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Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan
Preface

Amanda chewed her fingernail nervously and watched the Vulcan starship grow smaller from the portal of the transfer shuttle. They would arrive at Earth in thirteen minutes. It would be nice to be home, but her mother had promised to wait for her at the landing pad.

Of course it would be nice to see her mother too, but her mother had a tendency to be overbearing. Given the events of the past two weeks, her mother's high-strung behavior would be understandable.

Amanda had spent numerous hours over the last three days trying to piece it all together in her head. A few times she had laughed out loud at how ludicrous it all was: her life of the past two weeks sounded like something out of an action holomovie.

Terrorists working for a rogue Starfleet admiral had abducted her and Sarek, and they had only narrowly escaped with their lives and averted a war with the Romulans. She had spent more than a week recovering in a hospital in Shi'Khar following their rescue, and now it was time to go home.

Only she wasn't going home alone. She quit chewing her nail and looked at the man sitting to her right. Sarek. Her… boyfriend? Fiancé? Betrothed? Significant other? Bondmate-to-be? 

She quickly turned her head back to the portal to stare out at the image of her home planet from space. She still hadn't figured out how to categorize their relationship, and eventually just decided there probably was no appropriate analogous term in either Federation Standard English or Vuhlkansu.

He had asked her to marry him. She had tentatively said yes. That was that. But now she had to tell her mother.

The thought of telling her deeply socially conscious mother about her potentially pending nuptials to a Vulcan who was only four years younger than Amanda's grandmother was daunting. She would almost rather face down terrorists again.

Her eyes wandered back to Sarek and she felt butterflies in her stomach. She wondered why she was so scared of how her mother would react.

He was not only a planetary ambassador, but he was intelligent, even-tempered, well-spoken, well-traveled, well educated, kind, gentlemanly, and virtually everything her mother would want for her daughter. Sure, his sense of humor might be a little lacking, and no one would ever accuse Sarek of being jovial, but no one was perfect. It only mattered if he was perfect for her, and as far as she could see, he was.

Still, she was glad he had accepted her request to get to know each other for six months prior to getting married, or what he referred to as "bonding." When she thought about it too much, she felt overwhelmed at how it would all work.

They might be alike in some respects, but nothing could conceal the fact that they were also very different people. She also worried that she was very young and hadn't had many serious relationships. People changed all the time.

She had changed tremendously in the past year. She had completed her doctorate, moved to San Francisco, taken her first job as a teacher, started and ended a relationship with a morally questionable politician, survived a riot, lost her father, was abducted by terrorists, and of course, had met Sarek.

It seemed quite likely she was rushing into something she might not be ready for.

Strangely, that hadn't mattered to him. He just wanted to get married and figure it all out later, which seemed so uncharacteristically Vulcan that she almost thought he was playing a joke on her. Why not? Sarek the prankster seemed just as likely a scenario as Sarek the romantic who wanted to run away and elope.

Of course, his exact words had been that they would simply require a period of "adjustment and education." She was sure it would take a little more than that to merge their two lives, families, and cultures together.

When she thought about what their lives would be like, she found it wasn't easy to do. Would they just get married and move to Vulcan when his assignment on Earth was over? What would it be like to leave home and make a life somewhere else? Would he want children? She wasn't even sure if she did: she was only twenty-four and hadn't given it much thought.

Smaller details were even fuzzier. What would it be like to bicker and quarrel with someone so skilled in logic and debate? What if his stoic persona eventually got on her nerves? What if he found himself unable to tolerate her human personality?

The transport shuttle entered Earth's atmosphere: they would be on the ground in less than two minutes. Her stomach lurched in anxiety.

There were too many questions and not enough answers.

Why did he think it would be so easy? 

Protocols for Human Courtship
Abstract

Sarek could sense Amanda's tension welling inside of her. He had felt it for days, but it reached an accelerated pitch as the shuttle began the descent to Earth. He was growing better at repressing her emotional overflow, but he still disliked the fact that she was nervous.

Their shared experiences in the recent weeks had convinced him that he loved her and wanted to be her mate. She seemed willing but apprehensive, due to what seemed to be primarily logistical considerations.

Following her incessant questions about what their lives would be like, he had taken time to consider his proposal to her logically and he still considered it sound.

He was the Vulcan ambassador to Earth and would likely continue to serve in that capacity for some time. She was human. Marrying her would help him understand the culture of the planet to a greater degree than ever before. Additionally, she spoke passable Vuhlkansu and a number of other Federation languages, a skillset she would no doubt find useful as a diplomat's mate.

She had asked what affect their bonding would have on his career, but truthfully, it would probably matter very little. He had paid a price for divorcing his first wife, T'Rea, through a minor demotion to resume his post as ambassador to Earth, a position he had already held once before.

Bonding with Amanda Grayson would certainly be considered unorthodox, but there were many people in positions of power on Vulcan who knew the truth of what his intended mate had done to save the Federation from war with the Romulans. Councilwoman T'Lona's specific words had been that the High Council was "immensely grateful" to Amanda for her actions, both during and following the incident.

So though he might be considered a bit of an oddity in many Vulcan social circles for his choice, it wouldn't be the first time, and he was unlikely to suffer any real political damage from it. As it was, he was already returning to Earth to resume his ambassadorship, and therefore would remain largely out of the eye of central Vulcan politics.

Politics aside, Amanda seemed to worry about disappointing him, a trait that he found both admirable and peculiar. He appreciated her desire to please him, but all bonded mates possessed certain failings that would ultimately lead to some minor disappointment, himself included. Since she had yet to disappoint him, it was illogical for her to assume that she naturally would with an abnormally high frequency.

She further fretted over acclimating to Vulcan culture, yet everything he knew about her suggested she was an intelligent and adaptable woman: excellent qualities in any mate, but particularly for the mate of an ambassador. He did not expect her to eschew her human qualities and fully embrace Vulcan tenets, just as he had not abandoned his own beliefs and customs when he resided on Earth. Diplomacy was little more than the practical exercise of compromise, and he failed to see why their relationship should be any different. 

She agonized over the possibility that she would eventually greatly annoy him or that he would grow tired of her, which was also perplexing. He had spent many years in the Diplomatic Service, and most of it had been on Earth in the company of humans. Humans possessed many idiosyncrasies and were often irrational, but he was accustomed to that. Vulcans were masters of patience, and while he had met a handful of individuals in his career that tested the limits of his emotional control, she was a far cry from a drunken, impetuous Tellarite lawyer at a mediation table.

He wondered if her uncertainty was a byproduct of her youth: perhaps she did not know her own mind well enough to trust her decisions. 

He heard the release of the inertial dampeners as the shuttle bumped gently onto the landing pad. Amanda's head whipped around in his direction as the crew prepared for disembarkation. There was anxiety riddled throughout her features.

He took her forefingers in ozh'esta, a practice she was becoming more familiar with and one he had found to be particularly effective in calming her nerves.

She smiled faintly at the embrace of their fingers, but then looked down and broke the contact when she noticed one of the shuttle's crewman glancing in their direction.

She was focusing more on the answers to questions when he preferred to explore the questions together as each arose in time. It was illogical to attempt to prepare for every possible contingency. Forming a life together would take work, but that was true of any bonded mates.

Why did she imagine it would be so difficult?

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter One
Vulcans are Natural Problem Solvers

Amanda flopped down in her desk chair in exasperation. This was her third day back in her classroom after five weeks off, and it had not been a good day. She had just turned her students over to their parents and caretakers following the day's instruction and she felt like taking a shot of hard liquor, applying for a new job, and swearing at no one in particular.

That wasn't precisely true. There was someone she really wanted to have a go at.

The substitute that had taught in her absence had remained all week at the headmaster's behest as a means of making it an "easier transition" for the students. His name was Allen Crandall, and he was an arrogant, sycophantic, insufferable, brown-nosing, irritating, know-it-all.

He was also well-qualified to be teaching at the diplomatic school, more qualified than she was, actually. He had twenty-four years of experience in teaching in interspecies classrooms throughout the quadrant and he reminded her of that fact often.

For the past three days he had done nothing but undermine her, correct her in front of her students, and generally annoy her. While she was away, he had rearranged her classroom and thrown out a number of her teaching materials, citing them as outdated. The icing on the cake was when he completely disregarded her lesson plan that morning and had ignored her request to speak about it privately at the end of the day.

At least she only had to tolerate him for the rest of the week. She could survive two more days.

She checked the time on her PADD and smiled. Only an hour until dinner. Sarek had asked her to meet him at a restaurant on the upper level of the embassy complex for an early supper. In a way, it was their first official "date."

They had been back on Earth for nearly a month and his time had been completely consumed by resuming his post as Vulcan's ambassador to Earth. Every day held some new crisis, emergency meeting, or speaking engagement. He was still elbow deep in the fallout over Earth's recent attempts to secede from the Federation and the lingering effects of Admiral Bentham's plot to start a war with the Romulans. She knew he was a busy man, but she hadn't really been prepared for how little she was really going to see or speak with him.

She continued to work on her lesson plan for the following week and continued to watch the time drag by. Finally at 1645 hours, she collected her things and giddily trotted out of her classroom. She was surprised to see Crandall and Eric Chen, the school's headmaster, emerging from the latter's office.

"Ah, Miss Grayson," said Headmaster Chen. "Excellent news. Mr. Crandall has just agreed to stay on for the rest of the term."

"What?" Amanda stammered, trying to make her face look less confused and livid than she was sure it probably did.

"Yes, he feels it would be good for the students, and I'm sure having him around helps you too. I know you're still grieving the death of your father and probably want to take things a little easy," the headmaster explained. "I hope this is ok."

"Oh, yeah, it's… great," she lied, hoping she sounded convincing.

She glared at Crandall. He was giving her a superior and snide look and she felt a strange little surge of adrenaline.

"Well, I'm sure you two will continue to do wonderful things together," Headmaster Chen said, patting Crandall on the shoulder and returning to his office.

Amanda turned on her heel and without another word stormed down the hallway to the turbolift. How was she going to survive another two months with that man going out of his way to step on her toes? Was he trying to take her job? Could he do that? This was only her first year teaching and the job was probationary through the end of the second term.

She was still shaking from anger when she arrived at the entrance to the restaurant on the fifth floor of the interconnected embassy complex. The time on her PADD said she was still five minutes early and Sarek had yet to arrive, so she got a table for two by a window in the corner overlooking the open courtyard of the embassies. It was still extremely early in the dinner service and she was only one of four patrons in the restaurant.

She figured this spot was private enough. One of the first things she had asked Sarek was what they should tell other people. He had narrowly avoided meeting her mother at the landing pad last month and since then, Amanda had managed to keep pretty quiet about their relationship. In the end they agreed that initially they wouldn't publicly announce anything, but wouldn't take great pains to conceal the more intimate nature of their relationship either.

She drummed her fingers on the table and browsed through the diverse menu. The screen of her PADD illuminated, indicating that she had a new message. It was from Crandall. She scoffed and opened it and began reading a long list of changes he planned to make to Friday's unit study on literature and interplanetary geography.

Sarek seated himself across from her but she was too engrossed in typing out a hateful reply to Crandall's message to fully appreciate how excited she was to see him.

He said nothing, but merely observed her slam her trembling fingers across the glass screen before she set it down on the table a little more forcefully than she had intended.

