, twisting in her seat to see what was so interesting about the shop's entrance.

"I saw someone outside I thought I knew. I was mistaken."

"You're acting weird. I wish you'd tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is the matter."

"Are you sure?" she asked. Then she stupidly blurted the thing that had been gnawing at her all week. "Is it me? Did I make things weird by staying over at your apartment last weekend?"

His demeanor changed as he turned his attention back to her. "Not at all. You were most welcome to stay. You are always welcome in my home."

She nodded and began to nibble at her lip to avoid smiling. "I hadn't heard from you all week and I started to think I'd offended you."

"I had not heard from you either and wondered if I had caused some offense with my refusal to discuss my family. You left in such a hurry and said very little as you departed the following morning."

She could feel heat rising in her cheeks. "I hadn't planned to stay over. I don't even really remember falling asleep. Thank you for the blanket and pillow, by the way."

"You are welcome."

Sarek removed the glass tea strainer from the pot and poured some of the steaming liquid into his cup. Amanda nervously followed his example, grateful this mundane action could divert them away from an awkward conversation. The tea was still much too hot to drink, so she wrapped her hands around the cup and announced, "I actually passed my physics quiz yesterday, so thank you for that."

"I am glad to be of service."

"I'm still panicking about my last midterm and upcoming comprehensive final exam though."

"I asked if you required more tutoring."

"If I remember correctly, I said I could always use more tutoring but that I didn't want to take advantage of you."

"And if I remember correctly, we both agreed to terminate the transactional nature of our arrangement in favor of legitimate friendship. You are a friend in need and I am capable of assisting you."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"Well, in that case, what do you know about wave optics?"

"As much as any other subject within the realm of physics, I suppose."

Amanda grinned and took a tiny sip of her tea, wincing as it scalded the roof of her mouth but marveling at a taste that reminded her of minty gingerbread. They began a conversation about things like interference, diffraction, and polarization, but it was difficult for her to grasp the concepts through discussion and without having her study materials present.

When they were nearly finished with their tea, Sarek recommended they return to his apartment and she readily agreed, partly because she had a weird feeling Vedek would still be in her room with Mara, but mostly because she wanted to spend time with him. It made her happy to see him beginning to finally relax and she was looking forward to another evening like last Saturday.

They ambled down the street together, walking closely enough to suggest friendship but maintaining enough distance between them to keep things from getting weird. It all felt perfectly natural, at least until they approached a large white building on the opposite side of the street that looked like some kind of church.

Slinking in through a side door were the two men she'd seen earlier that day at the park. She almost stopped in her tracks and began to point them out to Sarek, but he had already seen them and held up a hand to interrupt her, never once faltering his stride.

Just as she was on the verge of demanding to know what was going on and who those two men were, he turned and in a very serious and sincere voice asked, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

The human mind wasn't meant to switch gears so quickly and she ended up stammering and sputtering out an incoherent answer that went something like, "Who are what stay with you?" She cringed inwardly, cleared her throat, and asked, "W-why? Why do you want me to stay with you?"

He thought to himself for a brief instant, casting his eyes back toward the white building. "I know you are eager to avoid returning to your room, where my colleague very often visits."

He wasn't wrong. Vedek had already stayed over several nights that week and there was no reason to think he wouldn't be staying tonight. "I just—I don't—"

"You may use my bedroom and I will occupy the living room, if that will make you more comfortable."

Amanda wasn't really sure what to say. "Can I ask—is there a reason you want me to stay over?"

"Companionship and the study of wave optics. I do not wish to imply anything untoward."

"So it's not like…a real date?"

"Nothing like that," he insisted, responding almost too quickly. "I have no interest in—it is merely that I—it would be convenient. I could help you study, we could make dinner, and we could share pleasant conversation as friends."

"All my stuff is back in my room," she shrugged, suddenly wondering why she was arguing with him. Hadn't she had a good time last Saturday? Wasn't her room currently occupied by a lusty and unwelcome Vulcan squatter too obsessed with her roommate for his own good?

"I will go with you to collect your things, if you wish."

She looked at him, really looked at him. His face was calm and neutral, but his eyes told a different story. He was unsettled, but why? Was he trying to ask her to his place for a real date and was just too shy to admit it? Or was he being friendly by offering his bedroom when he knew how unbearable her current living situation was and didn't want her reading too much into it? She decided that if she accepted, she would also be accepting the possibility that he was really thinking of this as a romantic evening and much to her surprise, that excited her more than bothered her.

"I guess if you're sure it's no trouble," she mumbled, suddenly feeling the weight of awkward anticipation.

"Good," he replied, lengthening his stride to an almost breakneck walk, forcing Amanda to trot after him. "Let us go."

Chapter Text

"My legs aren't as long as yours," Amanda panted.

Sarek glanced to his left, noting her cheeks bore a pale pink hue. "A very apparent statement."

They turned the corner and her dormitory came into view. "It's just that my calves are burning. Are we in a hurry?"

He'd been too preoccupied with mentally preparing for Amanda's visit and debating the logic of concealing his concerns about the men in the park from her to realize the pace had become rather brisk by any reasonable person's standard. He scanned the area but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "I apologize for not taking your weaker physiology into consideration. Forgive me."

"My weaker physiology?" she scoffed, falling in step beside him.

"It is a well-documented phenomenon that Vulcans have many physical advantages over humans, and that the males of both species have greater bone density, muscle mass, and lung capacity than females, on average."

"Fair enough, but it's not like I have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel," she smirked. "I just don't see the need to jog back to my dorm."

"Is there some custom regarding placing one's foot on a banana peel?" he replied, turning to observe her.

She laughed. "It was supposed to be a joke that implied I was perilously close to death."

"You appear quite healthy," he countered.

"I like to think I am," she said with a small smile.

His heart quickened at her warm expression and he swiftly looked away and set his mind to getting his emotions in check. He would not deny he genuinely cared for her, and so the thought someone might hurt her to get to him was intolerable. Was it logical to keep the truth from her to avoid alarming her, knowing that she was an illogical being and there was no way to predict how she might react to such a revelation?

They were friends but they led separate lives: he could not spend the rest of his life escorting her through her daily activities. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't do it for more than several days without drawing her suspicion, particularly because she already seemed aware something was wrong. He decided he would tell her, but not here while they stood in the middle of the sidewalk. Not now, when she was in such a carefree mood.

He destroyed the tiny piece of his conscience that also implied he didn't want to upset her right before she'd agreed to spend the night as his apartment. Of course he was only inviting her to his apartment for her own safety, not so he could selfishly enjoy her company. Yes, he would tell her, but he would have to judge the moment and now was not ideal.

As they neared the door to her room, Sarek heard Mara's voice permeating through the thin walls. Amanda began digging through her bag for a keycard. Sarek didn't intend to eavesdrop and though Mara's voice was muffled and strained, his ears were sensitive enough to make out the distinct words.

"What are we going to do?" Mara asked, adding extra emphasis to the last word.

"I told you I have a friend on the Kessik IV colony," Vedek replied, his voice calmer than his female companion's.

"Oh sure, I'm just supposed to move out to wherever that is? Drop out of school?"

"You hardly ever go to class anyway—"

Amanda slid her keycard into the lock with a click and the door slid open, revealing Mara sitting on her bed with her head in her hands and Vedek standing by the window.

"I thought you were going to the park?" Mara grumbled.

"Yeah, that was several hours ago," Amanda sighed, pulling a gray bag from the top of her closet and tossing it onto the bed. "But don't worry, we're not staying. I'm just here to get some clothes."

"I should go," Vedek said, rubbing his hand through his hair. When Sarek looked closely, he realized Vedek's eyes were bloodshot and his face wore a patchy stubble of a beard that was several days old.

"Please stay," Mara whined. "I don't want to be alone right now."

"I'll be back," Vedek replied. "I just need to go meet up with someone."

"Who?" Mara cried.

"This may come as a surprise to you, but I actually do know other people," Vedek answered. "I'll be back in a few hours. I promise."

Amanda adjourned to the lavatory to collect whatever hygiene equipment she required, leaving Sarek alone to observe Mara brooding over her mate's sudden departure. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I guess things between you and Amanda are getting pretty serious if she's staying over at your place."

"I believe she is staying with me because her current living quarters are so frequently occupied by your male suitor," Sarek replied, preferring to avoid addressing her comment about his imaginary relationship with Amanda.

"Amanda always was a prude," Mara replied with an empty laugh. "But be good to her. She's a really good person."

"I agree," Sarek replied. "And I shall."

Amanda tossed a small satchel into the gray duffel bag on her bed and announced, "All packed. Let's go."

"You guys could stay," Mara mused. "I don't really feel like being alone right now."

Sarek's eyes turned toward Amanda, fully expecting her to entertain her roommate's request, but instead she responded, "Vedek said he would be back later and Sarek and I have plans."

"Sex plans?" Mara chortled.

Amanda's face turned steely. "Maybe. Anyway, have a good weekend."

"Yeah, you too," Mara grumbled. "And don't forget to use protection!"

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Amanda turned and briskly walked down the hallway, this time forcing Sarek to pick up the pace to catch up with her. He was unsure how to broach her insinuation that they might mate with each other, so he simply commented, "Your cheeks are flushed."

"Obviously we're not going to have sex this weekend," she mumbled, racing down the stairwell two steps at a time.

"You have already made it very clear that we will never engage in sexual intercourse. It was a main stipulation of our agreement and though our arrangement has been terminated in the interest of friendship, I did not suppose that specific proviso had changed."

"Right. I just needed her to think that we might because she'd probably think it was weird if we didn't," Amanda continued, stepping outside.

Sarek took note of their surroundings but did not see the men from the park or anything else he perceived to be a threat. Still, he fell in step next to her on the street side of the sidewalk and kept himself alert for any potential danger. Perhaps he was overreacting.

"You've gone quiet again," Amanda muttered after several minutes of walking at a leisurely pace.

"I have nothing to say."

"I hate it when you get quiet after an awkward conversation."

"What was awkward?"

"Me implying we were going to have sex."

"And you expect me to feel embarrassed?" he replied. "I have already explained that embarrassment is illogical. Why do you so often anticipate how I will feel about your social interactions and feel the urge to apologize? I am Vulcan. I am not in the habit of feeling anything."

"I have a hard time believing that," she replied.

"Explain."

"You're an expert at keeping things bottled up and not outwardly showing emotions, but I get the sense that you do feel things, even if you think it's illogical and even if you hide it."

"Vulcans do have emotions," he conceded. "And they are quite powerful, but we turn to logic as a means of tempering ourselves."

"I can understand not wanting to feel angry or sad, but wouldn't it be nice to feel happy? Excited? Why does it have to be an all or nothing thing?"

"If I were to allow myself to only experience positive emotions such as joy or excitement, they would eventually fail to hold any meaning and I would find myself drawn to more extreme situations in order to be happy. Balance is necessary. Good emotions must be countered with the bad in order to appreciate why the good ones are good. Yet it is the bad emotions that most often lead us astray."

"So you're saying if you were happy all the time, you would get bored and start doing reckless things to feel happiness?"

"Yes."

"And so you figure that in order to have balance, as you say, it's better to just not feel anything at all?"

"Precisely."

"That sounds really miserable."

"It is actually quite serene," he insisted, ignoring the memory about his experiment that morning to feel emotions.

As they turned into the street where his apartment building was located, a man called out from behind them, "Hey, Amanda!"

Sarek instantly squared his body to block her from a possible attack, but he identified the speaker as Amanda's employer. He was grinning and trotting in their direction.

"What's up, Adam?" Amanda asked.

"I was just about to send you a message," Adam explained, displaying a smile so broad that Sarek could see his hind teeth. "I'm on my way in to the learning center. Nicoletta had to go home early for some family thing and Sarah just called in sick. Is there any way you can work tonight?"

She frowned. "I'd like to help—"

"Great," Adam beamed.

"But Sarek and I had plans tonight," she finished.

Adam dropped his smile and turned to Sarek. "Surely you can spare her for a couple of hours? The center closes at 2100."

"She does not answer to me," Sarek explained. "If she wishes to work for you, that is her choice."

"I really do want to help, it's just that Sarek was going to help me with physics," Amanda added. "I have a final exam coming up."

Adam shifted his eyes from Amanda back to Sarek and suddenly both men were engaged in a battle of stares. After several tense seconds, he shrugged and said, "I guess I'll just pull double duty then. Have a good night."

"I really am sorry," Amanda called after him before turning to Sarek and asking, "Do you think I should go help?"

"I think you should do whatever you think is appropriate," he demurred, hoping she would see reason and refuse her employer's last minute request.

"It's just—I work all the time. He always calls me whenever he needs someone. I used to be flattered but I work way more than any of the other interns."

"If you are confident you are doing your share of the work, why do you question whether you should do more?"

"Because I feel guilty, I guess?"

"Staffing the learning center is not your responsibility," he replied, walking in the direction of his building.

"True," she sighed. "But back to our original conversation about not feeling feelings, there was definitely some kind of weird standoff between the two of you just now. Do you not like Adam or something?"

In truth, he did not like the way the man looked at Amanda, but he could not explain why, which was quite illogical. Finally he said, "There is nothing to dislike about him."

"Would it surprise you to know I used to have the biggest crush on him?"

"Crush?"

Amanda laughed a vibrant laugh. "I used to like him. A lot."

"Romantically?" Sarek asked, deciding he liked Adam even less than before.

"Yeah."

"What did you find so attractive about him?" Sarek asked, immediately regretting his impoliteness at posing such a personal question. Yet she seemed unfazed by the intrusion into her private life.

"I don't know, honestly. He's handsome. He likes kids. He's likable. Then he started dating that Vulcan woman and it only made me like him more. I guess it's easy to pine for what you know you can't have."

"He smiles too much," Sarek replied.

"I smile," Amanda countered.

"Yes," Sarek replied, thinking she smiled exactly the right amount.

"Does it bother you that I smile too much?"

"If I said it did, would you stop smiling?"

"No."

"Good," he replied. "You are human and you are as you should be."

Sarek chose to walk around to the side entrance rather than go through the front out of a desire to vary his routine in the event that he really was being followed. If Amanda noticed the diversion, she made no remark.

Moments after entering his apartment, his PADD began to vibrate in his breast pocket. Garrett Fischer, his supervisor, was attempting to contact him directly. Sarek glanced at Amanda, who had taken a seat on his sofa.

"Are you going to get that?" she asked.

He engaged the audio transmission.

Garrett's voice crackled through the device's tiny speaker. "Hey Sarek, sorry to bother you on a Saturday afternoon."

"How many I assist you?"

"I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"The order is irrelevant," Sarek insisted. "Also, goodness and badness are relative."

"Okay. The telemetry specialist, Lulu, she came down with a nasty case of Andorian flu. She was supposed to go to Io Station this morning to get the telescopes on line for the Regulon project. I was hoping you'd be able to go. I can have a shuttle ready to take you in an hour."

Sarek noticed Amanda's face was beginning to show signs of disappointment. She had agreed to forgo work in order to spend time with him and he felt obligated to return the favor, though of course purely as a courtesy and not because he was looking forward to spending time alone with her. "I have already made plans with Amanda."

"Not sure what plans you had, but you can take her with you. Cary Cartographic is all about promoting family time, and that includes maybe someday-to-be families."

Sarek watched Amanda's eyes glow brighter than they had when they'd watched the fireworks together. She leapt off the sofa, raced toward him, and gently gripped his forearm. "Please?" she mouthed.

She had told him on numerous occasions about her desire to travel to space, but as a research facility, Io Station was hardly a diverting destination. Still, his main objective for asking her to stay with him was to keep her safe, and Io Station sounded safer than anywhere on Earth.

"Sarek, you there?" buzzed Garrett's voice through the speaker.

"I am here."

"Tell your girlfriend your boss would be eternally grateful to her if she'll let you go. We have several suites on Io Station and you guys will be very comfortable."

Amanda was jumping up and down with enthusiastic excitement now.

"What about your schooling? And your work?" Sarek whispered.

"You guys should be back Monday by midday at the latest," Garrett interjected.

She clasped her hands together and hissed, "Please? I want to see space so badly."

Sarek lifted the PADD closer to his face and asked, "Where do we go to board the shuttle?"

Amanda's foot jiggled up and down in anxious excitement and her fingers toyed with the vokaya amulet at her throat. Sarek had insisted she take the seat by the window and she didn't hesitate to accept. This was her first time in space and she wanted to enjoy every minute of it. Aside from the pilot in the front of the cabin, they were alone on the private contracted shuttle.

The shuttle's engines rumbled below their feet and they smoothly glided off the ground and up over the city, which became smaller and smaller with each passing second. Soon the Gulf of Mexico was visible and the sky around them grew darker as they entered the mesosphere.

The view was breathtaking. She would almost say it was the best and most romantic date she'd ever been on in her short nineteen years, but this clearly wasn't a real date. Still, maintaining the appearance of a fake relationship as far as his job was concerned was turning out to be…not so bad. She snuck a peek at Sarek, who was sitting calmly next to her, hands folded in his lap and eyes gazing straight ahead. "You're not even a little excited?" she teased.

Small wrinkles formed on his brow. "It is not that I do not enjoy your company. We are friends, it is merely that—"

"I meant excited to be going to space," she interrupted, feeling her cheeks turn hot. "I didn't mean to say you should be excited to spend the weekend with me, I meant—"

"I see," he replied, cutting her off. The tips of his ears seemed to be a shade greener than before. "I have been to space many times."

"And it doesn't hold any wonder for you?"

He glanced out the small portal to her left at Earth, which now appeared to be the size of a tennis ball in the distance. "It does. But it does not hold the same novelty for me as it does for you. Enjoy it while it still occurs to you to do so."

"Thanks for bringing me with you," she smiled, turning back to the portal. "How long will it take us to get there?"

"We are not yet traveling at full impulse and are not permitted to do so until we reach a certain distance from Earth's orbit, but Io Station is approximately 628.3 million kilometers away and full impulse speed is 74,660 kilometers per second." He thought to himself for the briefest of moments. "If our speed remains constant, we shall arrive in two hours and twenty minutes."

"And you really just do that kind of math in your head?" she scoffed.

"Yes," he replied, curious that she still seemed so impressed by his prowess at basic arithmetic.

The sound of the engines suddenly changed from a loud thrum to a much softer hum, and the stars began to blur until they were only visible as little flashes. Sarek extracted his PADD from the bag sitting at his feet and began scrolling through recent news stories.

"Didn't you say we're traveling at 74,000 kilometers a second?" she asked, turning back to Sarek.

"74,660 kilometers per second," he corrected.

"That's really fast," she murmured.

"It is," he agreed.

"So then how does Newton's first law of inertia not apply? Shouldn't we be crushed at those kinds of speeds?"

He gave her a look that indicated minor disappointment. "Have you learned nothing during our tutoring sessions? By simply standing on your home world, you are traveling at more than 100,000 kilometers per hour around your system's local star, but you are not pulverized because you are doing it at a constant velocity."

Amanda groaned inwardly, instantly aware of her mistake. "I meant acceleration. How can we accelerate to those kinds of speeds without being killed?"

His facial muscles relaxed in a clear sign of approval. "Vessels capable of traveling at impulse or warp speeds are outfitted with inertial dampeners to counter the effects of rapid acceleration or deceleration. In fact, approximately one third of fatal space travel incidents are related to failures in the inertial dampener system."

"That's…comforting," she muttered, drawing her arms around her body.

"Prior to this excursion to Io Station, we had planned to review the topic of wave optics," he continued, clearly oblivious to her newfound nervousness at being crushed to death if the pilot accidentally hit the wrong button. "Perhaps it would be prudent to utilize our time wisely and review your study material now."

"I don't want to study," Amanda groaned.

"There is a difference between what is wanted and what is required."

She rolled her eyes and pulled her PADD from her bag. "Okay, dad."

"Why do you imply I am your father?"

Amanda had to hold in a snort. "I'm not, but you're acting like it, trying to make me be responsible. This is my first time in space and I want to enjoy it."

Sarek gestured toward the blackness outside window. "At full impulse, this will be your view for the next two hours and twenty minutes. There is little to observe."

She scowled but conceded. They spent the rest of the shuttle ride studying the same topics that had eluded her understanding at the tea shop and it wasn't long before she was confidently answering his verbal quizzes about constructive and destructive interference. They were in the middle of reviewing older material when Sarek glanced up and said, "We have arrived."

Amanda twisted in her seat and tried to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor. Just outside her window and larger than she could have ever dreamed was Jupiter, replete with dazzling swirls of red, green, and blue gas on its surface. The shuttle was quickly turning away from the incredible view to dock at the station and Amanda strained to keep watching it as long as possible. When she looked back at Sarek, breathless with awe, she was surprised to find his eyes were glowing and the corners of his mouth were turned upward just enough that it gave a vague impression of a smile.

He'd been so tense all day but now he finally seemed relaxed. Happy, even, despite what he'd said earlier about eschewing all emotion.

Io Station turned out to be nothing like the space resorts she'd heard so much about. There were no clubs or festively dressed waitstaff offering multi-colored drinks over the thrum of upbeat music. Aside from a handful of Starfleet officers and a couple of civilian engineers, there was hardly anyone here at all.

The station was a utilitarian, corporate-style place, clean and well-lit with just enough amenities to be considered adequate without being able to stake any claim to the word luxurious. They passed a cafeteria, a small gym, and a twenty-seat holotheater showing movies that had debuted more than a year ago.

The pilot directed them to the lodging office and perched on a tall chair behind an artful glass desk, they met an elegant Andorian receptionist. She added them to the station's roster for the next day and a half and quickly flew through a speech about safety, what to do in the event of an emergency, and a list of the station's available facilities. She passed a key card across the desk and began to give them directions on how to get to their room when Sarek interrupted, "Is it possible to secure separate quarters?"

"The only room Cary Cartographic has available at the moment is the executive suite," the woman explained. "But it is quite large. I am sure you will be comfortable."

Sarek took the key card from the desk and nodded without lodging any further complaint. Amanda followed him down the corridor, her mind racing through all the possibilities of having to share a room with him. Was it really any so different than staying over at his apartment?

When she saw the room, she wasn't certain the receptionist's claim that it was large was entirely accurate. A medium-sized bed took up nearly a third of the space and a narrow couch sat crammed against the opposite wall between a desk and what she figured was supposed to pass for a dining table. Certainly comfortable enough for one, quite cozy for a couple, but awkwardly small for two platonic friends.

"I can take the couch," Amanda said, setting her bag on the desk and thinking she was going to have to sleep half curled in the fetal position. "If for no other reason than I don't think you'd fit."

"Feel free to settle in as you like," he said, setting his bag on the bed. "I need to visit the telemetry laboratory and see to the project I have been assigned."

"Can I come with you? See what you do?"

He seemed conflicted for a moment but gave a small nod. "If you like."

They worked their way through a maze of narrow hallways until they arrived at a dark, cramped lab off the main corridor. It was full of all kinds of impressive-looking gadgets and monitors, including three massive cylinders in the center of the room that she supposed were telescopes. Sarek took the PADD that had been mounted to the wall next to the door and set to work adjusting the position of the central telescope.

"I know you told me what you do when we first met," Amanda mused, watching him over his shoulder. "But remind me again."

He craned his neck to look at her. "I am employed by a company that has a contract with Starfleet to map the outer regions of the Alpha quadrant. Starfleet is planning a series of five-year missions to visit these sectors, but they require at least some indication of what they will encounter."

"That makes sense," she agreed.

"A colleague has been working on a project to chart the topography of the Regulon sector," he explained, pivoting in his seat to the large main screen that was displaying an astral map of the known galaxy. He tapped a small box and expanded it. "Calculations suggest there is an anomaly affecting the space-time continuum there, possibly a stellar black hole."

"But couldn't telescopes on Earth give you this information? Don't get me wrong, I'm really excited to be here, it's just—why come all this way?"

"To capture a detailed image at such a distance requires a large array of telescopes and Io Station has some of the best in this system," he began. He wandered through an explanation of telemetry and obscure math and Amanda found it all very dry and barely understood any of it, but the confidence with which he explained it was immediately attractive, which only made the thought of returning to that tiny room with him that much more awkward.

When he resumed his calculations and adjustments, Amanda wandered around the lab, looking at the extraordinary map of the Federation and scanning the dozens of monitors that lined the walls. One in particular caught her gaze—a live feed from the USS Tourmaline sending imagery from a place called the Briar Patch back to Io Station. Vivid shades of pink and orange mixed in with flashes of green spiraled from the nebula, capturing her imagination.

"My work is complete."

Amanda jumped, surprised to see Sarek had snuck up behind her and was standing off to her left with his hands neatly tucked behind his back. "I was just looking at…well, whatever this is. Space is so incredible. I'm really sorry I didn't get a better look at Jupiter when we got here."

"If you wished to see Jupiter, all you needed to do was ask," he replied, reaching for a switch on the main monitor. The wall on the far side of the room began to break in half, revealing itself to be a viewing window. Jupiter, the great giant of the Terran solar system, was just coming into view as the station orbited around the planet's third largest moon.

Amanda clapped her hands over her mouth in delight. It took several minutes for the planet to disappear from view and when it did, she asked, "I know you said you're capable of understanding beauty, but does logic really keep you from being moved by something so beautiful?"

She looked at Sarek and was startled to find him watching her. "Emotions may be illogical, but awe is a sensation that occurs when one is in the presence of something vast and greater than the self, and it is logical to acknowledge such an event. Just as it is logical to admire beauty."

His gaze lingered a moment too long. Was he implying that she was beautiful? Did she want him to?

"Maybe we should go back to the room," she said, desperate to change the subject.

He finally looked away. "Yes."

It was a long, slow procession back to their shared room, full of frantic thoughts about how they would pass the time once they got there. They could only study physics so much. Of course, they would need to eat and sleep as well, but what would they do all day tomorrow?

When the door to their quarters shut behind them, leaving them all alone, the silence closed in.

Sarek cleared his throat and asked, "Would you like to replicate something for end meal?"

"That'd be great," she croaked.

They ventured toward the replicator on the opposite wall, but were stopped halfway when the entire room became bathed in darkness. She immediately halted, threw her hands out to try and orient herself, and swallowed a scream. It wasn't just dark, it was pitch black.

"Sarek, what just happened?" she cried. "Why did the lights go out?"

"I do not know," he replied, his tone as calm and rational as ever.

Chapter Text

Sarek's clothes became weightless and his feet began to drift several centimeters off the floor, suggesting the gravity controls were failing. Amanda yelped beside him, pawing through the darkness and making contact with his back.

A loud hum and click shot through the void and dim, emergency lighting strips along the floor and ceiling engaged, covering Amanda's terrified face with ghostly shadows. A moment after that, they sank back to the floor and the overhead lights were restored to approximately half brightness.

"Some kind of glitch?" Amanda muttered through clenched teeth.

As if to answer her question, the intercom crackled to life and a female voice announced, "Attention guests and residents, this is Commander Zhang. A computer issue has caused a power surge in life support systems. Per protocol, power was momentarily diverted from non-essential systems to support critical atmospheric controls. All systems are currently back online and engineers are investigating the source of this unexpected power surge. While they perform diagnostics, we may experience intermittent interruptions to non-essential systems, including replicators, lavatories, illumination, and gravity controls. Diagnostic and maintenance checks are not anticipated to last longer than eight hours. We ask that you remain in your quarters and secure any large items that may cause injury in low-gravity environments until this issue is resolved. We appreciate your understanding and cooperation."

Amanda's arms were crossed tightly across her body and her face was very pale. "Does this kind of thing happen a lot?"

"I am not certain about the day-to-day functions of Io Station, but such things do happen, I suppose. They are happening now."

"So what do we do?"

"I would recommend making use of the lavatory and replicator while it is still an option."

Amanda nodded and raced toward the bathroom while Sarek went to test the replicator. He quickly produced a warm bowl of vegetable stew and a decanter of water and took a seat at the tiny round table by the sofa. Amanda joined him a minute later, having selected a bowl of spaghetti.

"I would also encourage you to eat quickly. If the gravity controls fail again, we will likely end up wearing portions of our meals."

"Maybe spaghetti wasn't a smart choice then." She stuffed an oversized glob of noodles in her mouth and chewed quickly. "We're going to be okay, right?"

"I see no reason why we should not be."

"But it sounds like they don't know what caused the power surge."

"I believe the station commander indicated it was a computer issue, one they are investigating."

"But what does that even mean? The computer just automatically shut off the lights and the gravity—what's to stop it from turning off the oxygen or whatever?"

"I am uncertain about Io Station's programming, but when power is disrupted on interstellar vessels, it is common practice to have emergency algorithms in place to terminate systems in order from least to most essential, usually beginning with convenience items such as food replicators and ending with the most critical containment fields. Unless there is a breach of containment or a catastrophic power failure, we will not go without oxygen."

"But it could still happen?"

"It is highly improbable but still within the realm of possibility," he conceded. "Even so, it is likely they would evacuate the station well in advance of an anticipated containment breach."

She stared into her plate of sauce-slathered noodles. "The idea that I could just die…it's…"

"Has it never occurred to you that you are not immortal?"

"Obviously I know I'm not going to live forever, but death isn't really something I think about. I've never been in a situation where I could just…poof, be dead."

"I would assert that you are in such a situation during every living moment of your life, you are simply unaware of it much of the time," Sarek argued. "You are a biochemical being composed of interconnected organ systems, any of which could fail at any time."

She shot him a dark look. "I'm nineteen. I'm a little young to be having a stroke or a heart attack or whatever."

"Younger than average, certainly, but it is not impossible. Furthermore, there are an infinite number of ways your life might end abruptly due to external factors, regardless of whether or not you are in space."

Amanda frowned and asked in a hushed and pensive voice, "Like being hit by a shuttle while you're walking across the street to the library?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Though that is a uniquely specific example."

"That's how my mom died."

He had never known her to look so sad. "I was unaware your mother's manner of death was so sudden and traumatic."

"It's not something I talk about."

"Then I will gladly respect your privacy and pry no further," he said, wondering how he might shift the conversation to elevate her mood.

They spent the rest of their hurried meal in reflective quiet, treated only to the sounds of silverware clanking against the plastic dishes. When Amanda was finished, Sarek took her plate to the reclaimator, pleased that his actions could coax a murmur of thanks from her.

"Is it getting colder in here to you?" Amanda asked.

"It is likely that in an effort to conserve power, they have lowered the temperature just as they dimmed the lighting."

She pulled a light jacket from her bag and pulled it over her slender frame. "What do you want to do?"

"We could review for your comprehensive exam. It is in two weeks, after all."

"I don't want to study," she groaned, pulling her legs into a crossed position beneath her on the sofa. Just as she finished speaking, the lights flickered off for the second time. "And see, that's got to be the universe's way of telling me it doesn't want me to study either."

"I believe your PADD is capable of illumination."

"It's also capable of playing movies," she said. A bright square suddenly shone through the darkness as she turned the device on.

"You prefer to watch physics tutorials instead?"

"I prefer not to think about physics," she laughed. "I meant we could watch something together for fun."

"This is really what you would prefer?"

"No. I always wanted to come to space and see what it was like and now I'm stuck in a small room and can't do anything."

"Even if we weren't confined to our quarters, what did you imagine there was to amuse you on Io Station?"

The lights flickered back on and Amanda tossed her PADD on the sofa beside her. "It doesn't seem like there's much to do at all, and nothing I couldn't do on Earth, other than look at Jupiter or Io. What would you do for fun if I hadn't come?"

"I would likely meditate if you were not here."

"That sounds…peaceful."

"Would you like to try?" Sarek asked, intrigued by the idea of her pursuing mindfulness techniques.

The lights fluttered off again. Amanda sighed. "No. I'd be too distracted with all these crazy power glitches." She chuckled to herself and added, "You know, the power went out at my dorm last semester for emergency construction for almost a whole day and a lot of us sat around and played drinking games."

"Drinking games?" Sarek queried. "How does one make a game out of drinking?"

"Easily," she laughed. "All you need is some liquor and imagination."

"You use an intoxicant?" he asked.

She snorted. "Did you think it would be better with water or something?"

"What are the rules of such a game?"

"There are different games like 'Would You Rather?' and 'Never Have I Ever.' You take a drink when you disagree with the speaker."

"Clarify," Sarek urged, wishing he could see her face through the darkness.

"Well, in 'Never Have I Ever,' everyone sits around and one person starts out by saying 'Never have I ever done…whatever.' For example, I might say, 'Never have I ever cheated on a test.' If you have cheated on a test, then you have to take a drink. Then it goes to the next person. And they say, 'Never have I ever…' and around and around it goes."

"How is a victor declared?"

"Usually whoever doesn't pass out drunk first I guess," she chortled. "Though there really aren't any winners. 'Would You Rather?' is kind of similar. You ask a person a question like, 'Would you rather eat cat food once or eat the same meal every day for a month?' The other person answers and if you disagree with them, you have to take a drink."

Sarek had never been inebriated but the premise of drinking games was fascinating. A person might try to lie to conceal an embarrassing truth and avoid consuming alcohol, but eventually they would be forced to concede for the sake of appearances and increasing intoxication would lead to increasing honesty.

The lights came back on and he found Amanda watching him with a smile on her face. "Wanna give it a go?" she asked.

"You mean play these drinking games?"

"Why not? It's been a while since we sat in Pete's and tried to get to know more about each other."

"I am not in the habit of consuming drinks to alter my mental status," he explained. "And I believe the intoxicant in what you call liquor is ethanol, which has no effect on my physiology."

"But I thought Vulcans got drunk on chocolate."

"Chocolate contains theobromine, which does cause an altered mental state in members of my species, but I have never consumed it."

"What are you talking about?" she scoffed. "When we first met, I almost never saw you without a mocha in your hand."

"That is coffee. I believe the active ingredient in coffee is caffeine, which also has no effect on members of my species."

"Okay, but you do know the thing that makes it a mocha is chocolate syrup, right?"

Sarek tried to keep his face from expressing shock but he wasn't certain he succeeded. "I did not know that. Why did you not tell me?"

She covered her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her amusement. "I didn't know Vulcans got drunk off chocolate until a few weeks ago, and then when I found out, I just…I thought you knew. How could you not know? You didn't notice feeling different when you drank it?"

"Prior to consuming mocha lattes, I had never tried chocolate, nor had I ever been drunk. How could I be expected to know what either was like when I had no frame of reference?"

She dropped her hand, revealing a wide grin stretched across her cheeks. Sarek hardly noticed—he was too lost in his reflections, stunned by the realization that for most of his early acquaintanceship with Amanda, he had been mildly inebriated. It was logical to consider the possibility that mochas had lowered his inhibitions and were the reason he felt more comfortable around her.

"I'm sorry to drop that on you, I guess," Amanda finally said. "Please don't be mad. I really thought you knew."

"Anger is illogical," he explained, though he stopped short of admitting that he was having a difficult time cleansing his consciousness of embarrassment. "It would seem we were both ignorant of the facts at first."

"Well, since you know you like mochas and you now realize that you know what it feels like to be drunk, you want to give drinking games a shot? We could stop whenever you want."

"The replicators are likely not functioning," he replied, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"But they could be," she grinned. "If they are, will you play?"

"I…defer to your judgement."

Amanda cautiously rose to her feet and shambled to the replicator. When she turned back to him, he saw her left hand held two bottles and her right hand held two tiny glasses. She set them down triumphantly in the middle of the dining table and motioned for him to join her.

"How should we begin?" Sarek asked.

"You're sure you want to do this?" she replied, clutching the bottle of blue liquid in her hand.

"I am not certain. But this exercise seems to interest you and if I understand the premise of each game, the possibility for introspection and philosophical debate exists and I am satisfied with that."

She poured some of the contents of the blue bottle into her own miniature glass and then filled his with steaming hot chocolate-flavored coffee. Sarek stared at her offering. How could he truly have not realized what mochas were?

"Do you want to go first or should I?"

"Perhaps it is best if you begin, since this was your idea."

"Ugh, now I have to think of a question," she sighed, tapping her index finger to her chin. "Okay, would you rather live one life that was one thousand years long, or live one thousand unique lives that were only one year long each?"

Sarek gazed into her eyes, viewing her query more as a challenge than an innocent question. "I have several points of clarification."

She held up a hand. "No explanations. You just have to answer."

"I cannot make a reasoned decision with so little information. And I had believed the purpose of this game was to reflect and debate."

"Fine. What are your questions?"

"If I were to choose to live one thousand lives that only spanned the course of a year, would I experience each of those lives in my infancy?"

"Okay, I guess that is a fair question. Let's say no—you would be an adult, just as you are now. But you would live very unique lives. Different genders, different species, completely different backgrounds."

"I see," he said, thinking to himself. "And if I were to choose to live a single life that spanned a millennium—" His musing was cut short by the sensation that he was hovering in his chair. The gravity controls had failed once again. He watched the brown drink form little blobs and float out of his glass and quickly placed a hand over it to keep the lack of gravity from spreading his drink all over the room.

Amanda watched with wide eyes and copied his motion, laughing to herself as she tried to contain her beverage. "How is the furniture staying put?"

"If you notice, most of it is bolted in place for this exact reason," Sarek answered, grabbing each of the bottles as they drifted near him and bracing himself against the ceiling with his elbow.

"This is the craziest thing!" she squealed, lifting her weightless legs to her chest. She kicked her legs upward and began a slow somersault in midair, clearly delighted at being freed from the restrictions of gravity.

"Might I make a suggestion?" Sarek said, interrupting her play.

"How can you not think this is fun?"

"I confess it is an interesting sensation, however, I would point out that the lights and the gravity come and go without warning, and if you happen to be upside down when the gravity returns, you will fall on your head."

Her eyes grew wide and she reached out to the wall to try and right herself, but as if to prove his point, the gravity reengaged and she crashed to the floor. In the calmest voice he could summon he called, "Amanda?"

"I'm fine," she said, choking through laughter. When she stood up, he realized she was wearing most of her drink.

"Perhaps we might try a game that is less likely to result in excess laundry," Sarek suggested.

"Oh no," Amanda replied, taking the blue bottle out from the crook of his elbow and pouring herself another glass. "We're doing this. So what's your answer—one one-thousand-year lifetime, or one thousand one-year lifetimes?"

Amanda's mind felt loose and light, happily buzzing away inside her skull. She was certainly tipsy but not falling down drunk. At least not when the gravity was functioning.

It was hard to say how long they'd been at this, probing each other's morals, ethics, and histories with questions both deep and inane. They were swaddled in the bed linens to keep warm in the increasingly frigid room and they both had drink on their clothes. They had taken to sitting on the bed since it provided a soft place to land whenever the gravity re-engaged.

Sarek's transformation under the influence of chocolate was the most fascinating part of it all. He was still his calm and stoic self, but a more light-hearted and easy-going version of himself. She had actually seen him smile twice. They weren't big dopey grins—they were nothing more than slight curves of the lips and absolutely no teeth were exposed—but it made her so happy to see him enjoying himself.

"I require an answer," Sarek reminded her, giving her a slight conciliatory bow.

Amanda snickered to herself, trying to make her mind focus. "What was the question again?"

"Would you rather punish an innocent person or allow a guilty one to go free?"

"But you never said what they were guilty of…" she droned, placing so much emphasis on the last word that it came out as intensely whiny.

"And is that not the most essential question to ask?" Sarek said, his voice rising in excitement.

"Yeah!" she cried. "It is! Like, you have murder on the one hand. And then you have jaywalking or something. I could let a jaywalker go. But murder? I don't know." She started laughing uncontrollably.

"Is something amusing about murder?" he asked, glancing down at his hands. She had the feeling he did that when he was trying to avoid laughing aloud.

She covered her mouth. "No!"

"I believe you are intoxicated," Sarek declared.

"Yeah," she quickly agreed.

"Does this mean I win?"

"Of course not!"

"So what is your answer?" he pressed.

"I don't know," she mumbled, flopping down on the bed and trying to ignore the fact that the room seemed to be spinning. "You're the logical one. You tell me."

"If I wanted a logical answer, I would have asked myself."

Something about his cheeky answer made Amanda roar with mirth. She sat up and slapped the coffee-stained bedspread. "Oh! I know! I have a question!" She licked her lips, frustrated that she'd slurred the word question.

Sarek gestured for her to pose her query.

"Would you rather never be alone again or be alone for the rest of your life?"

"You cannot pose a question without answering mine first," Sarek reminded her.

"Fine, I'd punish a guilty person," she replied, waving her hand in a dramatic flourish.

"That was not an option," he said, shaking his head and gazing down at his palms.

"It should be."

The corners of Sarek's mouth trended upward once again, which he artfully hid behind taking another drink.

"Okay, so do you want to be alone forever or never be alone again?"

"If I am never to have any privacy again, do I get to select the company I keep? And will it always be the same people, or am I permitted to rotate?"

She gave him a sharp look. "You have to spend it with your family."

For the first time since they'd started drinking together, Sarek's face fell into stony seriousness. She was drunk but she sensed she'd crossed a line. "Okay, so maybe not your family, maybe—"

"I am not certain I will ever see my family again," he interrupted.

Amanda swallowed and did her best to look dignified and concerned. "Why not?"

He gulped. "I had an affair. It was with a woman whose family did not approve."

Amanda's jaw dropped. "Oh."

"Yes," Sarek replied, nodding in agreement. "I tried to fight another man for her. People found out. It caused a scandal."

"What?" Amanda breathed in astonishment, still sober enough to sense she ought to try to keep from laughing in surprise.

"It's true. She refused my offer at the urging of her family. She married him."

"What?" Amanda repeated, this time more forcefully.

His eyes flicked in her direction, making direct contact with hers. "There is a lot you may not know about Vulcan culture."

"I believe you," she scoffed. "You were going to fight him? Like with your fists?"

"Yes and no. It is complicated."

"Did you love her?"

"I did. Time and distance have returned my logic to me, but I do not think they can repair the damage between my father and myself."

"Why don't you call him?" Amanda shrugged. "I'm sure he'd want to hear from you."

"You know nothing about my family." His words came as a sharp admonishment, stinging Amanda to her core.

She decided to press her luck. "Family is the most important thing. I lost my mom two years ago. You know what the last thing I said to her was? I told her I didn't want waffles for breakfast. Waffles. The last thing I ever talked to my mother about was breakfast."

"What are waffles?" Sarek asked, scratching his head.

"It's not important," she said, clearing her throat and struggling to enunciate each syllable. "What I'm trying to tell you is you don't know how long you have with people."

Sarek blinked. "Your eyes are leaking."

Amanda rubbed her cheek, annoyed to discover she was crying. Sarek tipped the remaining contents of the mocha bottle into his mouth.

"Okay, new question," Amanda said, wishing to get away from sad topics like breakups and dead parents. "Would you rather…never have sex again? Or only be able to have sex in a public place?"

A tiny chuckle burst from his lips, shocking Amanda into her own bout of uproarious laughter. "Did you just laugh?"

"I did not."

"You did."

He grimaced. "If I were having sexual intercourse in a public place, does this mean people would be watching me?"

"Yes, silly. Otherwise it's not interesting."

"Then I would choose to never have sex again."

Amanda's eyes grew wide and she took a long drink of her cinnamon liqueur straight from the bottle. Just as he was about to speak, she interjected, "Is Vulcan mind sex really better than regular sex?"

His eyebrows shot upward. "I—I presume you are referring to mind melding?"

"Yeah, Vedek and Mara do it all the time. She says it's like a whole body orgasm."

Sarek clearly didn't even bother trying to suppress his shock. He looked down at the empty bottle in his hands with far more interest than a simple bottle could possibly warrant.

"Did I embarrass you by saying the word orgasm?" she giggled, wondering if she should be embarrassed.

"I am…surprised," he confessed. "Sharing one's mind is a very intimate thing. In many ways, it is far more intimate than sharing one's body."

"That doesn't sound right. Sex has like...body fluids. You know what sex is, don't you?"

He gave her a reproving look. "Have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse?"

She feigned shock. "That's a very personal question."

"This coming from a woman who just asked if I would rather mate in public or remain celibate for the remainder of my life."

"True, and you chose to stay sexless."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes," she finally conceded. "I've had sex. So what?"

"And have you ever engaged in an intimate mind meld?"

"You're the first Vulcan I've ever held a conversation with. And I just asked you what it was like, so obviously, I haven't. You couldn't figure that out with all that logic of yours?"

"It was very easy to deduce," he admitted. "But I preferred to pose it to you as a question for emphatic effect. So with your answers in mind, how can you determine which form of contact is more intimate if you've only ever experienced one of them?"

"I guess I can't," she shrugged. "Wanna show me what mind melding is like?"

Just as the last syllable escaped her lips, Amanda found herself wishing she could suck the words out of the space between them and back into her mouth. If he had been caught off guard by her questions about what mind melding felt like, clearly her proposition that they actually do it had completely jammed his thought processes. She wanted to take it back and play it off as a joke…but she also didn't.

Her suggestion lingered, awkward and uncomfortable. Then she noticed how much nearer their faces seemed than they had just moments ago. Was he leaning in to kiss her? Or was she sloping toward him? When she dared herself to look him in the eye, she found startlingly intensity radiating from his expression. Her heart thundered and she couldn't deny how curious and excited she was by the thought of sharing a kiss with him.

She could make out the greenish flecks in his irises, then she could feel the rustle of his breath on her neck. Just as she began to tilt her head to make it easier for him to access her mouth, he jerked back. He took several slow breaths and massaged his forehead with his fingertips. "We should—I should—we are both intoxicated and incapable of thinking rationally."

She felt herself being crushed under the weight of disappointment and mortification. As if to prove his point, whatever part of her brain that was responsible for sexual arousal pleaded, "But I know how I feel about you when I'm not drunk."

He shot her a puzzled stare. "Explain."

"I like you. And I feel like I know you well enough to say that if we were dating for real, we probably would have had sex by now." Her pitiful words barely rose above the level of a whisper. "Or at least I would have let you, you know, if you wanted."

His eyes shifted back and forth, searching for something safe to look at. "Your inebriated state is causing you to say things you otherwise would not say. Perhaps we should retire to bed."

She sucked in air through her teeth. "I—I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize," he replied, his response more forceful and abrupt than she'd expected. "It is merely that you cannot—I do not wish to take advantage of you."

Amanda turned away in the hopes that he wouldn't notice the scarlet color of her cheeks. "Yeah. Sure. Okay. Um, I'll just be on the couch. Good night, Sarek."

She scurried into position on the stiff, compact sofa by the foot of the bed, wrapping herself in the bed's comforter and turning herself away from him. After several long seconds he replied, "Good night, Amanda."

Mercifully, the overhead lighting chose that moment to fail again. She had never been so grateful to be caught in the dark, but the stillness had a way of amplifying her shame. She might have literally kicked herself if she thought he wouldn't think she'd completely lost her mind. What had she been thinking, coming on to him like that? All she wanted was to crawl in a hole and die. She wanted that, and she wanted the room to stop spinning.

Chapter Text

The stormy, glowing orb of Jupiter slid out of view for the third time through the trapezoidal portal, plunging the room back into darkness. Now that his mind was clear and the room was no longer spinning, he wanted to meditate. He wanted to do many things, actually, but some of them he dared not think about in any detail. Simply put, he wanted to do anything other than lie awake and stare at the dark ceiling and cope with bewildering thoughts that were intermittently interrupted by lapses in gravity.

He had manually shut out the light several hours ago so they would not turn on and off without warning. It had been more than an hour since the last failure of the gravity controls but no announcement had been made regarding the status of the maintenance. It was still quite cold and he snuggled tightly under the thin blanket, wondering if Amanda was warm enough on the couch.

Amanda. Her drunken words swirled around in his consciousness like smoke, but their meaning was seared into the core of his being. "Is Vulcan mind sex really better than regular sex?"

He blinked, stunned he could almost hear her voice. "Wanna show me what mind melding is like?"

He closed his eyes and held his breath, knowing the words that would come next. "I like you."

More surprising than the revelation that she liked him and would have mated with him if they were engaged in a legitimate romantic relationship was the ultimate acceptance that he liked her also. He had always known he preferred her company, even if their earliest encounters were facilitated by unintentional inebriation. But he liked her when he was sober as well and that was something to consider.

What would it be like to meld with her human mind? What would it be like to feel her human body? He pictured her svelte figure and envisioned the slope of her breasts, careful to mentally depict her nipples with a pinkish tint rather than a green one. He felt the more masculine parts of his anatomy stirring to life and quickly pressed his hand against his growing erection to conceal it, which was illogical since Amanda had her back to him and humans could not see in the dark anyway.

He could tell from her breathing that she was awake. What was she thinking? It was illogical to ponder her thoughts in this way when it would simply be more efficient to ask her, but he did not dare. He was becoming more adept at reading her emotions in a conversational setting but he could not appreciate anything in the silent darkness.

But what would it be like to meld with her? To touch her mind? To feel himself slip away into her, body and soul? She was human. He briefly reflected on Vedek and Mara's unconventional infatuation with one other, then thought of all the humans he'd seen in Vulcan Village and realized such partnerships were probably more common than most Vulcans would admit, even if such unorthodox pairings were almost exclusively relegated to Earth, whose citizens were more open-minded.

Based on his casual understanding of Vulcan and human neurophysiology, he understood that humans lacked the thick midbrain responsible for telepathic activity, so he suspected whatever pleasure derived from an intimate mind meld would be very one-sided. Perhaps that would be nice.

"Sarek?" The sound of his name drifting through the dark room was so quiet he pondered at first if he'd imagined it.

"Yes?" The silence resumed for nearly a minute before he added, "Do you require something?"

"I can't sleep."

"Nor can I," he confessed. "Is something on your mind?" The question was somewhat disingenuous, considering his own mind was quite full.

After another long bout of heavy quiet, she murmured, "It's probably stupid to talk about. I have to spend the next twenty-four hours with you and the last thing I want to do is make things worse."

"For something to be made worse, it must first be bad," he replied, suppressing his unease. "What has become bad between us?"

"It's not bad. It's awkward."

Now he understood: the human tendency toward embarrassment. "Awkwardness is illogical."

"I would argue it's actually pretty natural to feel awkward following rejection," she replied.

"What rejection has occurred?"

"Were you really so drunk you don't remember?" she scoffed. "I put myself out there and you, well…"

"You believe I rejected you?"

"Didn't you?"

"No, I rejected the notion of engaging in intimate acts with you when your judgement was chemically impaired," he explained, stopping short of explicitly stating he had not rejected her.

"I'm stone cold sober now," she mused.

"Do you wish to proposition me a second time?" he asked, trying to slow the sudden uptick in his heart rate.

She uttered a high-pitched laugh and stuttered a series of short, breathy syllables. "Proposition? It's not—it's just—it's—"

"Do you want me to mind meld with you?" he probed, holding his breath in cautious anticipation.

"I—do you—I mean—" There was more distress and hesitation in her voice now and Sarek immediately regretted asking.

"Would it be appropriate for me to join you on your side of the room?" he asked.

"This couch is barely big enough for a kid," she laughed. "What if I came to you?"

"That would be acceptable."

He heard the rustling of fabric and the soft thud of her feet on the floor. He sat up and prepared to sit next to her on the edge of the bed, but to his surprise, she threw the heavier blanket over him and was peeling back the covers to slide in beside him. They were laying down together in the same bed and she was shivering. The instinct to draw her closer to his body and keep her warm was powerful, but he hesitated to touch her without her express permission.

"Is your mind truly clear?" he asked.

"She sells seashells by the sea shore. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Killer Klingons cruise the quadrant quickly."

"What does that mean?" he queried. "Are those statements some form of pneumonic device?"

She giggled. "No, I'm just trying to show you that I'm not drunk. This is me."

"I see. You are shivering."

"It's what you do when you're cold," she grumbled. "I'm sorry."

"There is no need to apologize for an involuntary physical response."

An eternity passed in the silence that followed and soon, Jupiter came back into view through the portal, partially illuminating the room and casting a hazy glow over the angles of her face. "I'm still not really tired," she confessed.

"Did you wish to do something other than attempt to sleep?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's really cold and your bed is really warm." She wriggled beneath the stack of blankets and her ankle brushed against his leg. The touch was accidental but it excited him.

"Were you sincere earlier when you asked me to mind meld with you?"

Her eyes searched his face. It was too dark to discern whether there was any color rising in her cheeks but he knew her well enough to suspect there was. "Yes. I meant all of it. If you don't feel that way, that's fine. I won't—"

"As I explained earlier, I did not object to you," he interrupted. "My only objection was the state you were in."

"Oh. Then do you…want to?"

"Do I want to mind meld with you?"

She uttered a soft chuckle. "Yeah."

"There are different forms of mind melds," he explained. "The one you described, the one I suspect Vedek and Mara so often share, is a highly intimate form of contact typically only done between bonded mates due to its very erotic nature."

She tucked her chin into her chest and drew in a short breath of air. "Oh. Then we don't have to—"

"I did not say I did not want to," he replied. "I only want to ensure you understand what it is. It is very intimate. If we were to do this, it would reveal things about each of us to the other person."

"I understand."

He wasn't certain that she really did. "Why do you want to do this?"

"Partly because I'm curious about it, but also because I'm curious about you."

"I see," he said, supposing he shared her sentiments exactly. He preferred to ignore the fact that his affair with T'Rea had begun with a very similar conversation, wishing only to think about the woman currently occupying his bed. "As I explained, it is very erotic and you will likely derive pleasure from it, which may be confusing to someone who has never experienced such a thing. I have never done this with a person of a different species, and I do not know what emotional toll it may take on you."

"I feel like I'm eleven years-old and getting the sex talk all over again," she muttered.

"If we do this, I want you to be prepared. You need to understand how...personal it is."

"So you really do want to do this?"

"There may be a mental link that persists between us for a time," he continued, ignoring her eager question. "This is a very intimate process and not something to be taken lightly."

"I understand. And I feel like the fact that you're going out of your way to give me full disclosure and make sure I can fully consent means that I can trust you. I meant it when I said I liked you. But do you really want to do this, or are you just doing it to humor me?"

"I…would not be opposed to it," he explained, preferring to avoid appearing overly eager.

"That's not the same thing as wanting to."

He wrestled with his his newfound affection for her and his recent feelings about possibly abandoning logic. What he felt for Amanda wasn't new exactly, but openly admitting it to himself was. It was a confusing thing to reconcile that with more than six decades of training in logic.

"I take your silence as a no?" she sniffed.

"I want to."

"Why?" she asked.

"For the same reasons as you."

"Okay then."

"Very well."

"So how do we do this?" she mumbled.

Sarek pulled himself into a sitting position and urged her to do likewise. She wrapped the blanket tightly around her shoulders and shuffled close to him, so close their legs were touching. When they finally dared to look each other in the eye, it was Amanda who spoke first. "I guess go ahead?"

Sarek lifted a hand and gently stroked her left cheek with the backs of his fingers. She trembled.

He pulled his hand back. "You are certain you wish to do this?"

She shivered and let out a tiny laugh. "Yes. Why?"

"You shuddered."

"It tickled. That's all. I'm a little nervous but I still want to do this if you do." She smiled and it was all Sarek could do to avoid thinking how nicely shaped her smile really was.

He twisted his hand into position along her jaw and cheek and she raised her chin expectantly. His fingers traced their way toward the necessary points and then…oneness. Her mind was a chaotic and disordered place and it was so peculiar how she didn't even brace herself for the impact of his mind against hers as any Vulcan would instinctively do, even in consensual contexts. The ease with which he did it alarmed him so much that he let go.

"Is something wrong?" she breathed, rubbing the back of her neck.

He sensed she was mildly disappointed. He explained, "I am not accustomed to melding with a human."

"It wasn't like I thought it would be," she admitted. "But it was nice."

"I only held our connection for a matter of seconds," he replied. "I stopped to ensure you were still comfortable."

"Oh, yes. I'm fine. It was fine. You don't have to stop."

How peculiar that she was so willing to invite him into her mind. He raised his hand again and softly brushed her cheek. "You may stop me at any time."

She lightly gripped his hand between hers and pressed it against her face. "I admire your dedication to consent, but I promise I'm alright and I will let you know if that changes."

He returned his hand to position and after a minute, he could feel tension brewing within her. Her eyes drifted closed and her lips parted to form a small oval. To Sarek, she felt like innocent wonder mingled with incredible sexual thirst. She legitimately desired him and that knowledge felt dangerous. When she uttered a low moan, he tried to withdraw his hand but she gripped his wrist and pleaded, "Please…don't stop."

So he didn't. He continued to peruse the edges of her consciousness, almost overwhelmed by her state of intense arousal. When she reached for his free left hand and began to guide it toward the part in her legs, he hesitated and the whole thing began to fall apart. "Only if you want," she whispered, her eyes jerking back open to reveal wildness and anticipation.

Sarek inhaled a slow breath, sensing he was at the edge of a precipice. He thought to himself for a moment and replied, "I do want to. But not yet."

He brought his other hand up to her face to strengthen the bond between them and it wasn't long before she was quaking in nervous pleasure.

The ecstasy of it was almost too much to bear. She wasn't really sure if they had been at it for minutes or hours, but the one thing she knew was it was like nothing else. It felt like the slowest orgasm building at the base of her skull with pleasurable impulses radiating out in waves down to her extremities. It seemed like the sort of thing that felt too good to be true, something exhilarating and addictive. If he never let her go, she believed she would allow herself to starve rather than break away from this to eat. Her intense need of this new sensation was frightening.

When it hit, it hit like a thunderous wave. Electrical vibrations of energy and a flood of hormones coursed through her body, starting at the back of her neck and rippling out to her extremities. It felt so transcendentally good it was almost painful; she was dimly aware that she was yelping. It took her almost a minute to come down from the highest high and take stock of her surroundings.

She laughed hysterically and tried to keep from shaking. She sensed Sarek telling her to open her eyes, but she wasn't sure she was actually hearing his voice. When she managed to comply, she saw he was cradling her face and watching her with a careful expression.

Without really understanding why, she leaned forward and gave him a slow, chaste kiss on the lips. He didn't return the affection of it, but neither did he pull away. When it became apparent he wasn't going to reciprocate, she recoiled in shame. "I'm sorry."

"You are experiencing intense emotions," he said in a dismissive tone.

"Aren't you?"

He thought to himself for a moment. "It is an unfamiliar thing, bonding with a human in this way. It was most interesting."

"Interesting is all it was to you?"

"Now that you have experienced an erotic Vulcan mind meld, would you still agree physical sex is more intimate?"

Her mouth fell open. "Was this really just an experiment to you?"

His response was swift and severe. "No." He slowly released his grip on her face and rested his hands in his lap.

Amanda cupped her hands over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Is something amusing?" he asked.

"No, it's just—I'm starting to understand the appeal of Vulcan men."

He cocked an eyebrow and opined, "Males of my species have abilities and value that extends beyond their ability to provide sexual gratification."

Amanda's next laugh was of a more awkward, nervous variety. "Obviously. I didn't mean to offend you. It was meant as a compliment, but—"

"No apology is necessary," he interrupted. "I believe I understood what you meant."

"Did you not enjoy it at all?" she asked. "I get the impression it wasn't nearly as exciting for you as it was for me."

"It was very revealing," he admitted. "I experienced a fair deal of your thoughts and emotions but I did not derive the same pleasure from it as you did. Humans lack the region of the brain necessary to return this form of stimulation."

"You felt nothing at all?" she stammered.

"I felt many of your emotions, which was fascinating."

"But you—you didn't—is there nothing I can do?"

"You should not feel compelled to reciprocate, not only because it is impossible, but also because I understood this interaction would be very one-sided before we began."

"But I didn't know that," she explained. "If I had, I wouldn't have pressured you. Do you want to have sex?" His expression went blank and the longer it took him to respond, the more ridiculous Amanda felt. "You think mind melding is more intimate than sex anyway so what's the big deal?"

"I never actually said I believed mind melding was more intimate. I would argue they are both deeply intimate in different ways."

"So do you want to?"

A flash of something in his eyes led Amanda to suspect he very much did, but she knew him well enough to know he was preparing a logical argument to refuse. "I am aware there have been instances of mating between our species…"

"Sure," Amanda chuckled. "You have met Vedek and Mara, right?"

"Yes. I would be open to the possibility of engaging in sexual intercourse with you, however, I am also aware that natural conception between our species, though rare, is theoretically possible."

"You're worried you're going to get me pregnant?"

"It is a concern."

"I have an IUD," Amanda explained. "Like I said earlier, I've had sex before and managed to avoid a baby."

"What is an eye-you-dee?" he asked, slurring the letters in a way that made them sound like a single word.

"It's an acronym that stands for...intrauterine device, I think? It prevents pregnancy."

"What is its mechanism of action?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

"Uh, it's this tiny little chip inside my body and I think the one I have works by killing sperm cells and preventing the lining of my uterus from growing thick enough to even sustain a pregnancy," she replied, feeling less sexy with each medical term that escaped her lips.

"Fascinating," he mused.

Amanda wrung her hands nervously. "So, there's that."

"Then I find myself quite out of arguments for why we should not mate," he replied.

She stole a glance at him, amused to find the look on his face was stony and serious. She asked, "So do you want to?"

He gave a small, almost charmingly boyish nod. "If you agree."

She leaned forward and kissed him again, pleased that he seemed to want to participate this time around. His lips pressed against hers and her tongue traced along his lower lip, probing for his. She reached a hand up to cradle his jaw in her hands but he faltered the moment her hands encountered the stubble-covered skin of his throat and jerked away.

"What's wrong?"

"I am—I am not accustomed to people touching my face. In Vulcan society, people only touch the faces of those they intend to bond with."

"Didn't we just do that?"

"We did," he replied, his voice peculiarly strained. "And I do not believe you would be capable of initiating such a bond if you tried, it is merely that I was surprised."

"Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It is logical to conclude you did not mean anything by it," he replied, doing his best to project confidence.

"Do you not want me to touch your face?"

He took a slow breath. "I do not mind."

She lifted a hand to his cheek to gently caress the pinpricks of coarse hair forming on the lower half of his face. "I've never seen you with a beard," she said with a weak smile.

"It is customary for followers of Surak to remain clean shaven," he explained.

"Oh."

Then it was Sarek's turn to take the initiative, which he did with surprising speed and force. His mouth was quickly on Amanda's and she found it difficult to conceal her building excitement. When she began pulling her shirt over her head, he paused and gave her a peculiar look. "You are removing your clothing?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"The ambient temperature is quite low."

"You…want to do this with our clothes on?"

"Vulcans are capable of regulating body temperature more efficiently than humans," he explained. "But I thought you might want to retain your clothing, if only for your comfort."

She shot him a sly grin. "I don't mind being cold. Besides, I'll have you to keep me warm."

He sat up on his knees and set to work unbuttoning his own shirt. Jupiter faded from view again, casting the room back into pitch blackness. She was about to ask if he wanted to find some kind of artificial light, even if it was just the flashlight application on her PADD, but his hands were quickly upon her body, running up her bare ribcage as if they knew exactly where to go. What would be the point of saying anything when the thought of exploring him in complete darkness seemed erotic enough?

When they were finally stripped of their clothes, he pulled the blankets back over them and drew her closer to his body. He felt impossibly warm and for a moment, all she wanted to do was snuggle against him.

"Ah," he gasped.

She reeled back. "What's wrong?"

"Were those your toes?" he whispered.

"Yeah, why?"

"They're very cold."

She snorted. "Oh, I guess I could have kept my socks on."

"Are you certain your feet have adequate blood flow at such temperatures?"

"They're fine," she whispered, searching for his lips again in the dark.

As awkward as it had been to get to this point, everything now felt very natural. His strong arms wrapped around her and soon he was pulling himself on top of her. Amanda almost burned with frenzied need, running her hands along the lines of his torso. The moment their bodies merged together, she uttered a soft gasp, partly at the excitement, but also partly because something felt amiss.

She was off-balance somehow, which made no sense. She flung her hands out to the sides, only to realize the gravity had gone out again and they were floating away from the bed. Sarek grunted in mild frustration. He murmured, "Hold on to me."

He groped for the bedframe and Amanda wrapped her left arm around his upper back, burying her face in his chest to stifle a laugh. When he caught the headboard and tried to steady their position in space, she looked up and asked, "What now?"

"Perhaps we should separate," he replied, trying to untwist their legs from the floating bedsheets. "When the gravity returns, I would prefer to avoid falling on top of you."

"Why don't we just keep going?" she teased.

His response was void of any emotion, except for minor hints of frustration and disappointment. "After the many hours we have spent together studying elementary physics, I leave it to you to explain to me why that is not possible."

Amanda bit her lip to keep from erupting into embarrassed laughter. Why did everything have to feel like such an awkward disaster at all times? "Newton's third law?"

"Explain."

"You're really turning this into a physics lesson?"

"The opportunity presented itself," he explained. "If we remain attached as we are, how does the law of action and reaction effect our ability to mate?"

It was so funny and cringeworthy and even adorable that she felt no choice but to mutter, "Our actions will just counter each other in the in the absence of gravity or resistance."

"Precisely. Now, perhaps we should try to—" Before he could finish his sentence, they both dropped together onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce and quickly became a tangle of sheets and limbs.

A voice crackled over the intercom. "Attention guests and residents, this is Commander Zhang. We have concluded our maintenance checks and all non-essential systems should be fully back online. If you have any questions—"

Amanda stopped listening. She arched her back and stretched her neck and gave Sarek a very tender, very awkward kiss on the chin. She had been aiming for his mouth, but it was too dark to see. He was able to navigate his way to her lips and almost immediately, they resumed the business of exploring one another's bodies with a renewed sense of humor and curiosity.

Chapter Text

Sarek watched the radiant, multicolored gas giant turn on its axis just beyond the portal. Jupiter was a fairly typical Class J planet, much like the two found in his native system, but he felt he was seeing something with new eyes that he previously would have considered ordinary.

He tucked his hands behind his back and exhaled, torn between his desire to meditate and his interest in returning to the warm bed where Amanda lay sprawled naked beneath the blankets. Mating with her had been pleasurable, but melding with her had been something else entirely.

He could feel her in his soul, down to the very essence of his being, or at least it seemed so. He could not wrap his mind around the nature of their bond. It was nearly impossible to understand what he was feeling because he was not accustomed to feeling anything. He also strongly suspected his intense affection for her was clouding his ability to objectively analyze the link he'd formed with her just hours ago. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.

Hours ago, he'd conceded that he cared for her, or perhaps even more than that, held especially warm regard for her. He didn't question his physical attraction to Amanda Grayson, nor did he doubt his preference for her company. But at what point did fondness end and love begin? Was it correct to say he loved her? Did it matter if he loved her?

His initial thought was that a legitimate relationship between them would be too complicated to be worth pursuing. She was much younger than he was, but even so, he would outlive her by decades. Also, their backgrounds were so different as to be contradictory. He hailed from one of Vulcan's oldest and most prominent families and a human wife would never be accepted publicly. His mother and brother might acknowledge her privately, welcome her, even, but he was certain his father never would.

And what of her and her family? He knew her mother was deceased but he knew nothing of her father. How would he view a Vulcan son-in-law? What would become of any children they had, born between worlds, half-human and half-Vulcan, but not truly belonging anywhere? Should they be raised after their father in the tradition of logic, or after their mother and allowed to be slaves to their emotions?

He had developed an intense affection for her despite her emotions, and if she were to change that, she would no longer be the same woman he held in such high regard. Besides, he understood her well enough to know she would never surrender her human emotions and yield to logic, and he respected the Vulcan concept of infinite diversity in infinite combinations enough to know he should appreciate her humanity and not wish to see it changed. 

Then it occurred to him that he no longer lived on a planet that treated outsiders with suspicion. Earth was much more open-minded on subjects such as interspecies marriage. He had already toyed with the idea of abandoning Vulcan and briefly fantasized about giving up logic, and though he doubted he could ever live as Vedek lived, he was free to apply to become a citizen of Earth.

If he could finally admit to himself that he didn't intend to return to Vulcan, most of his concerns would evaporate. Yes, he would be late in following Amanda to the grave, but without family obligations, he would be free to marry whom he chose and he wanted to choose her. Everything else was trivial. They could arrive at some compromise on how to co-exist with differing ideologies. She would retain her humanity, he would continue to navigate his changing beliefs about logic, and they would define their own happiness.

"Sarek?"

He pivoted to discover Amanda sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled up to conceal her breasts. "What is it?"

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"I was merely reflecting on several matters."

She gave him a pale smile and slid out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her body to transform it into a makeshift dress. She waddled toward him on legs hobbled by fabric and nudged herself under his left arm, prompting him to embrace her. "Good morning." Her warm breath tickled his bare chest.

"It is past 2300 on Sunday evening, so I do not believe it is correct to say good morning," he explained, craning his neck to see her face.

Rather than respond verbally, she nestled her cheek on his sternum and turned to observe Jupiter alongside him. He rested his head atop hers and forgot his other cares, preferring to honor her display of affection with silence. As Jupiter began to duck out of view, Amanda glanced up and asked, "If it's still the middle of the night, can I interest you in coming back to bed?"

"I am not tired," he confessed.

She grinned. "I didn't plan on sleeping."

He met her eyes. "You insinuate we should mate again?"

"Why not? I liked it. Didn't you?"

Sarek considered her proposal. Vulcans occasionally mated outside of pon farr to strengthen marital bonds and produce children outside of biologically pre-determined cycles, but mating multiple times in a single a day implied a certain lack of self-discipline. From infancy he'd been groomed for a life of control and self-denial, but now that he was on the verge of casting off many of his Vulcan inhibitions in favor of adopting Earth as his new permanent home, he reasoned it would be acceptable to do as the humans did and mate whenever the mood overtook him. He enjoyed it and it was an honor that she would agree to share herself with him.

Their second coupling was less disordered and disjointed than the first. At first, he tried to pull himself atop her just as they'd done before, but she turned to the side, refusing to cede dominance. She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, running her palms over the lines of his body. Despite agreeing to mate with him only moments ago, she continued to slap away any effort he made to initiate sexual intercourse in favor of exploring his body with her hands and landing light kisses on his lips.

That was how Sarek learned not to underestimate human self-control, or to overestimate Vulcan willpower. When she finally yielded to him, they moved at her pace, slow and purposeful to an almost maddening degree. As frustrating as it was, it was also delicious and captivating and he couldn't get enough of it. The moment she permitted him to touch her face and bond with her, the mood shifted into frenzy.