"It is good to see you, Amanda," he said, looking at her in his usual neutral way.

She sighed and smiled and said, "You too."

There was no point in being angry about Crandall's message right now. She reached out her right hand and met her fingers to his. He had explained ozh'esta was a socially acceptable form of public intimacy and it always had a remarkably calming effect on her. This time was no different.

Soon Crandall was long forgotten and they ordered their food. They spoke little, but unlike their initial awkward meetings where she often struggled to figure out what to say, this silence felt completely natural. Sarek had finished his soup and seemed content to just watch her, and she also felt happy just to be with him. She was almost done with her ratatouille niçoise and considered asking him to come back to her apartment when she heard a voice behind her.

"Miss Grayson!"

She turned in her seat to see Crandall breaking away from a larger group of people, waving his PADD at her and smiling duplicitously.

"Crazy seeing you here. I see you got my message, and I think- Oh, excuse me, where are my manners? I'm Allen Crandall," he said, extending his hand to Sarek.

Sarek looked at him calmly but Amanda knew him well enough by now to know he was quite taken aback by Crandall's rude interruption.

"I am Sarek, Vulcan ambassador to Earth," he replied, glancing back and forth between Crandall's face and outstretched hand.

"Oh, well, excuse me, ambassador. I didn't mean to interrupt your meal, but it looked like you were finished," he said, withdrawing his hand.

"Do you need something, Mr. Crandall?" Amanda asked.

"This lesson plan you're insisting upon, it-"

"Can wait until tomorrow?" Amanda finished.

Crandall frowned and looked at Sarek and then back at her.

"Of course," he murmured. "I am so sorry to have disturbed you; it was a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Sarek."

He took two steps backward and then turned and rejoined his party, which appeared to be half the faculty of the diplomatic school. Were they having some kind of workplace party she hadn't been invited to? 

"You were very rude to Mr. Crandall," Sarek mused.

"I was rude to him?" she snapped.

"He appeared to require your attention in an urgent matter."

"The matter wasn't that urgent. He just wanted to change my lesson plans again," she explained.

"I presume you work with him."

"The way things are going, I feel like I work for him," she seethed. "He taught my class while I was on bereavement leave and then medical leave. Now he won't go away. He undermines everything I do and kisses up to everyone we work with."

"I am not sure what it means to 'kiss up' to someone, but have you not discussed your grievances with him?" Sarek asked.

"I've tried, but he just brushes me off. I mean sure, he's a good teacher with a lot of experience, but he treats me like a little kid."

"If he has such extensive experience, perhaps he is simply trying to offer you guidance," Sarek suggested.

"No, he's trying to take my job," she argued. "He was only supposed to stay for a week and now he's staying through the rest of the term."

"Could you not increase your own proficiency in your profession by learning from his example?"

"Why are you taking his side?" she asked, her voice starting to grow shrill.

"I cannot have an opinion without an adequate understanding of the positions of both parties, therefore I am not 'taking his side.' I am only trying to recognize the nature of your disagreement and offer a mutual resolution," he insisted.

"I don't need a diplomat right now, Sarek," she snapped. "I just need you to listen and support me while I vent!"

She didn't mean to raise her voice or slam her hands down on the table in frustration, but it happened all the same.

"Why are you speaking at such a high volume?" Sarek asked.

"Because I'm upset," she hissed, trying to lower her tone.

"What is the precise source of your distress?"

"I thought it was obvious," she snapped.

He said nothing in reply, which had the curious effect of making her even angrier.

"I'm distressed because I hate him," she added, her voice growing dangerously quiet.

"Hatred is illogical."

"Let's just go," she said, biting her tongue and trying to keep her anger from boiling over.

Sarek paid the check from the console at their table and they left the restaurant. As they passed Crandall's table, she very quickly started to feel foolish at picking a fight on their first date over someone she didn't like. It gave Crandall a kind of power over her and allowed him to dictate her life. She looked down at the floor and saw Sarek walking beside her and wanted to take back everything she had said.

"Thank you for dinner," she mumbled, trying to break the awkwardness between them and figure out how to best apologize.

"You are welcome. I must return to the consulate," he announced.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, sure."

He nodded and smoothly retreated down the main staircase to the lower floors. Now what?

She wanted to kick herself. Why didn't she just say she was sorry? What must he be thinking? One date, they had been on one date, and already she had scared him off.

As she left the embassy and plodded toward the shuttle bus stop, she continued to agonize over the way she had treated Sarek, so much so that she wasn't even aware that she was no longer angry about Crandall.

Vulcans were logical and therefore were problem solvers by instinct. Crandall was a problem. She had presented him a problem and he had tried to find a way to help her fix it. He wasn't taking Crandall's side; he was only trying to be fair. And she yelled at him for his trouble. 

Why was there no guide for how to date Vulcans?

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section One
Anger and Other Irrational Behavior

Sarek's fingers deftly clicked out his final message of the day to his Terran attaché, Giles Marcus. He clicked "send" and rose to his feet and began collecting his things to leave for the evening. From his window he could see the last vestiges of daylight fading over the San Francisco Bay. It was an early night for departure compared to his recent schedule.

He had left Amanda two hours earlier in front of the fifth floor restaurant. Now that his mind was no longer occupied with work, he considered their earlier interaction. It was evident that she was upset: she had even said so.

He had spent decades in the company of humans and was accustomed to their tendency toward misplaced anger, yet he had never before witnessed such behavior in Amanda. She was quite logical for a human, yet she was still human. It wasn't a fault; it was merely a fact. It had been illogical of him to forget her humanity.

As he left the Vulcan consulate and waited on the street level for the car he had dispatched, he contemplated his choice of destination. Though he was in need of a sustained period of meditation to center his thoughts, he gave the driver Amanda's address.

She had said, "I just need you to listen and support me while I vent."

It then occurred to him that humans often took great pleasure in customs such as gossip and commiseration. Perhaps Amanda had been attempting this with him. He found meditation a better option, as it did not require another individual to share his burdens, but Amanda did not meditate. He had attempted to show her some techniques and she had been receptive but in practice she was still quite the novice.

He waited several seconds before knocking on her door. She answered almost immediately. She wore very short shorts that showed off most of her legs and a top that bared her small shoulders and he quickly dismissed the peculiar primal feeling that her sparse style of dress elicited in him.

She stood in the doorway, clutching a cup of tea with both hands. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying and she was again biting her lip, something that he had learned long ago was indicative of nervousness.

"I hope I do not inconvenience you with my unannounced arrival," he said.

"No," she said with a faint smile. "You're never an inconvenience. Can you come in and stay a while?"

He acquiesced and she set down her cup of tea to hang up his cloak.

"I'm really, really sorry for yelling at you earlier," she sniffed, straightening her posture as though she were preparing to be chastised.

"You appear to have been crying," he remarked.

She rolled her eyes upward toward the ceiling and replied, "It's just been a stressful week. A stressful month. I might as well just say a stressful year. But I know that being angry at you for trying to help me figure out my problems doesn't solve anything, it just makes more problems."

"Logical," he agreed.

"Do you want some tea?" she asked, collecting her own cup from the side table. "It's a chamomile blend."

"That would be satisfactory," he agreed, sitting on the far corner of her couch.

When she returned from the kitchen with an additional cup for him, she seemed to deliberate before sitting a comfortable distance away from him. She casually folded her legs beneath her to face him, sitting in a lazy, almost kneeling position.

"I don't hate Mr. Crandall," she began. "You know, when I was a little kid I would sometimes call my dad and complain about my crazy mom and he would always say, 'hanging onto hate is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.'"

"Wise," Sarek replied sympathetically, taking the cup she offered. "Yet the mind is hard to control."

She glanced at the wall behind him thoughtfully before saying in Vuhlkansu, "Flighty and wild, they flail about: it is skillful to control the mind with logic, because a well-tamed mind brings serenity."

Amanda's perfect completion of his quotation from the Teachings of Surak was just one of many surprises she always had on offer. He had given her a copy nearly two months ago to help her practice the Vulcan language, but apparently she had done more than translate the words and forget them.

"You would have liked my dad, I think," she added. "I know he would have liked you."

"I regret that I shall never know Melvin Grayson," he agreed, taking a sip of his tea. "But I am very glad to know his daughter."

She smiled patiently at him and set her cup and saucer down on the coffee table.

"You requested that I 'listen to you while you vent.' I am willing to try this, if I understand your euphemism correctly."

She laughed and he noted the way her eyes sparkled briefly before she fought to control her outburst.

"Well, I'm calmer now than I was earlier," she said. "Usually venting is just getting out all of your frustrations. They don't have to be coherent. Besides, I was probably just being petty and jealous, though a big part of me is worried Crandall is going to end up with my job."

"Why would you think so?" he asked.

"Well, he's more qualified than me. I don't want to admit it, but it's true. And he is a good teacher. You know, it's funny, I never thought I would get into teaching; I just sort of fell into it. Taking this job at the diplomatic school was a great way to work on the universal translator project in my free time."

"Are you not free to resign your post and seek employment in an occupation more closely related to your field of study?" he asked.

"You make it sound so easy," she argued.

"Is it difficult?" he replied. "I had thought you possessed an advanced degree in theoretical xenolinguistics. No doubt you are qualified to fill some available position."

She smirked and smiled simultaneously, a habit he was coming to understand meant she was ready to concede a point.

"I know I'm just making excuses, and you are right. That's why it's probably petty of me, being jealous of Crandall and trying to hold onto a job I'm not really passionate about when I know that he is. I guess I feel like I've lost so much lately: my dad died, I never see my best friend Vera anymore because she constantly works, and even my cat ran away."

"You acquired a future mate," he insisted.

She grinned and averted her eyes down toward the couch. He noticed the skin of her cheeks flush pink.

"So you still want to become bondmates?" she asked, looking back into his eyes. "You know, after I yelled at you?"

"Given your human heritage, I foresee future occurrences of irrational anger simply based on your emotional nature. I understood this about you before I proposed bonding."

She bit her lip and asked, "Is that an insult or an answer?"

"It is an observation," he replied, finishing his tea and setting the cup and saucer on the coffee table. "I believe we already share a significant empathic bond, Amanda. It is not one that a few misdirected words would break so easily."

He took her left hand in ozh'esta and felt a rush of joy emanating from her. She quickly leaned forward on her right arm and kissed him lightly on the mouth in a probing way and then leaned back on her knees.

Something began to stir inside of him. He leaned forward and kissed her more deeply. She released his hands and gently ran hers up his chest. He gasped slightly in surprise and reeled backwards.

Her face bore an expression of shock and concern and she said, "I'm- I'm sorry. Should I have asked permission before touching you that way?"

"No," he answered. "It is nothing to do with you."

She tilted her head to the side in bewilderment and shakily replied, "I didn't mean to offend you. I suppose we just haven't spent much time alone together and it's not like we can do these things in public…"

Sarek wasn't sure how she had intended to end her sentence. Was she implying she wanted an even greater degree of physically intimate contact? He was uncertain what human protocols were on such matters. Vulcans rarely engaged in sexual intercourse outside of formal bonding, yet his and Amanda's haphazard courtship was far from conventional. He did desire her, and that bothered him for two reasons.