When they were finally free of the built-up tension and reduced to a pair of sweating, quivering bodies, Amanda collapsed beside him and he wrapped his left arm tightly around her. He loved her. His brain was flooded with chemicals and his stomach felt tight. He loved her so much it was causing physical symptoms he couldn't ignore.

Of course, there was that other pressing matter he couldn't ignore. They would return to Earth in a matter of hours, back to their daily lives and the threat of logic extremists. He wondered if now was an appropriate time to relay his concerns to her, while she was so relaxed and happy and curled against his body. He considered that now that they were mates, perhaps it would be appropriate to ask her to move in with him where he could protect her more easily. Even still, he couldn't be with her at all times. They still led independent lives.

"Computer: lights," Sarek said, uttering a small sigh. Overhead lights bathed the room with dim, yellow light.

"Is something wrong?" Amanda asked, weaving her fingers between his to hold his hand in a display of incredible tenderness and eroticism.

"I was merely thinking of what tomorrow would bring."

"I have to go back to school tomorrow," she groaned. "I wish we could just be like this all the time."

He sensed regret and incredible anxiety growing within her. How surprising that he could already detect her emotions so easily through their bond. "Explain."

"Honestly, I was never very comfortable in pretending to date you," she mumbled. "Now that we've gotten to know each other better, what if we just dated for real?"

Sarek hesitated, caught off guard by the illogical assumption he'd made in thinking that if Amanda was willing to mate with him, she was also consenting to be his bonded mate. He detected her anxiety was climbing higher. "But only if you want," she added.

"That would be acceptable," he replied mechanically, wondering what the term dating actually implied.

She nibbled at her bottom lip and then reached up to kiss him. He briefly wondered if she was attempting to mate for a third time, but she withdrew and propped herself up on her elbow. "Okay, so that's settled."

"How should we proceed? Will you come live with me in my apartment?" he asked. He had intended to continue his line of questioning by asking when she would feel prepared to formally marry him, but she cut him off.

"You want to move in together?" She didn't bother to conceal her surprise. "You don't think that's…hasty?"

Sarek blinked. Everything about the past forty-eight hours had been rash and hasty, beginning with their expedition to Io Station and ending with him penetrating her. He knew so little of human customs in these matters and he set to work recalibrating his decision to formally propose marriage.

Amanda's face fell. "I don't mean to make it seem like I don't like you. I really do. I only want to get to know you better before we commit to something more serious."

He wanted to ask what could be considered more serious than mating and bonding with one another, but he held his tongue. He considered that in addition to considering her his mate, even if she rejected the concept in a legal or formal sense, he also desired that she should move in so he could protect her. He shifted strategy. "Vedek appears to have occupied your room on a semi-permanent basis. I wished to offer you space in my apartment for your own comfort."

Amanda frowned. "I wouldn't mind getting away from Vedek and Mara."

"Then stay with me. You may have my bedroom for your own privacy, or I could acquire larger quarters with separate bedrooms."

She rested her hand on his forearm and smiled. "Let's not get too carried away. Tell you what, if Vedek is in my room when we get back, I'll stay the night with you."

Sarek nodded. It was a concession that permitted him to experience temporary relief and satisfaction. He considered broaching the subject of the logic extremists, but she sat up and kissed him softly on the mouth. She was so content and he couldn't bear to spoil her sense of security, especially since they weren't due to return to Earth for eight more hours.

"You really don't have to walk me to class, you know," she teased. "It was nice enough that you dropped me off on campus."

"It is my honor," he replied. "And I do not have to return to work until tomorrow. I was free to escort you."

"I didn't really need an escort but I don't mind the company," she said with a wry grin. She pointed to the impressive multi-storied structure looming across the street and added, "Well, my physics lecture is in that building over there."

He offered a small nod. "I suppose we should part ways now."

"For now." She smiled. "I want to thank you again for the best weekend of my life."

He gave her a mildly quizzical look. "You have been alive for 989 weekends. How can you objectively judge this weekend as the best?"

Her natural instinct was to ask how he'd figured out her exact age in weeks in a matter of seconds, but she supposed she already knew the answer. It was simple. He was Vulcan. "I had no idea I was 989 weeks old. Interesting." She leaned forward and began to balance on her toes to kiss him, but to her surprise, he pulled away. "What's wrong?"

Sarek glanced around at the streams of people flooding the sidewalks and zigzagging across campus. "We are in a public place."

"I wasn't going to shove my tongue down your throat or anything," she mumbled, fighting back feelings of admonishment.

He lowered his voice and replied, "It is not that I have no desire to kiss you, I am merely unaccustomed to such gross displays of emotion in public."

"Vulcans don't kiss in public?"

"As a general rule, no."

"So you just…shoot the Vulcan salute and say 'see you later' or something?"

He focused his gaze on her and lifted his right hand, extending the first two fingers. "On my world, there is a practice known as ozh'esta."

She watched him with curious eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Do as I do," he urged. She lifted her right hand and held out two fingers.

He touched their fingertips together, then gently caressed her knuckles. It tickled, yet it was also strangely sensual. She watched with mesmerized eyes as he traced his fingers around hers. "This is what you do instead of kissing?" she breathed.

He dropped his hand and tucked it behind his back. "It is considered a socially acceptable form of displaying affection among my people."

Amanda held her fingers up for closer inspection. They were still tingling but the feeling was quickly fading. "That was interesting."

"Your class begins soon," he reminded her. "I do not want you to be late."

She scowled. "Fine. See you tonight?"

"I had thought you agreed to come over only if Vedek was occupying your room?"

"You know he will be," Amanda moaned. "But somehow, I don't mind if he's there as much as I would have a few days ago."

It might have just been Amanda's imagination, but the tips of his ears seemed a darker shade of green. "Then you will stay with me tonight regardless of what Vedek will do?"

"If that's okay with you. I'll need to go back to my room after work and get some stuff. Anyway, I'll be late I don't get moving."

"Then I will let you be on your way," Sarek replied.

She resisted the urge to kiss him goodbye and instead gave him a smile and a little wave before darting across the street. She had the sense that he watched her progress until she entered the building.

Her physics lecture somehow seemed to fly by and drag on simultaneously. Her mind refused to focus for more than a few minutes. Even so, she marveled at her increasing competency in physics and her growing ability to follow along with the professor. Yet that only made her thoughts turn back to the man who'd unlocked the mysteries of this particular branch of science for her in the first place. What would it be like, to be as smart as Sarek and just be able to understand this stuff without remedial tutoring? Or better yet, what would it be like to have his steadfast focus and discipline? She grinned, trying to imagine him in college back on Vulcan, his head propped up in his hand like hers was now, tuning out of lecture to ponder the opposite sex.

As the class turned toward a review of electromagnetic radiation, she found herself drifting further into daydreaming about her new boyfriend. What a strange word boyfriend was. There was nothing really boyish about Sarek—he was a fully-grown man, never given to whimsy or fun. He was so unlike anyone she could ever imagine falling for and yet, after just one weekend away together, she wanted to move in with him.

Perhaps some of her desire to cohabitate had to do with wanting to be away from Vedek and Mara's mess and impulsivity, but she couldn't deny that when he'd made the offer to move in together, she'd nearly blurted out an enthusiastic affirmative reply. She wanted to be with him in every way, but she also wanted to be reasonable. They hardly knew each other, and didn't dating rules demand some initial aloofness? Besides, it was early days yet and they still had a lot to learn about each other. 

And yet…she'd agreed to stay over tonight. Goosebumps prickled the flesh of her arms as she thought about their alcohol-inspired, impromptu tryst in Jupiter's orbit. There was nothing stopping them from reenacting those sexual exploits later that evening. She glanced at the time on her PADD and realized that five hours still stood between her and Sarek's apartment and just like that, time stood still and the class slogged on through eternity.

But it did eventually come to an end and rather than head back to her room to change after the lecture, she decided to head straight to the learning center and relieve the day shift an hour early. She waved at Nicoletta at the front desk as she strode toward the back, but just as she rounded the corner, Adam popped his head out of his office, startling her.

"Hey Adam, how's it been today?"

"Fine," he replied, furrowing his brow. "Can I speak with you?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "What's up?"

He stole a glance back at Nicoletta and replied, "I meant privately."

She slinked into his office, closing the door behind her as she tried to glean his mood from his mostly neutral, slightly stern expression. He wasted no time in cutting to the chase.

"I really could have used your help on Saturday. I had to turn away some last-minute drop offs because we didn't have the minimum number of staff."

"I'm sorry," she replied, not certain that she really was.

"You used to be such a team player," he continued.

"I still am," she snapped.

"Lately you've been distracted."

Her face went from warm to boiling as she fought to keep her words as professional as possible. "Last Saturday was the first time I had ever said no when you asked me to work on short notice."

"I realize that," Adam replied.

"Do you? Do you really? I've sacrificed schoolwork and studying to be here with less than an hour's notice more times than I can remember. I worked all through my spring break. And the one time I take a Saturday off—a Saturday I was scheduled to be off, I might add—you say I'm not a team player?"

Adam's face began to falter, giving Amanda a sense of satisfaction. There was no question she had the moral high ground here.

"I just worry that your boyfriend is starting to interfere—"

"My boyfriend doesn't come to work with me," she interrupted, irritated with Adam while also secretly giddy at calling Sarek her boyfriend out loud for the first time since he'd become her official rather than fake boyfriend. "I don't see how he could be interfering, unless you imply he's taking up some of my off time and leaving me less available to be at your disposal."

Adam's mouth hung open and began to make silent syllables, clearly desperate to form the next words he spoke carefully. "Look, you're young, you're in love, and I'm happy for you. But don't lose focus on work and school over some guy."

"You're my boss and I respect you, but I don't really think it's your place to be telling me how to handle my personal life."

"I know I'm your boss, but I thought I was your friend also. And I'm saying this as a friend."

Amanda stared at the slightly pained features of his face, marveling at how just a few short weeks ago, she had laid awake at night fantasizing about being his girlfriend. Her heart would have sung a rousing chorus of joy at him showing genuine interest in her happiness, but when viewed through the lens of the present, his concern seemed to be coming from a place of pettiness and self-interest.

He had taken Amanda's fanatical work ethic for granted because he had been so in love with his Vulcan girlfriend that everything else in his life had taken a backseat, but now that he'd been unceremoniously dumped, he had time to care about work again. He had time to notice Amanda existed, but she no longer cared if he noticed or not.

"If that was all you had to say, I'm going to go help Sarah in the toddler room," she said. She'd wanted to add, "Unless you think I'll be 'too distracted' daydreaming about my boyfriend, in which case you should just fire me now" but even through her anger, she could still see the boundaries of professionalism.

He gave a half-hearted gesture toward the door and she left without another word, doing her best to conceal her shaking hands as she reached for the doorknob. Unlike a physics lecture, toddlers didn't give her as much leeway to daydream, and the next four hours were a busy hum of giggles and tantrums, interrupted by dinner and the occasional potty break.

When the last child was picked up and the learning center finally shuttered its doors for the night, Amanda raced through the nightly sanitation routine and headed for the exit, eager to get back to her room, pack a bag, and head over to Sarek's. Her plan was only slightly foiled when she discovered him waiting for her on the sidewalk, hands neatly fastened behind his back in his usual stoic pose.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a smile.

"I came to collect you from work."

"You didn't have to wait for me," she replied, crossing her arms to prevent herself from hugging him on instinct. He had done something similar when they first met. It had been weird and slightly creepy then, but it was the sweetest thing in the world now. "Have you been here long?"

"I live across the street and you leave your place of employment approximately the same time each night," he reminded her.

"Well, like I told you earlier, I still need to swing by my room and pick up a few things before I head over to your apartment."

"I am still in possession of your bag from this weekend," Sarek remarked.

"I know, but I still need to get some other stuff."

"Very well. Will you permit me to walk with you?"

She smiled. "Why would I say no?"

They walked in relative silence back to the dorm. No words passed between them but no words seemed necessary. She felt content in the quiet, happy just to be walking down the street as a real couple rather than a pair of friends caught up in a complicated scheme where they pretended to be a couple.

When they arrived at her room, Amanda discovered that a full weekend away had transformed her typically untidy living space into something more resembling a twentieth century landfill. There were paths on the floor cutting through piles of dirty laundry, food containers, toiletries, and other general debris. Mara sat like a queen among the rubble on her bed, eyes red and puffy from crying.

Amanda restrained the irritation and disgust at the state of her current room and asked, "Everything okay?"

Mara sniffed. "You're back."

"Yeah, I got back this afternoon." Amanda turned to give Sarek an apologetic look as she tried to pry the door open wide enough for them to enter. Unfortunately, the door was hung up on a pair of damp towels.

"Sorry for my mess," Mara murmured, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

The polite version of Amanda wanted to tell her it was okay and not to worry about it, but the version of Amanda that was terrified of cockroaches and hated living in squalor wanted to throttle her. "It definitely is a mess," Amanda finally replied as neutrally as she could manage. "Where's Vedek?"

Mara's lower lip quivered. "He left yesterday to—well, it's not important. He was supposed to be back this morning. And he hasn't called. He's not answering any of my messages." She turned her doleful eyes toward Sarek and asked, "Did you see him at work today?"

"I did not go into the office today," he explained.

"Maybe you could try calling him?" Mara pleaded.

"Maybe Vedek just wants a night to himself," Amanda said gently, doing her best to ignore the tears brimming in her roommate's eyes. It was hard to feel sorry for her. Mara had broken so many hearts in the short time that they'd known each other that Amanda couldn't help but think maybe she deserved a taste of her own medicine. Or maybe her platitude about Vedek wanting some room to breathe actually had some merit and he would eventually be back. Either way, she really didn't care.

Amanda pulled her larger duffel bag from the top of her closet and began shoving clothes in it and Mara, sensing she would get no sympathy from her roommate, jumped out of bed and headed for the door. "I'm going out."

"You're always welcome to stay and clean," Amanda called after her, wondering if the casual barb was a step too far.

Mara wheeled around to face her, nearly running into Sarek who looked like he was trying desperately hard not to trample Mara's dirty underwear by the door. "I'll clean it when I get back."

"It's kind of late, don't you think?" Amanda asked. "I thought you had an early class tomorrow."

"I dropped my classes today because—we were supposed to—" Mara cut herself off, clearly fighting back a fresh wave of tears. "Look, I never really cared about college anyway. I was here to make friends and have a good time. I was never a good student like you. I'll be back later. You two have fun."

Amanda stared at her, wondering what was really going on. There was so much to unpack in Mara's bold declaration, but knowing how much Mara craved being the center of attention, she knew that if she dug much deeper, she'd get sucked into listening to a repetitive diatribe. Amanda was curious, but not curious enough to waste her whole night, especially when Sarek was waiting on her.

"I'm going to Sarek's," Amanda shrugged. "There's no way I'm staying in this mess."

Mara frowned but didn't reply. As the door closed behind her, Amanda winced and muttered, "You have to know I would never live like this."

"That is…fortunate," Sarek mused. He stood in the small clearing on the floor near the entry way, looking wary, as though one misstep might cause a bomb to detonate. Given the state of the room, it looked like an explosion had already occurred.

"Let me just grab some stuff from the bathroom and I'll be ready to go."

"You still wish to join me this evening?" he asked. "I had believed your company tonight was contingent on Vedek's absence from your room and as he is not here—"

Amanda held up a hand. "There's no way I'm staying in this filth. I wouldn't be able to sleep. I'd stay awake all night scouring it from top to bottom and what's sad is if I didn't constantly clean, Mara would just have it looking this way again by next weekend. I'm so tired of it. It's disgusting. Anyway, give me just a minute and we'll be out of here."

She raced to the bathroom and shoved everything she thought she might need into a hygiene bag, frustrated by Mara's empty containers of powder and fragrance lining the vanity and shower stall. She tossed a perfume bottle toward the waste reclaimator but it bounced off the sensors.

She scowled. Of course Mara had jammed it up again. How many times had Amanda explained the bathroom reclaimator couldn't handle metal, fabric, or oversized food containers?

She finished gathering up her things, hoisted the heavy duffel bag onto her shoulder, and turned to Sarek to find he was studying her carefully.

"You ready?" she asked, reaching for the door handle.

"Yes," he replied.

"Why are you looking at me that way?"

"You have packed abundant supplies," he explained. "You appear to have provisions far exceeding what I believe might be appropriate for a single night's stay."

She blushed. About a third of her wardrobe was hanging from the overflowing bag. She muttered, "I like to have clothing options. You never know what the weather will be like and…I guess I did over pack a bit."

"I encourage you to stay as long as you wish," he asserted, extending a hand toward her. "I would also prefer to carry your bag rather than leave you to struggle under its weight."

"That's very chivalrous of you, but I can manage," she insisted.

"I admit you are physically capable, but I am larger and stronger than you. It is logical I should carry it and prevent you from needlessly straining a muscle or ligament."

She rolled her eyes and handed the bag over, secretly admiring the ease with which he managed the excessive heft. The walk back to his apartment was much like the walk to her dormitory had been, quiet and content. When they arrived, they engaged in a brief discussion about sleeping arrangements before finally admitting to each other and themselves that they would both be perfectly satisfied in sharing his bedroom.

She kissed him softly and ran her hands over his chest, but when her belly uttered an audible grumble, he gently gripped her wrists and said, "You appear to be hungry."

"I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast," she admitted.

"Nor have I. We should share an end meal."

"What have you been doing the whole time I was at school and work?" she asked, following him to the kitchen.

"Meditating."

"Oh."

She stepped forward, edging into his personal space to gently wind her two fingers around his. She couldn't remember the exact word for this custom, but she would never forget the alluring sensation of it. He paused and watched her forefingers trace across his knuckles and the mood changed. He wanted her and she wanted him.

"Have you ever thought about just allowing yourself to feel some of your feelings?" she asked, casting her eyes up at him in her best attempt at being coy and flirty.

He swallowed. "Yes."

The distance between their faces grew shorter and before either of them could think about it too much, he pushed her onto the counter and took her face in his hands. Clothes were yanked out of the way and any suggestion of a late dinner was forgotten in the ensuing passion.

She knew it was crazy, but she was in love with him in every way imaginable. She couldn't get enough of it. Judging by the way his hands were caressing her face and body, neither could he. For the first time in a long time, she felt at ease and at home.

Chapter Text

Sarek was reluctant to describe the days since his return from Io Station as the happiest of his life, since Vulcan logic still refused to relinquish its hold on him and ebullience was a thing experienced by other species, but he would not deny that he was exceedingly content. Each day began with Amanda's body curled beside his, often naked from a sexual encounter the night before.

Sometimes they would resume their nocturnal passions in the morning if time permitted, but if it did not, they would adjourn to the shower together. He enjoyed watching her dress herself in the mornings almost as much as he relished in the undressing in the evenings. That she would share such a simple, intimate part of her routine with him felt like a rare breed of privilege.

When their clothes were donned and the business of hygiene was complete, they would take first meal together, then he would depart for work while she tended to her education, and in the afternoons after his duties had ended, he would walk with her from the university to the learning center across the street. When there was time, they shared beverages at Pete's Place—though Sarek switched to tea rather than continue to imbibe mochas—and he quizzed her to prepare her for her final examinations.

Amanda's competency in the subject of physics had advanced from abysmal to mediocre and her confidence in passing the course seemed to grow with each day. Their nights were occupied by preparing end meal together, which was how Sarek learned that her culinary prowess rivaled her talents in physics, but he was content enough to do most of the work and entertained the notion that she contributed by encouraging her to slice vegetables or add garnishes.

Amidst the idyllic routine, Sarek's unease over logic extremists began to wane. He still took care to vary his routine when outside his apartment and still walked Amanda to and from work each evening, but he was beginning to feel relieved he'd kept his concerns for their safety to himself. He had never wanted to needlessly alarm her and it appeared he may have overestimated the danger after all.

He hadn't seen the two men from the park again. Moreover, he hadn't even seen another Vulcan in more than a week, and that included Vedek. On Tuesday, Sarek went into work to discover his Vulcan colleague was absent and as the week wore on, whispers about his departure seeped into the customary gossip. Each rumor was more outrageous than the last, but the general consensus was that he'd run off with his human girlfriend to a distant colony.

On Thursday, he arrived outside of the learning center to find Amanda standing on the sidewalk and scanning her PADD with a puzzled expression. "You're never going to believe this," she exclaimed upon seeing him, holding out the device as if its mere existence could put her vague announcement into context. "Or maybe you will, I don't know."

"Clarify," he urged, taking stock of the foul-smelling stain on her shirt.

Her eyes followed his to the yellow blemish and she frowned. "Amani threw up on me. Anyway, Mara and Vedek ran off together. Ran off. Like some kind of sordid romance novel."

"How do you know this?"

"She sent me a message on Monday night; I'm only just now receiving it. It literally just says, 'I'm moving to Kessik IV with Vedek. Sorry about the room.'" Amanda grimaced. "Which means it's probably a worse mess than it was the last time we saw it, if that's even possible. And where is Kessik IV anyway?"

"At the outskirts of the beta quadrant, near Klingon space," he replied.

Amanda's eyebrows darted toward her hairline. "That can't be right. No way would Mara want Klingons for neighbors."

"She might," Sarek argued. "She discussed that very destination with Vedek just a week ago."

Her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed, whether out of surprise or disgust, he couldn't be sure. "Since when do you have casual chats with Mara?"

"When we went to your dormitory to collect some clothing prior to departing for Io Station, I heard a portion of their conversation through the door while you were searching for your keycard. Mara asked Vedek what they were going to do, he explained he had a friend on the Kessik IV colony, she seemed surprised that he would ask her to move there and inquired whether he expected her to drop her courses, and he reminded her she rarely went to class anyway."

"And you got all that by listening through the door?"

"Yes."

"Wow, you have good hearing," Amanda muttered, examining him through a pair of narrowed eyes.

"And if you recall, Mara did inform you on Monday that she withdrew from all her classes," he added.

She chewed her lip. "True. It's just…what would anybody want to go to Kessik IV?"

"It is a distant colony world rich in dilithium resources," Sarek mused. "There is considerable wealth to be made in that system, for those tired of Earth's egalitarian distribution of resources. Its remoteness also makes it an attractive destination for fugitives. But it is illogical to speculate about the motivations of others, particularly people I do not know well."

"Mara's done a lot of things I don't exactly approve of, but I can't imagine her as a criminal any more than I can picture her as a dilithium miner."

"Do you have reason to doubt the validity of the message?"

Amanda rubbed her neck and thought to herself for a few moments before answering, "Mara's always been impulsive. She did just drop her classes on a whim on Monday. I guess it's not completely out of the realm of possibility…do you think Vedek is the type of person to do something like this?"

"Yes," Sarek replied without hesitation. As long as he'd known Vedek, his singular impression had been of a jaded hedonist eager for novelty.

"I guess you never really know what people will do to shake up their lives," she shrugged, stuffing her PADD into her bag. "Part of me wants to see the state of my dorm room."

Sarek suppressed a fleeting feeling of longing. "Now that Vedek and Mara have vacated your room, do you intend to resume your residence there?"

"Are you kicking me out?" she asked, cocking her head.

"No, I invite you to stay as long as you wish. I am fond of your company."

"Only fond?" she queried, turning he eyes up toward him.

Sarek blinked. He knew what he felt for Amanda far exceeded fondness, but he was unsure how to convey this to her without being illogically sentimental. He searched for an adequate word but she interrupted his thoughts with a laugh and said, "Let's go home."

Sarek spent the entire short walk back to his apartment wondering if she'd genuinely meant to imply she thought of his quarters as her home. As the door closed behind him he asked, "What would you like for end meal?"

"Anything," she sighed. "But first I want to wash off the kid vomit."

They parted ways, her toward the bathroom and him toward the kitchen. Sarek scanned the contents of the preserver and considered making a light pasta meal, but thought he should seek Amanda's input before committing to the dish. The night before, he'd prepared a Terran recipe called eggplant parmesan, only to discover she greatly disliked the vegetable from which the name was derived.

He had thought he would approach the wash room and knock on the door, but he was surprised to find it open and Amanda standing before the vanity mirror cleaning her teeth, a pair of flesh-colored underwear concealing her buttocks and a faded blue brassiere covering her breasts. He knew he should alert her to his presence but she was a marvelous thing to behold. It took nearly ten seconds for her to notice he was there and when she did, she gave him a slow smile.

"I had no idea you liked to watch half-naked women."

Sarek cast his eyes toward the floor, furiously beating back the flailing feelings of shame. "I did not mean to offend your honor, I merely came to pose a query about end meal. The door was open and I—"

Amanda turned to face him, her smile extending into the muscles around her eyes. "You've seen me naked before," she laughed. "You saw me naked this morning."

"Yes," Sarek replied. "But that had been with your permission."

"I think the fact that I'm standing here with the door wide open means I don't mind if you see."

He nodded. "Logical."

She inched toward him and rested her palm on his chest. "I could get all the way naked, if you want."

And with that, all thoughts of dinner were abandoned. They made love in the shower, which was not necessarily logical because Sarek did not require a shower, but he felt powerless to refuse her invitation. The logistics of mating while standing up in such a small, enclosed space posed unique challenges, but Sarek was willing to meet them. The sonic shower massaging their bodies as they explored one another added an extra element of stimulation that sent Sarek over the edge faster than he expected.

He held her for a time, kissing her jaw and throat as he melded with her. He felt his heart could burst for how much he needed her and not for the first time, he found himself longing to be her husband. He refocused himself to deepen their bond, but his trance was interrupted when Amanda gasped and pulled away.

"What is the matter?" he asked, curious what transgression he'd committed to cause her to recoil.

Her cheeks flushed with a bright glow of crimson. "Nothing," she breathed. "Nothing at all. I just thought—it was like I could hear your thoughts."

He regretted his inattention immediately. He'd been so concentrated on reveling in bonding with her he'd neglected to fully shield his mind from her. His hands dropped to his sides and he moved to exit the shower.

"You want to marry me?" she blurted.

It wasn't a question so much as an accusation. There was a strangeness to her voice and he found he was angry with himself for revealing his innermost thoughts to her, even if it had been accidental. But he could not deny her allegation.

"I am aware you are hesitant because of our short acquaintance," he began.

"I'm also way too young," she replied, tugging on a pair of clean underwear. "I'm nineteen."

"Many Vulcans are already married by the age of nineteen and my species lives twice as long as yours," he countered, deliberately leaving out the fact that pon farr made such early matrimony necessary. How he wished he could return to a time several moments in the past when conversation between them hadn't been defensive and fraught with awkwardness. Even thought awkwardness was of course, illogical.

"I'm not Vulcan," she declared.

"No," he conceded. "You are not."

She pulled a loose cotton shirt over her head and turned away from him, though he could see her complexion reddening in the mirror.

"Why do you want to get married?" she muttered, yanking a brush through her hair. "And why me?"

"Because I believe we are compatible and I see no reason to search for any other mate when I am quite satisfied with you."

"It's just…we only agreed to date a week ago. Less than a week ago, actually. How can you be so certain I'm the one?"

"Because you have permitted me to share your mind and body," he answered in earnest. It suddenly dawned on him that he'd shared himself with her as well, but she had not arrived at the same conclusion he had, that it would be logical to formally join their lives together.

"I've never been with anyone like you," she admitted. Her voice was lower now and the nervous edge was gone from her tone. "I'll agree it feels very natural to be with you, but we have so little in common. I doubt we want the same things out of life. You're logical and I—"

"You are emotional," he finished. "I am no longer beholden to my family, nor am I in the service of my homeworld. I am free to choose my own path and it is a path I would like to follow with you."

Her eyes widened and she leaned over the counter. "I want children someday. I've never gotten the sense that you care for kids all that much."

Sarek hesitated. He'd considered this very subject quite recently but had failed to arrive at a conclusion. He always supposed he would have children one day, since children were necessary for the perpetuity of the species, but her point was valid. Any offspring he would have by Amanda wouldn't exactly be continuing the Vulcan race but rather, would be something new entirely.

Given that hybrid children would never be fully accepted on his homeworld, they would have to be raised on Earth, and to raise children on Earth with a human woman meant coming closer to officially recognizing this cold, wet planet as his real home. Was he prepared to do that? When he saw the reflection of her blue eyes studying him in the mirror, he decided that he probably was.

"I do not know much about children. I will confess they have always been something of an enigma to me," he explained.

"But do you want them?"

"I would give you children if you asked me to."

"That's not the same thing as wanting to," she said.

"Are you convinced you will never want to become my wife?" he asked, dreading her answer.

She closed her eyes. "I didn't say that. I just feel so young. I want to graduate and experience life a little before I settle down with someone. And whoever I do settle down with, I want them to want kids with me."

"I see."

When she opened her eyes, he could see her lashes were becoming damp. "Being able to bond with you has helped me learn more about you than most people could probably hope to learn about their partner in a lifetime. I just don't want to rush into anything."

"I respect your decision," he replied.

"Then why do things feel so weird between us now?" She crossed her arms and turned to him.

"Nothing has changed," he explained. "Your discovery of the true nature of my regard was inadvertent, but you are now aware of my intentions toward you and despite your rational trepidation, they remain unchanged."

"And you're really okay if we don't get married right away?"

"I am willing to be patient and permit you time to make an informed decision."

"And what if I decided I never wanted to get married?"

Sarek paused, allowing his mind time to reflect on her question. Was there any logic in forming such a close attachment to a person if he knew nothing permanent could ever come of it? Was it enough to just enjoy Amanda's company for an undefined length of time? He knew this was common practice for humans, but what did he, a Vulcan, think about it? Evidently, he took too long in answering her because she chose to break the silence by adding, "Like I said, I didn't say I'd never want to get married I just want to let things happen organically."

"And as I have already told you, I respect your decision," he replied. And he did respect it, but he wasn't certain he understood it.

They spoke little to each other for the rest of the night. They shared a lasagna meal made in the replicator for the sake of time and retired to bed early. It took Amanda far longer than usual to drift to sleep but when he was certain she was no longer awake, he crept from the bed and began an intensive period of meditation.

Amanda woke alone. She'd tossed and turned for most of the night, only dimly aware that Sarek left the bed sometime after midnight. She found him trimming his hair in the bathroom and knocked gently on the door to announce her presence.

"Good morning," he said, dusting wisps of hair from the collar of his shirt.

"Morning," she replied, disappointed they wouldn't have the opportunity to shower together. "Can I make you some breakfast?"

"I am leaving for the office directly," he explained. "Mr. Fischer sent me a message an hour ago summoning me to a meeting to discuss my work on Io Station."

"Oh," she said, hating the persistence of awkwardness. "I don't have work tonight."

"I am aware."

"Maybe we could have an early dinner together? Study a little bit? Watch a holomovie or something?"

"If that is what you would like," Sarek replied, standing straighter to observe the results of his efforts in the mirror. "I must leave soon if I am to arrive at the appointed time."

He turned to leave the bathroom and Amanda stepped aside to allow him to pass but as he approached the threshold, she murmured, "Sarek?"

"Yes?"

She stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against his. He leaned into the gesture and seemed receptive to it, but when they broke apart, his eyes were as neutral as they'd been when cutting his hair. She'd never been able to detect overwhelming affection in his demeanor—he gave nothing away and would have been a master at high stakes poker—but she'd always been able to sense that he liked kissing her. Now he wore the textbook Vulcan expression of calm stoicism and mild disinterest.

"I will see you this evening," Sarek said, gently touching her hand. "I must go."

The next nine hours were torture as she oscillated between thinking Sarek wanted to break things off and feeling convinced they were fine. He had said he respected her decision and she was certain she didn't want to be a teenage bride, but she couldn't help thinking she might have phrased things differently or broached the subject in a better way. 

Why didn't she want to marry him? Because it would be ridiculous, that was why. But why? Perhaps her hesitation had more to do with what other people might say in regards to a nineteen-year-old college student tying herself to a sixty-four-year old Vulcan astrophysicist than what she actually wanted. What did she want? She was only nineteen: how could she know?

Amanda twirled her PADD's stylus in her hands and frowned. All her life, she'd been unable to shake the sense that she was destined for something special, something beyond the inevitable prospect that she would grow up, choose an average occupation, be an average teacher, find an average partner, and raise a brood of average children to repeat the cycle anew. But most people probably thought they were bound for greatness. No one ever cast themselves as a minor character in their own story.

As far as she could tell, turning her Vulcan boyfriend into her Vulcan husband would set her on a course far beyond ordinary. He was well-educated and well-traveled. But how would they get on together, once all the shiny lacquer of newness faded from their relationship and they were left with all the quirks and personality flaws laid bare? There was no question her humanity, which he seemed so captivated by now, would ultimately start to grate on him, even if logic would never let him admit it. And what about her own emotional needs, what—

"Amanda?"

She dropped her stylus and looked up, noting the professor and half the class were watching her. Had she been thinking aloud?

"Yes?" she asked, her voice barely a squeak.

"So you think the original Federation charter is too flawed a document to be preserved and should be entirely redrafted?" asked the professor.

"No? Huh?"

A chorus of uneven guffaws and giggles rippled through the classroom.

"Should I repeat my question, or would you prefer to keep daydreaming and have to repeat the class next semester?"

When her government class let out at 1630, she raced outside, expecting to see Sarek waiting beneath the stubby oak tree. He wasn't there. She scanned the perimeter of the building and the opposite sides of the street but he was nowhere in sight. She extracted her PADD from her backpack.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.48; Time 1633
I'm just now leaving class. Are you at the apartment?

When he failed to answer after five minutes, she set out in the direction of his building, trying to ignore the anxiety in her gut. If Sarek were anyone else, the fact that he waited for her after class would have seemed like one of those disgustingly saccharine things that obsessive new couples did, but she was certain he did it out of nothing but a desire to be gentlemanly.

Sure, they'd only dated for real for a week, but he'd never not been there when she got out of class. She looked down at her PADD. He'd also never failed to answer one of her messages in a timely fashion either.

She let herself into Sarek's apartment with the keycard he'd given her. The fragrant aroma wafting from the kitchen momentarily made her forget her apprehension. She turned the corner into the small dining area adjacent to the kitchen and saw two place settings on the table.

"Sarek?" she called, thinking he would appear from the bedroom and ask how her day was. All she received in reply was silence.

It took less than a minute to search the small apartment and realize he wasn't there, so she sent another message asking where he was and wandered into the kitchen to investigate the source of the smell. A small casserole dish sat on the top rack of the oven and a digital timer informed her it would be finished cooking in a little more than two hours, ready to come out of the oven at precisely 1900. She smiled, realizing she knew Sarek well enough to know that wasn't accidental.

She wandered from room to room with her PADD in hand for the next half hour, thinking he would materialize at any moment, or at least send word of where he'd gone and when he'd be back. To keep her mind from running away with ludicrous possibilities, she flopped onto his sofa and activated his holocube.

A three-dimensional Vulcan newscast appeared over the coffee table, featuring a serious-looking woman rattling off words in a language Amanda couldn't understand while loopy text scrawled upward. She fumbled with the control screen to find a Terran channel but accidentally activated the universal translator and suddenly, everything was in Standard.