Moments ago, when her hands had caressed his chest, he had experienced a fleeting compulsion to grab her and pull her closer to him. Though he was capable of controlling such an impulse outside of pon farr, that level of intense emotionality within him was disturbing. Worse still was when he considered Amanda's small stature and slight build compared to his own physique. Even with an appropriate degree of mental control, it seemed likely that his stronger and heavier body would inadvertently cause her harm.

"I probably shouldn't have assumed it was ok," she mumbled, moving to stand up.

He gently took her by the wrist and urged her to retake her seat. "You have caused no offense. You are correct that we have not spent a considerable amount of time in one another's company, which I am aware runs counter to your wishes. I regret to inform you that I shall be leaving the day after tomorrow for Andoria to continue discussions for moving Starfleet headquarters."

He could see her attempt to disguise the disappointment on her face and internally commended her efforts.

"I know you have a lot going on, especially lately," she said with a pained smile. "How long will you be gone?"

"I have not forgotten your request that we, to use your phrase, 'get to know one another,'" he insisted. "I am due to return on the 5th of next month, and on the 7th and 8th, I shall attend an interplanetary scientific conference. I would like for you to attend as well, as my guest."

"You mean, like your date?" she asked.

"If that is how you prefer to consider it," he replied.

Her eyes darted back and forth and she asked, "How do you view it?"

"That I am inviting my future mate to accompany me to a social function," he answered.

"Well, that really clears things up, doesn't it?" she scoffed, before adding, "I only wonder if you don't mind that people see us together."

"If we are to be mates, it is reasonable to conclude that we shall be seen together in public often," he remarked. "It would seem this is a source of apprehension for you."

She opened her mouth and closed it again. At long last she answered, "Yes. I know you're right; it's only that I've never been comfortable mingling with a lot of people I don't know."

"I had not noticed," he replied.

"Well, maybe I'm better at hiding it than I thought. But don't forget where you met me," she said with a weak grin. "It was easier for me to spend the evening with fish than rubbing elbows with a bunch of strangers and risk saying the wrong thing."

"I have not forgotten where we met. Though I should point out your statement implicates me in the same unsociable behavior."

"I know you hate small talk," she replied. "But I feel like you're a lot more practiced at handling these kinds of social engagements than I am."

"Your argument is illogical, as the only way to gain experience is through practice. Thus if you wish to become more comfortable, you must first submit yourself to discomfort."

"You and your ironclad logic," she smirked.

"It is not my logic. Logic is simply-"

"Yes, I know," she said, taking his left hand. "The other thing is, are you sure you want people to know about us?"

"They will discover the truth eventually, and there is nothing to be gained by concealing it. We had agreed not to officially announce our plans to bond, and your attending this conference with me is in no way an official declaration of that fact."

"Ok, but people will talk," she argued.

"They will talk anyway, either now or in the future when we are formally bonded."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"No," he answered. "Though I can easily infer from your line of questioning that it bothers you."

"I don't know if 'bother' is the right word. I'm just not sure how it's going to go," she said, chewing her lip.

"There is only one logical way to answer to your question," he replied.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds and sighed, smiled, and leaned forward and kissed him lightly.

"Of course I'll go," she finally said.

"I shall forward you the details in the morning," he explained.

His eyes lingered on her bare shoulders and her slender neck and his mind began to wander in a way that he disapproved of.

"I believe it is growing late, and I would like to meditate for several hours this evening," he told her.

They said their goodbyes and Sarek walked to the street level to wait for the car from the consulate. He was struck by the idea that the more time he spent with Amanda, the more he thought of her, which was peculiar, as he would have expected the inverse to be true.

He could not deny that he appreciated her presence in his life. Even before his divorce from T'Rea and his father's death, he had been functionally alone. Vulcans greatly valued self-reliance, but still recognized the importance of sharing pieces of their souls with mates and relatives.

When he thought of departing for Andoria in thirty-six hours and leaving Amanda behind, he experienced an unusual emotion that he quickly suppressed. Yet the memory of it lingered, and he realized he was unable to put a name to it. Longing, perhaps?

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Two
A Primer for Coping with Other People

Dawn was just breaking over the horizon but it was already quite warm. No doubt it would be a very hot day. Amanda stood outside of her apartment with a small bag and a bundle of nerves.

Sarek was due at 0645 hours. She checked her PADD again and saw the digital clock was just seconds away from the appointed time. She saw a black car turn the corner from her peripheral vision and smiled.

The driver hastily exited the vehicle and reached for her bag. She protested slightly, insisting she was capable of carrying it, but he persisted. She turned it over to him and he opened the door for her. Sarek exited the vehicle to allow her to get in, and once they were tucked away in the back together, she smiled happily at him and reached out her fingers to embrace his.

"I missed you," she announced, feeling the calm sensation of his placid emotions through the soft touch of his fingers.

"It is good to see you again," he replied.

"How was Andoria?" she asked.

"Cold."

"Why use twenty unexpected words when you can use one obvious one?" she teased.

"It is the truth. Andoria is cold. The climate does not agree with me. That is all I shall say," he explained.

She briefly thought over his statement and asked, "Was that twenty words you just used?"

"It was. You seemed to imply that twenty words was the appropriate minimum to describe my trip," he said, meeting her eyes.

Her face lit up in fascination. Was he actually being sarcastic?

The car pulled away from the curb and she sat quietly, watching the city roll past her. They were on their way to the Science Observatory in Palo Alto, the place they had first met about three months ago. It surprised Amanda how quickly time had seemed to move since she had met Sarek.

This conference would be quite different than the last one. She was grateful there would be no formal reception or banquet: supposedly it was just science lectures and presentations lasting through the afternoon of both days.

She heard her PADD ring in her shoulder bag. It was her mother.

A wave of dread washed over her and she wondered in the back of her mind if Jana Grayson somehow knew her daughter was spending the weekend with a man. She hadn't quite worked up the courage to tell her about Sarek yet and miraculously she hadn't found out through other means: she had a tendency to sniff these things out like a bloodhound.

"Is anything the matter?" Sarek asked.

"Hmmm?" Amanda murmured.

"I sense anxiety within you," he replied.

Her PADD rang again and Amanda swore it was somehow louder than before.

"It's… complicated," she said, silencing her PADD, only to have it vibrate in her hands four seconds later.

"It seems urgent," Sarek said, looking down at the device in her hands that she was trying to stuff back into her bag.

"It's just my mom," she explained.

"Have you some reason for refusing to converse with her?"

"Yeah, you," she thought, before saying, "I just want to enjoy our weekend together without her butting in."

"Based upon that information I presume the source of your distress is that she either does not know about me or does not approve of me," he said.

Damn his logic.

"The first one," she admitted.

"When do you plan to reveal our arrangement to her?" he asked.

"Maybe after our first child is born? If we ever have one…" she thought dryly to herself. "I will. I promise. Just don't make me do it today, please?"

"It seems as though you believe she would not approve of your choice," he said.

"I don't know, honestly," she said, seriously considering his words. "I really don't know. My mom is… she can be a force to be reckoned with at times. She cares a lot about what other people think, but I really want to believe that deep down she mainly cares that I'm happy."

"It is understandable that your mother would have a vested interest in knowing her child has an appropriate mate," he argued.

"I think you're more than an appropriate mate," she explained.

"It is important to have the consent of one's parents," he insisted. "Most Vulcans have marriages arranged for them as children by their parents."

"Really?" she exclaimed. "That seems really old-fashioned."

"That is a very human conclusion to draw," he replied. "The practice remains prevalent for reasons I do not wish to discuss at present."

"So how did you manage to avoid having your parents pick your wife?"

"I did not."

"What?" she said, raising her voice in surprise. "You were married?"

"Yes."

"You're not… still married?"

"No."

"When were you going to tell me?" she stammered, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

"When became relevant, as it just did," he explained.

Her mind was whirling like a gyroscope. She didn't know why she had never considered the possibility that he had been with other women before her. She certainly had never assumed that about the human men she had been in relationships with, so it seemed an unfair standard to set for him. Of course that didn't answer the obvious question: if he had been married before, why was he not married now?

She knew he had a habit of only answering questions that were asked and not providing excessive information, and she debated whether she would be overstepping some boundary by asking about his former wife.

"You know, when I wanted to wait a little while before getting married so we could get to know each other better, I think the fact that you were married once before definitely qualifies as something I would want to know," she said probingly.

"I see," he explained. "What else is of interest to you?"

"Well… why are you not married anymore?"

She wished she could take the question back before she even finished it. There was a subtle change in his face that she had never seen before, and she quickly added, "That's probably a more personal question than I should have asked, and-"

"No, it isn't," he interrupted. "My former mate preferred someone else. I divorced her."

"Oh," she said, looking down at the floorboards. "I'm really sorry."

"Another illogical apology."

"No, it's not," she interjected. "Don't confuse my empathy for what happened to you as an acceptance of fault for what happened to you."

He didn't reply and chose to stare straight ahead instead. She looked out the window and saw they were pulling up the long drive to the California Science Observatory. She wasn't eager to leave things so uncomfortable between them, but soon the shuttle pulled to a stop at the hotel across the street from the observatory.

They checked into their rooms on the tenth floor without saying a single word to one another. The rooms were technically separate but adjoined by a locking connecting door. She sat quietly on her bed, wondering if she'd gone too far in asking about his previous wife, but eventually decided that she hadn't. Maybe the timing of her interrogation could have been better, but she wouldn't have kept something like that from him.

Of course, she hadn't really talked about any of her former boyfriends with him. He knew about John Molineaux because she had been dating him when Sarek had first met her. In fact, it was at an interplanetary conference at the very observatory across the street where John had gotten drunk, started a fight with some Tellarites, and accidentally broke Amanda's nose. Sarek had unintentionally bumped into a waiter on his way to intervene and Amanda had ended up being drenched in ice water and wine.

"A story for the ages," she thought.

But the more she thought about past boyfriends, the more she wondered if Sarek would view them any differently than husbands. In all fairness, she had only ever had two serious boyfriends and maybe four others she'd jokingly referred to as part-timers: she'd spent most of her life too involved in her education to have much time for dating. Yet she had the sense that for Vulcans, it was all or nothing: people didn't just casually date or have flings. She was starting to think this whole arrangement of theirs was probably confusing for him.

There was a knock at the connecting door. "Amanda?" 

She sprung from the bed and clicked the release button on the locking mechanism for her side.

"The discussion panel on relative gravity's applications in quantum space begins in half an hour. I thought it might be beneficial to arrive early," he said.

From one problem to the next. She was about to step out with him in public for the first time as his "plus one" to an official function, and a whole new kind of anxiety hit her.

As they descended to the ground floor in the turbolift, Amanda took advantage of the last moments of solitude and grasped his hand. He gripped it gently and then let go, allowing his first two fingers to caress hers. It had a magnificent calming effect on her.

As they trudged across the street to the observatory, she could see a handful of people milling about on the front promenade and more arriving by various modes of shuttle transport. Maybe being early wouldn't be such a bad thing: fewer people would notice them enter together, which would be fewer people to make assumptions.

"Ambassador Sarek," said a monotone voice in Vuhlkansu to their right.

"Minister Savar," Sarek replied, stopping to greet an older Vulcan man flanked by two younger Vulcans.

Amanda stood timidly to Sarek's left as the two men discussed the conference schedule. She noticed the eyes of the three Vulcan strangers dart toward her in mild curiosity over the course of the short conversation. After a brief second of silence, Sarek motioned back toward Amanda and said in his native language, "This is Amanda Grayson, an educator at the diplomatic school."