It was a dry story about an Orion and Ithenite dispute and she watched with genuine indifference until she saw a face she recognized a minute later. The man was more or less a copy of Sarek, though his face was more oval-shaped and his shoulders seemed slightly broader. Ambassador Silek, Sarek's brother.

"Ambassadors Skon and Silek are scheduled to return to Earth to ratify the agreement with the Orion Free Traders. This historic pact marks a significant advance in securing the safety of the disputed Ithenite Trade Zone."

She wondered if Sarek's brother's homecoming had anything to do with his unexplained disappearance but decided there was no point in guessing. Ten minutes drifted by, then twenty, which turned into an hour, then two. When the timer in the kitchen went off, Amanda solemnly pulled the bubbling, oozing casserole from the oven and set it on the trivet between the two place settings.

She slid into one of the empty seats, folded her hands in her lap, and tried to keep from shaking. "Where are you?" 

She tried to swallow her panic. Sarek wasn't the type of person to step out and lose track of time, especially not in the middle of preparing a meal.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.48; Time 1923
Dinner's on the table. Will you be home soon?

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.48; Time 1931
I'm getting worried, Sarek.

Message after message bound for Sarek's inbox left Amanda's PADD, but none were returned. She tried video conferencing with him, but his device seemed to be off. Tears brimmed her eyes and she stole a glance at the casserole, which by now was developing a hard crust. Who else could she call? Vedek? She didn't have his contact information and he'd run off with Mara. The police? They'd probably tell her to wait a day or two.

She gave up on messaging Sarek and started contacting hospitals. Two hours later, she gave up after talking to personnel in every hospital within a hundred kilometer radius, all of whom swore they hadn't admitted any male Vulcan patients that day. She drifted into his bedroom and began digging through his drawers, looking for any clues, though she had to admit she wasn't certain what might pass for an indication that Sarek was safe. When she opened his closet and saw the neat rows of vests and slacks hanging in an annoyingly orderly fashion, she burst into tears, pulling one of his shirts from the hanger to sob into it. The fact that it smelled like him only made her cry harder.

Around 0400 hours, she abandoned her reservations and called the local police, but was informed that unless she had an emergency, she should call back during normal operating hours. Something snapped inside Amanda when the sergeant terminated the call. She grabbed her bag and without taking the time to form a plan, walked out into the pre-dawn morning.

It was six blocks to the nearest precinct and when she arrived, she was met with a gaggle of woebegone citizens waiting for their arrests to be processed. Most looked like the usual array of Friday night revelers who'd let alcohol and emotions get the better of them. It took several minutes for the woman behind the desk to notice Amanda standing in the midst of the fray. The officer activated the intercom that allowed her to speak through the glass divider separating her from the lobby and waved Amanda forward, asking, "Everything okay?"

"I uh-I need to report a missing person."

"That's usually done during regular business hours, which are—"

"Yes, I know. I already talked to someone. But this is different."

"Do you have reason to believe this missing person may be in immediate danger?"

"I don't know. He's missing. I can't exactly ask him."

"And who is he?" the officer yawned, turning her attention to a scuffle that had broken out between two men sitting handcuffed to the bench along the far wall. She banged on the glass and yelled, "Wanna add assault to your list of problems?"

Amanda cleared her throat and waited for the officer to acknowledge her again, but she didn't. "He's my boyfriend. His name is Sarek. He's Vulcan."

"When did he go missing?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I saw him this morning—yesterday morning actually—when he left for work around 0730."

"So he hasn't even been missing twenty-four hours?"

"No, but—"

"You tried calling him?"

"Of course, but he—"

"Maybe he just went out for a walk."

"I came home to find dinner cooking and the table set. Dinner was ready at 1900 but he never came back to eat it."

"Maybe he lost track of time?" he officer mused, scrolling her fingers across a computer screen.

"He's Vulcan," Amanda reiterated. "And who would honestly leave dinner to burn in the oven for ten hours?"

The woman shot her an exasperated gaze. "You tried calling hospitals?"

"Yes, and no one's seen him."

"Call his friends?"

Amanda buried her face in her hands. "Do you really think I would be at a police station before sunrise on a Saturday if I hadn't tried to track him down any other way?"

The officer sighed. "Any chance he got arrested?"

Amanda was about to laugh at the insinuation but held her tongue. She thought the chances of Sarek getting arrested were about as good as her sprouting wings and flying to the moon, but it couldn't hurt to exhaust every avenue of inquiry. "I don't know. Could you check?"

She gave the officer every detail about Sarek she knew, blushing furiously when the woman scoffed at the fact that Amanda didn't know his last name, but she came up empty-handed despite the scant information. Only one Vulcan had been arrested in the city during the past forty-eight hours and it had been a woman.

Amanda was directed to have a seat and was told an officer would take her statement when one was available. She slumped into a hard chair next to a man with a black eye who reeked of body odor and foul cologne and couldn't stop beaming as he told the story of how he was here to bail out his son following a bar brawl that he'd started and his son finished. Behind her, someone retched onto the floor, sending wet droplets of vomit onto the back of her calves.

It was noon by the time Amanda spoke to a detective, who turned out to be a small, sharp man who received her report without any sign of curiosity or friendliness. Detective Hildebrand had conceded that some of the circumstances surrounding Sarek's sudden lack of communication were unusual, but he tried to reassure her by saying most missing persons cases ended with the person walking through the front door with a perfectly good explanation for their disappearance.

She exited the police station and wandered onto the sidewalk, feeling exhausted and hopeless. Was this Sarek's way of breaking up with her? She doubted it. Abandoning his apartment without a word while dinner was cooking was beyond illogical even for a human child. She strolled aimlessly along 6th Street and before long, her feet had instinctively carried her back to her dormitory.

Mara's rushed message had apologized for the room, but no apology could forgive the state Amanda found it in. The smell of mildew, rotting food, and dirty laundry nearly made her gag and she had to kick debris out of the way to clear a path to the bathroom. She wasn't sure whether what happened next occurred as a result of her being distraught about her missing boyfriend or being angry at Mara, but she began to emit a guttural moan.

She swept the clutter off the counter in a singular motion, sending vials of makeup and food wrappers skittering to the floor. She pulled a robe from the hook on the back of the door and screamed into it, then sank to the floor and began to cry, slamming her head hard against the metal reclaimator in frustration. The device clanked and fell open, dumping the unreclaimed garbage down Amanda's back, which only added insult to injury.

She cried and cried and wished someone would come ask her what was wrong but she was quite alone. When she finally managed to pull herself together and stood up, she noticed a thin metal card on the floor. She gritted her teeth, remembering Mara had jammed bathroom reclaimator for the thousandth time and the shiny metal card, whatever it was, was probably the culprit. How many times had she told Mara the bathroom reclaimator couldn't handle metal? She turned it over in her hand, shocked when she realized what it was and doubly shocked when she realized what it meant.

It was a generic pregnancy test, the fancy kind that detected the pregnancy hormones of twenty-five different Federation species. Under the columns listed as Vulcan and human, there were tiny little plus signs. Amanda blinked several times. Mara was pregnant.

Amanda collapsed back onto the tile and stared at the card in her palm. It felt strange and monumental to know this, but she wasn't sure what it meant. Her mind reeled and suddenly a lot of things made sense. Mara dropping out of college, the tense discussions with Vedek, moving to a colony world. She leaned against the wall and sighed. "Wow."

Mara was going to be a mom, responsible for the care of a helpless infant. That was unfortunate for everyone involved. She might have laughed if she weren't so on edge about Sarek. After twenty minutes of musing and moping on the floor, she gathered her will and began the arduous process of decontaminating and organizing her dorm room. It would feel wrong to keep staying at Sarek's apartment if he wasn't there, even if he wasn't there because he was missing.

She threw herself into cleaning, desperate for any distraction from her current woes. It worked a little but she still checked her PADD every few minutes for a message from Sarek or the police or anyone, really. The bright sunlight streaming in through the window grew warm in the late afternoon and then cool at dusk as the sun faded. Despite feeling utterly lost and afraid, she found herself forced to reconcile with a serious lack of sleep.

She startled awake the following morning and groped in the dark for her PADD, but just as she feared, there was still no news from anyone. It had been two days since she last saw Sarek and not only did no one know anything about his disappearance, she seemed to be the only person who cared. Then she was struck by a novel thought. Surely if Sarek's family knew he was missing, they would worry too, Vulcan or not. He had family. He had coworkers.

She couldn't just call his mom up and casually ask if she'd heard from her son, and it was Sunday and Cary Cartographic was closed, but she knew where his boss lived. An hour and a half later, she stood on Garrett Fischer's porch, frantically ringing his doorbell. When he appeared in the threshold with a confused look on his face, she didn't bother with pleasantries.

"Have you seen Sarek?"

Garrett frowned. "He quit Friday night."

Amanda gawked at the man. "What?"

He shrugged. "It was the weirdest thing. He was at work Friday. We had an early morning meeting. It was a regular day. Sarek left around 1600, and then two hours later, he sent me a message saying he was resigning and going back to Vulcan."

The hairs stood on the back of her neck. The thought of T'Vara unceremoniously discarding Adam without warning rolled through the back of her mind. "That can't be right."

"It seemed pretty unlike him, sure. But that's what I just told the police when they called about an hour ago. Did he not tell you he was leaving?"

"I'm the one who filed the police report," she explained, her voice cracking. "He normally meets me after class but he wasn't there and there was dinner and he wasn't there and argh—" A sharp pain tore through Amanda's chest, knocking the breath out of her and sending her to her knees. Was this what being struck by lightning felt like?

"Amanda?" Garrett caught her as she fell, but she was lost in a swirl of nebulous shouting and indistinct agony.

The stabbing sensation continued to crescendo. When she woke in the hospital some time later, exhausted and groggy, Garrett had been replaced by a thin, Vulcan face. Her heart soared for a fraction of a second, but she wasn't so out of it that she couldn't immediately see it wasn't Sarek.

"Who are you?" she mumbled, rubbing her aching chest.

"She's awake."

"What's going on?" she croaked.

"Miss Grayson, can you hear me and understand my words?" asked a bright female voice to her right.

Amanda turned her head on the pillow to see a young woman in a nurse's uniform standing next to a biobed monitor. "Where am I?"

"The hospital."

"Why?"

"We think you had a panic attack."

She licked her dry lips, realizing her last memory was of standing on Garrett's porch. "What time is it?"

"It's 2100 hours on Sunday night," replied a gruff voice from the other side of the room. That was when she noticed the human man standing by the door.

"What is all this?" she asked, trying to sit up as she scanned the faces of the Vulcan man, the human man, and the human nurse crowding around her bed through a set of bleary eyes. Her tongue felt lazy and slow. "Why are you here? Has anyone found Sarek?"

"We had to sedate you," the nurse explained, patting her shoulder and holding up a tricorder. "These officers want to ask you some questions but they're going to have to wait until I've looked you over."

The exam didn't last long and when the nurse was satisfied Amanda wasn't going to pass out or spontaneously combust, the two men returned. 

"Miss Grayson, I'm Detective John Gold with the Federation Bureau of Investigation," said the human man, touching his chest to indicate he was speaking of himself.

"And I am Investigator Stevek with the Vulcan Ministry of Justice," announced the Vulcan man.

"Where's Sarek?" Amanda asked.

"Before we begin," said Gold, "I should explain that you have the right to have an attorney present—"

"Attorney?" Amanda sneered. "I haven't done anything wrong! My boyfriend is missing!"

Investigator Stevek held up a PADD, seemingly to check some notes. "You are in a romantic relationship with Sarek of the S'chn T'gai family of Shi'Kahr?"

"Yes," she said, not entirely certain that was actually his last name but unwilling to admit that aloud.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Stevek asked.

Amanda squinted. "I filed a report with the police yesterday. I told them everything I know."

"Yes, we have that report," Gold explained gently. "We just want to hear it again in your own words."

"Where's Sarek? What is all this about?"

Gold opened his mouth. "Miss Grayson—"

"Where's Sarek?" she shrieked.

"Miss Grayson," Stevek interjected. "Are you aware Sarek's father and brother, the Ambassadors Skon and Silek, were killed earlier today, along with twenty other members of their staff and the crew of their diplomatic vessel?"

A pit formed in Amanda's stomach and expanded rapidly, like a black hole sucking all the life from her. "H-his brother and h-his—"

"Yes," Stevek interrupted. "There was an explosion aboard their ship. The pair were scheduled to return to Earth."

Amanda watched his lips continue to form words but she was only half listening. So much information was floating around in her mind, all of it seemingly unconnected but nevertheless overwhelming.

"It does not appear to be an accident," Stevek added, his eyes trained on Amanda.

"You think they were...what? Attacked? Sabotaged?" Amanda mumbled.

"Preliminary forensic and circumstantial evidence suggests the explosion was intentional."

"Who would do such a thing?" she gasped.

The two men exchanged looks. "We are pursuing several leads, but as of right now, our primary suspect is Sarek."

Chapter Text

Two days earlier

Sarek slid the casserole onto the rack and set a timer. He regretted being unable to cook for her the previous night and looked forward to sharing this traditional Vulcan dish with her later that evening. He was eager to make amends and be on friendly terms with Amanda again. He'd miscalculated the depths of her feeling for him, but he chose not to focus on that. All he wanted was to return to the easy familiarity of their early, muted affection.

How foolish he had been to let his guard down while melding with her, allowing her to know his innermost thoughts, thoughts he was still processing for himself and hadn't intended to reveal to her. His experimentation with small doses of emotion was clearly out of control and he decided that it would be much safer to retreat back to the comfort of logic while he navigated his next steps in his relationship with Amanda.

Noting that it was 1620 and Amanda would be finishing her class in ten minutes, he collected his PADD and cloak and strode in the direction of the university. It was a fine afternoon, yet the streets and sidewalks were atypically quiet.

His thoughts were turned inward and less focused on his surroundings, and so it came as a slight surprise when a vehicle screeched to a halt in the street, less than a meter where he'd intended to cross. He rewound the previous moments in his mind, stunned that he'd failed to see it approaching.

The action was so deliberate it almost seemed as though it had stopped for him, yet he had not ordered transportation. It was a cobalt blue passenger car and free of any markings, setting it apart from the many autonomous public vehicles that cruised the city at all hours. The black reflective glass of the left side window gave way, revealing the car had a driver.

Sarek did not know his name but did recognize him. It was the shorter of the two Vulcan men he'd encountered in the park a week earlier.

"Get in," the man ordered, speaking loudly enough to be heard but not enough to draw the attention of any of the few pedestrians nearby.

Logic and instinct merged as Sarek scanned his surroundings and considered his options: fight, flee, or submit. He preferred the third option the least. Fighting was also an abysmal choice, as he had no weapon and stood exposed on a public sidewalk facing a potentially armed opponent speaking to him from the relative safety of a car. That left flight as his only option, but it was a poor one. The closest place of obvious security was his own apartment building and the entrance was twenty meters to his left. He could span that distance in a matter of seconds, but for anyone with even mediocre skill with ranged weapons, five seconds was more than enough time to raise, aim, and fire.

A fraction of a second after the man issued his demand, Sarek's body shifted its weight in preparation to sprint back toward his building while his mind formulated the early stages of a plan to traverse the apartment courtyard rather than lead them back to his quarters, exit through the rear of the structure, and jump the fence separating the alley from the adjacent shopping center. Fast twitch muscle fibers in his legs began to spring into action and just as he rocked onto the balls of his feet to take his first strides toward uncertain salvation, the tinting of the car's rear window faded, revealing the figure of person in the backseat, hands bound and head shrouded in a dark hood.

Another Vulcan man whom Sarek had never seen ripped the covering from the captive's head, revealing the tear-streaked face of Mara, who shrieked.

"Please, don't!" she wailed. "I won't say anything, I swear! Just let me—"

Her words were cut short when the man with the phaser buried the fingers of his free hand into the crook of her neck, subduing her hysterics with a nerve pinch.

"Get in," the driver repeated. "Or the human will be missing her head."

Sarek hesitated. He spied a pair of women sitting at a bistro table at a café down the street and a harried woman was walking a child out the door of the learning center, more engrossed in a handheld device than the toddler clutching her other hand. They were all blissfully unaware of what was unfolding right before them. Morever, none of them made ideal witnesses and he preferred to avoid any collateral damage. He glanced at the camera mounted above a nearby traffic light and wondered what algorithms it used to detect danger and how quickly the authorities would respond in the event of an altercation.

Even still, Mara changed the equation. Fighting back for his own sake already had a high probability of resulting in injury or death, but defending an unconscious woman from a second attacker and getting her to safety in this scenario would be virtually impossible.

The hum of an energy surge interrupted his thoughts. "In the event you care nothing for the life of the human in the back, you should be aware I have a phaser pointed at your testicles, set to vaporize organic matter. I suggest you comply."

With a slow hand, Sarek opened the rear door and slid into the seat next to Mara and facing the man with the phaser. The vehicle began to speed away from the curb and the last thing Sarek remembered of the ride was the sting of a hypospray in his neck and the muffled sound of a black bag encircling his head.

He awoke in a dimly lit room to the sensation of hair being ripped from his head. A pinch in the crook of his elbow caused his head to roll down along his shoulder to see a man extracting blood from his arm. A moment later, his head was jerked upward and his right eye wrenched open to scan his iris with light that seared his dark-adjusted pupils.

"What is your purpose for this?" Sarek murmured, his voice slow and quavering from the lingering effects of whatever sedative they'd used to subdue him.

The only reply his captor offered was a solid punch to the mouth that sent a trickle of warm blood cascading from his upper lip to his chin.

In the distance, he heard a muffled voice say, "Vedek's betrayal has altered the timeline. You must go now if you are—" The sentence was cut short by the slamming of a door.

In the ensuing silence, Sarek took a moment to take stock of his situation. He was secured to a chair, his arms looped rigidly behind his back. The muscles in his neck and shoulders protested from the awkward position and his wrists throbbed against the restraints. His head ached, his mouth was dry, and as he attempted to blink through the darkness of the room, he sensed his left eye was swollen. He licked the fresh blood from his lower lip and wondered how badly he'd been abused during his period of unconsciousness and whether his injuries were the result of deliberate action or the unintentional consequence of his jailers wrestling the limp body of a 95-kilogram adult Vulcan male from a car and tying him to a chair.

As his mind came into focus, his next thoughts were consumed by Amanda. Where was she? Was she safe? How foolish he'd been to keep her nearby, thinking he could protect her when he couldn't even protect himself from a sudden ambush. His frustrations spiraled into fury and despair, but he stopped himself. Dark thoughts were a dangerous path.

Amanda was either safe or she was not. Regardless, he was powerless to do anything about it in his current situation. He needed logic now. What was logical?

He needed to analyze his surroundings, secure his freedom from the chair, and find an avenue of escape. If possible, he should try to locate Mara. The gears began to turn in his head as his aching muscles strained against his restraints, hunting for any exploitable weakness. The chair was heavy and immovable. The fingernail of the middle finger of his right hand scratched a solid metal frame and when he tried to rock back and forth, he determined the seat was bolted to the floor.

He inhaled a slow breath, willing himself to embrace the serenity of logic. His heart slowed and the pain dulled as he focused on being as present as possible in this moment. It was pitch black and his eyes were failing to adjust, which told him the room was truly devoid of light. Knowing his eyes were going to be useless, he trained his other four senses on his surroundings. A musty and slightly chemical odor clung to the moist air. A slow drip of water splashed onto a hard surface in front of him every twelve seconds. Only when he focused all his attention to the sounds of the room did he detect the faint rush of breathing over his shoulder approximately two meters behind him.

He listened to it for several minutes, memorizing the pattern. It was the sort of slow, deep breathing of a person in the midst of sleep. As the minutes wore on, the rhythm grew shallower and gave way to the rustle of clothing and a weak moan.

"Hello?" he dared himself to whisper.

A reply came in the form of a whimper. The pitch strongly suggested a female. Sarek asked, "Mara?"

The room fell silent for a few moments. He repeated the name again, this time saying, "Mara? Is that you?"

"Vedek?" replied a shrill voice in a hushed tone.

"No," he replied. "Sarek."

"Oh stars! Sarek," she muttered, the last syllable of his name falling victim to a sharp sob.

"Please try to remain calm and quiet," he urged.

She stammered and shuffled behind him, quietly choking down tears. He allowed her time to flail around in her emotions and when he detected a lull in the self-pity, he asked, "What can you tell me of our captors?"

She sniffed and muttered, "I don't know. Do you know where Vedek is?"

"I was informed the two of you immigrated to the Kessik IV colony approximately one week ago."

"We were going to," she explained. Her words began to flow so quickly they slurred together "We were on our way to the shuttle and a car showed up. This Vulcan lady told us to get in and Vedek told me to run so I did. But when I turned the corner, the guy that took you grabbed me and threw me in a van."

"How long ago was this?" Sarek asked.

"Sunday night."

"On Sunday night, you were in your dormitory and said you hadn't seen Vedek since the day before."

"I hadn't. But I went back to his place and he was there. There was this Vulcan guy there with him. They started talking in Vulcan and started fighting and went in a back room and there was a struggle and when they came out, Vedek was covered in green blood. He told me we had to leave right away and I couldn't even go back to my room to pack anything and oh Sarek, I think Vedek killed someone."

"Do you know why he would do this?"

"No," she cried. "He had a lot of Vulcan friends. He was always sending messages on his PADD to different people. I don't know what any of them said because they were in your language, but when I asked about meeting his friends, he told me they weren't really his friends. He called them business associates. But he never let me meet any of them and didn't like to talk about it. Do you think Vedek is okay?"

Sarek paused. It was logical to conclude they'd been kidnapped by logic extremists and based on everything he'd heard since entering captivity, the only plausible deduction was that Vedek was involved with them. But his specious demeanor and close association with Mara ran counter to everything Ask'era Ozhikersa stood for. Whatever Vedek's current loyalties were, there was a distraught human woman wailing his name in a dark room in an undisclosed location.

"Mara, please calm down. Vedek is a clever and resourceful person," Sarek offered, unwilling to say more than that for fear of upsetting her further or being untruthful.

"But why would anyone want to hurt us?"

"I believe we have been abducted by logic extremists—"

He stopped and instantly regretted beginning that sentence. Mara howled. He urged her to keep her voice down but the wailing persisted, along with new confessions.

"I'm having a baby," she sputtered. "That's why we were leaving. He said he wanted a fresh start and I—"

"You are pregnant with Vedek's child?" Sarek interrupted.

"I—I d-didn't think it was p-p-possible—"

"If I were you, I would lower my voice and keep that information to yourself," Sarek replied, refusing to allow his thoughts to shift toward the stunning ease with which Mara had managed an interspecies conception in her short acquaintance with Vedek.

"I already told them," she coughed. "When they first put me in here they slapped me when I tried to fight back and I begged them to let me go and it just sort of came out. I think they're actually treating me worse now. What kind of monsters would hurt a pregnant person?"

"The kind who think the child you carry is an abomination," Sarek thought to himself. He struggled to find any words that could be of comfort to her, but none came.

Mara evidently found something upsetting in Sarek's silence and began to cry louder. He continued to plead with her to calm herself but it wasn't long before the door flung open. The sudden bright light in his face made him squint and he ducked his head into his shoulder to brace himself to receive a blow.

It never came. The person breezed past him to concentrate attention on Mara instead. There was a hard thump and a scream and despite his best efforts, rage boiled in Sarek again as he listened to what sounded like a brutal beating. "Stop," he insisted, trying to look over his shoulder and struggling against the manacles tying him to the heavy-framed chair. "There is no logic in this savagery!"

By diverting his focus to Mara, Sarek failed to recognize another person had entered the room until a dark cloth was pulled over his head, obscuring his vision. The bag cinched tightly around his neck and knuckles pressed into his windpipe, making it difficult to breathe.

A low voice spoke in his native tongue. "The only reason she remains alive is because her existence is useful to us. But she is not so useful that her loss would cause us significant harm. The same can be said for you."

The tight draw of the bag around his throat was starving him of oxygen and his senses began to dim. Mara was no longer screaming, but he was unsure whether it was because she'd truly fallen silent or if he was losing consciousness. There was a pinch at his neck and blackness enveloped him.

Present day

"And you're sure you've never seen this vehicle before?" Detective Gold pressed.

He'd asked several times but Amanda wasn't certain she was really listening. She had a lot of questions about Sarek, but so did they, and apparently neither party was satisfied with the exchange of information.

"Look closely," the Vulcan investigator insisted.

Amanda sighed in frustration. "Sarek didn't do this. He couldn't have."

"Yes, this is the nineteenth time you've expressed that opinion," the Vulcan man said without skipping a beat. "But the vehicle is what we're currently interested in. Do you recognize it?"

She shrugged. "It's a…blue car. I've probably seen dozens like it before. Couldn't say whether I've ever seen this exact one."

She studied the still image on the PADD and fought back tears. According to Gold, this was the last known sighting of Sarek. The timestamp was 1622 hours on Friday afternoon. He had probably been on his way to pick her up from class. She replayed the video several times. It was only eleven seconds long and featured Sarek walking along the sidewalk, preparing to cross the street, and nearly being hit by the blue car. The car stopped and the window rolled down, though the angle concealed the driver. Sarek began to turn but the rear window rolled down. Whoever was inside must have communicated something to Sarek that made him reconsider. He looked around, stole a glance directly into the camera, then got in the car. A second later, it sped away.

"So you have no idea who may be driving that vehicle?"

"No. But he looks distressed. It doesn't seem like he wants to get in."

"Does he look distressed?" Gold commented. "Seems pretty calm to me."

"He's Vulcan. He's not exactly the type to throw a fit in the middle of the street."

"So your interpretation of the events in this video is that he's entering the vehicle under duress?" the Vulcan inquired.

"Something just isn't right. He seems...anxious."

"No one appears to be threatening him," Gold pointed out. "I don't see any weapons or—"

"Look," she sighed, frantically scrolling back to the millisecond when Sarek appeared to turn back toward his apartment. "He looks like he's getting ready to run away. But the window in the back rolls down and it seems like he changes his mind."

The two men watched the eleven second clip again in full and exchanged glances. "That's a pretty imaginative way to interpret a barely perceptible motion," Gold countered.

"You don't know him like I do," she argued. "He looks apprehensive, he—"

"What do you know about Nesh'kur Vedek?" the Vulcan asked, clearly resolving to agree to disagree about what might be transpiring in the video.

"Wait? What? What's that?"

"Not what, who. Nesh'kur Vedek is a person."

"You mean Vedek? Mara's boyfriend?"

"Yes, I believe he was involved in a relationship with your roommate, Mara deCorvey," the Vulcan prompted.

"Vedek is…Vedek. I don't know. He works with Sarek. I met him about a month ago at the same time I met Sarek. He stays over at my dorm room a lot, but he also has his own place. I've never been there. He and Mara, they—"

The memory of sitting in her bathroom, clutching Mara's positive pregnancy test emerged, yet she stopped short of conveying this information to the detectives. Maybe it was relevant, maybe it wasn't, but it seemed like a secret that wasn't hers to tell.

"They…what?" Detective Gold asked.

"They're smitten with each other. The last I heard, they were moving to Kessel...Kessik IV? Um, I know Mara dropped her classes and left sometime on Monday. She sent me a message, but I only got it a few days ago."

Gold's brow furrowed and be began scribbling notes on his PADD. "And Vedek went with her?"

"That's what the message seemed to indicate."

"That didn't strike you as peculiar?" the Vulcan asked. "That your friend would just quit school and leave the planet with a man she's only known for a month?"

"Mara is a really impulsive person."

The Vulcan man's eyebrows rose a few millimeters, giving the impression that he had some very strong opinions about human impulsivity but knew better than to express them aloud, at least in the company of humans.

"Why are you asking about Vedek and Mara?" Amanda asked. "Are they somehow involved in this?"

"That's not something we can really discuss," the Vulcan said, extracting a PADD from his pocket. His fingers slid around on the screen and then he presented the device to Amanda. "Do you recognize any of these individuals?"

The pictures of eleven Vulcan men and one Vulcan woman occupied the screen. She looked hard at each of the faces. One man looked vaguely familiar, but she didn't really know any Vulcans other than Sarek and Vedek, and aside from her trip to Vulcan Village with Sarek that one time, she rarely even encountered any. She had never been very good with faces and she was also afraid to admit aloud that a lot of Vulcans looked very similar to her.

Like humans, complexions varied and some had black hair while others had very dark brown hair, but for the most part, Vulcans were tall, thin, olive-skinned people with the same severe shiny hairstyle. All of the people in the array of photographs in Amanda's hands fit that description and with the exception of the woman, they all could have been close to interchangeable with one another as far as Amanda was concerned.

"I don't think so?" she finally confessed. "I don't know many Vulcans."

The Vulcan detective swiped his finger left along the top of the PADD, revealing twelve more images. "What about any of these people?"

Her eyes drifted from face to face, pausing briefly on a man in the third row. There was a familiar coldness to his eyes. She could almost hear him saying, "Don't be rude, Sarek. Amanda was just introducing herself."

"This one," she said, tapping his picture. "I think I saw this one in the park about a week ago."

"Going to a park isn't a crime," Detective Gold mused.

"No, but he was talking to Sarek. There was another guy with him. Also Vulcan. He was a bit taller I think. They were talking in Vulcan when I got there. I don't know what they talked about, but Sarek seemed really on edge."

"So he knew them?" the Vulcan man asked. The corners of his mouth tightened and his eyes seemed to be burning holes right through her.

"No, I don't think so. In fact, he said he didn't. It was really weird. Sarek practically dragged me away when I showed up and seemed paranoid the rest of the day. I had introduced myself because I thought they were his friends, but he explained he'd just randomly walked into them and seemed mad that I'd told them our names."

"What makes you think it was a random encounter?" Gold asked.

"Because I'd messaged Sarek out of the blue and asked him to meet me at the park. We'd briefly talked about meeting at a coffee shop, but decided on the park instead because the weather was nice. So as far as I know, Sarek hadn't planned to be at the park until twenty minutes before he got there. Also, the spot in the park where I met him—a week before that, there had been this weird graffiti on the community message board written in Vulcan. I asked Sarek about it and he said it had something to do with logic extremists."

She looked from one man to the other, waiting for them to acknowledge this new information. Instead, they remained silent and continued to gaze at her expectantly.

"So there's that," she added.

"Anything else?" the Vulcan urged.

"I don't know. I don't think Sarek is a logic extremist, if that's what you're waiting for me to say."

"No one is anything until they are," the Vulcan retorted.

"Sarek didn't do this!" she raged.

"Okay," Gold said, waving his hands to calm the situation. "What happened after the incident in the park? You said Sarek seemed paranoid. Did they follow you?"

The questions continued for nearly an hour as Amanda recounted every minute of her life from the previous week, from their excursion to Vulcan Village to their trip to Io Station and her recently moving in with Sarek. She left out many of the more salacious details regarding their sex life because it was absolutely none of their business. When she was done, they repeated the exercise two more times, clearly in an effort to either get Amanda to remember something else or perhaps trip in a lie. All it did was frustrate and anger her.

When the nurse knocked on the door with Amanda's discharge orders, she flung the blanket from her lap and stood to get dressed. Both men turned their backs and Amanda invited them to leave.

"We have more questions we'd like to ask you," Gold explained.

"You've asked the same questions about ten times now. Unless you have any new ones, I don't see the point."

"Still, we have—"

"Am I under arrest?" Amanda interrupted, buttoning her jeans and stooping to pick up her shoes. She felt nauseated and dizzy and couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.

"No, but—"

"Well, then, I don't have anything to say to you unless it involves helping you find my boyfriend, who didn't kill his father and brother, by the way."

"Be that as it may," the Vulcan interjected, "We urge you not to leave the area. As I'm sure you're aware, terrorism and murder are very serious matters. It's very likely we'll have more questions for you in the coming days."

"He's not a terrorist." She turned to leave.

"You have our contact information," Gold called after her. "If you think of anything…"

Amanda stopped listening. She quickened her pace and wiped the beginnings of tears from her eyes. None of this made any sense. A month ago, she was just an overworked, overstressed college student. Now she was the girlfriend of a suspected terrorist. She left the hospital without any clear idea of where she should go.

Part of her wanted to go back to Sarek's apartment and search for any clues as to what might have happened to him or where he might have gone. She didn't care how much the two detectives dismissed her: Sarek hadn't gotten in that car willingly. She knew he wasn't on the best of terms with his brother, but who in their right mind would set a casserole to bake and then decide that was a perfect time to go murder their family? She gritted her teeth, thinking she should have said that to the detectives. Why did so many good comebacks always come to mind after the fact?

She started in the direction of Sarek's building but quickly stopped. The authorities thought Sarek had just killed his father, brother, and more than a dozen innocent bystanders in a terrorist plot. No doubt they'd have his entire block cordoned off and were scanning every molecule for evidence.

Her chest tightened and tears welled in her eyes again. Her feet drifted along on autopilot until she discovered she was trudging up the stairs of her dormitory. She knew she needed to eat but she suddenly wasn't hungry. She opened the door to her room and cringed at the familiar stale smell of Mara's abysmal housekeeping habits. She shuffled into the room, expecting the light to come on automatically, but it remained dark.

She couldn't remember turning the automatic setting off, but she hadn't really been in a good mental place yesterday and supposed maybe she'd done it without really thinking . She felt along the wall for the switch and a moment later, Mara's messy glory came into full view. She groaned and closed the door, but just as she started to turn in the direction of the kitchen, a dark figure emerged in her peripheral vision.

She yelped in surprise to find Petra, the woman from Sarek's office, clad in all black and brandishing a hand phaser.

"I know you're probably tempted to scream," Petra said in a low voice. "Please don't. I'm here to help you."

"Then why do you have a phaser?" Amanda blurted, gesticulating wildly at the weapon. "Why are you in my room? How did you even get in here?"

"Please lower your voice."

Of all the inappropriate things to do at that moment, Amanda chose to laugh. This was ludicrous. This had to be a joke. A cruel, elaborate joke.

Petra peeked through the curtains and in a cold, dismissive tone declared, "We need to leave now."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Amanda had no idea where the sudden burst of audacity came from, to stand up to an armed intruder like that, but it had been a very weird past few days and she was tired of feeling powerless to control the events around her.

"We need to leave now. Trust me," Petra insisted, marching toward the door.

"Why should I trust a strange woman in my room holding a phaser?"

Petra uttered an exasperated sigh and raised the weapon to Amanda's center mass. Amanda's ears filled with the gentle hum of energy as the weapon charged. "I'm willing to try and earn your trust later for the price of threatening your life now," Petra said. "There are people entering this building to get you as we speak and I can promise, they won't be as kind and patient as I am."

Amanda's courage failed her then. She stumbled backwards toward the door in shock, tripping over a pile of Mara's laundry. The two women exited the room without closing the door, setting off down the hallway at a brisk walk that transformed into a shuffling jog and ended with a sprint out the emergency exit of the west entrance.

A black vehicle idled at the curb. All Amanda could think of was that this was exactly how Sarek had disappeared, ushered into a random car, only to be accused of murder two days later. This was insane. One of the earliest lessons in life had been to avoid going anywhere with strangers. And yet, Petra had a phaser.

When they were a meter from the vehicle, the rear door flung open to reveal a middle-aged Vulcan woman sitting across from none other than Vedek. Despite her misgivings, Amanda leapt into the backseat and Petra followed. A moment later, they were racing down the street. Petra looked over her shoulder and said, "I don't know if they saw us."

The Vulcan woman gave Amanda a strange look, leaned forward slightly, and sniffed her. "Fascinating."

"Huh?" was all Amanda could think to say. It had been a few days since she'd showered, sure, but she was too frightened and bewildered to be very embarrassed. "Who are you?"

"My name is T'Pol. I believe you already know Vedek." She gestured to Vedek, who was sitting in the rear-facing seat opposite them. Only then did Amanda notice his hands and feet were bound. He refused to look her in the eye and something about his mournful expression made Amanda question how much of an ally he was going to be in this situation.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" she said, forcing herself to sound as assertive as possible, though she was certain she failed miserably.

Petra ripped the bag off Amanda's shoulder. Amanda started to protest, but the dark-haired woman deftly extracted the PADD from her bag and hurled it out the window.

"Hey!" Amanda shouted at the abrupt injustice.

"It was necessary," said T'Pol.

In any other situation, the Vulcan woman's stoic manner might have calmed Amanda, but now it only served to rattle her that much more. Her mind began replaying the eleven second video of Sarek getting into a strange car and she couldn't help but wonder if what had happened to Sarek was now waiting in store for her.

Chapter Text

One day earlier

The details of what had happened were hazy, but the first conscious thought Sarek could remember thinking was that his brain felt too large for his skull. He blinked but there was only darkness and the feel of scratchy fabric draped over his face.

He was sitting upright and his arms were wrenched behind his back. As he shifted his body to bring his arms forward, restraints bit into his wrists and the memories of the past hours flooded back. It took enormous effort to ignore his wretched physical state and focus on the present. He exhaled slowly and inhaled the stale, recycled air beneath the hood covering his head.

As far as he could discern, his surroundings were the same as they'd been prior to his period of unconsciousness. The room still smelled of damp and chemicals and the pattering of a lazy drip came at regular intervals, punctuated by slow, labored breathing behind him.

Mara. He considered a second attempt to communicate with her but decided against it.

He had no talent for coping with human hysterics and though he was concerned about her condition, he was unable to help her. He wasn't a physician and he was tied to a chair, barely able to feel his hands through the tight grip of the restraints. Under the circumstances, the kindest and most logical course of action was to leave her undisturbed. 

Despite decades of learning to master his biological processes through controlled hardship and meditation, he found himself unable to keep his discomfort at bay. His stiff neck propped up a throbbing head. His chin itched underneath what felt like dried blood and it was difficult to breathe through the hood. The paresthesia in his hands approached discomfort that bordered on maddening. He was choked with thirst and his empty stomach cried in protest.

He thought of the casserole left to bake in the oven and his stomach grumbled. He had no concept of how long it had been, but he knew it had been many hours and perhaps even days since his abduction. Was the dish still in the oven or had she removed it?

He knew it wasn't wise, but he allowed his thoughts to segue to Amanda. Was she safe? Had she waited for him outside the university, as had become their custom? How long did she wait? When he'd failed to appear, where had she gone? Amanda didn't share his residence in any formal capacity and still maintained a room in her dormitory. Would his captors find her there?

He clenched his teeth at the thought of them treating her the same way they'd treated Mara. He didn't care that his jaw ached from his earlier assault. It was difficult enough to helplessly endure Mara's abuse; he knew he would be unable to tolerate Amanda's. He drew a few slow breaths to center himself.

He wasn't certain how he knew, but he knew Amanda was safe. Beyond instinct, logic suggested she probably was as well. He supposed they were holding Mara in an effort to coerce Vedek into complying with their demands, but they hadn't asked Sarek for anything. Perhaps their only objective in keeping Sarek was to extort a ransom. He recalled waking up in this room to people retrieving samples of his blood and hair, as well as a retinal scan. Had they been collecting proof of life, perhaps?

He wanted to continue musing over the motives behind his kidnapping, but his mind was stuck on her. She was safe. She had to be safe. But how could he know?

A hopeful thought took shape. He could communicate with Amanda telepathically. Maybe. They'd done it before during their frequent bouts of mind melding and yet…before the thought could fully form in his mind, he knew it would be futile. Most Vulcans were capable of psychometric telepathy, though a talented minority could manage to link their mind to another person without physical contact, particularly when in close proximity.

Then his thoughts took a sharp deviation. Silek. As boys, they'd often held entire conversations in the space between their minds. It had been a useful skill in certain situations, particularly tense family dinners when verbal exchanges weren't entirely prudent. They'd been born seven years apart but the fraternal bond between them was strong, largely due to lack of many other companions during their formative years. Their father's diplomatic missions and the family's remote estate made sustained friendships with peers difficult.

There was a twinge of sadness and longing, but he refused to allow himself the space to dwell on his recent estrangement from his brother. He also ignored the fact that he'd never attempted this across a distance greater than a few kilometers away from Silek, preferring to focus on the knowledge that his brother was due to return to Earth very soon and hopefully could be close enough to hear him. Sarek spent the next twenty minutes throwing everything he had into projecting his consciousness into the universe.

The aches, pains, hunger, and thirst slowly evaporated as he internally chanted the mantra, "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…"

He was so deep within the sphere of his own mind that when the vaguest hint of the sound of his own name whispered in his ears, it startled him. "Sarek?"

"Silek?" he dared himself to ask.

"Brother?" echoed Silek's voice, stronger than before.

"It's me, Silek," Sarek confirmed. He struggled to keep his mind focused and his body calm.

"We haven't spoken this way in many years," Silek replied. "Why do you speak this way now, or even speak to me at all?"

"I can only ask that you forgive me but there is no time," Sarek explained through their link. He was already feeling exhausted from the burden of this strained connection.

"Where are you?" echoed the whispers of his brother's voice in his thoughts.

"I am being held hostage. I don't know where I am."

"Father and I are en route to Earth from Vulcan. We will enter the planet's orbit in four minutes," Silek replied. "Are you still on Earth?"

"I believe so." The strain of communicating with his brother across such an enormous distance was taxing Sarek to the point of delirium and he sensed the same was true for Silek.

"Who is holding you?"

"Ask'era Ozhikersa, I believe. They took me. Outside my home. There is a human woman with me. My colleague. Vedek. He is involved. I don't know how."

"I will contact the local authorities," Silek said. "I will—"

"Amanda," Sarek interrupted. "Please find her."

"I will, but—"

Sarek blinked, waiting for Silek to continue, but there was a creeping sense of nothingness seeping into the crevices of his mind.

"Silek?" he murmured, uttering his brother's name aloud.

He was so tired he could barely comprehend his brother was no longer present in their conversation. He'd simply disappeared midsentence. Sarek pushed hard against the void and tried to resume their connection but Silek was irretrievably gone. Sarek took a slow breath and tried to gather his thoughts, but a peculiar feeling of dread and emptiness was spreading downward into his gut.

Something was wrong. His eyes slipped closed as anxiety, confusion, and weariness collided and sent him spiraling into a semi-conscious euphoria as he drifted in the space between his thoughts and emotions. His chin rolled against his chest and all traces of coherent thought disappeared.

Sarek awoke sometime later, feeling like only minutes had passed but suspecting whole hours were missing from his life. He was too engrossed in trying to make sense of what had transpired to notice the sound of insistent footfall directly in front of him. Rough hands jerked his head upright and ripped the hood away. Sarek winced and squinted at the sudden assault of light on his dark-adjusted eyes, but when he managed to open them, he discovered the shorter man from the park. Rage bubbled in him and he made no effort to conceal it.

The man's face was cool but exuded undertones of smug triumph. Neither man said anything as his captor pulled a PADD from his breast pocket and held it up to Sarek's field of vision.

The Vulcan news stream showed imagery of a vessel. The aesthetics of the ship were Vulcan and a mere second later, the neutral voice of a female newscaster identified it as a diplomatic transport carrying his father and brother to Earth to finally ratify a hard-fought trade agreement with the Orion Free Traders. Sarek didn't have time to wonder why this man would show him such a thing before the ship exploded and the feed cut to a reporter explaining that the cause of the blast was still under investigation but appeared to be the result of a torpedo fired from a private shuttle belonging to a Terran cartography company and everyone aboard the VDS Vankar was believed dead.

The blood pulsing through his ears made it difficult to hear. Time seemed to dilate and Sarek wasn't sure his heart was beating. He felt weak, cold, and nauseated. He could feel the man's eyes on him as he failed to cope with the knowledge of this tremendous and unexpected loss. He leaned forward against his restraints and the man took a step back, turning the PADD to watch footage of the explosion from a different angle.

When he noticed Sarek beginning to struggle to free himself from the chair, he said, "You shouldn't bother trying to escape. You'll only injure yourself. And even if you did manage it, where would you go? You're currently wanted for questioning in relation to the unfortunate bombing of the Vankar. I suspect in time they'll bring charges ranging from conspiracy to use a weapon of mass destruction, resulting in death, to malicious destruction of property, resulting in death. Twenty-two people in total I believe, including your father and brother."

Sarek half glared, half gawped at him.

"I can see you don't understand," the man added. The man turned the PADD toward Sarek again, revealing a human newscaster reporting from outside the Federation Council building in downtown San Francisco. Above her left shoulder appeared a graphic featuring Sarek and Vedek's passport images.

The newscaster droned, "These individuals should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Federation authorities urge members of the community to report all sightings of these fugitives to their local police and caution the public to not approach them for any reason. Again, these men—"

His kidnapper turned the PADD off and returned it to his breast pocket. "It is logical to remain here. This is Earth, after all. If you are seen in public, they might, to use a Terran euphemism, shoot first and ask questions later."

"You framed me for the murder of my own father and brother," Sarek said, uttering the words more as a mantra than as a question.

"Very shrewd deductive reasoning," the man mocked.

"The blood and hair you obtained from me—"

"Were very useful to that end," the man interrupted.

"Why?" Sarek breathed, feeling his body relax. It disturbed him that he was suddenly very calm and collected. Perhaps there was a pure, transcendental clarity to supreme hatred that he could never have appreciated until he experienced it.

"Logic must prevail," the man replied simply. "Your father's increasing grip on power was a danger to everything Vulcan stands for. This agreement with the Orions was but one of many transgressions against Surak."

Of all the thoughts he could have had in that moment, the only one that occurred to him with enough detail to grasp was that he would kill this man. He seemed to detect Sarek's inner monologue because he straightened himself and said, "I know what you're thinking, but revenge is illogical."

"Is it more or less illogical than killing twenty-two innocent people?"

"Murder is a regrettable," the man conceded. "But sometimes necessary."

"I agree," Sarek intoned.

The man's lips pursed slightly at the implication Sarek wanted to kill him. "I am sorry for the loss of your father and brother."

"What purpose could you have for telling me any of this? Why keep me alive, if I have already served my purpose?"

"I tell you this because you could serve a much greater purpose if you would only yield to logic and understand this is part of something greater than any one person. My goal is to save you, S'chn T'gai Sarek."

"Vedek?" murmured a high-pitched voice from behind him. "Is that you?"

Mara was awake. The man's eyes flicked in her direction. He turned on his heel and before slamming the door and bathing them in darkness again said, "You should re-consider your position."

"Sarek?" Mara whimpered. "What's happening?"

He wanted to reply to her pleas for acknowledgment, but stoicism quickly gave way to crushing sorrow. His father and brother were gone. Amends could never be made. How he could he bear such a thing?

Physical manifestations of his grief began to blossom, first as a shudder, then as choking sobs. His ribs seemed to be folding in on themselves, making breathing close to impossible. He wondered if anguish could be fatal. He hoped it was. All he wanted was to die. No one knew where he was but everyone believed he'd murdered his father, brother, and twenty others.

Little did Sarek know that at that very moment on the other side of the city, Amanda was in the midst of telling Garrett Fischer that Sarek was missing and she was very worried, explaining that she'd filed a police report after he'd failed to collect her from class and left a casserole to burn in the oven when the agony of his heartbreak reached its full momentum and began to spill over into her, causing her to clutch her chest, cry out in pain, and collapse without explanation.

Present day

"We're here," T'Pol announced, flinging open the car door. They were in an alley in Vulcan Village parked behind a non-descript gray stucco building.

"Where is 'here?'" Amanda asked.

"The home of an old friend," T'Pol explained.

"Your friend, or mine?" Amanda retorted.

"Mine. But he is not your enemy. I understand your hesitation. It is logical, even," T'Pol responded coolly. "But for now all I can ask is you take a leap of faith, to use a human expression."

"You sure you don't want to point the phaser at me again, just to be really sure?" Amanda asked, glaring at Petra.

"Oh quit whining and get inside before anyone sees us," Petra grumbled, her glossy hair rippling in the street lights. "If we wanted you dead we'd have zapped you and dumped your body on the side of the road by now."

Amanda glowered but felt compelled to comply. It had been easy to be brave in the car with her adrenaline pumping, but her courage was waning fast and the memory of Petra pointing a weapon at her was still very fresh in her mind. Amanda slid out of the car onto the pavement on shaking legs, taking stock of her surroundings. The alley was narrow and flanked on one side by a high brick wall and a row of three-story buildings on the other.

"You're not going to make trouble, are you?" Petra asked Vedek. "Because I'm really not in the mood."

"Just help me find her," Vedek muttered, shuffling in his seat to exit the vehicle.

Sensing this might be her only chance to run, Amanda took several cautious steps backward to test the limits of how far away she could get before someone said something.

"You should watch where you step," muttered a raspy voice directly behind her.

Amanda yelped, whipped around, and found herself face-to-face with the oldest man she'd ever seen. He was Vulcan, tall and frail and dressed in a gray robe.

"You might also try to be quiet," he grumbled. "I have neighbors. I also understand people are looking for you."

"Thank you for allowing us into your home, Ambassador," T'Pol said, gesturing toward a set of narrow metal stairs attached to the side of the building. "This is Amanda Grayson. Miss Grayson, this is Ambassador Soval."

"I haven't been an ambassador in many years," the man replied, narrowing his eyes to study Amanda before stealing a glance at Vedek. "And did you have to bring him here? The girl I understand, but the fugitive?"

"There was nowhere else we could go," T'Pol insisted. "And you owe me many favors."

"Yes, but I'd hoped to be dead before you came to collect on them. I'm an old man, T'Pol. I have no stomach for intrigue."

"Yes, but you did always have a talent for it," the Vulcan woman quipped.

"Flattery will accomplish nothing."

"Neither will complaining, and yet here we are. Can we come in or not?"

The elderly Vulcan man muttered a syllable that sounded vaguely like consent and led them up the stairs to a second-floor apartment above what appeared to be a jewelry store. Based on the neighborhood, Amanda expected to find a dingy, drab single room efficiency space outfitted with only the bare necessities, but instead was surprised to find an elegant home furnished with ornate, well-made furniture and exquisite art peppering the walls.

"Has T'Rama arrived?" T'Pol asked.

Soval scowled and scanned the room. "Do you see her?"

T'Pol and Petra exchanged nervous glances. Amanda dared a look at Vedek but he didn't seem interested in acknowledging her.

"Perhaps it is time to give Miss Grayson a proper explanation for recent events," T'Pol announced. She turned to the man called Soval and asked, "If you would be so kind as to lend us the use of your kitchen table, Ambassador?"

"Stop calling me that," Soval sighed. "What is the purpose of standing on such ceremony now?"

"I swear you two are like an old married couple," said Petra.

"T'Pol married a human," Soval corrected.

"And I'm not that old," T'Pol added. "Not as old as he is, anyway."

Amanda wandered with the others toward a small breakfast nook with a round table near the kitchen. Petra steered Vedek toward a wooden chair in the corner and began securing him to it.

"I'm not going to fight back," Vedek argued. "And I'm probably one of the most wanted people on the planet right now so where am I going to go even if I do escape?"

"It's not that I don't believe you," Petra replied. "It's that I don't care. Two dozen people are dead because of you."

"And he is right about being among the most wanted people on the planet," Soval purred. "And you brought him here. To my home. Where the police might find him."

"I don't think they've actually issued a warrant for my arrest," Vedek retorted. "I'm wanted for questioning. Holding me like this is basically kidnapping."

Petra shrugged. "Fair point. Maybe we can be cellmates when you spend the rest of your life in prison on terrorism and murder charges."

Amanda stared at Vedek. "You killed those people on the Vulcan shuttle? Sarek's dad and brother?" She started toward him, fully intending to wrap her hands around his throat.

Soval grabbed her right bicep. "Further violence will accomplish nothing here."

"I didn't kill them," Vedek said, looking in her direction but unable to make eye contact.

"Is that going to be your defense at your trial?" Petra spat. "You didn't actually push the button so it's not your fault? Like you didn't give them the shuttle and the Terran defense codes? You aided those fundy terrorists and that's still going to get you prison time no matter how you try to rationalize it to yourself."

"We're not here to deliberate Vedek's degree of guilt," T'Pol interrupted. "We're here to regroup, share information, and find Skon's son."

Sensing there wouldn't be a better moment to be heard, Amanda asked no one in particular, "Do you know where Sarek is? Or who took him?"

Everyone turned to look at her, except for Petra, who stared at Vedek. Vedek glared right back at Petra and said, "If he's still alive, they're probably holding him wherever they're holding Mara and if I knew that, don't you think I'd tell you?"

"Please sit down, Petra," T'Pol said, glancing toward one of the chairs. "There is no logic in provoking him further."

Amanda, Petra, T'Pol, and Soval took seats around the table. She sat directly across from their host, who seemed to be looking at her closely.

"How much do you know, Miss Grayson?" T'Pol finally asked.

Amanda hung her head in her hands and admitted, "I don't even know what I don't know. All I know is on Friday night, I got to my boyfriend's apartment when he didn't show up at the university and found a casserole in the oven. I went to the police, they didn't seem to care, I went to Garrett's house, he said Sarek quit, and then I had some kind of fainting fit, wound up in the hospital, and woke up to feds interrogating me and telling me Sarek blew up a diplomatic shuttle with his dad and brother on board. I don't know where he is, but I know he didn't do this and if you're asking my help to hunt him down to arrest him or hurt him, I won't help you."

By the time she finished her speech, she was nearly shouting and tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. Petra put a reassuring hand on Amanda's shoulder. "Everyone at this table is on Sarek's side. And your side."

That tiny bit of reassurance was all it took to send Amanda over the edge. She erupted into a fit of sobs. She was dimly aware of T'Pol suggesting Soval could make some tea to comfort his guest and Soval grumbling about the fickle nature of human emotions. Petra handed Amanda a tissue and a minute later, T'Pol ventured to ask Amanda about the nature of her relationship with Sarek.

"He's my boyfriend," she sniffed, trying to catch her breath.

"You can't have known each other long," T'Pol pressed.

"We met at a bar about a month ago. We struck up a conversation about physics, about how I'm bad at it and he's good at it, he offered to tutor me, then we just grew closer." She turned to Petra. "I'm also curious how you fit into all of this. I thought you worked with him."

"I do," Petra agreed. "Sort of. Sarek started working at Cary Cartographic a month ago. I started six months before that. But the cartography sector isn't my primary job, exactly. I'm currently working undercover for the Federation Bureau of Investigation."

She reached into her pocket, retrieved an item, and set it on the table before Amanda. The glossy image of the woman beamed back at her confidently.

"If you're a Federation agent, why didn't you just say so?" Amanda snapped. "Rather than hold me at gunpoint in my own room?"

"Because I'm a little beyond the scope of my assignment right now," Petra admitted. "I didn't have a warrant to be in your room and if you asked to see one and I couldn't produce it, I didn't want you calling the local police or running off to the agents who talked to you at the hospital. And time was of the essence."

"But what difference does it make if I talked to them? If you all work for the Federation?"

"We do all work for the Federation but we have some conflicting interests and allegiances." Petra made eye contact with T'Pol. "Speaking of which, what did you tell Investigator Stevek?"

"Who?" Amanda asked.

"At the hospital," Petra clarified. "Detective Gold and Investigator Stevek interviewed you. Gold's a good guy. I've worked with him. But Stevek is definitely linked to the logic extremists."

Amanda blinked incredulously. "Wait, what?"

"One of the investigators you talked to," Petra said impatiently. "He's working with the people who may have taken Sarek and killed his father and brother."

"I- I told them that Sarek went missing. They asked a lot of questions, they—"

"Did they ask you to identify anyone in a photo array?"

Amanda gulped. "Yeah."

"And did you identify anyone?" Petra pressed.

"There was a guy from the park," Amanda stammered. "I told them I recognized a man I saw in the park about a week ago."

"And now you understand why he was sneaking into your dorm half an hour ago," Petra explained. "You demonstrated that you could identify members of his organization. You're now a loose end."

"You're saying he was coming to kill me?"

"I'm saying that you running around town yelling to anyone who would listen about how Sarek just up and left a casserole in the oven is an inconvenient alternative narrative to the one Ask'era Ozhikersa would prefer."

"I don't understand any of this. A detective wants to kill me? Because he's a terrorist," Amanda scoffed. "But he didn't, because another Federation agent, you, who also pretends to work at a space mapping company saved me because…why?"

"I realize this is a lot of information to process," T'Pol said. "Perhaps it would save time and frustration if you would allow me to summarize the facts as I understand them."

"Please," Amanda said, rubbing her temples.

"Prior to retiring several years ago, I worked in internal affairs for the Vulcan Ministry of Justice as part of a task force investigating Ask'era Ozhikersa. Are you familiar with this group?"

Amanda blinked. "They're logic extremists. Whatever that means."

"That's a crude way of putting it, but yes," T'Pol nodded. "They are willing to do whatever they deem necessary, including committing acts of violence, to achieve Vulcan secession from the Federation and create a centralized government centered purely on logic. For decades they've been dismissed as a small faction of radicals with no real power. Their numbers still represent an insignificant minority, but they've infiltrated some of the highest levels of Federation and Vulcan government, as well as having occupied corners of key civilian enterprises throughout the Federation."

"Like Investigator Stevek. And Vedek over there," Petra said, bobbing her head in his direction.

"You're is a logic extremist?" Amanda blurted, staring at Vedek and then studying the faces of Petra and T'Pol. "Vedek is a logic extremist? Vedek, the guy who's dating my chaotic human roommate? The guy with the tattoo that says live long and die young?"

"I'm not a logic extremist," Vedek stammered.

Petra's lips stretched into a sly smile. She twisted in her seat, gripped Vedek's forearm, and turned it slightly to present it to Amanda. Vedek sighed and bit his lip. "What's the point of this charade?" he snapped. "I'm not that person anymore."

"Maybe you don't want to be," Petra growled, waving her PADD over the tattoo to bathe his arm in a pale blue light. The script appeared to shift into different loops of text. "My Vulkhansu's not very good. Maybe T'Pol can translate what that says."

Without even looking back at the tattoo to confirm, T'Pol said, "When viewed under ultraviolet light, the tattoo says 'Ask'era Ozhikersa is rising.' Whatever he claims he is now, Vedek was once very much a member of Ask'era Ozhikersa. All their members get some form of this tattoo on their bodies to identify themselves to each other. I suppose Vedek got the traditional script placed over it recently to try and conceal the otherwise invisible tattoo, but as you can see, it didn't work."

Amanda stared at the man but he seemed more interested in examining his shoes. "Look at me," she demanded. He raised his chin, but failed to meet her eye. "How could you do this? To Sarek? To Mara? Where is Mara?"

He stole a glance at Petra and shook his head.

"We think they have Mara too," Petra sighed. "And I wouldn't expect him to say much. And that is his right. He has a right to speak with a lawyer and a right not to incriminate himself. Perhaps you might be able to convince him that cooperating with me might get him some leniency in his sentencing. He certainly won't listen to me."

"If I knew anything, I would tell you," Vedek breathed. "I love Mara and they took her because of me. Fine, I was dumb kid who bought into the whole Vulcan supremacy thing. But I'm not that person anymore. I haven't been for years. I don't even follow logic anymore!"

"Then why does it sound like you've continued to help these terrorists?" Amanda asked tearfully. "Why not just leave?"

"I tried," he insisted. "We tried, me and Mara. But they invested too much in getting me a job at Cary. And I knew too much."

"Did Mara know any of this?" Amanda asked.

"Not really," Vedek muttered. "But she started to understand things weren't quite right. She was always talking about meeting my friends."

"That's why you were running away to Kessik IV," Amanda mused. "To get away from these people?"

"Well that and…other reasons," he said, his voice beginning to crack. "But they were never going to let me walk away. I was stupid to think so."

"Oh boo hoo," Petra said, rolling her eyes. "They're holding your girlfriend hostage, they may have even killed her, and you're the victim because the terrorists wouldn't understand why you were ready to start a new chapter in your life?"

"They know where my family lives," Vedek spat. "The first time I tried to come up with an excuse for why I couldn't give them the intel they wanted, they sent me a picture of my niece back in Shi'Kahr standing out in front of her school. How would you have interpreted that, Petra? And they knew about Mara almost from the moment I met her."

Amanda felt sick. "You really think they hurt Mara?"

"As I said before, debating Vedek's complicity in recent events or whether Mara is still alive will accomplish nothing," T'Pol said. "Agent Asfour, or Petra, as you know her, was tasked by the Federation Bureau of Investigation to infiltrate Cary Cartographic when it became clear there was sensitive information about the Federation leaking into the hands of logic extremists."

"But why would a space mapping company have that kind of information?" Amanda asked, doing her best to follow along but struggling.

"Cary Cartographic and several other private firms work closely with Starfleet to map distant sectors," Petra explained. "All the classified stuff at Starfleet is locked down so tight that they actually hold annual competitions for hobbyist hackers to try and break their encryption. They offer big prizes. No one's ever collected."

"However, private firms who do contract work for Starfleet and the Federation don't use the same encryption systems," T'Pol added. "That's not to say they don't have any security, but they represent a real vulnerability by comparison. And that makes them prime targets for people like Vedek, especially if they can simply pass a background check and obtain employment. The most secure networks in the Federation still haven't managed to keep out those who have valid access and malicious intent."

"But what kind of info would they even have that these extremists would care about?" Amanda asked.

"Plenty," T'Pol replied. "They have access to certain secure Federation communications channels, occasional temporary access codes to planetary defense systems so they can move their ships in and out of orbit, powerful telemetry systems that can track the movement of ships and communications in other sectors. The list goes on. Anyone who infiltrated Cary Cartographic might not have access to the highest levels of classified materials, but they'd have enough access to enough information for it to still be worthwhile, especially for Ask'era Ozhikersa's needs."

"Exactly," Petra agreed. "As far as I can tell, Vedek's job seemed to be keeping the activities of Ask'era Ozhikersa off the radar so they could secretly move ships around the quadrant without drawing too much attention. And if he happened to hear anything interesting when eavesdropping on secure communications channels, he was supposed to pass that along too."

"So you only worked there to investigate Vedek then?" Amanda asked.

"Not Vedek specifically, but it was pretty obvious from the minute I started working there that something was off about him. It took forever to get any evidence because he was really good—"

"And I hadn't actually given them anything of value," Vedek interrupted.

"Seems to me you gave them access to Io Station's systems last week so they could get ship manifests coming into the Terran system," Petra retorted. "That's how they knew when and where the Vulcan ambassadors would be arriving."

"Wait, all the weird glitches that happened on Io Station—was you?" Amanda asked, glaring at Vedek.

"Oh yeah," Petra said. "Then there's that matter of Vedek handing over his access codes so his friends could pilot one of Cary Cartographic's shuttles right up to the Vankar so they could launch a torpedo at it, but you know."

"It's not—" Vedek began, before Petra cut him off by finishing his sentence for him with a distinct tone of mocking, "It's not like that. Yes, you've said that a few times now. Anyway, I watched Vedek for a long time and until recently, he'd covered his tracks immaculately. Maybe his new girlfriend had him distracted enough to start making mistakes. But I wasn't only there to babysit Vedek. To be honest, when Sarek started working there, I watched him even closer than I watched Vedek."

"You thought Sarek was a logic terrorist?" Amanda scoffed.

"He fits a certain profile," Petra shrugged.

"How so?"

"How much do you know of Vulcan politics?" T'Pol asked.

"Practically nothing," Amanda admitted.

"Sarek comes from a very old, very progressive political dynasty that dates back to before Surak. He was recently estranged from his family in a very public way," T'Pol explained. "His father Skon is a renowned diplomat rumored to be seeking a post as Vulcan's next First Minister and his brother Silek is Vulcan's current ambassador to Earth. Most importantly, Skon negotiated a deal between the Orion Free Traders and the Federation. In fact, he was supposed to attend the ceremonial signing of that deal today."

"However, this trade agreement was a subject of intense debate on Vulcan because it would have allowed the Orions, Nausicaans, and Xindi to freely move through the Vulcan system," Soval added, entering the room with tea tray. He set the offering on the table and began pouring tea into delicate cups. "Ask'era Ozhikersa obviously opposed this agreement because they favor Vulcan isolationism, but the deal was unpopular with other Vulcan factions as well. Many conservatives view the Orions and Nausicaans as unsavories who will only contribute to an increase in crimes such as piracy and trafficking in the sector."

"Thank you for your astute analysis, Ambassador," T'Pol said.

Soval narrowed his eyes and took a seat. "How many times must I ask you to stop calling me that?"

"But circling back, you can see how Sarek's family aren't exactly the kind of people who are going to be best friends with logic extremists," Petra continued. "So I took a hard look at him because as you can imagine, if Sarek had a recent falling out with his dad, it wasn't that crazy to think Ask'era Ozhikersa might have recruited him."

"So what made you decide he wasn't a terrorist?" Amanda asked, accepting a cup of tea from Soval with a nod of thanks.

"While the circumstances of Sarek moving to Earth and getting a job at Cary were certainly suspicious, nothing about him screamed fundamentalist extremist."

"I would have thought the same thing about Vedek," Amanda argued. "Now he's tied to a chair."

Petra shook her head. "Vedek almost tries too hard to fit in. Sarek is just…Vulcan. Nerdy, a little arrogant but generally polite, unintentionally funny and sarcastic. A bit like T'Pol."

T'Pol shot Petra a neutral-yet-smug look while Soval nodded his agreement. Petra smiled nervously and added, "Bottom line is, he started dating you and when I saw you two together, I realized he fit the profile of an accidental immigrant making the best of his new home a lot more than a terrorist sleeper agent. Still, I worried about him. The son of a prominent figure who regularly spouts off about the merits of diversity and the benefits of Federation membership suddenly joining a logic cult? It would be the perfect way to discredit everything Skon had worked toward his entire life."

"Sarek would never join those people," Amanda declared. "And you said yourself that you don't think he would either."

"Yes, which brings us to our current predicament. It doesn't matter whether he actually joined them, I think all that matters is the perception that he would. What I suspect is Ask'era Ozhikersa tried to recruit him with the intent to get him to kill his father in a very public and dramatic fashion. I'm pretty sure Vedek was supposed to be the one rolling out the red carpet and try to befriend him."

"Seriously?" Amanda gawked at Vedek.

Vedek sighed and shook his head. "I told them from the get-go that Sarek wasn't going to bite."

"And you were right," Petra retorted. "Then they realized it didn't matter whether or not he really did it if they could just kidnap him and frame him for it anyway."

"But how would they even do that? And why would they need to kidnap him to do it?"

"Have you seen the footage of the attack on the Vankar?" Petra asked.

Amanda shook her head.

Petra grimaced and reached for T'Pol's PADD. She toggled between several screens before she evidently found what she was looking for, then turned the device so Amanda could see. The angle and focus weren't great, but they were good enough to see the image of Sarek through the portal of a shuttle bearing the words "Cary Cartographic" on the side. The shuttle turned slightly so Sarek was no longer in view and then seconds later, a bright flash of light sped away from the shuttle, collided with the Vulcan ship, and splintered into a vivid display of carnage.

Amanda clutched her hand over her mouth. Her brain refused to accept what her eyes were telling her. "He was actually there?"

"It appears so," Petra began.

"But maybe not," T'Pol added. "In fact, almost certainly not."

"That was definitely him," Amanda said, gripping the teacup so hard it was a miracle it didn't shatter in her hands.

"It was definitely someone who looks a lot like him," Petra agreed.

"Does he have a twin?" Amanda snapped.

"Have you ever heard of mimicking?" T'Pol asked.

"Huh?"

"Techniques in aesthetic surgery have advanced to such a degree that it's possible to alter someone's appearance to make them appear to be someone else, provided you have a sufficient quantity of fresh DNA for a template."

"Wait, you're saying you could take my DNA and make yourself look like me?" Amanda asked, gesticulating between herself and T'Pol.

"Not quite. Technology hasn't advanced sufficiently for interspecies mimicry, but it would be possible to take your DNA and make another human convincingly look like you. Agent Asfour, for example. Similarly, if someone had Sarek's DNA, they could use it to make another Vulcan look like Sarek."

"That sounds like something out of science fiction," Amanda replied.

"I'm sure if you were to ask a human of the twentieth century what they thought about interstellar travel or transporters, they would have said the same thing. Before becoming reality, all scientific achievements must seem like the stuff of science fiction."

"But how can it be legal? To make yourself look like another living person without their consent?"

"It isn't," T'Pol explained. "When researchers at the Vulcan Science Academy announced seven years ago that they had developed the capability, the Federation Ethics Committee almost immediately prohibited mimicry all instances, recognizing the vast potential for abuse. Considering the current situation, I daresay they weren't wrong."

"So you think they kidnapped Sarek to take his DNA and make someone else look like him so it would look like he torpedoed the ship his dad was on? That sounds like a lot of unnecessary effort. If all they need is his DNA, why not just break into his house and steal his toothbrush or some hairs off his pillow?"

"They would need multiple types of samples. Hair, blood, other scans."

"Okay, but why actually abduct him? Why not just sedate him while he's sleeping and take what they need without him knowing?"

"And risk the real Sarek walking around on Earth and buying himself an alibi while their fake Sarek is blowing up a ship? It's a pretty decent legal defense, to remind a jury that people can't be in two places at once," Petra said.

Amanda swallowed. "Then why not just kill him and take what they needed? How do you know they kept him alive after they got his DNA?"

T'Pol took a sip of her tea. "They needed someone who looked like Sarek to launch a torpedo at the Vankar. According to all credible reports, whoever was impersonating Sarek managed to transport off of it milliseconds before a Starfleet vessel destroyed it. It's why they believe Sarek is still alive and at large. However, I suspect Ask'era Ozhikersa kept Sarek alive as insurance in case they weren't able to retrieve their person from the shuttle."

"But what does it really matter?" Amanda asked. "If they just wanted to frame Sarek for the attack, why would they care if he or the imposter died? In fact, wouldn't it be easier for them if he did? A martyr for their cause and no possibility of the real Sarek showing up with wild stories about how he was framed?"

Petra sighed. "I really can't go into much detail, but I have a good reason to think the destruction of the Vankar was just the opening salvo in a series of planned attacks. Whether or not Skon is present at the signing of the trade agreement tomorrow, the agreement will be still be signed one way or another. There are a lot of people who do not want that. I think murdering Skon was a tidy way to kill two birds with one stone—it got Skon out of the way and provided a convenient distraction. Now that everyone carrying any kind of badge within a twenty-lightyear radius is looking for Sarek and Vedek, it leaves Ask'era Ozhikersa more freedom to coordinate more attacks."