As was introducing her, her mind suddenly went blank on proper protocols for formal, Vulcan introductions.

"Amanda, this is Minister Savar from the Vulcan Ministry of Science," Sarek said, nodding slightly toward the older Vulcan.

The other three Vulcans looked at her expectantly and she assumed that since Sarek had continued to speak Vuhlkansu in his introduction, it would be appropriate to respond in Vulcan. Or was she supposed to respond first? She was the one being introduced, which meant… what?

Her heart began beating even faster and her mouth suddenly felt very dry. Each passing second seemed to increase the awkwardness by a factor of ten. The harder she tried to remember what to say and do, the less she felt like she knew. She felt certain she was on the verge of forgetting her own name when Sarek turned to look at her curiously.

"It is an honor to be presented to you, Minister Savar," she finally said in Vuhlkansu, hoping the words were appropriate, assembled and pronounced properly, and didn't all slur together.

He nodded deferentially to her and bid Sarek goodbye according to Vulcan customs. She could feel her face growing hot and bit the inside of her mouth hard as they parted company and she and Sarek proceeded toward the entrance.

"You seem affected by something," Sarek said quietly.

"I guess I'm nervous."

"That is illogical. They were not going to cause you harm."

"Yeah, I get that," she said, trying to keep sarcasm out of her voice. "I've always thought your species was kind of intimidating. Hell, sometimes I still feel nervous around you."

"There is no logical reason for anxiety," he rebutted.

"You know how I've told you that I was afraid I was going to embarrass you? Well, what you just witnessed was a pretty simple case study," she said, taking a deep breath and trying to calm her nerves.

He introduced her to several more people over the next fifteen minutes and she found herself slowly easing into conversing with others around Sarek. She had never really thought about what his ambassadorship meant. He knew a lot of people, but it seemed like even more people knew him. Each and every one of them was clearly intensely curious about Amanda but too socially polite to ask questions that were too probing. 

A Denobulan physicist begged a private word with Sarek, and as awkward has it had been to trail along in his wake, it was far worse being alone and exposed in the middle of the room. She walked over to a table with water and other refreshments. She felt like she was being carefully observed, and that awareness made her movements feel unnatural and deliberate.

As the server handed her a glass of water, he grinned at her in a friendly way and asked her how her morning was going. She wanted to hug him for making such easy-to-manage small talk, and she started to get lost in small talk about the summer weather when she was aware there was a tall man in dark clothing approaching her from the side.

Initially she thought it was Sarek and she turned to him expectantly, but found a slightly taller, unfamiliar Vulcan man. She started to feel embarrassed and supposed he was either coming to the table for something to drink or wanting to speak with someone behind her, but he stopped about a meter away from her, tucked his hands politely behind his back, and nodded slightly to her.

"We have not been introduced, but I was informed you are Amanda Grayson," he said, the typical Vulcan tone of disinterest evident in his voice.

"Uh, yeah," she almost choked, and then instantly wanted to kick herself for speaking so casually.

"I am Tolek," he said. "I am the-"

"Director of Vulcanoid Languages at Project Rosetta," Amanda finished.

She had never met him, but she had certainly heard of him. Tolek's name was usually at the top of all the message traffic she sent and received through her volunteer work on the universal translator. He looked younger than she had imagined, but then again she never would have guessed Sarek was 62 years of age by Federation standard years.

"Yes," he said slowly, forcing her to wonder if it had been wise to interrupt him. "This is perhaps not the best setting to have such a discussion, but I would be interested in speaking with you privately at your convenience."

She tried to figure out what he was getting at. She felt guilty that she had only done several hours' worth of work since she had returned from Vulcan, but she was a volunteer. Surely the director of a large department within the project wouldn't be bothered by the recent lack of performance by one of dozens of volunteers?

"Miss Grayson?" he asked, clearly wondering if she was going to give him an answer.

"Yes, of course," she replied in haste. "If I may just ask, what are you generally interested in discussing?"

"I have been informed that you are in possession of a certain skillset which might be beneficial to the project," he explained.

Informed by whom about what?

"I'm free after 1600 hours most days," she said, fighting the urge to overanalyze his statement.

"I shall be available on the 10th and can meet with you at 1630 hours if that is suitable," he said. "I presume you know where my office is."

"Of course," she answered.

"Very well, Miss Grayson, romhalan, dif-tor heh smusma," he said simply, without rendering the traditional Vulcan salute.

She nodded slightly toward him and replied, "Pastak v'dora lashe."

He nodded in reply and she noticed a slight furrowing of his eyebrows as he turned and rejoined a group of humans by the entrance. Were she not becoming practiced at reading Sarek's microexpressions, she might have missed it. Tolek had seemed both surprised and impressed.

She didn't have long to think about their conversation, because a minute after he departed, Sarek approached from behind her and informed her the conference was about to begin. They inched their way toward the room for the first discussion panel when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Amanda Grayson?"

She and Sarek turned to see Ambassador Julan, the Tellarite ambassador to Earth. His son, Zhav, was one of her students and Amanda had long suspected he had romantic interest in her.

"And Ambassador Sarek," he said, his voice nearly a growl.

"How are you, Ambassador Julan?" she asked.

"You, Sarek," he snapped. "I do not understand how you can argue to leave the Federation Council located on Earth."

Amanda stared at both Sarek and Ambassador Julan in surprise. She knew Tellarites had an openly combative method of communication, but she had never heard him speak that way to anyone before.

"I do not believe this is the proper forum to discuss these matters," Sarek replied, forming his fingers into steeples.

"The future of the Federation can be discussed anywhere," Ambassador Julan argued, anger flaring in his voice.

"Yes, but it will not be decided here," Sarek retorted. "And I believe your government agrees with me."

"You, Grayson, you are here with him?" Ambassador Julan snarled, turning to Amanda and speaking to her in a way she was very unaccustomed to.

She could feel her face growing pale by being put on the spot and was acutely aware there were people watching this argument unfold.

"Miss Grayson is here as my guest, yes," Sarek replied.

"Do not tell me you support Ambassador Sarek's position on realigning Federation offices?" Ambassador Julan persisted.

"Whatever my position is," she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering, "I don't think it's relevant to a scientific conference."

"I see. I shall see you on Monday, Miss Grayson," Ambassador Julan snapped.

As he stormed away, Amanda noticed just how many people were watching them. While that bothered her, what bothered her more was his tone. It sounded like he was threatening her in some way.

A few months ago he had begun following her around the embassy like a lost puppy. It had been sort of flattering at first and then eventually had become tiresome. She had seen him less since she had been back at work, and now she realized it was probably for the same reason she didn't see Sarek very often: both of them had just been occupied trying to do their part in holding the Federation together.

"We should take our seats," Sarek said, nodding his head in the direction of the door.

She followed Sarek into the stadium conference hall; he chose seats very near the front and to the center of the room.

"You are trembling," he noted.

"I just wasn't expecting that. He's always been very nice to me," she whispered.

"I was unaware you were acquainted with the Tellarite ambassador to Earth."

"His son is one of my students," she explained. "Did he seem… I don't know? Threatening?"

"His temper often flares," Sarek mused. "He made no direct threat."

When she turned to face him she noticed several people look away quickly. She felt exposed and frustrated that she was so clearly on display for everyone to observe. She wanted more than anything to get up and leave. Sarek was about to reply to her question when the senior member of the panel began his opening remarks.

As much as she wanted to distract herself in a lecture, she was lost in about thirty seconds. In all fairness, her first clue should have come earlier at the hotel when he had used a phrase something like, "applications of relative gravity in quantum space."

For the next three hours, she fought to stay awake and look engaged as the joint panel discussed advancing theories in the construct of spacetime and quantum entanglement. Sarek posed a question during the end of the open forum and as hard as she tried to follow along, she could have sworn he was speaking in tongues.

When the panel finally concluded, they were invited to dine with Minister Savar and his aides. As they walked into the dining hall for lunch, Sarek informed her the next event he hoped to attend was a lecture on the feasibility of transwarp travel.

"Oh yay," she thought grimly to herself.

As she seated herself at the table with the three Vulcans she had met earlier, she briefly glanced at Sarek.

He and Amanda were very different people indeed.

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Two
Reading Between the Lines

The afternoon was drawing to a close. As many of the conference attendees were making dinner plans and leaving, he noticed Amanda patiently waiting beside him and looking toward the door. She had a penchant for often withdrawing into her own thoughts in a very human way that he had once heard referred to as "daydreaming."

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, startling her.

"If you are," she answered, smiling weakly.

"No."

Her face flickered slightly and she tilted her head to the side, indicating she was awaiting further explanation.

"I had a thought," he continued, "that you might be interested in exploring more of the observatory with me."

Her eyes sparkled briefly and she smiled broadly, but she simply said, "Ok."

They were stopped by two members of the Andorian Science Committee on their way into the central mezzanine level, but following the brief interruption, they proceeded down a wide hallway to the left. They came to a juncture with stairs leading both up and down.

"It seems a little early for stargazing," she said, glancing upwards toward one of the center's three telescope observatories.

They proceeded downstairs and arrived at the natural history museum. They surprised the young attendant who had clearly spent most of the day flipping through gossip stories on her PADD. She smiled brightly and waved them through and they entered a section on Earth's Triassic Period.

"Did you enjoy the conference today?" he asked.

"Do you want the truth or a lie?" she laughed.

"The truth is usually preferable, though by framing the question in a dualistic fashion, it's just as easy to derive the truth from a known lie."

She leaned against the rail of an exhibit displaying an enormous skeletal structure of what he presumed was a long extinct Terran species.

"It was ok," she eventually said, craning her neck to look at him. "In some ways it wasn't as bad as I expected."

"I was unaware you had braced yourself for difficulty."

"I didn't really know what to expect. It turns out you know a lot of people," she said, standing up straight and taking several steps toward him.

"I have served in the Vulcan Diplomatic Service for many years. Therefore I have met many people," he said.

"Well sure. That makes sense, and I guess on some level I already knew that, but it's one thing to assume something and quite another to actually see it."

"Explain."

"You're the Vulcan ambassador to Earth. I guess it's easy for me to forget that you hold that kind of position because I only ever see you this way. You know, informally? Anyway, you represent the government of your planet and I get the sense a lot of really important people really respect your opinions. It was kind of interesting to see that play out today, but at the same time it makes me wonder what you would ever see in me."

"You seem to imply that I have done a poor job of selecting a mate," he said.

"Oh don't start that," she huffed. "I was just caught by surprise today in a lot of ways."

"Specify."

"Well, I don't know…. Ok, today I was asked for my opinion on the reorganization of the Federation. Granted, it was by a Tellarite who was almost yelling at me, but truthfully, I don't really know what my opinion is. I wouldn't even know what he was talking about at all if I hadn't happened to catch a glimpse of the daily news before I deleted it from my inbox this morning. I don't follow politics much, and I found myself wondering what to say. When I think about how you spend your time handling these kinds of things every day, it makes me realize I don't really know that much about what you do or what your political opinions are."

"Do you believe my political inclinations will sway your judgment of my character?" 

"Probably not," she laughed. "I mean, you don't seem like a racist or extremist or anything equally awful. And I feel like I would know, you know, because I dated one."