"But you just said they got the imposter from the shuttle back," Amanda pointed out. "What reason do they have to keep the real Sarek alive now?"

"Whatever anyone may say about Ask'era Ozhikersa, they are exceptional propagandists and have a very forward-thinking strategy," Soval answered. "The surgical process of mimicry requires large amounts of fresh DNA. If they keep the real Sarek alive, they can harvest DNA as needed and make as many copies of him as they want for years to come, assuming they can maintain sufficient numbers of radicalized Vulcan zealots who will volunteer to undergo surgical transformation to look like him. They can have Sarek impersonators committing all kinds of terrorist acts all over the quadrant. What's the human term for such a figure?"

"A legend?" Petra offered.

"I think the word I want is a boogeyman," Soval replied.

No one said anything for several moments. Then T'Pol's PADD dinged. It wasn't loud, but it was unexpected and Amanda was on the edge of her seat trying to absorb such an extraordinary volume of information that she jumped in surprise.

"She's ready to transport here," T'Pol announced, glancing at Soval. "Can I give her the coordinates?"

Soval scowled. "Space in this apartment is quite limited. T'Rama is most welcome, but perhaps we should stop there, before I have an entire circus squatting in my home."

"You always did have a flair for drama," T'Pol replied, excusing herself.

"And you always had a rare talent for understatement," Soval called after her.

T'Pol opened the front door to reveal a soft matter stream forming on the stoop and moments later, a figure clad in a light blue cloak appeared. Amanda was stunned. She knew transporters existed and had been in use for a while, but it still surprised her to see a person appear literally out of thin air.

"Welcome, T'Rama," Soval said, standing and forming his right hand in the shape of a V as he walked toward the door. Petra stood too and joined T'Pol and Soval in the adjoining room. Sensing it would be awkward to be the only one to remain sitting in the breakfast nook, Amanda followed, leaving Vedek sitting alone tied to the chair.

The new arrival stepped over the threshold, shut the door behind her, and lowered her hood to reveal a matronly but elegant Vulcan woman. She looked vaguely familiar. The woman studied each of the room's occupants in turn, first Soval, then T'Pol, then Petra. Amanda was in the middle of wondering if it would be appropriate to introduce herself when the woman turned her attention to her.

"Are you Amanda Grayson?" she asked.

She swallowed hard and offered the very best Vulcan salute she could manage. "I am. Live long and prosper."

The woman gave the faintest hint of a pained smile, nodded, and returned the gesture. "It is an honor to meet you, Amanda Grayson." She turned to Soval and added, "Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Ambassador Soval. And thank you, T'Pol, for seeing to Miss Grayson's safety."

Soval dropped his curmudgeonly demeanor in exchange for deference and made no effort to chastise the woman for referring to him by his formal title as he had done with T'Pol. "We grieve with you, T'Rama. Your loss is felt by everyone in this room."

"Miss Grayson," T'Pol announced. "Allow me to introduce T'Rama, wife of the late Ambassador Skon and—"

"Sarek's mother?" Amanda finished in a whisper, finally aware of why the woman looked so familiar. She had the same long face and gray eyes.

T'Rama nodded. "My son Silek spoke of you."

"Oh," Amanda mumbled, wondering if Sarek ever had.

"He told me Sarek is very fond of you." Her eyes came to rest at the vokaya pendant at Amanda's throat. 

Amanda fought back anxious tears. In all the ways she ever imagined meeting Sarek's mother, offering condolences for the deaths of half her immediate family hadn't been included as part of the introductions. Her voice shook as she said, "I'm so sorry for- well, for—"

T'Rama held up a hand to interrupt. "There will be time enough for mourning later, but for now, there is no logic in grieving for what is already lost when I can dedicate myself to preserving what still remains. My only goal now is to ensure my surviving son returns safely to me and does not spend the rest of his life in prison, falsely accused of murdering his father and brother."

"I owe Skon my life," T'Pol said. "I regret I can never repay that debt to him. The only thing I can offer now is to return the favor to his son on his behalf."

T'Rama nodded. "Thank you."

"I also owe much to your family," Soval added. "I will help in any way I can."

"And I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am," Petra said. "I'm Agent Petra Asfour. I never knew your husband or your son Silek. And I didn't know Sarek very well, but your son is innocent and I'm going to do everything I can to prove it."

"Thank you, Agent Asfour, but first we must find him," T'Rama said. "Are you certain he's still alive?"

"We were explaining the situation to Miss Grayson and were just coming to that point when you arrived," T'Pol explained.

Everyone turned to look at Amanda. Amanda shifted her gaze, feeling awkward at suddenly becoming the center of attention.

"Silek told me you were Sarek's asha'kan," T'Rama said.

"I- I don't know what that word means," Amanda admitted. "Not really. Sarek tried to explain it but said it doesn't translate well."

"Are you and Sarek very close?"

Amanda's mouth was suddenly dry as sand. In addition to hating the fact that she was meeting Sarek's mother under these circumstances, she was also hating the fact that the conversation was rapidly careening toward what felt like an inevitable exploration of son's private life. "I- uh, we—"

"I am aware it is uncomfortable to discuss such an intimate matter with people you've only just met," T'Rama added. "I don't require any of the details. I only want to know if you've ever bonded with my son."

Amanda closed her eyes in an effort to avoid the risk that she might make eye contact with anyone and die of mortification. "Bonded like…mind melding?"

"Yes."

Amanda opened her eyes to see T'Pol and Soval suddenly seemed acutely interested in the pattern of the carpeting while Petra looked just as confused as Amanda felt. Amanda cleared her throat. "Then, uh…yes?"

"You've communicated with Sarek telepathically? Recently?"

Amanda nodded, blushed, and swallowed a twinge of sadness. Her relationship with Sarek was very new, but she suspected there wasn't any part of her mind or body that Sarek hadn't carefully explored. And it pained her to think the last real conversation she'd had with him involved an awkward argument where she panicked after accidentally learning he wanted to marry her.

"Do you think it's possible?" T'Rama asked T'Pol.

"Forgive me, but I see no logic in this fanciful pursuit," Soval said. "She's human."

"You needn't state such a plain fact as though it were an accusation," T'Pol retorted. "Out of everyone present, I'm the best authority on the human brain's capacity for telepathy. I was married to a human, as you have already reminded me once today. I speak from my own anecdotal experience when I say that successfully executing T'Rama's plan will be very difficult, but not impossible."

"What plan?" Petra asked. "What are we talking about?"

T'Pol turned to look at Amanda. Amanda felt the color draining from her face under the Vulcan woman's careful stare.

"I think there may be a way to find Sarek," T'Pol said. "With Miss Grayson's help."

Chapter Text

"There is no logic in keeping him alive."

"If we were only to consider events in the near term, I might agree," came the reply. "However, we must think more broadly."

Sarek's ears detected the muffled voices discussing him on the other side of the door, but he couldn't summon the energy to care that they debated his demise. His father and brother were gone. A gross abuse of science and medicine had framed him for their deaths.

Even if he did survive and escape this ordeal, he would live out the rest of his life as a fugitive or a prisoner struggling to prove his innocence despite overwhelming evidence. And who would choose to associate with a terrorist who'd murdered most of his immediate family? Any friends remaining to him on Vulcan would abandon him, Amanda would scorn him, and even his own mother would probably despise him for what she believed he'd done.

When Sarek had first fled Vulcan following the scandal with T'Rea, he'd felt alone and adrift, but his family had been intact. Now the anguish and isolation was more than he could bear. He would welcome death if they would only offer it. He pondered shouting at them to kill him but faltered. Such a drastic thing, once uttered, could not be unsaid. Did he really want to die, or was his fixation with ending his pain a byproduct of temporary despair?

His heart raced. How sobering it was to think he could probably summon death with only a few words. He took a slow breath and tried to collect his logical faculties. Only then did he realize the conversation on the other side of the door hadn't ceased just because he'd momentarily abandoned his senses.

"Whatever we do, we cannot keep him here," insisted a deep voice. "Terran authorities already suspect he remains in the city."

"It is too dangerous to move him now," replied a second man with a distinctly Shi'Kahran accent.

"The danger will only increase after today," argued the first man with the deep voice.

"There is no logic in stating plain facts," said the Shi'Kaharan.

"I state them only because it appears you ignore them," the deep voice rebutted. "I fear breaking the encryption on the Terran transporter disruptors is beyond T'Lira's capabilities. The planet's local star will rise soon. If we are unable to access the transporters before then, we should at least consider moving him by more traditional means while we still have cover of darkness."

"Your concerns are noted but unnecessary. He will remain here, alive, until I decide it is prudent to move him. Are there any updates on Vedek's whereabouts?"

The deep voice hesitated before responding, "He has not been apprehended by any conventional authorities. It is likely T'Pol has him."

"And the human woman he defiles himself with? What about her?"

"The last sighting of Amanda Grayson was near the hospital. We are currently watching her dormitory and Sarek's residence, but she has also disappeared. It is possible T'Pol has retrieved her as well."

"And T'Rama?"

"My contacts on Vulcan have searched broadly, but she too has disappeared."

Sarek's heart soared and stuttered. They didn't have Amanda. But they were looking for her. And his mother. He pulled so hard against his restraints that blood began to ooze from his wrists and trickle down the lengths of his fingers onto the floor.

There was such a long period of silence and Sarek began to wonder if he was drifting out of consciousness or whether they'd walked away when a third person spoke. The voice was female and very familiar. He struggled so hard to match the woman's voice to a memory that he barely registered what she said.

"We must at least consider disposing of him and the woman if we are unable to move them prior to the signing of the trade agreement. There is logic in what Skel says. Your plan was always uniquely ambitious. Now that Vedek has betrayed us and Sarek's mate and mother have fled, any chance of success—"

"This is a pivotal moment and perhaps our best opportunity to turn the tide in our favor," growled the Shi'Kahran.

"If you will excuse me," interjected the woman's voice, "Your discussion grows redundant. The daily service will begin soon and I must go upstairs to attend the supplicants."

He heard the clicking of heels on the hard floor and the volume of the other voices began to fade. The last thing he made out before their words became indistinguishable was, "You fear our cause will stagnate with an overabundance of caution. I disagree, but I will not defy you. Even still, the human woman is a liability who serves no purpose…"

Sarek frowned and set the man's last words aside to consider the woman. He thought to himself for several more moments before recognition set in. The woman's voice belonged to the priestess at the temple in Vulcan Village, a theory that became more solid as he reflected upon her words.

She was attending to supplicants at a daily service. There was a lot of information concealed in that simple statement. She was a priestess at a temple in Vulcan Village and if she was preparing to greet parishioners upstairs, then that meant he was being held at the temple. Moreover, most conventional temples held daily service at dawn.

The grief, physical pain, and concern for Amanda's safety coalesced into a renewed purpose. It seemed more hung in the balance than just his, Amanda's, and Mara's lives. There would be time to process his losses and emotional strife later, provided he survived his captivity.

He began to saw back and forth against the restraints biting into his wrists. The hard plastic was so tight he would have to remove an extensive amount of the flesh from at least one hand to escape, if not cut off one hand entirely. He felt resolved enough in his determination to free himself that he would find a way to manage it if necessary. For several minutes he steeled himself against the pain and ignored the horrible sensation of his shredded flesh and oozing blood before he stopped. This was a very poor plan.

A well-disciplined mind could overcome extreme agony, but no amount of logic training would prevent unconsciousness from excessive blood loss. Moreover, he could cut his wrists down to the bone but it would take time and cutting through bone with hard plastic was another matter entirely.

There had to be another way. He thought of Silek and their strained telepathic discussion. He swatted away the sadness at the thought of his brother and considered anyone else he might communicate with this way. He had never practiced a similar mental connection with his parents. 

He briefly considered his former lover, T'Rea, but dismissed her just as quickly. For as many hours as they'd spent melding and exploring each other's minds, he'd spent just as many hours meditating to sever the bond between them when she'd chosen to marry her betrothed. And she was far away. The ability to hold a true telepathic conversation required an established bond and proximity.

Amanda. He was closer to her than anyone else alive and she was close by, at least to his knowledge. She was also human. The idea that he'd disregarded as futile hours before now seemed viable, if for no other reason than there was no other clear option.

There was no logic in dwelling on the audacity of his plan or its poor chances of it succeeding. Instead, he summoned the last of his fading strength, conjured Amanda in his mind's eye, and began to murmur, "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…"

Amanda slowly plopped onto the chaise lounge, steepled her fingers, and leaned forward. Did this woman T'Pol really appreciate how crazy she sounded? Was she joking? Amanda's eyes darted from one person to the next. Aside from Petra, who looked just as mystified as she felt, there were four pairs of serious, dark Vulcan eyes gazing back at her.

"You know Sarek is the telepathic one, not me? Right?"

"Yes," T'Pol answered. "But because you have formed a deep mental connection with Sarek through extended periods of recent bonding, it may be possible for you to communicate with him."

Amanda buried her face in her hands to hide the crimson tint that was surely creeping over her cheeks. "But…how? I'm not a biologist or doctor, but I'm pretty sure there are a lot of differences between human and Vulcan brains. I don't know any humans who are telepathic. You and I can't be wired the same way."

"With a sufficiently strong bond, it doesn't necessarily matter if you possess the thick midbrain region responsible for Vulcan telepathy."

T'Rama took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. "My sons are—my sons were very close. They telepathically communicated with each other with regular frequency throughout their adolescence and into early adulthood. I know that Sarek's mind in particular is quite strong."

Amanda swallowed. She couldn't bring herself to look at the woman. "But mine isn't."

"That really doesn't matter as much as you may think," T'Pol insisted. "I know from my own experience with a human partner. There have also been numerous studies of Vulcans who regained telepathic abilities following traumatic injuries or strokes, despite the region responsible for telepathy being damaged beyond repair. The brain, any brain, of any species, is remarkably plastic and capable of adaptation when necessary."

"If that's the case then why can't I punch Vedek with my mind?" Amanda retorted. She said it loud enough that he might hear her from the next room.

T'Pol's lips thinned. "I don't know of any species capable of telekinesis. Furthermore, what I am asking you to attempt is something you have already done. The link between you and Sarek already exists. Until now it has been one-way, from Sarek to you. I am merely asking you to explore the possibility of communicating from the other direction."

"I just don't see how that can even be possible."

T'Pol slid into the armchair to Amanda's left. "I learned of a fascinating phenomenon several years ago that researchers call blindsight. It happens in many sentient species when damage occurs to the brain's visual cortex. The person goes blind, not because their eyes have stopped working, but because the part of their brain that translates visual stimuli no longer functions. However, these individuals are able to unconsciously respond to a visual stimulus without consciously perceiving it. They can navigate around obstacles in a room even though they can't describe the objects. They can understand simple facial expressions. This is because parts of the brain responsible for things such as spatial reasoning and emotion remain intact and are still unconsciously processing what the eyes see."

Amanda narrowed her eyes, doing her best to cast the most dubious expression she could muster.

T'Pol continued, "The point is, you may not have a functioning telepathic cortex, but other parts of your brain might be familiar enough with telepathic communication by now to do it subconsciously."

"I'll reiterate that I'm not a neuroscientist, but I thought a key difference between conscious and subconscious thought is that one is…well, conscious. I can't control what my subconscious brain can do."

"Through intensive meditation, it is possible to guide your subconscious to an extent," T'Rama explained, sliding closer to Amanda. When she was about thirty centimeters away, she faltered. She leaned closer to Amanda and sniffed gently. Her expression changed, though it was so quick and subtle Amanda struggled to describe it. Sarek's mother had gone from being patient and open to being something that bordered on surprised.

Did Amanda smell that bad? Sure, it had been a few days since she'd showered but she hadn't been jogging in the midday summer heat or anything. She wriggled in her seat and murmured, "So how do we do this?"

They spent the next several hours instructing Amanda in the finer points of Vulcan meditation, urging her to clear her mind and focus on an inner point to the exclusion of everything else. They tried dimming the lights, brightening the lights, lighting candles, burning fragrant herbs, and chanting. Amanda tried standing, sitting, kneeling, laying prostrate on a mat, and lying flat on her back on the sofa. Eyes open and eyes closed. Hands clasps and unclasped. The harder she tried the harder it became, as though any technique or trick could make her relax enough to forget that time was running out. Sarek's life hung in the balance and depended on her ability to do this and she was failing.

Several times she pleaded with them to contrive another plan. Petra occasionally wandered in to check on her progress, which only made Amanda feel more hopeless and frustrated. At one point she almost believed she managed to empty her mind but a chair creaked in the next room and shattered her concentration. When her eyes snapped open, she couldn't tell whether she had been meditating or falling asleep.

"Again," T'Pol urged.

"I need a break," Amanda moaned. She licked her lips and rose to her feet from the meditation mat in the middle of Soval's living room. Smoke from T'Rama's incense hung thick in the air and without waiting for anyone's approval, she excused herself to the next room under the pretense of getting water. The two Vulcan women began arguing in hushed tones but Amanda was too tired and exasperated to care that she was being discussed like a child who was performing poorly at school.

She found Vedek still tied to the chair and Petra and Soval speaking quietly at the table. Soval canted his head, almost inviting Amanda to speak her frustrations aloud.

"How's it going?" Petra asked cautiously.

"I don't think I can do this," Amanda muttered. "T'Pol acts like it's so easy, but—"

"No one can do anything, until they can," Soval mused.

Amanda scowled and half fell into the seat next to Petra. "I've never even tried to meditate," she confessed. "Sarek offered to show me how once, but I—"

Soval nodded thoughtfully. "Humans are generally incapable of the patience and dedication necessary to restrain their active minds and emotional impulses." He either didn't notice Petra and Amanda's surly looks or didn't care.

"If that's true then there's no point in me doing this, is there?" Amanda asked.

"I didn't say that," Soval replied.

"Humans are more than you give them credit for," Vedek said quietly from the corner.

Soval rolled his eyes. "I lived and worked among humans when your parents were learning to walk and sprouting teeth. Just because you have formed an emotional attachment to one human doesn't mean you understand them all."

Amanda blinked and turned to gaze at the morose Vulcan restrained at the other end of the table. "But Vedek is attached to Mara. And if the people who took Sarek have her too, why doesn't Vedek try to communicate with Mara?"

"He tried," Soval and Petra said in unison.

Vedek sighed bitterly. "My telepathic abilities were never all that good and Mara's brain is…somewhat scattered."

"Your telepathic abilities can't be worse than mine," Amanda insisted.

"Have you considered the use of an object to center yourself?" Soval suggested.

Amanda raised her eyebrows. Soval's eyes came to rest on the pendant at her throat.

"That amulet hanging from your neck—Sarek gave it to you, correct?"

"How did you know?" she asked, gently touching the vibrant stone.

"I sold it to him," Soval said. The lines of his face bore no hint of emotion, but his eyes shone. "It is an exceptional coincidence it has found its way back here."

"I remember at the barbecue Sarek asked what to get his girlfriend for her birthday," Petra recollected. "I told him jewelry and flowers. He thought it was crazy that humans liked to give the reproductive organs of plants as gifts."

Both women chuckled at the same time, but there was pain in Amanda's amusement. She thought of the little favinit plant at Sarek's apartment. What if that plant and this necklace were all she had left of him?

"Yes, well, some individuals find grasping a familiar object helps focus their minds," Soval explained.

"I thought the purpose of your departure was to obtain water," T'Pol chided, appearing in the doorway. "We should resume."

"We should find another way," Amanda pleaded. "I don't think I can do this."

"I know this seems difficult," T'Pol began.

"It's impossible."

"If you would only—"

Amanda crossed her arms over the table and buried her face in them.

"Do stop bullying the girl with the frail human mind," Soval interrupted.

"I want to be offended by that but I'm too tired and disappointed in myself to object," she groaned, not bothering to lift her head from the cradle of her arms.

Soval murmured a tiny, hardly audible sound that may have been chortle. "I am impressed by her logic and self-awareness."

"I acknowledge we are asking you to accomplish something that seems impossible. And you may still fail," T'Pol said. "However, in my experience, humans often derive comfort from the measures they took to avoid failure, even if failure does occur."

"I won't forgive myself if I don't try my hardest? Is that what you're saying?" Amanda muttered, finally lifting her head. Her body felt slow and sluggish and only then did she realize she hadn't properly slept in days.

"Precisely."

Amanda leaned on the table and slowly stood. "Can I try doing it without an audience this time? I think you and T'Rama have already given me all the pointers I can stand. I need to do this on my own and figure out what works for me."

"You may use my study, if you prefer," Soval said, motioning to a door at the back of the kitchen.

Amanda studied T'Pol's face. Seeing no objection, she started toward the study. She prepared to shut the door behind her when T'Pol entered and did it for her. Amanda began to protest, but T'Pol held up a hand.

"I will leave you alone, I merely came to offer a small piece of advice. And encouragement."

Amanda sighed, surprised she began to sway slightly from exhaustion.

"I was married for a brief time to a human," T'Pol explained. "I am aware what the human mind is capable of and I must agree with Vedek. Your species is capable of more than mine gives you credit for. More than you give yourselves credit for."

"You keep saying that, but I keep failing."

"Everyone fails until they succeed," T'Pol countered. "Before we were married, my husband was gravely wounded in an explosion. He barely survived and spent the remaining ten years of his life maimed and in agony. We found that telepathic communication was easiest for him. It took him a while to master but he did manage it."

"I'm sorry for your husband," Amanda replied. And she meant it. "But I don't think my brain is exactly the right brain for this job. I have dyslexia. I don't know if you know what that is, but it's a kind of learning problem. Things get jumbled up for me. It's part of why I needed Sarek's tutoring with physics. My brain doesn't work like other people's brains."

T'Pol's face contorted into a look of genuine surprise, even by Vulcan standards. "My husband Trip had the same condition. Vulcans call it L'tak Terai. My people pity those who suffer from it because it can make logical and ordered thinking quite difficult. It is rare among Vulcans, but some of our greatest artists and creators have had this condition, or are believed to have had it. While it does make logic more difficult for Vulcans, I often wondered whether that affliction made it easier for Trip to communicate telepathically, after a time."

"It's hard to imagine something I've worked so hard to learn to live with suddenly being a benefit," Amanda sighed.

T'Pol nodded. "I will leave you now. And I will leave you with a human expression my husband was quite fond of. Good luck."

Amanda offered a weak smile and watched as she shut the door behind her. She folded herself into a small armchair by the window, staring at the faint glow of the sky beyond. It was still dark, but sunrise loomed.

She closed her eyes, gripped her vokaya amulet, and began to hum gently. It was relaxing, but Amanda still couldn't be sure of the difference between relaxing and meditating. Both T'Pol and T'Rama had insisted they were very different things, but the explanations they'd offered seemed like creative semantics.

Minutes ticked by and she found herself slipping into a space between the waking world and a land of sleep. It was difficult to tell whether she was dreaming, because her mind seemed aware and able to direct her thoughts, but when she considered opening her eyes to prove to herself she was really awake, the idea seemed so unpalatable that she just left them closed.

"My thoughts to your thoughts…My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…"

When she thought about it years later, she never could decide if she'd actually heard the words or imagined them, whether they began as an inner monologue in her own mind as a lucid dream or whether she actually sensed Sarek communicating with her. The concept happened upon her so gradually that by the time she became aware of it, she was already grappling with the keen sense that Sarek was nearby and at a temple.

"Sarek?" she whispered, directing her brain toward the thought of him.

"Do you remember the temple in Vulcan Village?" came the reply. It felt more like an idea than conscious words, but it was solid and definitely not a figment of her imagination.

"I do!" she shouted aloud, jumping from the chair. "Sarek?"

Only then did she realize the very tenuous link between them had evaporated and she was on her feet panting with excitement.

The door to Soval's study opened to reveal Petra and T'Pol staring at her with questioning eyes.

"I think- I think I did it," Amanda stammered. "It was only for a second. I think he's at a temple. The one in Vulcan Village. We're in Vulcan Village right now, right? It's down the street."

The women exchanged glances and Soval appeared behind them, followed by T'Rama.

"You're sure?" Petra asked.

"Of course not!" Amanda snapped. "But it's the only thing I have to go on. We should check it out, at least. Right?"

"It is only a short distance from here," Soval admitted.

Petra rubbed her temples in obvious frustration. "True, but the fact that it's in Vulcan Village is…not ideal. We don't know who we can trust and I suspect there are a lot of people in this neighborhood sympathetic to these logic terrorists. They're already looking for Amanda, Vedek, and T'Rama, and they're probably keeping an eye on T'Pol too. If any of you step foot outside this apartment, you're going to attract attention. It's a miracle no one's even come sniffing around here yet. We need a plan."

"You're a federation agent," Amanda retorted. "Can't you call someone?"

"And say what? Sarek, the guy everyone thinks is a terrorist, just reached out to his girlfriend via telepathy and gave her a vague inkling he's being held against his will in a temple to Surak on the North American continent? Even the friendliest judge is going to want more than that to issue a search warrant."

"But Amanda is right," T'Pol countered. "You are the only one present with any legal authority to investigate or make any arrests."

"I'm out on a limb here and kind of on my own," Petra grumbled. "It would be incredibly reckless to go to that temple without any kind of backup or support."

"Fascinating," Soval murmured. "I always thought recklessness was an endearing and reliable hallmark of your species."

The next ten minutes were filled with deliberations and arguments about who should stay and who should go, how they should get there and what they would do once they arrived. Ultimately, it ended with everyone quickly filing into Petra's car with the darkly tinted windows.

Petra would surveil the area on foot and see if she could get close enough to the temple without arousing too much suspicion and even if she were noticed, she had her badge to justify her presence there. T'Pol would go to keep watch from the vehicle and alert her via communicator if she detected any threat. T'Rama insisted on going because she argued two sets of eyes on watch was better than one, which prompted Amanda to demand a spot in the car because three was better than two. Soval came because he didn't want the responsibility of tending to Vedek by himself, which meant Vedek was also hauled along because he could not be reasonably trusted to keep himself captive in the absence of everyone else.

Her stomach bubbled with nervous excitement as the car circled the block with the temple. They parked behind the building, concealed behind a garbage reclaimator and Petra got out. "Stay here and keep your eyes open."

When she shut the car door, everyone glanced at each other for a brief moment and then turned their attention to the outside world. It was barely bright enough outside for it to be called dawn but there were already people out and about. It didn't escape Amanda's notice that most of the passersby were Vulcan and formally dressed, with their hair coifed similarly to Sarek and Soval's.

"It is daybreak," T'Pol mused, glancing out the car's rear window. "I suspect most of these people are visiting the temple for the daily service."

"I attend on occasion," Soval admitted. "Though I am not as devout as I once was."

"If you have attended daily service at this temple before, your presence there this morning might not be considered unusual," T'Rama said, turning to acknowledge Soval.

"I had been thinking that myself," Soval replied. "Though I saw no need to mention it to Agent Asfour, who seems quite emotional and impulsive, even by human standards."

T'Pol and T'Rama nodded and replied simultaneously, "Logical."

He quietly exited the vehicle and slipped behind a small throng of Vulcans on the sidewalk leading to the temple's entrance. Amanda leaned her head against the window and tried to ease the knots in her stomach. Her mind was so wrapped around trying to calm down that she barely registered the opening of a small, inconspicuous door at the rear of the building.

Another vehicle pulled into the rear lot twenty meters away from where they were parked, and a lone figure emerged from the temple's back door.

"That's the man from the park," Amanda blurted. "That's him."

T'Rama and T'Pol's heads snapped to attention. "The one you identified to the agents who questioned you in the hospital?" T'Pol asked.

"No, the other one," Amanda explained.

"His name is Senval," Vedek replied, his face darkening. "He's the leader of the cell I was supposed to be communicating with."

Amanda's hand began reaching for the door on instinct. The rational part of her brain pleaded with her to stay put but her heart screamed for her to confront this man and demand he return Sarek to her.

T'Pol grabbed the door handle to stop her and seemed prepared to lecture Amanda about patience and prudence and not jumping to conclusions but Vedek beat her to it. "Amanda, stop. He's a dangerous guy. He will kill you and not think twice about it."

Amanda turned to face Vedek but her train of thought was interrupted by T'Rama throwing open the opposite door and leaping from the car with the grace and deliberate poise of a predator in pursuit of prey. Amanda couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard the woman growl, "That man was my husband's aide."

T'Pol hissed at her to stop but T'Rama was a woman with a purpose. Things seemed to be happening in slow motion. She glided toward the man with tactical precision. The man Vedek had identified as Senval seemed so focused on the other car in the parking lot that he didn't notice T'Rama until she was within striking distance. Then she struck. She hit him in the face with the heel of her palm. There was a flash of green blood and their limbs began moving in a rapid blur. Amanda blinked, certain she was imagining this almost comical display of violence from an otherwise placid and matronly Vulcan woman.

T'Pol tore from the backseat with no further hesitation. Vedek swore a number of curses and fought against his restraints. Amanda's mind began to stutter. The events unfolding were all too much to process but through the fog of chaos, she felt a very strange tickling at the back of her mind.

"The door, Amanda. The door."

"Sarek?" she cried aloud. Had he managed to communicate with her again? "Sarek, where are you?"

No reply came, but she knew. As if on instinct, Amanda flung the car door open and sprinted toward the open back door of the temple. She didn't know how she knew, but Sarek was in there. She floated past the carnage of T'Rama mercilessly beating the Vulcan man and T'Pol confronting the driver of the other vehicle who had emerged from the car to enter the fray.

She was dimly aware of Vedek calling out to her and struggling to free himself from the backseat with his hands tied behind him. She raced through the door and down a dozen stairs, skipping most of them. She landed hard on her left ankle and hobbled forward into a dark, damp hallway and spied a door halfway down the corridor. She didn't really remember running to it, only that when she managed to pry it open, she found Sarek tied to a chair.

She gasped. He looked awful. He was pale and slumped in such a way that for a brief moment she thought he was dead.

"Amanda?" he croaked, lifting his chin.

"I'm here," she breathed, trying to sound reassuring as she stumbled toward him on shaking legs, her left ankle screaming in protest.

"You shouldn't be in here," Sarek gasped. "They'll find you."

"Amanda?" Mara's voice was weak. "Is that you?"

"Mara?" she called.

Only then did Amanda stop to take stock of the room. It was a janitor's closet with a sink on the floor in the corner. The only light in the room came from the open door she stood in. Mara's voice emanated from a dark corner near the back and she began babbling and begging Amanda to help them.

"Amanda, go get help," Sarek urged, looking her straight in the eyes and speaking loudly to be heard over Mara's hysterics.

She ignored his demand and studied him. He was tied to a chair. She kneeled next to him to investigate the restraints binding his hands. It was a single hard plastic band looped around both wrists and even in the dim light she could see he'd practically sawed halfway through his wrists to try to escape. His hands were covered in blood and it had dripped onto the floor.

"Amanda," he barked. "Go."

"Shut up; I'm not leaving you," she snapped, looking around for anything to cut him free. She began groping at nearby shelves, trying to locate anything sharp. There was nothing besides some cleaning chemicals and a few mops and sponges. She picked up a mop and slammed the stick end into one of the tiles near the sink, shattering the porcelain into dozens of sharp edges. She picked up the largest piece and began to saw at the plastic restraints holding Sarek in place.

"Amanda, please," he pleaded. "Go alert the authorities, no one knows—"

"They've done awful things and they're blaming you for it, Sarek. I can't—"

"I didn't," he interrupted, his voice strangely calm. "I didn't do it. I didn't kill..."

"I know."

"They'll kill you if they find you here," he said. "They have no reason to keep you alive."

"I'm not leaving without you," she said, clenching her jaw. Before she could say another word, the plastic band locking his hands snapped and she twisted at the waist to work on freeing his feet.

"Amanda!" Sarek shouted. He writhed and leaned forward, almost as if attempting to stand despite his feet being tied to the bottom of the chair.

She was about to chastise him and tell him to hold still but something struck her in the right side of the face, so hard she almost imagined her eye had exploded. She fell onto her hands and knees in shock and didn't have time to take a breath before another hard blow crashed into her ribs, knocking the residual air from her lungs.

There was more yelling, a bright flash of light, and another flash of blinding pain. The last thing she remembered before slipping into darkness was Sarek calling her name.

Chapter Text

Why hadn't Amanda listened when he told her to get help? It wasn't logical. He'd been tied to this chair for hours and could have endured a while longer.

He'd tried to reason with her. He'd begged her. Then he'd seen the shorter man coming through the door and for the first time in his adult life, his logic completely failed him. Panic and fury boiled over, and that had been before the man struck her in the face. She was lying helpless on the ground and he was kicking her. She lost consciousness and Sarek lost control.

The man was so preoccupied with delivering violence to Amanda's unconscious body that he didn't notice Sarek's hands were no longer bound. His ankles remained strapped to the feet of the chair bolted to the floor, but Sarek was tall and his arms were long, and the man seemed unwisely unconcerned with keeping a safe distance from the mate of the woman he was currently brutalizing. He took a half step back and came within range of Sarek. That was all it took.

Sarek's right hand darted outward with the speed of a viper and caught the man's hair in his bloody palm. His muscles were cramped and weak from his captivity, but unfettered rage gave him renewed strength. His grip wasn't firm, but it was sufficient to throw the man off balance and send him teetering backward in surprise into Sarek's lap. Abandoning confidence in his mangled and shaking hands, he looped an arm around the Shi'Kahran's neck and squeezed. He didn't want to cut off his airway; he wanted to crush his throat to such a degree that even the most skilled surgeon would call repairing it a lost cause.

Sarek was only dimly aware of Mara throwing herself against the wire mesh of the cage that held her in the back of the cleaning closet. He was too engrossed in watching the Shi'Kahran's legs thrash and desperately probe for solid ground and his eyes bulge as seconds ticked by without access to oxygen. His complexion teetered on the verge of viridescent, but Sarek didn't care.

"Look out!" Mara screeched. The terror in her voice snapped him back into focus and gave him a half second of warning before another man was upon him, his identity concealed by the harsh light silhouetting his features from behind.

Sarek succeeded in dodging the worst of the first blow, only to find himself in a better position to be pummeled by the second blow from the man's left fist. Salty blood flooded his mouth, but he didn't let go of the Shi'Kahran's neck. He knew another strike was a heartbeat away and tucked his chin to his chest in a feeble attempt to shield his already broken face and absorb most of the impact in his right shoulder.

Metal screamed and clanged from behind him, shifting his attacker's attention. The angle of the light changed and revealed the man's features, giving Sarek the shock of his life. He was being assaulted by none other than himself, or a man who looked enough like himself to convince even Sarek in the heat of the moment they were the same person. His brain stuttered as he grappled with the possibility of being murdered by the imposter they'd forged from his stolen DNA.

"Get off him—" Mara's voice drew up short behind him as she was confronted with the same jarring concept of one Sarek standing over another Sarek tied to a chair and mercilessly beating him.

Another figure entered the room just behind the alternate Sarek to further confuse the situation. Vedek's voice pierced the fray. "Sarek? What the f—"

The other Sarek whirled to confront Vedek and, in an instant, Vedek and alternate Sarek were a mass of jumbled limbs engaged in a desperate brawl replete with vicious kidney punches, biting, and eye gouging. Mara was free from the cage and scrambling behind him, spitting curses at the combatants between howls of terror. Sarek called to her, begging her to free his feet but in fairness to her, she couldn't have even if she were in a state of mind to do so.

The closet was cramped and both Vedek and alternate Sarek were grappling for physical dominance over the other on top of his feet. Complicating the issue was that Amanda's body occupied the space directly to his right and a heap of janitorial supplies blocked Mara's exit from the left. Adding the lifeless form of the shorter Shi'Kahran man draped over Sarek's lap, it was quite a mass of bodies piling up to form an increasingly frantic, increasingly languid melee. There was little anyone could do but yell and snarl at each other in the confines of the tight space. Then more people arrived.

"Get off him!" a familiar woman's voice bellowed.

Not for the first time that day, Sarek's mind reeled. "Petra?"

Petra was kicking Vedek in the head and a shrieking Mara was attempting to stop her by crawling over Sarek from behind. She slipped and put her hands out to catch herself, launching the heel of her right hand accidentally, but quite directly, into his testicles. Pain erupted between his legs and flowed up into his belly, sucking the wind from his chest. All he could manage was a weak, garbled gasp.

His arms went slack and the Shi'Kahran man in his lap slid to the floor. Mara's belly pressed into the right side of his face, and he feebly attempted to lift her off him, but the angle was awkward his hands were numb and slick with blood.

Another woman's voice he didn't recognize began yelling, "Stop!" but the chaos had too much momentum. Another few seconds and Mara slumped over his lap face first and the two men struggling at his feet had broken apart. Through his swollen left eye, he could just make out the figure of Petra and an older Vulcan woman helping alternate Sarek to his feet.

"That's not Sarek!" Mara screamed. She was on her hands and knees at Sarek's feet, leaning over Vedek's battered body, bloody spittle flying from her mouth. Petra's eyes never left the imposter's face, but the older Vulcan woman had turned her gaze to Sarek in the chair.

Then the pandemonium resumed. Alternate Sarek planted his fist right into Petra's nose and a spray of scarlet fluid exploded from her face. The imposter ducked out of view and Mara was pleading for someone to help Vedek. The older Vulcan woman's eyes trailed from one Sarek to the other while simultaneously adopting a fighter's stance. She caught the alternate Sarek in the gut and threw him off balance. He teetered on his heels and pitched backward, back into the closet.

There was a heavy, wet crack as the imposter's skull met the corner of the tiled sink on the left. All the while, Mara continued wailing Vedek's name. Petra groped at her broken face and moaned. Why was she here?

The man in his lap finally drooped all the way to the floor. Then his mother appeared, and he wondered if he was hallucinating. Sarek twisted at the waist and tried to touch Amanda, but she was just beyond his reach. Nothing made sense, but none of it mattered. He mumbled her name once, twice, and then mumbled the word "mother" again and again, in both Standard and Vuhlkansu, through split and bleeding lips.

"Be calm, my son," said T'Rama.

She was real. Somehow, some way, his actual mother was standing over him.

"Help," he gasped, stretching his arms toward Amanda. "Her."

"Which one is the real Sarek?" Petra snarled.

"Probably the one restrained in the chair and not the one that punched you," quipped the older Vulcan woman. "At least I hope so, because that one looks dead."

His ears were ringing and he felt dizzy. Why was no one helping Amanda? Why couldn't they just free his feet? He was so tired, so weak, and in so much pain. Someone managed to find the closet's overhead light and when he got a proper look at Amanda, he felt cold and sick. There was red everywhere. He could barely discern the features of her face through red, sticky, bizarre-looking human blood.

"Sarek?" his mother said, her voice distorted like she was speaking through a tunnel. "Can you hear me?"

"Amanda," he breathed. "Please."

"We can't stay here," someone said. "Federation agents will be here any minute."

"I'm taking my son," T'Rama said. "He stays with me."

Sarek dumbly shook his head. Black spots were forming in his vision, but he never took his eyes from his asha'kan.

"At the very least, Sarek needs to get out of here," said Petra, kneeling to check on Amanda. "This is a mess; I can't guarantee his name is going to come out clean in the wash. Can that ship you have in orbit still block the transporter disruptors and get him out of here?"

"What about Amanda?" someone else said.

Sarek nodded, suddenly aware his eyes were closed. "Yes, Amanda. What about Amanda?" He wasn't sure whether he said it or thought it.

"She needs a doctor," Petra barked. "Look, if Sarek isn't in the clear yet then neither is Amanda. None of us are, really. And now there's two more dead men complicating things, one of whom looks like Sarek. Are we really sure we have the right one?"

The conversation was fading in and out. He heard the click and squeal of an electronic transmission, more muffled voices, and the warm feeling of his molecules wafting apart. Was he dying? Was this what dying felt like?

The last thing he remembered was his mother's voice drifting through his thoughts telling him, "All will be well, my son. You will see."

It was night when he opened his eyes again. Or at least it was dark. His first thought was he was in his small Terran apartment, but his other senses quickly told him he was mistaken. The air was warm and smelled of home. His true home, with scents of metallic dust, subtle herbs, and the blooms of favinit plants. As his eyes adjusted in the dim light, he realized he was staring at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom.

He swallowed hard. Not a nightmare then. Sarek closed his mind to the emotions that were sure to flood his consciousness. He sat up, sluggish and uncoordinated. He probably had a sedative to thank for that.

He took stock of his body. He wore clean, loose linen slacks but was otherwise bare to the waist. Everything was sore. Something was wrong with his hands. He tried touching his thumbs to each of his fingers in turn, noting the poor fine motor control and a feeling that wavered between burning and tingling. Faint green lines twisted around his wrists and conjured a phantom sensation of the plastic restraints cutting into them. Nerve damage.

He rubbed his throbbing forehead then threw off the blankets and stood on stiff legs, marveling at the gravity of his homeworld. In a way, the increase in gravity felt like a comforting, familiar embrace. In another way, it felt like a heavy burden. He turned his eyes toward the window and observed the faint green streaks of a geomagnetic storm beginning over the mountains.

"You are awake."

The sound of his mother's voice drowned him with nostalgia, longing, and raw, unexplored grief. He listened to the rustle of her skirts as she approached but did not risk facing her for fear of his inability to control his emotions. She took a seat on the edge of the bed and when he finally dared to look at her, their eyes locked for only a second before they both glanced away.

At long last he cleared his throat and asked, "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Four days."

"I see. And Amanda Grayson, she is a human woman who…" He trailed off, unsure how best to explain the nature of his relationship with Amanda to his mother. "Well, she was at the temple and—"

"I know who Amanda Grayson is," his mother interrupted.

Sarek's eyebrow rose in surprise. "Is she safe?"

His mother finally turned her head to look at him. "She is here. She is staying at my invitation. She had significant injuries. You both did. Fortunately, your father was owed many favors and several healers have made discreet visits to tend to each of you. She is on the mend, just as you are. You have been sedated these past days while we traveled here to allow you to heal."

Sarek allowed himself a controlled breath of relief. "May I see her?"

"Certainly," she nodded. "She woke only this morning and has spent most of the day in her room. I believe the climate is taking its toll her on her, but she will adjust, if given adequate time to acclimate."

Her remark spawned more questions for Sarek as he wondered how long Amanda intended to stay. Rather than probe that line of inquiry with his mother, he spied a night robe hanging from a hook by the door and moved toward it.

"I understand your desire to speak to her but there are some things I wish to address with you first, if I may."

Sarek nodded as he pulled his aching arms through the silky sleeves and fastened the tie around his waist. Then he took a seat next to her on the edge of the bed. Neither spoke for several minutes. There was too much to say and no simple way to say any of it.

Finally Sarek blurted, "Father and Silek, you have to know I didn't—we had our differences but I would never—"

His mother cut him off. "I know. I never doubted your innocence."

Her unshakeable faith in him was painful, yet assuring. He felt undeserving of it. It was taking more effort to contain his emotions now and when she pulled him into a light embrace, he felt his eyes moisten in a way that was most unbecoming to any logical Vulcan man. He gritted his teeth to stop his chin from quivering and slowly slid his arms around her to return the gesture.

"I cannot recall having done this since I was a small child," he finally remarked, pulling away from her touch.

"It has been many years since you were a child, but you will always be my son. Now you are the only one I have left."

He nodded and studied his hands more closely than was probably necessary, for longer than was certainly necessary.

"Much has happened in the past four days," his mother finally stated. "And there is much more to come. You have many difficult decisions ahead of you."

"Expound."

"Should I start at the beginning and proceed in a chronological order, or would you prefer I recount the facts arranged into topics?"

"Chronological order will suffice."

It took nearly half an hour of T'Rama's exposition to fill in the gaps in his knowledge of the past days' events. He listened patiently as she described how Ask'era Ozhikersa had infiltrated Cary Cartographic through Vedek and how Petra was a Federation agent tasked with investigating suspicious activity within the company.

The logic extremists had initially sought to recruit him but quickly decided it would be easier to kidnap him and use an illegal genetic modification to frame him for his father and brother's deaths. They'd also planned to frame him for bombing the formal signing of a trade agreement with the Orion Free Traders, an attack that had mercifully been thwarted in part due to confessions obtained following the arrests of several mid-level Ask'era Ozhikersa agents at the temple in Vulcan Village, including the temple's high priestess.

The man who'd been modified to resemble Sarek was dead. It was currently unknown if the extremists had made other mimics, which was a disconcerting thought. His mother assured him the technology remained largely unperfected and all scientific modeling suggested that anyone who tried to permanently integrate his DNA into their own to pose as him would likely not live more than a few years.

Vedek had surrendered himself to Federation authorities and been extradited back to Vulcan that same day. Much remained unknown about his future. He would likely serve a lengthy sentence but still avoid life in prison thanks to cooperating with Vulcan authorities and the Federation Bureau of Investigation. Whatever else Vedek had done, Sarek owed him his life.

He also apparently owed his life to others as well, particularly Amanda. Embarrassment was of course illogical—he'd often told Amanda so—yet he couldn't shake the mild discomfort elicited by his mother's description of exploiting the bond between himself and Amanda to locate him. He thought of how hard he'd tried to reach her but even still, he was astonished it had worked.

T'Rama continued her tale, coming to the part about his father's old mentor, Ambassador Soval and his protégé, T'Pol, and how they'd also played an instrumental role in his rescue. He barely listened because his mind remained stuck on Amanda. Their bond was substantial enough to allow for telepathic communication. Fascinating.

"And so, your name has been cleared," T'Rama mused.

Sarek blinked. "I am no longer a suspect?"

"That is correct."

"What happens now?"

His mother's mouth tightened. "I am aware you've always preferred my path of science to your father's path of diplomacy."

"True," he agreed.

"And yet, there has been at least one S'chn T'gai in Vulcan's diplomatic service since before the time of Surak. Strange to think a dynasty of thousands of years may now come to an end."

He suppressed a myriad of complicated feelings. She was the one who'd taught him from the time he could talk to be precise in his language. It was no accident she'd elected to say, "may come to an end" rather than "will come to an end." It was clear T'Rama expected some kind of response, but he found himself unable to formulate one.

"Vulcan is in need of a new ambassador to Earth," she eventually added.

"It is evident you think I should apply for the position," Sarek replied, his words quieter and calmer than he'd expected they might be.

"There is no need to apply for that which has already been offered."

He turned to look at her. "Explain."

"Your father was preparing Silek to take his place in the Diplomatic Service so he could launch a campaign to become Vulcan's First Minister. This family has long been a bastion of progressive politics and interstellar diplomacy, and there is a substantial desire among Vulcan leadership that it remains so."

"Father had a sister," he began, but his mother raised a hand.

"Your aunt had no children of her own and your foremother's other children have married into other families. You are all that remains. As such, the Vulcan diplomatic service intends to offer the position of Ambassador to Earth to you tomorrow. I was told to expect Ambassador Kelen at dawn."

Maintaining mastery over the swell of complex emotions was becoming more difficult with each passing moment. "I am hardly qualified—"

"Hardly qualified," his mother interrupted. "But technically qualified. You are a graduate of the Vulcan Diplomatic School, and you did serve a year as aide to Secretary T'Lora."

"I don't require an accounting of my diplomatic resume," Sarek interjected. "Sparse though it may be."

"Your brother was similarly underqualified but had a competent staff to assist him. I'm certain you could come to similar arrangements with your subordinates."

"I will tell you what I told father: I have no interest in diplomacy."

"Few Vulcans do. Ours is an inquisitive and curious species, but we're hardly renowned for our affability. Other races find us condescending and patronizing and it would be illogical to reject such an assessment, particularly when there is broad consensus among so many diverse cultures that would typically agree on very little else."

"Your claim about our species is rather ungenerous."

She gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders. "But not untrue. I recall being at a banquet many years ago when your father was still Ambassador to Earth and overhearing the Terran ambassador to Vulcan tell an Andorian colleague that if you were to lock every known species in a room and force them to find common ground on anything, they would quickly settle on the well-known fact that Vulcans are, to use his turn of phrase, 'arrogant bastards.'"

"I never got the impression humans disliked us so much. Most of the humans I encountered during my brief residence on Earth were friendly," he mused. "Perhaps too friendly."

"Which is why I believe you may be better suited to this position than you realize."

"I am far better suited to science."

"Vulcan has no shortage of scientists, but competent diplomats are a rare commodity. Besides, what did you choose to do with your scientific genius following your break with your father? You went to work at a cartography agency, which could hardly be described as the best use of your talents."

"It was an interim position," he insisted.

"Be that as it may, you have many gifts and regardless of your desires, the needs of the many outweigh—"

"The needs of the few," he finished. "Yes, I am aware."

"Or the one," she added.

"Or the one," he agreed. "It is simply that in this case, I do not relish being the one. I refuse to believe I am the only individual on a planet of more than six billion capable of filling this position."

His mother shook her head. "No, but you are the one being called to it. And it need not be for the rest of your life. You are still young. It is not too late to do as your father encouraged you for years to do. Take a sensible mate, father children of your own, and then pass the burden of diplomacy to one of them."

Take a suitable mate. Sarek couldn't help it: he bristled at the notion of a contractual, forced marriage for the sake of continuing tradition. That singular issue had been the catalyst of the schism between his father and himself in the first place. Sarek had chosen T'Rea but she had not been suitable. Or more correctly, Sarek had not been suitable for T'Rea, at least in the eyes of her family. And now his next choice of mate was…human. Perhaps it was fortunate Amanda had rejected him.

"You refused the mate we selected for you as a child, and I accepted your decision. Silek finally agreed to marry the woman he was betrothed to, and plans were in place for the marriage to occur later this year. It is likely his intended would see the logic of marrying you instead—"

"No." It came out with more clarity and force than he intended.

His mother gave a deferential nod. "Perhaps we can leave this discussion for another time."

"There is nothing more to discuss. I will accept the ambassadorship, but I will not accept the notion it is also my duty to accept the first eligible, consenting adult female as my mate and use her to sire children for the sole purpose of increasing Vulcan's pool of diplomats. I will not relinquish control over that aspect of my life."

He stood and prepared to excuse himself, but his mother rose beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I respect your decision. I will not quarrel with you on this subject as your father did. But you do realize that there is little point to accepting this ambassadorship to preserve your family's tradition if you do not actually continue the family?"

"Of course I do. I did not say I will never take a mate. I only intended to convey I will not allow myself to be lectured or pressured into selecting the most logical candidate for the convenience of everyone else. I will take a mate when I am ready, but I will choose her myself."

Something shifted in T'Rama's face. He knew his mother well but found her expression difficult to interpret. "Sarek, there is something else. Perhaps it is illogical to speak on it, as it is merely a suspicion, but Miss Grayson—did you—"

"Yes, I bonded with her. As you well know, since you exploited the link between us to locate me."

She gave a small bow of her head, evidently taking great care to select her words. "Yes, but did the two of you—"

"Yes, I also mated with her." His direct confession shocked them both, as evidenced by his mother's arching eyebrows and his own tightening lips. But Sarek was fatigued and saw no need to speak in unnecessarily convoluted insinuations. "But she is not my mate. She has no desire to become my formal mate."

T'Rama's features altered once more into another uninterpretable expression. "I see."

"Furthermore, even if she were inclined to marry me, I am aware she is utterly unsuitable."

"Why do you say so?"

Sarek tilted his head. "I agree with you that other species aren't entirely unfair in their assessment of Vulcans as 'arrogant bastards.' Perhaps their opinion stems from the fact we find no logic in levity, which is why I cannot understand why you seem to be joking now. Either joking or willfully oblivious to her humanity."

"You assume I think she is unsuitable because she is human?"

Sarek cocked an eyebrow. "Father would have never approved of her. For all his progressive talk of embracing other species and cultures, I daresay his enthusiasm for diversity didn't extend to his son blending human DNA into his bloodline."

"No," she conceded. "Likely not. And yet…your father is no longer alive."

Sarek swallowed a knot in his throat. He was exhausted, slowly losing the ability to rein in his emotions, and desperate for this uncomfortable conversation to end.

"Which brings me back to what I was going to say about Miss Grayson," his mother continued slowly. "It is something about the way she smells…"

Amanda finally summoned the strength to slide off the lounge chair and approach the tall windows. The borrowed dress clung to her clammy skin. For as much fabric as the blue garment possessed, it wasn't as hot as she supposed it would be. That wasn't to say she didn't feel like she was slowly suffocating, despite T'Rama adjusting the room's climate controls for her.

Beyond the towering glass, dancing ribbons of green light engulfed a velvety black sky glittering with stars. Every few years the northern lights would dazzle back home, but they paled in comparison to the display Vulcan currently provided. Vivid blues and purples began to highlight the spectacle and soon she realized she was holding her breath.

Not for the first time, she glanced at her surroundings. How could Sarek have grown up here and ended up, for lack of a better expression, so down-to-Earth? She hadn't been given a proper tour of the home, but from the narrow view she had of this bedroom and the grounds outside, this estate was equal parts fantasy castle and luxury hotel. Her room felt more a like concert hall than a bedroom and featured more furniture than the entire house she'd grown up in. And they were furnishings of unsurpassed quality. The fixtures were simple but crafted with extraordinary care. The neatly folded stack of dresses T'Rama had lent her boasted tailoring so skilled they seemed more like artwork than clothes. She groaned at the thought that she was soaking the inside of this gorgeous gown with buckets of unrelenting perspiration.

None of this added up. How could a man who had spent his formative years in such resplendent wealth want to move to a small apartment on Earth, make maps, and settle down with a college student?

The thought of school brought on a fresh bout of panic. Her final exams were supposed to begin the day after tomorrow. Or was it tomorrow? She tried to run through the calendar and shuffle around dates in her head, but who was she kidding? She had no idea what day it was back home and began plotting a strategy to broach the subject of contacting her professors with her very generous hostess in the morning.

She took a step back and began to feel dizzy. She considered slumping back onto the lounge chair. Vulcan's thin atmosphere, high gravity, and oppressive heat sapped energy better than a high summer triathlon on an empty stomach. The doctor who'd repaired her shattered ribs and fractured skull had given her some kind of injection to help adjust to the punishing climate. She waffled between wondering if it was working and wondering what her existence would be like if he hadn't given it to her.

He'd left a small autoinjector with more of the tri-ox compound and told her to administer it to herself as needed to help her more rapidly acclimatize to Vulcan's unremitting atmosphere. She'd tried to use it several times but there were no clear instructions on its operation and the buttons were written in Vulcan script. She considered just placing the end with the sheathed injector against her forearm and pushing buttons at random until something happened, but a knock at the door interrupted her desperate efforts and made her jump. What could anyone want from her at this time of night?

"Hello?" she called, setting the device on the table next to the bed. Her voice echoed on the hard, shiny walls and floor. She felt utterly dwarfed by this expansive space.

"It is Sarek."

Her heart began to thump as she stumbled to the door. Halfway there, she decided she didn't want to pass out on the way and simply gasped, "Please, come in."

The sight of him emerging through the widening crack of the threshold brought a smile to her lips. The last time she'd seen his face it was swollen and bloody, but aside from faint residual bruising, he looked like himself again. Mostly.

He shut the door behind him and neither of them spoke for several long seconds. What could be said to bridge the massive chasm created by the events of the past few days? Should she start by apologizing for his dad and brother? Expressing joy that he was alive? Was it appropriate to hug him? Then there was the fight they'd had before he disappeared.

"The holiday of Silkar is officially over but the season will last for several more weeks," Sarek finally said.

Amanda's thoughts faltered. Of all the things she supposed he might lead with, the weather wasn't one of them. "Huh?"

"The geomagnetic storm currently forming over the L-lagnon mountains," he continued, nodding to the swirling, colored lights haunting the night sky beyond the long windows.

"Oh, right," she stammered. "It's very beautiful."

"If I recall, you once referred to them as the northern lights and said your childhood home had similar displays." He took several cautious steps in her direction.

She nodded. "We do get them sometimes, but nothing so magnificent as this."

"They are better viewed out of doors. Would you care to join me on the portico?"

She followed him to the pair of tall, narrow doors centered along the far wall of windows and immediately regretted agreeing to this excursion the moment the outside air wafted into the room. It had been hot inside with the climate controls, but stepping outside was like stepping into an oven. The hot air engulfed her, pressing at her from every angle and making her feel even fainter and sicker than before. She put on her bravest face and followed him.

They watched the phenomenon in silence for nearly a minute as Amanda tried to adjust to the heat and strategize the best way to tiptoe around their shared traumas. "So uh, we call them the northern lights. Or the scientific term is aurora borealis. What do Vulcans call them?"

"Seshan sahriv," he replied.

"Sesh…sesh-ahn…?"

Seshan sahriv," he repeated more slowly.

She tried several times to echo the phrase back to him before giving up and saying, "I feel like I'm butchering the pronunciation."

"Your tongue is human," he said matter-of-factly. "My native language is not one easily learned by people not introduced to it in their infancy."

He finally turned to look at her, making Amanda feel like he was only just now properly acknowledging her. She was just about to offer condolences for his family when he said, "You are very pale."

"Oh," she muttered gormlessly. "It's uh…really hot."

He nodded. "Forgive me. Following the season of Silkar is the season of Belaar—what humans would refer to as summer. I cannot think of many endothermic species that would consider this an ideal time to visit my homeworld."

"No summer tourist season then?" she chuckled weakly, swallowing a gob of saliva and praying she didn't vomit on him.

He somehow managed to maintain the smooth illusion of indifference and simultaneously convey concern as he escorted her back inside. "You look like you're going to be ill."

She clapped a hand over her mouth, took several slow breaths, and motioned toward the nightstand with her other hand. "Any chance you know how to use an autoinjector?"

He collected the tiny pen-like object and studied it briefly. "It is simple enough. Most home first aid kits contain a similar device."

"Could you give me a dose of what's in it?" she mumbled.

His expression softened and he gently touched her left wrist, raising her forearm parallel to the ground. He pushed the loose sleeve of the dress up to her elbow, placed the injector on the smooth flesh on the underside of her arm, and…instant relief. The medicine flooded her system and within seconds, a pleasant cooling sensation spread from her chest to her extremities, her nausea was a distant memory, and she felt a lot steadier on her feet.

Sarek didn't release his hold on her arm; rather, he appeared to be studying her closely. Her eyes darted upwards to meet his and without warning, the words she'd been keeping bottled up for days came pouring out.

"Oh Sarek, I'm so sorry about your dad and brother. I'm so, so sorry. Never once did I think you could have—of course you couldn't have—I'm just so glad you're okay. Actually, I'm sure you're not okay, but you're alive and I—"

She paused to catch her breath but judging by Sarek's face, she immediately decided the sentence was best left unfinished. If he'd heard anything she said, he gave little indication. The neutral lines of his features remained frozen and yet his eyes seemed to transition from looking at her to staring through her, giving the distinct impression he was fighting in earnest to retain control over very painful emotions.

She used to tease him about Vulcans feeling feelings but understood on a fundamental level that this was uncharted territory. What she did know was that logic was important to him and if there was ever a time to respect his preference for fiercely guarding his emotions, it was now, when everything was so raw and recent.

She was formulating the best way to apologize when to her surprise, he raised his right hand to cradle the back of her free right hand. He ran his fingertips over her knuckles and a faint, warm sensation trickled through the joints up to her arm. What had he called this? Ozh'esta?

Only it was different this time. When he had shown her this technique before, there had been distinct sensual undertones to it. Now all it imparted was a vague sense of comfort and caring. She blinked away the beginnings of tears and began to nod. Nothing needed to be said. She leaned her body toward his, watching closely for signs of unease. To her great shock, he seemed somewhat receptive to her offer of physical affection and leaned toward her.

She slowly wove her hands between his torso and upper arms and pulled him into a tender hug. He didn't immediately respond and she was just starting to feel like she'd misread the situation once again when he lightly rested his cheek on the top of her head. They stayed like that for a time, at least until she noticed the pattern of his short breaths gave her the impression he was sniffing her hair.

"Um," she finally muttered, pulling away from him and diving into a mental pit of self-consciousness and mortification.

She'd traveled to Vulcan in a medically-induced coma aboard his family's private vessel, and sure, before that it had been several days since she'd washed. Last week she'd been more preoccupied with finding Sarek than tending to hygiene. But even so, she'd showered in the room's private sonic shower after the healer left that morning, mostly to get the residual crust of dried blood from her neck, chest, and hands. Still, she had spent all afternoon and evening guzzling water and sweating it back out.

She rubbed her biceps nervously, squeezing her arms tight to her body. "Do I smell bad?"

"No," he replied automatically, before repeating himself in a more reserved manner. "No."

She scanned his face, prepared to accuse him of lying, but he looked sincere. More than that, he wore a look that could best be described as something between fascination and alarm.

"I hate that I can't stop sweating. I'm really sorry. It's just so hot here and—"

"I am aware humans perspire to cool themselves," he interjected. "Vulcans do also on occasion, though usually only following vigorous exercise. You should not apologize for an involuntary physical response that evolved among your species to keep you from overheating."

"Why are you looking at me that way?" she asked.

"I was unaware I was looking at you in any specific way." His reply seemed rapid and silted, even for a Vulcan.

"You look…I don't know, confused?"

He seemed to think for several seconds before relaxing his face back into a picture of detachment.

"I realize you weren't brought to my homeworld of your own free will," he said. "I am sure you are eager to return to Earth."

"You mom told me her rationale for bringing me with you," Amanda explained, keeping her voice even and trying to keep up with the continuing shifts in conversation. "She was trying to keep me out of jail while the dust settled, which is kind of amazing because she really didn't owe me anything. I'm honestly very grateful to her. I already told her as much, but I hope you can also tell her that for me."

"It would be illogical to tell her twice," Sarek quipped. "Nevertheless, I realize you have obligations on your own homeworld and neither I nor my mother have any desire to detain you longer than is necessary."

"Are you kicking me out?" Her interruption came out as a whisper.

"No," he replied quickly. "You will always be welcome in this house. What I was attempting to convey is I understand it will be an inconvenience to you to remain on Vulcan for any length of time."

She nearly blurted out that she would stay as long as he wanted but thankfully kept her irrational suggestion to herself when she realized how corny and desperate it sounded. Not only that, she didn't really mean it, did she? Of course not. She had her own life back on Earth. More or less.

She grimaced and realized it wasn't worth reflecting too fondly on the shambles of the life waiting for her to return: a distant father, a largely thankless internship, a handful of casual friends, and a series of final exams that she wouldn't fail only because she wouldn't even be present to take them.

Sarek cocked his head and seemed ready to say something else but she cut him off. "I can stay...um, I don't know when the next ship back to Earth is, but uh, I'm sure you—I know this is a very difficult time for you."

He gave a small nod. She was about to ask if he would stay with her, but he took a rather formal-looking step backwards. "I know the hour is late and you require rest. I hope you will excuse me to meditate. I will see you tomorrow."

It would be hard to deny she was disappointed, but harder still to deny she didn't understand. He'd been through a lot, and she knew from experience how deeply the searing anguish of suddenly losing a parent cut.

When the door closed behind him, she collapsed onto the bed, feeling drained but not really tired. Where did things stand between them? A few days ago, he'd wanted to marry her. Did he even still have feelings for her? A cold knot settled in her stomach. It took a while for her to even summon the courage to allow herself to think the question that naturally came next. What did she feel for him?

The answer couldn't be made into concrete thoughts or words, but instead came as a blur of all the untamed feelings she'd felt when she thought he was hurt or dead. She loved him. She wanted him. A single tear slipped onto her flushed cheek. Why did it feel too late to tell him so?

Chapter Text

Sarek watched the approach of the ambassador and his small entourage from the window overlooking the main entrance. The sun had crested the distant mountains to spill the first streams of daylight onto the plains below and cast long shadows in front of the procession, creating the illusion they were much taller than they were. Regardless of tricks of the light, their presence certainly loomed large.

They were nearly to the door when Sarek turned and made his way down the staircase to greet them in the formal entrance hall. His mind felt heavy and residual weakness lingered in his legs from his captivity. He was tired; his night had not been restful.

Rather than sleep, he'd shifted between meditation and desperation, seeking any redress to his impossible situation. None would be coming, because as far as he could discern, he was quite trapped. Kelen would offer him the ambassadorship to Earth, and he could either accept it or refuse it. The former meant sacrificing the version of himself he'd created during his sojourn on Earth; the latter meant abandoning centuries of family tradition at a time when his family required him most.

The choice he'd spent all night agonizing over wasn't a choice at all. His experiments with emotion, his affection for a human woman, his freedom to decide his own path—all of it would soon be crushed under the weight of obligation.

When he was several steps from the ground floor, he caught sight of the ambassador striding into the hall. Kelen removed his hood, revealing a face marked by time and the burden of decades in high office. His own father had been among Ambassador Kelen's brightest proteges, and as the man's wrinkle-framed eyes surveyed Sarek, he knew his father's mentor was taking stock of all the many failings of the only surviving S'chn T'gai eligible for service in Vulcan's ambassador corps.

They raised their hands in simultaneous salutes. Sarek prepared to welcome the man to his ancestral home and thank him for the honor of his visit, but Kelen began speaking in a voice made harsh by age and tone rendered pragmatic by experience.

"I presume your mother related my offer to you."

"She did," Sarek replied.

Kelen arched a brow. "And?"

Sarek swallowed. An impulsive refusal wavered on the edge of his lips, but what came out was, "I accept."

The wispy gray hairs of the man's brow rose further before returning to a neutral expression.

"You believed I would refuse?" Sarek asked.

Kelen looked to the aide standing several paces behind him and with a few glances exchanged among them, his staff began a servile retreat toward the front door.

Kelen approached. "There were those who believed you would, yes." His tone was warmer but still firm.

"Circumstances have markedly changed since the diplomatic service's initial offer several years ago."

Kelen offered a small bow and seemed to consider his words carefully before saying, "The murder of your father and brother is a loss for all of Vulcan."

"And I am aware I am a poor substitute for either of them."

"Why do you say so?"

"I am not inclined to do this so much as I am compelled to it. It is my duty, but still, I do not relish the prospect."

"Neither did your father," Kelen replied. "At least not at first."

Sarek's eyes narrowed. "What else would Skon have been, if not an ambassador?"

His aged eyes scanned Sarek again, studying him closely now. "Your father was a brilliant ambassador and was on a path to becoming a skilled statesman, but he had wanted to pursue music in his youth. He had a particular talent for composition."

His father had always had a great affinity for music, but Ambassador Skon…the composer? Sarek thought of the countless array of social functions his father had been obliged to attend over the years, and he'd endured all the parties, balls, and festivals with stoic acceptance, but had never expressed annoyance with an invitation to a concert, opera, or symphony. Some of his earliest memories were of his mother putting him to bed and drifting to sleep to the sound of his father playing the lyre for her in the next room.

He'd never considered the idea his father's interest in music rose beyond the level of a hobby. He stole a glance at the ceremonial Terran guitar hanging on the wall and began to wonder what other aspects of his father he'd misunderstood. They had always been strangers to one another, and now they always would be. Kelen's eyes followed Sarek's gaze to the instrument.

"I believe that was a gift from the Mayor of San Francisco," Kelen mused. "Your father's first full ambassadorship. He was the logical choice for the assignment, considering his father had been Vulcan's first ambassador to Earth."

"You also served with my grandfather, did you not?" Sarek asked.

"I was Solkar's senior aide, yes," Kelen reflected. "And then I held the position of Ambassador to Earth in the years Solkar spent negotiating with the Klingons. I would not be the diplomat I am today without your grandfather's tutelage."

"I believe my father might say the same of you, if he were he still alive."

"I mentored Skon as a personal favor to Solkar," Kelen said. "Your father and grandfather were alike in so many aspects, and it fascinated me how two men could make such remarkable ambassadors, yet also so effortlessly misunderstand each other as father and son."

"I was unaware their relationship was so contentious," replied Sarek, scanning his sparse memories of his forefather. Solkar and Skon had always been formal with one another, but despite the lack of familial familiarity, there had never been obvious hostility. He'd never had reason to suspect that any rift between them could be anything other than logistical, an unfortunate side-effect of two important men leading demanding and separate lives. "They always appeared cordial."

"In public, yes," Kelen pursed his lips in contemplation. "In private, I often found myself forced to serve as intermediary. They rarely spoke to one another after the Andorian incident."

"Clarify."

Kelen's eyes lost focus for moment, but he cleared his throat. "Forgive my momentary lapse; there is no logic in discussing events that occurred seventy-five years ago and concern the private matters of two individuals who are not alive to explain or defend their actions. It is in the past, and I am here to discuss your future. I acknowledge you are under-prepared for this task, but do not conflate that with being ill-suited to it. As I have already explained, your father felt much the same way, and he became one of the most successful diplomats in our modern history."

"He had you to guide him," said Sarek.

A slight scowl flickered across the old man's face. "As do you. My door is always open to S'chn T'gai Skon's son. You need only ask."

Sarek hesitated, sensing the conversation was coming to a natural close and disliking that it was leaving him with more questions than answers. "Thank you, Ambassador Kelen, for your counsel and support. I would—"

Kelen cleared this throat and coughed to clear phlegm from deep in his lungs. "My aides have already seen to the necessary forms and arrangements of your appointment: all that remains is for you to sign them. There will also be a ceremony tomorrow evening at the Shashol building to induct you into the diplomatic service and publicly acknowledge you as your brother's successor as Ambassador to Earth."

"You speak as though the administrative details have already been in place for some time. Earlier you implied you didn't believe I would accept this position."

"No, I said there were those who believed you would refuse it. I did not say I was among them."

"With respect, ambassador, you do not know me. To be honest, I was not certain I would accept the position until the moment I did, so how could you have known I would?"

"Because you are your father's son. Now, I am nearly overdue for a meeting with the High Council. I will see you tomorrow evening. My staff will send you details of the event and instructions for completing the administrative tasks of your appointment shortly. Be prepared for the High Command to summon you for a debriefing of recent events."

Sarek gave a small nod and followed Kelen toward the door.

"Additionally, the High Command wishes to honor Amanda Grayson for her service to Vulcan during recent events and has invited her to your induction ceremony. I understand she is staying with you during a brief convalescence. Please inform her of their invitation on my behalf."