Sarek was surprised by her casual mention of her former mate, John Molineaux. She had previously taken great pains to distance herself from the man following the events that had taken place just three months ago when Molineaux had become intoxicated and started a very public altercation at an interplanetary conference.

They resumed winding through a number of exhibits featuring defunct reptilian species when he said, "I find it curious you seem reluctant to form a private political ideology."

"Yeah, I'm thinking I probably should, or at least I should at a minimum start reading the news. I guess I've just spent so much of the last ten years focusing on my education, but I can't really use that as an excuse anymore."

Sometimes Sarek found himself forgetting just how young Amanda really was. When he first made her acquaintance, he had thought her intelligent and pragmatic but exceedingly inexperienced and naïve. She had since proven more capable than he initially suspected, but she still possessed a degree of innocence that he occasionally felt unequipped to artfully manage.

"I should also probably brush up on theoretical physics," she groaned, slightly bumping his shoulder with her own as they walked.

"Did you enjoy the lectures today?" he asked.

"I feel like I might have… if I had understood any of it," she smiled, looking down at her feet. "I think theoretical physics is really more your domain."

"Most of it was not theoretical, as there are already practical applications for-"

"Yeah, you're speaking a different language," she interjected with a smiling sigh. "I just don't have the same talent for math and science that you do."

"And I do not possess your command of language," he replied. "It is reasonable that we shall have some differing abilities and interests."

"You know what I'm interested in right now?" she asked, stepping in front of him to block his path.

"No," he replied.

She grinned shyly, crossed her arms, and said, "I want to go back to the room, order room service, and listen to you explain what it really means to measure spacetime density across gravitational fields."

"Your tone is suggestive of jesting."

She laughed out loud and covered her mouth with both hands before shrugging and saying, "I don't know. It could be fun? Interesting? Sexy?"

Her own words seemed to mildly shock her as her cheeks reddened, but she chewed her bottom lip and looked at him expectantly. He examined her facial cues carefully and decided her proposal was likely genuine.

"If that is really how you wish to spend the evening, then I consent to your request."

She extended her right hand slightly and he took it in ozh'esta, which seemed to surprise her. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and broke contact with him.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't prefer to display affection in public," she breathed.

"We are the only ones present," he insisted glancing around the deserted museum. "Nevertheless, perhaps we should retire to the hotel."

Amanda's face was almost glowing as they exited the exhibit. On their way out, they again surprised the museum employee who nervously waved goodbye with just her fingers and went back to playing on her PADD. The afternoon was fading into dusk as they left the observatory for the hotel across the street. As they entered the elevator bound for the tenth floor, Amanda fidgeted slightly.

"So… we have separate rooms," she said, allowing her voice to quickly trail off.

"Yes," he answered, trying to logically derive each of the possible implications of her vague statement.

"So?" she said.

He watched her for some further explanation and her face again flushed into a rosy shade. As they reached their floor, she was the first off the elevator and turned to him and said, "You're easily the smartest person I've ever met, but we have to work on your ability to read between the lines."

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Three
Learn to Roll with the Punches

Amanda woke in a cold sweat, panting and groping around at her bedding in the dark. Her nightmare had been of a similar theme to all the others: the giant man was standing over her and hurting her. She turned the lights on and reached for her PADD: it was 0537 hours on Monday morning.

Sarek had dropped her off at her apartment the previous evening after their weekend at the conference. She smiled at the thought of him. His meditation techniques had helped with her nightmares, but she hadn't been diligent about keeping up with the practice lately.

She flipped her light comforter back, stood, and stretched. She made her way to the bathroom, flipped on the water for the shower and began brushing her teeth.

Overall it had been a nice weekend. As uncomfortable as it had been mingling with unfamiliar scientists and dignitaries, she had gotten through it with some help from Sarek. It was remarkable to think that he had such a calming influence on her, especially considering when they first made each other's acquaintance, he had often intimidated her to near speechlessness. Yet by the end of the conference on Sunday, she was doing better at engaging those within the professional circles in which he moved.

The one thing she hadn't quite figured out was how to broach the subject of getting more physical. They spent Saturday evening in her room, discussing all manner of things from physics theories to why some humans preferred a breakfast dish called "biscuits and gravy." They were doing exactly what she had wanted to do: spending time together and getting to know one another.

Each time they engaged in ozh'esta, she felt closer to him than she imagined was possible to feel for anyone. It was those shared moments that kept her from thinking she was insane for agreeing to marry a man she had only met a few short months ago under such unusual and extreme circumstances. There was still so much more to explore about him, but the thought of exploring his body made her completely freeze up in wretched awkwardness, like some fumbling teenager.

She made a lot of excuses for it. She didn't have a wide range of sexual experience with humans and she was afraid that since they were of two different species, things might be more different than she was expecting. She had a general understanding that their physiologies were close enough that the biology and mechanics should be about the same, but that didn't stop her from having nervous thoughts about committing some deeply held Vulcan taboo. She wasn't eager to add to a long track record of embarrassing herself in front of him.

She towel dried her hair and walked to her closet but was stopped short by the chiming of her PADD. Who was calling her at 0600 hours?

She cringed when she checked the missed call log and saw her mother's name appear. She had avoided her all weekend, but now wondered if there was some other pressing reason she was calling at such an hour. Of course, New Chicago was two hours ahead, and maybe she hadn't thought about the time difference.

The PADD chirped again and her finger hovered over the "accept" button, but then quickly shifted to "silent." She knew she couldn't avoid her mother forever, but that didn't mean she couldn't avoid her right now.

She finished dressing and properly dried her hair, stopped in her kitchen for some fruit and toast, and left for work early at 0630. Rather than take a shuttle, she chose to enjoy the beautiful morning weather and walk to work. She did her best to stay positive and breathe the way Sarek had showed her, but as she entered the embassy complex and swiped her access card to the school building, she was flooded with dread.

The weekend had been good, but now she was back to working alongside Crandall's critical personality. She'd tried to let her animosity go and had gotten mixed results. Some days were better than others, and over the course of the past weeks, they had settled into a routine of tolerating each other. Mostly.

She briskly walked down the long hallway to her classroom, but slowed outside the headmaster's office when she saw Ambassador Julan speaking with Headmaster Chen. For a half second, she thought nothing of it, but then she recalled his mildly threatening tone about "seeing her Monday."

She inadvertently met the headmaster's eyes, and quickly looked down and picked up her pace. She reached her classroom and tried to collect her thoughts. She knew she was jumping to conclusions. Ambassador Julan's son was a student at the diplomatic school and there could be any number of reasons he would be meeting with the headmaster.

She set her shoulder bag under the desk and flipped on her computer console to begin reviewing the day's lesson plan when she was interrupted by a gentle knock on the open door. She looked over to see Headmaster Chen standing there awkwardly, his face slathered with a grim and nervous expression.

"You're here early," he said, taking a few cautionary steps forward.

"So are you," she replied, standing to show respect for her boss.

"Sit, sit," he gestured. "Do you mind if we talk?"

"Of course," she said, taking her seat and folding her hands on the desk.

He shut the door, put his hands in his pockets, and paced over to her desk. He looked around for a seat and pulled out the one Crandall used at his makeshift desk next to Amanda's. She watched his actions closely and even after he sat down they stared at each other for a painful number of seconds.

"I think you've done a great job here," Chen finally blurted out.

"Thank you?" she said, feeling the muscles in her face tighten.

"A wonderful job," the headmaster said, nodding to himself.

"But?" Amanda asked.

"Why do you think there's a 'but'?" Chen stammered.

"There is, isn't there? I mean, you've never just walked into my classroom for idle chitchat."

"No, I suppose you're right," he said, sighing deeply.

"Some of the parents feel that their children- it's just that- well, you see-"

"Just say what you're going to say," Amanda interrupted with eerie calm.

"It has been brought to my attention that some of the parents feel as though their children's educations are suffering."

"Do you think that?" Amanda asked, crossing her arms to try to hide the angry shaking that was spreading through her body.

"No, I think you've done a fine job," he replied.

"Well, my last performance evaluation reflects that, so I'm glad."

"But I have to take the concerns of the parents seriously, and-"

"By 'parents,' you mean Ambassador Julan?" she interrupted, feeling slightly discomfited by her rudeness.

"I can't really name names, but you have to understand, the diplomatic school was chartered by the embassies and its role is to teach the children of the people who work here. The Federation wanted to promote the welfare of the families of diplomats and their staff, but a lot of off-worlders still remain skeptical. Our enrollment rates are down and we're starting to struggle justifying staying open."

"And so if some dignitary says he wants me fired, you're going to go along with it and say it's for the good of the school?"

He was clearly taken aback by her frank attitude, and eventually said, "I want you to understand that we aren't firing you. I wasn't lying when I said you've been an asset to this school and our program, which really is remarkable when you consider it's your first year teaching and your educational background isn't based in primary education."

"But Mr. Crandall's is," she said, feeling childish and combative for bringing him into this.

"I think Mr. Crandall is a good educator as well," he said, unable to make eye contact with her.

"How lucky that he's here," she snapped. She switched gears before he could reply and added, "Ok, so if you're not firing me, then what?"

"It is your first year, and as I'm sure you're aware, the first year is a probationary period," he explained.

"Oh, so you're saying it would be easier if I would just resign and spare you the discomfort of officially firing me."

She felt juvenile for the way she was acting when this conversation was clearly uncomfortable for him as well, but she didn't care. He wasn't the one losing his job.

"I would be glad to give you a stellar reference," the headmaster replied.

"Yeah, I worked here for eight months and mysteriously left two months before the second term ended. That won't look weird on my resume," she retorted, trying to control her breathing and keep herself together.

Headmaster Chen's face looked crestfallen and he looked down at the ground and simply said, "I'm sorry."

She stood, grabbed a cubby from the wall, opened her desk and began putting her things in it. Chen stood and replaced Crandall's chair and was on his way out when she said, "I'll have a formal resignation to you by the end of the day."

"You'll be paid through the end of the term," he answered. "You'll need to go to human resources and get it sorted out. Again, I am really sorry."

She passed Crandall in the hallway on her way out, which only made her more bitter. He glanced at the box in her hands and back at her and asked how she was doing. She didn't reply, but kept walking.

As she made it to the central courtyard of the embassy complex, she was proud that she hadn't cried. She'd had so much to cry about in recent months that this barely even registered.

She got home in the late afternoon after running some errands and visiting personnel resources to turn over her school access badge. She was allowed to keep her badge for basement access due to her continued work on Project Rosetta, which made her think of her upcoming meeting with Tolek tomorrow.

"Please let him offer me paid work," she said to herself, shutting the door and tossing her bag and the box of work supplies on the couch.

She tried to wrap her mind around it. She was almost certain Ambassador Julan had gotten her fired, and Chen hadn't exactly denied it. But why? Because of what happened at the science conference? What even had happened at the conference?

She tried replaying the events in her head and it seemed that Ambassador Julan had been angry with Sarek and then subsequently angry with her for being there with Sarek. Surely he wouldn't have gotten her fired over some spat with Sarek? No one could be that mean, spiteful, and petty, could they?

She continued to turn it over in her mind for a while and felt herself growing angry. Soon she noticed her PADD faintly glowing through the fabric in her shoulder bag and extracted it and balked. Her mother had called sixteen times and left twelve messages and her friend Vera had called twice and left a message.

It got worse when she opened the message from Vera, which simply read, "Have you seen this?" and linked to some gossip news site. It was a picture of her and Sarek at the natural history museum. Sarek's back was toward the camera but he was still identifiable from the way his face was slightly turned. She was facing him and giving a loving expression, and though just out of frame, it looked as though they were holding hands.

The title read, "'Logical love' or 'just friends'?" She couldn't bring herself to read the caption. The messages from her mother were frantic queries about the photograph, which had apparently been posted to several other sites as well.

Amanda never read such news sites and had never understood the interest in other people's lives. It was easy enough to deduce the museum attendant probably took these pictures, but why? No one had ever taken notice of her when she dated Congressman John Molineaux.

Of course, there had been a lot of media fallout in the month after her breakup with John, but that was because he had drunkenly, accidentally, and publicly punched her in the face during an altercation with a Tellarite politician. If that wasn't gossip fodder, she didn't know what was.

She had spent the better part of that month hiding away from public view and volunteering long hours in the embassy basement on the Rosetta Project. Was she about to have to go back to that? What was Sarek going to say?

She wanted to call him, but she'd never called him during the day while he was working. She chewed down furiously on her lip and began deleting all of her mother's messages until she came to the last one, sent at 0615 that morning. It read:

Amanda, 

It's your mother. I'm telling you that because I'm not sure if you even have my contact information stored away anymore. Maybe that's why you never call. 

If you did ever answer my calls, you would know I'm arriving in San Francisco today to visit some old college friends. I'm going to lunch with Beverly Chou and have plans for drinks later this evening, but I'd like to stop by your apartment and see you. You never invite me. I hope I won't be putting you out if I come by around 1830? 

I miss you, and I wish you didn't ignore me. It breaks my heart.

Love,
Your Mother 

She cringed. On the surface, the words might seem nice enough, but when she pictured her mother actually speaking them, they were riddled with sugarcoated reproach and scorn. Her mother was the messiah of guilt trips and manipulation, and when she said, "I hope I won't be putting you out if I come by around 1830?" what she really meant was, "I'm going to be there whether you like it or not."

She dragged herself to her feet and began tidying up her apartment and wondered how she would explain losing her job and the situation with Sarek. She was beginning to feel like she would never catch a break again, not for as long as she lived.

This was what happened when she ignored her mother for too long. The truth was, it wouldn't put her out to spend a few hours with her mom, and why not? Everything else had gone wrong that day.

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Three
Handling Imagined Crises

Sarek completed dictating a list of tasks to his Terran administrative attaché, Giles Marcus, and turned to resume drafting a travel proposal for a short-notice visit to Tellar Prime. In his peripheral vision, he could see Mr. Marcus shift his weight with a clear posture of anxiety.

"Is there something else, Mr. Marcus?" he asked, turning back to his staffer.

He opened his mouth as if to say "yes" but instead said "no." He started to walk out of the office and stopped, gripping the stylus of his PADD firmly before turning on his heel to face Sarek again.

"This would be more efficient if you would simply speak your mind," Sarek urged.

"It's none of my business," Mr. Marcus said slowly, "but I feel like you should know. I don't know; it's none of my business."

He raised his hands apologetically and started to retreat from the office again.

"Is it of concern to me?" Sarek asked.

"Um, yes," Mr. Marcus stammered. "Well, I would think so."

"Perhaps you could be dutiful and enlighten me."

Mr. Marcus sighed and flipped his PADD on and said, "My wife, Celeste, she reads these gossip and society pages, and uh, a couple of hours ago, she sent me this."

He extended the device to Sarek. A picture of himself and Amanda from the museum on Saturday greeted him. Her face bore an expression he was beginning to know well: it was one of enraptured yet subtle contentment. When they were joined in ozh'esta and he actually felt the emotions from her that he saw represented in this picture, it secretly pleased him.

Yet that did nothing to change the fact that someone had judged a private moment between the two of them to be worthy of publication. The employee at the museum seemed the only logical candidate based upon given information: she had been the only other individual present and acted strangely at both their arrival and departure.

"I see," he said, handing the PADD back to Mr. Marcus.

"Ok," Mr. Marcus said, clutching his PADD.

"Do you have some opinion on this matter, Mr. Marcus?"

"Like I said, it's really none of my business. I just thought you might want to know."

"Is there something you recommend I do?" Sarek inquired.

"I can't think of anything," he confessed. "Public relations isn't exactly a strong suit of mine."

"I am curious. What do humans find fascinating about the private interactions of others?" Sarek asked.

"I don't really know."

"Well, you said you had no opinion on this matter, but your mate, your wife, reads these pages. What is her opinion?"

"Her opinion on… what?"

"Why any publication would think my private life is worthy of a wider audience?"

Mr. Marcus pursed his lips and looked over Sarek's head to the window behind him and said, "I don't know? She would probably say 'novelty', maybe?"

"Explain," Sarek insisted, noting his secretary's rapidly growing discomfort.

"I don't know," he said, looking down at his feet. "Whatever exists between you and Amanda Grayson is your business. If someone has the idea that the two of you are… ah… in some sort of- if you were- together, like, romantically, there are probably people who might find that interesting just because that's not something they see every day. You're Vulcan and she's, well, not."

By the end of his speech, his words were forming an amalgam of syllables. The man was clearly distressed by being interrogated for a personal opinion and Sarek was rethinking his decision to inquire into the matter further. It was better to keep his relationship with Mr. Marcus formal.

"I simply thought you might have some insight, as I believe you and Miss Grayson collaborated on the universal translator project," Sarek explained.

His Terran administrative attaché was a retired Starfleet linguist who also volunteered on the Rosetta Project. Mr. Marcus had been acquainted with Amanda long before Sarek had ever met her.

"That's the other thing," he said softly. "I think it's obvious that people like to talk. I happened to hear from some people that Amanda- er, Miss Grayson resigned this morning."

"I see. Thank you, Mr. Marcus," he said, turning back to his computer console.

He heard his secretary leave and he resumed constructing a minimum required itinerary for his upcoming visit to Tellar Prime. He met with a member of the Terran Science Advisory Council, and then completed his letter of intent for his staff during his impending absence. He did his best to focus on his tasks and was met with moderate success. It was far easier to be distracted by thinking of Amanda.

He had enjoyed their weekend together and was beginning to find some value in her desire to get to know him better. He would have been content to do these things after their marriage, but human protocols dictated this was a necessary step prior to bonding, and he felt compelled to yield to her customs.

Lately she had seemed on edge, and especially so during their discussion on Saturday evening in her room. He had learned specifics of Terran culture he had previously been unacquainted with, particularly as it related to cuisine. He had never understood the human desire to devour foods cured in acetic acid, but she explained the process of "pickling" various foods was an ancient method of food preservation and that humans didn't experience the same painful sensation as Vulcans upon ingesting the substance they called "vinegar."

Toward the end of the evening, she had become skittish any time they touched, and he had thought it wise to retire to his own room for to avoid agitating her further. Whatever emotions she had been feeling, he had been completely incapable of interpreting them. Truthfully, he desired her, yet he did not want to breach some unknown Terran etiquette regarding mating practices, so he deferred instead to Vulcan customs. It would be more prudent to wait until they had established a proper mating bond.

The more he thought about Amanda, the more difficult it was to purge emotions from his consciousness that she elicited in him. He was not in the habit of contacting her during the day out of respect for her work schedule, yet if Mr. Marcus had been correct, she no longer worked at the consular school. He was curious as to why, so he sent her a short message and returned to arranging for his trip to Tellar Prime on the day after tomorrow.

By 1800 hours, his work was complete but she had not responded. He collected his things, called for a car, and arrived on her apartment twenty minutes later. He knocked on her door and she answered more hastily than he might have expected.

"You have to go, right now," she said, her eyes growing wide.

When he considered her demand, it was logical to conclude she was under some duress. He could sense a strong anxiety within her that flooded over into his own awareness.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to come across so mean," she explained. "I'm always glad to see you and if you want to come back later I would-"

She stopped talking and looked over his shoulder and her face turned pale. He distinctly heard a door to a shuttle car slam behind him and the clatter of shoes on the concrete.

"Well, isn't this lovely?" a woman's voice called cheerfully. "I was surely hoping I'd get to meet you."

He turned to see a trim and handsome woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Amanda waving at him as she turned to speak to a shuttle cab driver. She wore impractical shoes that elevated her height and a brightly colored pink pantsuit with several neck scarves. She snapped around and strode confidently toward the stoop on which Sarek stood as the cab drove away.

She stopped next to him and grinned, and then looked at Amanda, who simply said, "Hi, mom."

"Well aren't you going to introduce us?" the woman insisted.

Amanda sighed and looked helplessly at Sarek for a fraction of a second before the woman shrugged and turned to him, extended her hand and said, "Jana Grayson, née Phelps. You look like the man the papers call Sarek, Vulcan's ambassador to our little neck of the universe."

He looked down at her hand and against his typical inclination, took it and shook it gently, noting how frail the bones in her hand were and taking great care not to grip it too firmly.

"Yes, I am Ambassador Sarek," he replied, nodding to her as he released her hand. "I presume you are Miss Grayson's mother. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

Amanda was looking at him very strangely and Amanda's mother was giving her daughter a curiously triumphant look.

"Well isn't he sweet?" she said, smiling, before looking at Amanda and adding, "Are you going to invite us in or make us stand out on the porch like those people who peddle things door-to-door?"

Amanda opened the door without saying a word to allow them both to enter. Amanda was a moderately organized individual, but he had never seen her living accommodations so immaculate and theorized that she had likely anticipated her mother's arrival.

"I'll have a nice green tea or whatever you can give me that has a high caffeine content. I had a big lunch, and I still have plans for drinks at the Palmer at 1930. Would you like anything?" she said, grinning at Sarek as she thrust her bag into Amanda's outstretched hands.

"Maybe you could help me make some tea," Amanda said to her mother, finally finding her voice.

"Oh, I think you can manage," her mother replied. "They have so many contraptions now I'm surprised you don't have one of those replicator things. Fiona Marsden just had one installed and-"

"I would really appreciate your help. You make such wonderful tea," Amanda said through gritted teeth.

"Are you afraid I'm going to embarrass you?" her mother retorted, putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh, I think it's a little late for that," Amanda replied.

It didn't take his experience as a diplomat to detect the growing tension between them, though without sufficient background information, he could find no obvious means of resolution. So he settled for an option that would allow them some privacy.

"I believe I am capable of making tea, should you both wish to discuss your differences."

"You're going to make him make tea?" Jana Grayson demanded, staring at Amanda in shock. "An ambassador, and your guest?"

"First of all, he offered, and second of all, no, I'm not going to make him do anything, and thirdly-"

Amanda stopped herself and looked at Sarek carefully, bit her lip hard enough to affect a color change in the delicate skin, and then faced her mother.

"I don't really think of him as a guest," she said simply, moving closer to him.

"So I'm guessing that picture in Talbot's Digest wasn't so far off the mark then?"

"No," Amanda replied. "It wasn't."

He and Amanda locked eyes and she mouthed the words, "I'm sorry." Another illogical apology.

The proposal of tea was abandoned and conversation commenced. He sat with Amanda on her short couch and across from her mother in the reclining chair. Amanda tried in vain to discuss matters relating to her mother, but eventually the topic circled back around to Sarek.