Sarek could only stare at Kelen and do his best to keep his face from betraying the sudden panic bubbling in his gut. What had his mother told him about Amanda? What did the High Command know about the true nature of her service to Vulcan?

The loose skin about Kelen's mouth turned into a slight frown, but there was warmth in his eyes. "Live long and prosper, Ambassador Sarek."

Sarek returned the ta'al without remark and watched Kelen leave. Ambassador Sarek. How peculiar it sounded. He stood motionless for a time, turning over the various points of their very peculiar conversation. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps on the staircase behind him.

"Would you join me in the kitchen for first meal?"

He pivoted and found his mother standing on the first step. He nodded to her and followed her through the spacious hallway and down the half flight of stairs to the kitchen. He'd expected to find the cook preparing for the day, but the space was empty. T'Rama directed him to the small table where the household staff usually dined, where a tray with freshly sliced fruit and flatcakes awaited.

"I should fetch our guest. Miss Grayson will—"

"I checked on her before coming downstairs," T'Rama interrupted, taking a seat at the table with measured grace. "She is asleep, and I suggest you let her remain that way. The climate is hard on her; she requires rest, and if my suspicions are correct—"

"I accepted Ambassador Kelen's offer," said Sarek, eager to avoid further discussion about Amanda's health and any role he may have played in contributing to it.

Amanda, and her…health, was the singular issue he could not solve. He had a responsibility to her, but… He caught sight of his mother studying his face. She nodded, then turned her attention to spooning a medley of sweetberries and ripe hirat into a fruit bowl.

"You informed me last night that you would assume the ambassadorship."

"And now I have."

"I am aware this is not what you wanted for your life," she said.

"As I just learned from Ambassador Kelen, it was not what my father wanted for his life either."

T'Rama paused. "Like you, your father had exceptional talents unrelated to diplomacy. And like you, his desire to pursue those interests was of considerable chagrin to his father."

"May I make an inquiry of a personal nature?"

"We have already shared more in these past days than we have in our entire lives. I can endure one more probing question."

"Only one?"

The corner of her mouth ticked upward. Her eyes fixed on his. "Pose your query."

"What do you know of the relationship between my father and his father?"

"It was a difficult one for most of their lives."

"Ambassador Kelen alluded to an incident on Andoria that caused their ultimate lifelong estrangement."

Her eyes scanned the room, as if looking for a safe place to land before deciding on the hand she had perched on her tableware. "They stopped speaking for much the same reason as you and Skon stopped speaking. Skon preferred a woman he could not have."

"I do not understand. You and father were bonded as children. How could Solkar have objected to you?"

"I am not speaking of myself. I speak of an Andorian captain your father met when he was sent to deescalate tensions between Vulcan and Andoria following the incident at P'Jem in 2154. They carried on in secret for several years."

"And you—" The words stalled on the tip of his tongue as he searched for the most tactful way to pose his next question.

"When your father first began his duties in the diplomatic service, we were betrothed, but we were not formally bonded. He was away often, and I was dedicated to my career in astrophysics. During that period, he met someone he came to care for very much. It would be illogical to harbor resentment toward him for the life he lived before formally committing to me," she explained. "Because he did ultimately choose me over her, and I chose him."

"It is easy to deduce my forefather made the decision for him."

"Solkar may have played a role in convincing Skon giving up Shrela, but in truth, Skon did not place that much value in his father's opinion. Skon had other considerations."

It was the most indelicate conversation he'd ever had with his mother—perhaps aside from confessing to her the night before that he'd mated with Amanda—but he was already so far beyond the bounds of appropriate breakfast conversation that it seemed logical to continue. "Elucidate."

"Skon and Shrela shared many things: an appreciation for music, travel, other cultures. In most ways, they were far more compatible than he and I were. But to quote an old proverb, a turtle may love an eagle, but where would they live?"

"This is the twenty-third century. The technology that allowed them to travel off-world and ultimately meet could have been utilized to allow them to remain together."

"Vulcans and Andorians evolved to cope with the climates of very different worlds. Andoria is a planet of ice. Vulcan is a planet of fire. No amount of medicine or technology would have allowed either of them to comfortably exist on the other's homeworld for any length of time. They could have compromised and lived on a world with a milder climate between the two extremes—Earth, for example—but it is no small thing to abandon your home and everything you find familiar for the love of another person."

"I had considered making Earth my permanent home," Sarek confessed.

"And why didn't you?"

"It was never asked of me," he explained. "And perhaps because I knew there was nothing that would prevent me from returning to Vulcan if I wanted."

She met his eye. "There was also the matter of children. Skon was caught in the same predicament you currently find yourself in: he needed children to continue the family, and unfortunately, Vulcan and Andorian biology is so incompatible as to render reproduction impossible, even with extensive medical intervention."

"Did you ever wonder if he regretted his decision to give her up for the sake of his home and a duty to have children?"

"No," T'Rama said firmly, placing a flatcake on his plate and motioning for him to eat. "And it wasn't so much out of a duty to have children as a desire. Skon genuinely wanted to be a father."

Sarek cocked an eyebrow and collected his knife and fork without remark.

"It may seem difficult for you to believe, as I am aware your relationship with your father has never been an easy one, but I never saw your father more content than he was on the day of your birth."

Sarek turned his attention to his flatcake. He disliked the tight feeling spreading through his chest.

"I know you well enough to know you believe you were a disappointment to your father. I knew Skon well enough to know he hoped you'd become a version of him, but you took after me in most ways. You followed my path of science, you detested the music lessons he made you endure, and you had an uncanny ability to prefer the opposite of whatever he intended for you. You baffled him, Sarek, but you never disappointed him. He was proud of you."

Sarek looked down at his plate and swallowed. Now his throat felt tight also. They ate in silence for several minutes, aside from the clink of utensils on plates and the creak of the chairs beneath them. When it was evident Sarek was nearly done with his meal, his mother set her hand on the table. He straightened in his chair, unable to look her in the eye.

"I am relieved you agreed to become the ambassador to Earth, but only because it ensures that a legacy spanning centuries does not die with my husband and youngest son. But I know you did not want this, and if you were free to choose, though we both know that you are not, I would not want this for you either. The life of a high-ranking ambassador is unyielding in its demands. Your every acquaintance, action, and conversation will be scrutinized. It is a life surrounded by people, but it is a lonely life."

"I understand these things," he replied. "I am the son of an ambassador."

"Yes, but you have never been the mate of one. I said earlier that it is not a little thing to abandon your homeworld for the sake of loving a person."

"It is logical to deduce you refer once again to Miss Grayson," Sarek said.

"I do."

"I cannot—"

"I will not tell you what to do," she interrupted, raising her voice with a tone of resolve. "But I believe you are preparing to make a decision based on what you believe others expect of you."

"I can reasonably conclude people will expect me to take a mate and they will, at a minimum, expect her to be Vulcan."

"Your father was also more like his own father than he knew," T'Rama said. "During his tenure as Ambassador to Earth, Solkar was rather close to a human woman named Carol. I never did discover what happened between them, and I only know this because it was my own father, who served as his communications attaché during that period, who dissuaded him from legally recognizing her as his mate."

Sarek stared at her and made a conscious effort to keep his mouth from drifting open. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you suppose you are different. You imagine yourself somehow apart from this family's legacy, but your actions have been so predictable that I am beginning to believe they are written into the S'chn T'gai genetics."

"And if I am to keep with the tradition of my forebears, then I should give her up for her own sake, regardless of my regard for her."

"Times have changed." T'Rama's voice was stern, her face resolute.

They glared at each other. "They have not changed that significantly."

"I disagree. Things are different now than they were for your father or your forefather. A romantic attachment that would have ended in disgrace for Solkar and embarrassment for Skon might only result in a reputation for eccentricity for you."

"I fail to understand the purpose of this conversation," Sarek replied, tired of the energy it was costing to keep his frustration in check. "You have made it clear that an ambassador's life is an isolated one, and implied the life of an ambassador's mate is more wretched still. You have also emphasized that it would require significant sacrifice for someone to leave their homeworld based solely on romantic attachment. The life I envisioned sharing with Amanda Grayson cannot exist in the future I have committed to. I am aware I will be expected to set an example of logic, and to travel often and work long hours. She deserves more than to be the mate of an eccentric ambassador."

"I do not know her well, but I am confident she does not deserve to be abandoned without explanation because you have convinced yourself it is a kindness for her benefit. She deserves the freedom to choose for herself when presented with the facts as they currently stand.Allthe facts."

Sarek wasn't sure what reply she expected. He'd wanted to broach the subject with Amanda last night. To be more precise, he'd wanted to confirm his own bias that T'Rama had been mistaken and then never even think of the subject again, but the moment she'd embraced him, and he caught the faintest hint of sweet undertones mixed among the salt of her sweat, he'd known his mother's theory could not be readily dismissed. Sarek could sense T'Rama's eyes on him in his periphery, along with a swell of fresh scrutiny.

"I deduce from your silence you didn't discuss the matter with her."

"She was feeling ill. It didn't come up."

T'Rama regarded him, clearly unwilling to dignify his excuse with a response. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and slid a small, rectangular card across the table without comment or the slightest expression. He didn't need to examine it to know it was an assay for the detection of pregnancy hormones.

"Do you suppose it would be preferable to let her go home unaware, alone, and discover it for herself?"

Sarek grimaced. Of course he didn't want Amanda to leave, but neither he did he want her to stay only for the sake of a child. His child.Theirchild. He inhaled slowly, wishing the tightening in his chest would go away.

The idea of having a son or daughter that he did not know felt just as intolerable as imprisoning Amanda into a lifelong relationship with him through obligation to a child they shared. This ultimate conundrum had been the primary focus of last night's ruminations. He had never had a choice about the ambassadorship, but neither did he have a choice about Amanda, because the choice was entirely hers.

It was her body, her life, and her future. Sarek's path was firmly set, and Amanda could share it with him or not. There was much he did not appreciate about human emotions, but he'd learned enough from a lifetime of suppressing his own that he knew themes such as resentment, frustration, and disappointment would be inevitable if she chose to remain. And how could she bear that without the benefit of logic to control it? Moreover, she had refused him when none of the impediments of being a Vulcan ambassador's wife had existed, and so, child or not, why would she accept him now?

There was no logic in it, but he sensed his reluctance to speak candidly with Amanda about what she desired for her future considering the sudden shift in their circumstances stemmed from the certainty that she would not prefer to become the isolated, unfulfilled wife of an eccentric ambassador or the mother of a hybrid child who would never be fully accepted in Vulcan society. But Amanda could not answer questions he did not ask, and the longer he waited to ask, the longer he could exist in a reality where any outcome was possible, including the highly unlikely outcome where she agreed to become his mate.

Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, his mother said, "I am aware it will be a delicate discussion, but you cannot postpone it indefinitely for fear that she will not respond favorably."

"I know."

"Sarek, if she is carrying your child, it could be dangerous for her health. Without the proper interventions, she—"

"I will speak with her," Sarek interrupted, rising from the table. The only thing more unbearable than Amanda rejecting him a second time would be for her to suffer harm from unintentionally conceiving his child.

"When?"

"You said just minutes ago that she is resting, and I should allow her to continue to do so."

"When did you become so willfully literal?"

"Our dialogue is becoming circular and unproductive," interjected Sarek, turning to exit the kitchen.

The harsh trill of the home's communication system stopped him, and he turned and backtracked several steps to receive the incoming communication from the device at the kitchen entry.

A Vulcan man with slim, sharp features appeared on the screen. "Ambassador Sarek, I am investigator Seldak. You have been summoned for a debriefing with the Vulcan High Command regarding your recent abduction by Ask'era Ozhikersa extremists on Earth."

Sarek pressed a button to the left of the screen to activate the intercom. "I was informed such a meeting would be mandatory. What is the time and place?"

"It is scheduled to begin in ten minutes' time," replied Seldak.

Sarek cocked an eyebrow. "That is extremely limited notice."

"You are welcome to reschedule to accommodate an emergency but consider the optics of failing to cooperate with a summons from the High Command in a timely manner."

"I will be there at the appointed time," replied Sarek, shifting his eyes to his mother.

"All that remains is for you to grant formal authorization for us to transport you from your home to the Vulcan High Command Headquarters. Will you confirm your current coordinates?"

Sarek complied and after several more advisements about administrative details and his legal rights and responsibilities, he ended the transmission. He met his mother's gaze and was surprised to see wariness lurking in the fine wrinkles around her eyes.

"My perspective of the events that lead to present circumstances is quite imperfect. I am aware I was kidnapped; I know—"

"Just speak the truth as you experienced it," T'Rama assured him. "I spent two days in interrogation while you were recovering but was rightfully cleared. As were you."

"Mother, they altered people to look like me. I know I am innocent, but the evidence is—any logical person could not simply dismiss—what if I—"

"You have done nothing wrong," T'Rama insisted. "They would not have approved your appointment as ambassador if they believed you had."

There was logic in her assessment, but Sarek could not completely quiet his apprehension. The Vulcan High Command had a reputation for being exacting and relentless. T'Rama escorted him to the home's entryway to the designated transporter location where Kelen and his staff had appeared earlier that morning. He was about to offer the ta'al and request she look in on Amanda when she smoothed out his tunic and slipped the slim metal pregnancy detection card into his inner breast pocket. He opened his mouth to protest but she was already speaking.

"I will spend the night at temple, honoring Skon and Silek."

"I could join you."

"You will not. It would be rude to leave our guest alone. I hope when I return tomorrow you will have found clarity." The special emphasis she placed on the last word left no doubt what she expected of him.

Nothing more needed to be said, and moments later, his molecules drifted apart into a matter stream.

Amanda's first thought upon waking was that she'd pissed the bed. She sat up in disgust and horror, only to get walloped by a throbbing headache. She licked at dry lips and patted the bedsheets. Not urine: just sweat. How could this planet be so hot?

She fumbled for the glass of water on the nightstand. Empty. She collected the autoinjector, and after a sting to her forearm, she flopped back down to savor the sweet, cooling relief of the tri-ox compound.

After a few minutes of waiting for the misery to subside, she stumbled to the bathroom and grimaced at the pale, sunken person staring back at her in the mirror. The tousled, damp strands of hair were crimped from sleep and plastered to her face and neck. She probed her forehead and scalp, applying pressure to the back of her skull where the blood pulsed so furiously it felt like a tap dance rehearsal was underway in her brain.

A quick sniff of her underarms confirmed she smelled as regrettable as she looked, then the memory of Sarek smelling her the night before made it even more unfortunate still. She pulled the loose nightshirt over her head, pausing to examine the yellowing, faded bruises along her ribs, and stepped into the shower with grim resignation.

The sonic shower was a delight. Amanda stood still and let the sonicator go to work on her weak and drained physique. Her forehead found the wall and she leaned into it, half for physical support, half for support of a more mental nature. It all felt so unreal. She was showering in a private bathroom in an estate. She was pulling on a borrowed dress that seemed like something from the set of a holofilm. She was standing in a bedroom larger than most homes and watching the morning sun glitter over Vulcan mountains.

Amanda sank onto the bed and pulled her fingers through her tangled hair. The sonic shower had a way of making hair exceptionally glossy and soft. She rubbed a few strands between her thumb and forefinger, marveling at the opportunity to think about anything beyond her current predicament. But thinking about not thinking about it was the same as thinking about it.

So much had transpired and changed almost overnight that her life seemed upside down. It was such a mess. Yesterday, everything had been an impossible tangle of problems that she resolved to worry about tomorrow. Sarek. School. Sarek's brother and father. Her complicated feelings. Unfortunately, tomorrow was now today. Then the tears came.

She needed to tell Sarek how she really felt, but how could she do that now? What could she possibly say to—a knock at the door yanked her out of her vicious cycle of self-doubt and self-pity. Amanda leapt to her feet.

"Yes? Hello?"

"It is T'Rama. I came to inquire whether you would take a meal."

Amanda frowned and shuffled toward the door as fast as she could manage in her weakened state, wiping away the wet from her eyes and frantically rehearsing the best way to respond.

T'Rama's smooth composure flickered the moment Amanda opened the door and she averted her gaze. "Forgive me, I was unaware you were attending to emotional labors."

"I'm just getting up for the day. I'm fine, really. And I'm sorry."

"There is nothing to apologize for. I should apologize for the intrusion."

"I know Vulcans don't like emotional displays. Maybe it would have been better to not answer the door? Or would that have been even more rude? I'm sure it must feel as awkward for you as it would be if I answered the door naked."

T'Rama arched her brow. "Perhaps it is not so extreme as your analogy would imply. And you are human, and a guest in this house. You must be as you are."

"Well, I am hungry, since you mentioned a meal."

"Would you prefer I sent a tray to your room?"

"Sitting in here alone with my thoughts isn't doing me any good, and I don't think I'll get any stronger if I don't at least try to get around."

There was surprising warmth in her hostess's eyes. "If you will join me downstairs, I can have our cook prepare a first meal for you, or—"

"Oh, no one needs to make a special meal just for me," Amanda insisted. "Please. I'm fine with something simple."

"Then the house is also equipped with a well-programmed matter replicators. We even have an array of Terran dishes, thanks in part to my late son and husband who developed a fondness for Terran cuisine, particularly from the regions of Thailand and Mexico."

Amanda suppressed a grin at the thought of eating red curry and tamales for breakfast and followed T'Rama to a small room adjacent to the kitchen with a tall appliance set into the wall. She eyed it carefully, intimidated by the rows of loopy script. T'Rama gestured to the replicator as if she were preparing to sell it to an audience.

Amanda made a show of pretending to consider the thing seriously, unsure what she planned to accomplish. It wasn't like she'd magically learn to read the complex language in the next few seconds. Mercifully, her hostess quickly swiped a button and the words morphed into the blocky text of Federation standard. Another few series of selections brought Amanda to a menu featuring breakfast dishes she recognized. Oatmeal, a cherry danish with cream cheese, waffles with maple syrup. Everything sounded delicious, until she discovered an option for eggs and toast, and something about the mere thought of eggs made her feel queasy. She hesitated.

"Is something the matter?" T'Rama inquired.

"No," Amanda lied, frantically wishing her nausea away. "It's just a large selection."

She scrolled further, desperate to avoid conjuring memories of the smell of boiled eggs or the feel of an oozing yolk of an egg fried over easy in her mouth. She stopped on an option for a chocolate croissant, decided it sounded safe, and prepared to produce it when she noticed T'Rama's expression.

"Now it's my turn to ask if something's wrong," Amanda said, swallowing what felt like an excessive amount of saliva.

T'Rama took a second to consider her answer before saying, "I understand chocolate is a very popular ingredient on Earth."

Then it hit her. Chocolate. What an idiot she was. If Vulcans really got drunk on chocolate—and based on her experiences with Sarek, she happened to know they did—she'd nearly ordered the functional equivalent of a whiskey sour for breakfast.

"I've never had chocolate," T'Rama continued. "My former mate indulged on rare occasion, but for my species, it is an intoxicant with many detrimental effects, such as liver dysfunction, weakened immunity, birth anomalies…"

Her sentence ended with odd, particular emphasis, leaving Amanda feeling the heavy weight of judgment. So she did the only thing she could: she scrolled all the way back up to the top of the list, past the offensive options featuring eggs, and quickly chose a bowl of oatmeal with dried strawberries.

They were quiet at the table as Amanda ate and T'Rama observed. It was awkward to be the only one eating and just as the silence started to feel stifling, T'Rama murmured, "My son holds you in very high esteem."

She wanted to reply, but what was the correct response to such a comment under such circumstances?

"I—your son is, um—Sarek, he, uh—"

"Sarek is out for the day," T'Rama interrupted. "He will be home by evening."

Amanda nodded, unsure where the conversation was heading but keenly aware of a sudden shift in tenor. For all her smooth composure, T'Rama was…anxious? Embarrassed? Why couldn't they just go back to awkward silence?

"He has many things to tend to today, as I'm sure he'll explain later this evening," T'Rama added, clearing her throat. "And I know you must have things to attend to as well. I am aware you were brought here without your consent. Vulcan authorities finally managed to contact your family last night to let them know of your whereabouts. Your father, I believe. If you wish to speak with him yourself—"

"I can call him when I get home," Amanda interrupted. While she was glad her dad wouldn't worry, the truth was, they spoke so rarely since her mother's death she doubted he even knew she was missing in the first place. Now that the Vulcans had called him to let him know, he was naturally going to have a lot of questions. That would be an interesting conversation.

"Well, if there is anything else—"

"School," Amanda blurted.

"School?" T'Rama's eyes beamed with almost excessive interest, giving the impression she was grateful for any neutral topic of discussion.

Amanda set her spoon on the edge of the bowl and smoothed her borrowed dress over her lap. "I'm a student. My classes are over, and I believe my final exams are today? Or tomorrow? I'm not sure what day it is back home, but if I could contact someone at my university and let them know—actually I'm not exactly sure what to tell them, but I—"

"Ah," T'Rama replied, rising from her chair. "Leave it with me."

Amanda nibbled at the rest of her oatmeal as T'Rama departed, feeling partially grateful for the opportunity to be free of strained conversation but also unsure what to do or where to go once she was done. Should she leave the dish on the table or return it to replicator to reclaim the matter?

Her internal debate was solved when a young woman appeared from a door at the far corner of the kitchen. She was clad in what looked like a simple gray but evidently well-tailored uniform. She approached and gestured to the bowl. "I will take that, if you are finished."

A servant. Of course. A house like this on an estate like this naturally had to be staffed with servants. Not for the first time, Amanda felt struck by the feeling that she and Sarek really grew up on two different worlds, in both literal and figurative sense.

"Yes, thank you," Amanda replied, scooting back in her chair.

Her three-word sentence intrigued the woman, who collected the bowl with natural grace. "There is no requirement of thanks for merely performing my duties."

"I see. It's only that I usually do these things for myself at home. I'm unaccustomed to having someone do it for me."

The woman's expression was impossible to accurately judge, but if Amanda had to venture a guess, she'd say the woman was either impressed or confused. Maybe both. Just as she wondered if it would be appropriate to make a self-deprecating joke about her uncouth humanity, T'Rama reappeared in the kitchen's entrance.

"Do you feel well enough to journey into the city?" asked her hostess.

A tri-ox injection and a thrilling transporter trip later, Amanda found herself on a transporter pad elevated several meters above a bustling intersection in Shi'Kahr. Having her molecules disassembled and slapped back together was disconcerting, but the bizarre novelty of transporter travel was quickly overshadowed by the sights, sounds, and smells of the busy metropolitan capital sprawling before her. To think she'd been so excited to take a trip to Io Station when places like this existed. What a shame Sarek wasn't with her to share in her wonder.

"This is the government district," T'Rama explained, gesturing to what Amanda initially thought was a tall-elaborately carved wall but turned out to be a building. "The Vulcan High Council offices and chamber is here. Across the street is the headquarters of the Vulcan Expeditionary Group."

"It's incredible," Amanda murmured, unsure what to look at first. The architecture was stunning, but her eye was naturally drawn to just how many people were zipping about. The streets were packed. This many people crowded into such a small area on Earth would be chaos, but the Vulcan denizens going about their business managed it in such an orderly fashion that it seemed choreographed.

"I regret we do not have time for sight-seeing," said T'Rama, motioning to something behind Amanda. "Our destination is that way."

Amanda's first instinct was to call it a church. Not like any regular chapel, but a church to rival something like St. Peter's Basilica.

"You still haven't told me much about where we're going," said Amanda.

"That is the Vulcan Science Academy," explained T'Rama, looking at the building with the sort of fondness that one might view their childhood home. "I completed my studies there, as did both of my sons."

As they entered the grand courtyard at the main entrance, the clamorous sounds of the city dimmed, allowing Amanda to better hear T'Rama's commentary. Unfortunately, it was difficult to listen when her eyes were so busy and her mind was so preoccupied with what they were even doing there.

"The outer buildings we're passing through now were built approximately twelve hundred years before the time of Surak. Surak delivered several sermons in this courtyard. The monastery is to the left and is the oldest active monastery on this planet."

"Wow." A single syllable reply probably didn't make her sound particularly intelligent, but it was all Amanda could muster and being confronted with history on this scale. If her understanding of human history relative to Vulcan history was correct, this building came into existence around the same time humans were just entering the Iron Age.

"Ahead and to the right is the Diplomatic School, where children of off-world diplomats are educated. I know you are studying to be an educator."

"I am, yes."

"Perhaps you might consider an internship here."

It would be impolite to laugh, especially considering T'Rama was evidently serious, so she racked her brain to contrive an appropriate reply. "I know such internships exist, but they're extremely competitive. There's no way someone like me would ever qualify for something like that. I'm depressingly ordinary."

"Fascinating. You do not strike me as ordinary."

"Thank you for your confidence, but I promise I'm no scholar. In fact, I struggle with certain topics. That's actually how Sarek and I met: he was tutoring me in physics."

"Ah, I had wondered how you came to be acquainted with one another." T'Rama strode into a towering corridor with confidence and a stride so brisk Amanda nearly had to half-jog to keep up. "Which brings us to our appointment here."

"Yes, I've been wanting to ask—why are we here?"

"I am a former chancellor of this institution, and as the wife of a former ambassador to Earth, I know a few people capable of convincing administrators at your school to provide an exception to policy regarding final exams for a student who has performed an invaluable service to Vulcan and the Federation. Most of your professors were willing to excuse you from final exams entirely or allow you to sit for them at a later date, but your physics professor was quite disinclined to compromise. Your exam score is required by 1700 local time at your university today or he intends to give you failing marks for the course. Accounting for the time difference, that is in approximately three hours, which was why we had to hurry."

"I'm sorry—what?"

"You are here to sit for your final physics examination."

"Here? Wait—what?"

"Yes. Another condition your professor had was that it be formally proctored. He initially insisted you would need to access your university network directly, but as that is impossible because you are off-world, he eventually agreed that the Vulcan Science Academy would be an allowable substitute. I had to speak to him personally. He is quite inflexible."

"Yeah," Amanda mumbled, only just beginning to understand she was about to have to take a physics exam she had not studied for, at one of the most prestigious universities in the Federation, under the watchful gaze of a Vulcan proctor. "I haven't—I don't feel prepared—"

Amanda's self-doubt and half-formed excuses died the moment T'Rama lightly knocked on a door and an elderly woman appeared. It looked like a private office. The two women exchanged the Vulcan salute and turned to Amanda.

"Amanda, this is Professor T'Miri."

Amanda lifted her hand to offer a handshake, but quickly caught hold of her senses and adjusted to offer her own fumbling salute.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance," said Professor T'Miri. "I have received the materials from your professor on Earth and instructions that you are to be allowed two and one half Terran hours for this exam, though after a cursory look at the exam's contents, I am sure it will not take you a fraction of that generous time allowance to complete it."

Amanda numbly accepted a PADD and glanced from T'Rama to her proctor.

"I will leave you to it," announced T'Rama. "And to use a common Earth expression, good luck."

Ten minutes later, Amanda found herself sitting in a chair across from the professor's desk, drowning in panic while her proctor calmly worked at her computer, tending to whatever professor things she needed to tend to. The initial questions weren't as awful as Amanda feared and after the first few pages, she almost felt confident. Maybe she knew more than she thought.

She was halfway through her work on a question about the angular acceleration of bicycle wheels when she had a subtle sense that something was wrong. She checked her work. The conversion of rotations per minute to rad per second was correct, but—wait. It should be rad per second squared. As she continued with the follow-on questions, she had further misgivings. Think—how are linear and angular acceleration related? Well, linear acceleration was tangent to the circle at the point of interest in circular motion, thus making—wait.

Amanda froze and looked up. These thoughts didn't quite feel like hers. It was like someone was speaking to her, rather than the flow of her own internal monologue. Professor T'Miri cast a glance in her direction but quickly returned to her attention to her computer. Amanda deleted her answer and studied the PADD closely.

Think back to the playground, Amanda.

She shuddered. She knew she hadn't consciously thought that. But—Sarek.

Amanda looked around apprehensively a second time, moving only her eyes to avoid drawing attention to herself. She bit her lip, wondering if she was imagining this. She had to be, right? T'Miri didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

Recall the merry-go-round. In regard to circular motion, centripetal acceleration refers to the changes in the direction of velocity, but not its magnitude.

Now she was certain. She was hearing Sarek. Sort of. The thoughts didn't speak with his voice, but it was him all the same. She erased her previous work and began anew with her stylus, now casually aware that linear acceleration had to be proportional to a change in the magnitude of velocity, which rendered her previous answer incorrect. Obviously.

An hour later, and after several more spontaneous and miraculous epiphanies, Amanda submitted her final answers. A score of 87.3% appeared on the PADD, and her course grade was calculated below. 77.4%. A C+ in physics. She stifled an incredulous laugh, which drew an odd expression from her proctor.

"I'm sorry," Amanda gulped, returning the device, hardly able to believe she'd passed physics in a Vulcan professor's private office. "I did better than I expected. I'm done. I can't thank you enough for agreeing to do this."

"It was my honor," replied Professor T'Miri, who rose to escort Amanda to the door.

She expected to find T'Rama waiting for her in the hallway, but instead found Sarek, looking calm as ever. "T'Rama informed me you were here. She had other business to tend to, so I came to wait for you."

Amanda nodded in stunned silence as Sarek and T'Miri greeted each other with warm familiarity.

"It is good to see you after all this time, S'chn T'gai Sarek."

"You also, professor." Before Amanda could ask, Sarek explained, "Professor T'Miri was my mentor during my graduate education."

Amanda suppressed the urge to gulp. If Sarek was a physics genius, the woman who taught him was…what? After the proper goodbyes and thanks were said and the door to T'Miri's office closed, Amanda and Sarek proceeded to hold an entire conversation through facial expressions. They were out of the building and walking back through the courtyard when Amanda finally asked, "What just happened? Did you give me the answers—"

"I did nothing of the sort," Sarek insisted. "To provide you answers would be cheating. I merely provided guidance in helping you arrive at the correct answers for yourself."

Amanda stopped in her tracks, mouth agape. He had used whatever bond existed between them to help her cheat on her physics final and seemed to think nothing of it. Apparently, he was also willing to debate whether what they'd just done formally constituted cheating. It felt shocking and illogical, and she wasn't sure if she was alarmed or impressed. Maybe both.

"Would you like to return to my home with me?" Sarek interrupted.

"Uh, sure?" she faltered. "Your mother brought me here. I figured she would wait, but—"

"She has elected to spend the night meditating at temple and has asked me to serve as your host in her stead. I hope this arrangement is acceptable."

"What would you do if I said it wasn't?" Sarek looked surprised by her sarcasm, prompting her to add, "That was a joke."

"I see. Jokes are—"

"Illogical, I know. But so is the idea that I would find it unacceptable to spend the evening at home with you."

He seemed satisfied with her answer but made no further remark. They transported back to his estate—she would never grow accustomed to that mode of travel, she was certain—and once safely inside the entry hall, he began to make his way up the stairs. It was that moment she decided she would refuse to let awkward silence insert itself between them again.

"What happens now?" she called after him.

He stopped but didn't turn to face her. "Explain."

"It's a self-explanatory question. What happens between us now? Do I go home? Last night you asked me to stay, but I don't want to overstay my welcome."

Sarek looked over his shoulder to meet her eyes. "As I said last night, you will always be welcome in this home."

"Okay, but that doesn't tell me what's supposed to happen next."

"There is a ceremony tomorrow."

She blinked. "For what?"

"I—I have—I would like to invite you. To be more precise, the Vulcan High Command has issued the invitation. They wish to honor your recent service to the Vulcan people."

"Huh?"

"They wish to acknowledge your instrumental role in thwarting the Ask'era Ozhikersa attack planned for the signing of the trade agreement with the Orion Free Traders."

She stared at him. What was he talking about? How could he be so unwilling to have a conversation about where their relationship currently stood? Were they lovers? Former lovers? Friends? Or had they been relegated to survivors of a mutual trauma and nothing more? His face was a mask of stern apathy, but she knew there was so much more beneath it. "But what about us?"

"Amanda, I have accepted an offer to become ambassador to Earth."

Her mind reeled again. "What? What does that have to do with—"

"You had asked what happens next. I am attempting to explain."

She wanted to scream at him. How could someone so logical be so dumb? He had to know she wasn't asking about what literally would come next. But also, she wasn't sure what to do with that information.

"You're now the ambassador to Earth?"

"There will be a formal ceremony tomorrow. The Vulcan High command wishes to also honor you at my induction ceremony."

His hand drifted toward his breast pocket, and he seemed prepared to say something else, but Amanda began to feel dizzy. This was too much. Sounds became muted and she suddenly couldn't catch her breath. Then his arms were around her and she found herself guided back to her bedroom. She was dimly aware of his offer of more tri-ox compound, but she pushed his hands away.

She slumped onto the bed. It was becoming harder to breathe. Her heart was breaking. Just weeks ago, anything seemed possible for them. They'd made a little home of sorts with each other in his apartment, making love and sharing meals and delighting the joy of new things. Then his entire life fell apart. And he was going to be an ambassador?

"You're going to be the ambassador to my planet?" Her words came out as a weak gasp.

"I felt it my duty to accept the position after what happened to my father and brother." He sat down next to her on the bed but continued to stare straight ahead. "My family has a legacy that stretches to before the time of Surak."

She wanted to cry. He seemed to be teetering on a precipice and watching him struggle against his own formidable emotions was the catalyst for the first teardrops to stream down her face.

"I know that you—" he continued, reaching once again toward the breast pocket of his tunic. "I am aware you—"

She placed her hands on the hand that remained in his lap, and they sat silent for nearly a minute.

"Whatever comes next, whatever you have to say, is it something that can wait until tomorrow?" Amanda asked.

He met her gaze, though he seemed preoccupied with the tears on her cheeks. "I have much to say. I have much to explain."

"I know. I do too. But before we do that—I know nothing can ever be the same for us again, but I just want to spend tonight with you. I want to be like we were before all this. I know that's not logical—"

Her voice cracked but it didn't matter as soon his lips found hers. A kiss which started tenderly and innocently quickly found a passionate stride, and soon enough, clothes started to fall away. She leaned back onto the bed and he hiked her dress up her thighs. When she parted her legs for him, he suddenly stopped, once again clutching at something in his breast pocket. He looked so uncertain of her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm stronger than you think I am. I won't break."

"I know."

Still, something made him hesitate. She sat up and kissed him lightly. She raised a hand and brushed it against jaw but caught herself and immediately withdrew. Sarek had told her Vulcans only touched the faces of people they intended to bond with, that such a gesture was extremely intimate and not something any Vulcan would perceive as casual.

"You did not need to stop," he said.

"You're sure it's okay?"

"Quite sure," he insisted.

Her fingers trembled when they touched his face again, but he didn't flinch. He watched her with patient, expectant eyes. He trusted her. That was all she needed, and until that moment, she hadn't known just how badly she needed it. When his hands slid along her cheeks, wiping away her tears as they moved, she leaned into him, unsure what was coming next but certain she desperately wanted it.

A moment later, it felt like they were part of one another. They held each other like that for a time, eventually succumbing to the need to also join their bodies together, relishing their last hours as simply Sarek and Amanda. They fell asleep in each other's arms as the people they were before everything had changed, before abstract concepts like duty, service, and family collide to reshape the nature of what they shared, and unbeknownst to them both, change history.