"So, you must stay very busy as a planetary ambassador," Jana Grayson mused.

"I do."

"Travel much?" she inquired further.

"Often. I shall depart Earth for Tellar Prime the day following tomorrow," he explained.

Amanda looked at him curiously. That she had not been apprised of this fact until now was not lost on him.

"Oh, well, when will you be back?"

"I expect it to be an extended visit. Likely not until the middle of the Terran month of August."

"Well that is a shame," Jana Grayson said. "I'm going back to New Chicago in the morning but I would love for the two of you to visit some time, if you could."

"He's very busy," Amanda said before he could respond.

"Yes, I'm sure he is. Perhaps another time," Jana Grayson said, rising to her feet. "I myself need to get over to the Palmer before the girls send out a search party."

Sarek could detect a vibrant wave of relief rush through Amanda and he worked to ebb the backflow her emotions created within himself as well.

"Oh, that does remind me though," her mother said, snapping her fingers. "You need to contact Mr. Mooney."

"Who?" Amanda replied in confusion.

"The lawyer for your father's estate. You know he left everything to you. I'm not sure what all that is, but he will get you up to speed. I'll send you the information, but the government finally signed off on his death certificate last Friday."

Sarek felt Amanda's relief transform into sadness. She collected her mother's bag and they locked into a firm embrace.

"I do love you," she said, stroking her daughter's hair lovingly.

"Yeah, I love you too," Amanda replied, giving her a pained smile.

She let go of Amanda and turned to Sarek and was beginning to spread her arms suggesting she wanted to repeat the action with him when Amanda flatly said, "Don't."

"Well, aren't you bossy?" her mother retorted, before acknowledging Sarek and saying "It was lovely meeting you, Ambassador. I do hope I'll see you again."

"Likewise. Live long and prosper, Mrs. Grayson," he said in return, forgoing the Vulcan salute as he assumed she was likely to be unfamiliar with Vulcan customs.

"Yes, you too."

Amanda opened the door and they embraced again before Jana Grayson said, "Call me every once and a while and remind me that you're not dead. I'll never forget how scared to death I was when I heard you were in some hospital on some-"

"Yeah, yeah," Amanda said, ushering her mother out and saying, "I love you, mom."

"I love you, my baby girl."

And with that, she was gone. Amanda shut the door and leaned her forehead against it in a posture suggestive of defeat.

"You still have not told her we intend to marry," he mused as he approached her.

"Baby steps," she replied, straightening and turning around to face him.

"For a 'baby girl'?" he asked, curious why her mother still referred to her as if she were an infant.

"It's a term of endearment, I guess," she laughed.

He reached for her hand but she moved past it and kissed him. When they broke apart, she gazed at him sheepishly and said, "I'm sorry, it's just been a really bad day."

"I was informed you resigned your post at the diplomatic school," he stated.

"So you're going to Tellar Prime for two months?" she asked, ignoring his invitation to discuss her employment situation.

"Yes," he answered.

"Say 'hi' to Ambassador Julan for me," she said. "If he's there."

"I do not take your meaning," he admitted.

"It's complicated," she said with a sigh.

"Perhaps you would like to engage in the human habit of discussing it over a meal tomorrow evening at my living quarters?" he proposed.

"Of course," she said, smiling at him and touching her forefingers to his. "That's the best offer I've had all day."

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Four
Admit Nothing

She tried to gauge her appearance in the moderately reflective glass windows as she walked down the wide embassy hallway. She sported a dark gray, mid calf skirt with a long sleeved and loosely fitting black blouse. Whether she was going to a funeral or a job interview with a Vulcan was anyone's guess.

She was a bundle of nerves as she descended in the turbolift to the basement and headed toward Director Tolek's office. She wasn't even precisely sure this was a job interview. His words had been something to the effect of speaking with her privately about her "skillset" which some unnamed individual had said might be "beneficial" to the Rosetta Project. Whatever that meant.

She had refrained from telling Sarek about her meeting with Tolek for reasons she couldn't precisely pinpoint. If this did end up being a job interview, this was something she wanted to do completely on her own. Even though she had no idea if Sarek and Tolek even knew each other, or what Sarek's opinions on nepotism were, she was eager to avoid the perception that she needed or wanted his help with this.

Still, she felt like she was withholding something from him. She justified it by telling herself that it would be extremely temporary. She would know in the next hour what Tolek wanted from her, and then she would tell Sarek.

She also hadn't been entirely forthcoming about the circumstances regarding her resignation. She hadn't lied, but she also hadn't given him the whole story. She almost told him about her strong suspicions about Ambassador Julan's role in her termination, but decided that she didn't want to create more conflict right as Sarek was getting ready to depart for Julan's home world.

She knew Sarek wasn't the type to blindly defend her in some chivalrous display, but she also had some sense that he wouldn't simply pretend that nothing had happened either. Since she couldn't predict how he would react, she decided she was safer keeping it to herself for now. Maybe forever.

As she neared Tolek's office, her worries shifted from Sarek to what she would discuss with the Director of Vulcanoid Languages on the Rosetta Project. She had a sneaking suspicion that when he had mentioned her "certain skillset," he was referring to her firsthand experience with the Romulan language.

When people working for rogue Starfleet admiral Maxwell Bentham had abducted her and Sarek, they ended up on board a commandeered Romulan starship. They were only able to escape with the help of the ship's Romulan captain, a man named Llhran, and his help had only been obtained because of her rudimentary ability to speak Romulan.

So few civilians within the Federation studied the Romulan language. The Federation hadn't officially made contact with the Romulans since the Earth-Romulan War ended more than seventy years earlier, and since no ship to ship contact had ever been made and universal translators back then were of rather poor quality, very little was actually known about their language or culture, other than that they were a war-like race with a language that moderately overlapped Vuhlkansu.

She and Sarek had been astonished to learn that Romulans and Vulcans were almost certainly of a common heritage, but following their rescue by a Vulcan science vessel, Amanda discovered that there were those within the highest tiers of the Vulcan government who were also aware of the connection. Naturally the Vulcan High Council was eager to keep this fact a secret and avoid political instability, and she had agreed to their request.

And so Sarek had filed a rather vague report with the High Council and she had corroborated it. Later when the men from Starfleet had asked her some basic questions when she returned to Earth, she repeated the details of Sarek's report and used the head injury she'd obtained during their escape as an excuse for failing to remember much else.

Now she wondered if it would come up and how she would explain it. She urged herself not to draw hasty conclusions about the meeting, but still, she tried to prepare herself for how she would answer, but could come up with nothing that was coherent enough to pass through a Vulcan's critical analysis.

At 1625 hours, she stood outside of Tolek's closed office door, wondering whether he could consider it better to be five minutes early or precisely on time.

"You may enter, Miss Grayson," a muffled voice said from behind the door.

Damn, Vulcans had good hearing.

She was startled by the unexpected voice and tried to take a deep breath to calm her nerves before she pushed the door's latch to enter the room. The office was of moderate size and furnished exactly the way she imagined a government office would be. The furniture was not new but not old, and black, streamlined, and functional.

"Please be seated," he said, inclining his head toward the two low, square chairs before his desk.

She sat down stiffly and forced herself to look across the desk at the stern Vulcan man in the high backed chair. She felt the same way as she had the first times she'd encountered Sarek: nervous, awkward, and unsure of what to do with her hands. She'd worked hard all day to remind herself that though Sarek claimed he didn't mind her smiles and emotionalism, she should not expect the same from Tolek.

"There is a need for a new position within my department to refine the Romulan dictionary and syntax algorithms prior to the final phase of the Rosetta Project. I would like to offer that position to you."

She stared at him dumbly for a brief second. She didn't know why she was shocked. The only other Vulcan she knew well also didn't prefer to engage in small talk or beat around the bush.

"I understand you are employed at the diplomatic school here and I am authorized to offer you a thirty percent increase in your current salary to persuade you to accept the position. It is only a temporary contract that would terminate upon the project's completion in ten months."

Amanda was about to tell him she "resigned" yesterday but thought better of it.

"What is your decision?" Tolek finished.

"You don't want to see my resume or my transcripts or speak to any references?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice free of incredulity.

"I am acquainted with your previous unpaid work on the project and was referred to you by a rather knowing individual who claimed you had unique experience with more technical aspects of the Romulan language."

She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if Tolek knew all of the details of her and Sarek's narrow escape from the Romulan ship, and it would be a mistake to act as though he did. The only specific person she could name who knew what happened was Sarek, and Sarek had claimed the only other people who knew were a handful of members of the Vulcan High Council and select members of their staff. No doubt the crew of the vessel that had rescued them might have been curious about the Romulan escape pod they were found in, but as far as Amanda knew, it was a pretty small group of people who knew the truth about what had really happened.

So what did that mean? She didn't know anyone on the Vulcan High Council. Literally. She couldn't even name a single member on it. Therefore Sarek seemed the most likely person who might have recommended her, which she found mildly upsetting. But then another thought crept into her mind and she felt a chill go down her spine.

What if he was trying to get her to confirm something? Or not confirm it? Just by insinuating that she had experience with the Romulan language that no one else possibly could, anything she said in reply would be an admission or denial of something else. Tolek was Vulcan, Vulcans were logical, and she instantly felt out of her league.

"What is your answer, Miss Grayson? Do you require time to consider the offer?"

"May I ask who recommended me?" she inquired, speaking more quickly than she'd intended.

His dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly in surprise and he said, "Someone with a vested interest in ensuring this project is completed soon and to a certain standard."

So basically, no, she shouldn't have asked. 

"This seems very sudden," she said, afraid she was talking herself out of employment that she desperately needed. "I thought the project was practically done."

"The comprehensive project has already failed to meet two prior deadlines for beta testing. This department was prepared to validate its work for incorporation into the master universal translator, but with the one-year extension granted two months ago, we have been authorized to realign and streamline many components, including the Romulan databases."

"I accept," she said after a pause, wanting more information but afraid to give up too much information herself.

"When are you available to begin work?"

"Tomorrow, I suppose."

They spent the next half hour discussing her duties and his expectations. He showed her to an adjacent office that she would share with a woman from Rigel V responsible for the vast number of languages and dialects from the nearby Rigellian system.

She felt a bit overwhelmed. Ordinarily she would want to skip down the hallway and sing after this kind of job offer. This was the kind of work she'd wanted to do right out of graduate school. It seemed too good to be true, especially considering her recent string of terrible luck.

She made it to human resources half an hour before they closed to secure a new access badge and undergo additional clearance processing. She left the embassy at 1800 hours and checked the time; she wasn't due to meet Sarek at his home for another two hours. On her way out of the building she heard someone call her name and turned to see Giles Marcus, Sarek's human secretary and another volunteer at Rosetta.

"Can I walk with you?" he said casually, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Do you really think I'm going to say 'no?'" she laughed, before adding, "You're off early."

"Yeah, Ambassador Sarek left a few minutes ago. He's really cut back his hours lately," Giles admitted. "I mean, he's still putting in probably close to 80 hours a week, but for him, that's slacking off."

He looked at Amanda nervously and she wondered if he had seen the picture of them circulating around various tabloids.

"I heard you resigned from your job yesterday," he said offhandedly.

"Word travels fast, I guess," she murmured.

"I just wanted to reach out and make sure everything was ok with you. I know you've been through a lot lately with your dad and the shuttle accident," he said.

The shuttle accident. The "official" version of how she'd ended up severely injured and on medical leave.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I actually just came from the weirdest job interview of my life," she said, as they both came to the shuttle stop.

"How so?" Giles asked.

She carefully explained how Tolek had offered her a job on the universal translator, and he congratulated her profusely.

"That doesn't sound so weird," Giles finally said. "Vulcans are just direct. My interview with the previous Vulcan ambassador lasted less than five minutes. I think the interview is just a formality. They do their research well ahead of time and have already made up their minds about you before you walk in the door."

"I guess so," she said. "Say, how are the little ones doing?"

Giles had two twin daughters named Sarah and Amanda who were about four months old. She figured getting him to talk about his kids was the perfect way to deflect the awkward, inevitable conversation about the fact that she was dating his boss.

"They're starting to sprout teeth," he admitted. "So they scream all the time, you know, like they're possessed."

He began showing her pictures on his PADD and she marveled at how fast they were growing up.

"You're always free to babysit. Celeste spends all day cooped up in the house with them and I can tell it's wearing on her," he probed.

"Yeah, any time," Amanda agreed.

"Oh, by the way… I saw this other picture that I thought you might have some insight on," he grinned, swiping through photo albums on his PADD.

Amanda's shuttle mercifully pulled up to the curb and she stood quickly.

"I'd love to look at it, but I've got to go," she said, before muttering, "I have a date."

Back in her apartment, she took her time getting ready. She carefully shaved and exfoliated everything, and spent a particular amount of time on her hair. In a way she felt a bit silly preening herself so carefully, as Sarek had never really commented on her appearance.

She imagined she was mostly doing it for herself as a means of boosting her confidence. He was going to be gone for two months. She didn't want him to leave for so long without at least making an attempt to get a little closer to him.

She put on the only pair of nice underwear she had and settled on a short sleeved, cotton black dress with an empire waist. It wasn't provocative by any normal human standard, but it was probably the sexiest thing she owned. The neckline was made of sheer black fabric and it was cut to mid-thigh. She examined herself in the mirror for a few minutes before realizing that if she didn't leave soon, she would be late.

She took a shuttle cab to the gated embassy housing complex. She was relieved when the guard let her through, and did her best to relax as she walked up the stairs to Sarek's home. She'd only been here once before and had never come alone.

She rang the bell and he answered promptly. As he opened the door a warm, savory aroma wafted into her face. She felt a swell of anticipation and apprehension the moment she saw him, though she did her best to contain it.

She gently set her shoulder bag down on the black chaise lounge and said, "Thank you for having me over."

He observed her for a few moments before inviting her back to the kitchen. She felt stupid. "Thank you for having me over" was the best she could come up with? After everything they'd been through together, after even agreeing to marry him later down the road, she was reverting back to the shy and goofy person she had been when they first met.

"How was your day?" she asked, falling naturally into helping him set the table in the formal dining room for their meal.

"Productive."

He extracted a dish from the cooking unit that looked very like a traditional casserole and set it on the granite counter. He apportioned a large helping for himself into a shallow bowl and offered her the spoon so she could serve herself. They sat down to their meals in the next room and Amanda quickly took a bite and burned her tongue on the hot vegetables.

"This is really good," she gasped, trying to breathe cool air around the food in her mouth without looking disgusting.

"I am glad you think so," he replied.

They sat without talking and simply ate their dinner. She was beginning to think the most annoying thing about Sarek was that he was impossible to read. Every time she thought she was beginning to understand him, they would end up at some weird silent impasse.

Yesterday an awkward picture of them had been posted in a tabloid. Then he had met her mother. Tomorrow he was leaving the planet for two months. Yet here he was, acting as if it were the most boring day of his life. So many questions prickled in the back of her mind, and she decided to start with one of the most neutral ones.

"Do you know a Vulcan man named Tolek?"

"I know several individuals called 'Tolek.' There is a Tolek in the Vulcan Transportation Ministry, and I seem to recall having met a kolinahr master by the same name. Why do you ask?"

"Do you know a Tolek who works at Project Rosetta?" she asked, collecting his empty bowl and her own and making her way to the kitchen to clean up.

He followed her and asked, "I know of him, but we have never met."

She analyzed his face carefully, unsure what she was looking for, but it seemed as though Sarek genuinely didn't know him. So if Sarek hadn't recommended her for the job, who had?

"He's the director of Vulcanoid Languages on the universal translator. Today he offered me a contracting job working on Romulan databases."

"You seem well qualified for such work. Was this why you resigned your position at the diplomatic school?"

"No," she said, furiously chewing her lip as she set the bowls in the sink.

He approached her cautiously and said, "I sense you are uncomfortable."

"It's been a crazy two days," she admitted with a weak laugh. "I lost my job, there was that stupid picture in those ridiculous tabloids, then you were subjected to my mom. I kind of miss when my life used to be boring."

He took her forefingers with his own and instantly began to feel soothed. She joined her free hand to his free hand and they stood quietly for a few moments until she was completely at ease.

"Thank you," she murmured, fighting back a smile.

"I was unaware you had been removed from your post at the school," he said.

"I wasn't. Not exactly. But I might as well have been. I think it was political, in a way," she said cautiously.

"You suspect Mr. Crandall?" he asked.

"No, actually. Crandall and I never got along well, but I think it was something else," she explained, reluctant to tell him about her suspicions concerning Ambassador Julan. "Anyway, I got a new job today, doing work more closely related to my educational background, so it's not important."

They finished cleaning up the kitchen and Amanda wandered into his sitting room and carefully seated herself on the chaise lounge. This had been the site of their first kiss, or at least, first intentional kiss. He followed and sat as well, leaving nearly half a meter between them.

She reached for his hand again to calm herself and he took it.

"You do not seem yourself," he commented.

"Why do you think people care if we're together?" she asked suddenly, unsure where the question even came from.

"I presume you refer to the image of us posted to several secondary news publications," he replied.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"It perplexes me that people would be fascinated by my private affairs, but there are many human oddities that have confounded me over the years. You imply from your tone that it bothers you."

"I think I was more worried about your reaction than anything else. I mean, it does bother me in a way. I thought it would be weird telling other people about us, but I figured that once it was done, that would be it and people would leave us alone."

"It seems natural that many among both of our species would be curious about our bond."

"I imagine Vulcans would be a lot more subtle about it," she remarked.

"Yes."

"Unlike my mother, who wouldn't even know where to find 'subtle' in the dictionary," she muttered, nervously meeting his gaze.

"She seems an outspoken woman, though I have on select occasion witnessed the same tendency in her daughter," he said calmly.

"Are you joking?" she sighed. "I am nothing like my mother."

"I agree that you are generally more reserved and perhaps lack the same degree of confidence, yet there have been times when you chose to speak in such an uninhibited fashion."

"Name one," she barked.

"The first time I arrived at your home, you boldly instructed me to 'go away,' if memory serves correctly," he stated simply.

"That was different," she stammered. "I thought you were someone else."

"Very well, I recall being caught in a storm with you, and you spoke quite sternly to me then as well," he countered.

"It was hailing."

"Several weeks ago when you were angry about Mr. Crandall, you-"

"I said 'name one,' not give me an exhaustive list of all the times I've gotten loud with you," she interrupted with a laugh, rubbing his fingers more tenderly. "And anyway, if you're still up for getting married eventually, she's going to be your mother-in-law."

"A fact I had considered before I met her, and one which remains unchanged following our acquaintance," he answered. "I do not consider your previous instances of brazenness a fault; merely an element of your humanity."

She looked at him lovingly. She felt completely at ease sitting on his couch, their fingers joined in ozh'esta. The moment she found the courage to lean closer to him, her heart began to pound harder and the nervousness returned. He seemed to sense the change in her and slightly leaned forward himself.

She kissed him awkwardly, and he gently released her hands. She cupped hers around his neck and kissed him more passionately, and he kissed her readily in return. She began to feel aware of a vibrant energy between them, which had the unexpected effect of making her incredibly aroused. He rested one of his hands cautiously on her hip and slowly placed the other one on her bare knee.

She shuddered slightly and continued to kiss him, drawing her hands away from his neck and running them down his chest. His hand inched forward on her knee, and she drew her hips forward until his hand was resting on her thigh, just underneath her skirt. Her hands trailed down to the waistband of his pants when he drew away.

"Perhaps we should not-"

"No, it's ok," she sputtered. "I mean, I'm ok, if you are."

There was an unusual intensity to his dark eyes that both frightened and excited her. He seemed to hesitate and she craned her neck forward to lightly brush his lips with her own and then leaned back and looked hopefully at him. He paused for another second before leaning forward aggressively and resuming where they had left off.

Her knees drifted apart and his hand traveled up the length of her thigh. She fell awkwardly onto the uncomfortable high back of the couch. She broke her mouth away from his and traced her mouth along his jawline and he shivered slightly before passionately beginning to kiss her neck.

The tips of his fingers met the hem of her underwear and she rocked her hips into him with anticipation, grabbing his belt with her left hand to pull him onto her. Her mouth had worked its way up to his ear and she lightly moved her tongue along the arch of his ear when he shuddered unexpectedly and lost his balance due to his awkward position created by leaning so far over onto her.

He flailed momentarily and tried to steady his balance by putting his hand out to catch himself on the high back of the chaise, but instead jammed his palm hard into Amanda's right shoulder. She screamed in agony as a sharp pain flew down her arm and across her collarbone and he snapped backward in panic.

She tried to sit up on her elbows but gasped from the pain. She rolled onto her left side and noticed her right arm was canted at a strange angle.

"I am sorry," Sarek whispered.

She couldn't exactly say why, but something about his tone and facial expression made nervous tears spring up in the corners of her eyes.

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Four
Humans are Fragile

Sarek instinctively gripped her face with his right hand and melded his mind to hers. He felt the full force of her pain and panic flood over him.

"I'm so sorry," her mind pleaded. "So sorry. You didn't want to and I made you and I'm so sorry."

"No, Amanda, I am sorry. Try calm down."

Impressively, she complied more easily and quickly than he thought she would. She took several deep breaths and he let go of her face, but lingering effects of her injury echoed in him. He stood, bent over her, pushed her legs over the side of the chaise, and tenderly cradled his right arm behind her uninjured left shoulder to help her to her feet.

She buried her face in his chest and seemed reluctant to survey the damage. It was apparent that his inadvertent blow had dislodged the bone of her upper arm from its socket. She was shaking and drawing herself into him; he held her for a few moments to help her relax. It was also helping him regain his composure, though he disliked admitting he'd lost it in the first place.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his sweater.

"Your most illogical apology yet," he replied, slowly stepping backward. She was panting and warily examined her shoulder. "You should seek medical treatment. I shall call for a car."

"No," she protested. "There's an walk in clinic a few blocks from here."

"You intend to walk?" he replied, unsure of her choice.

"It's my shoulder, not my knee or my ankle," she gasped.

"Allow me to escort you then," he said, deciding that though he disagreed with her choice, it was better to accept her decision than attempt to argue with her under the given circumstances.

She reached for her bag behind him, and then stopped. "Wait. I don't think you should come."

"Why?"

"What if… I don't want people to think that you did this," she said slowly, biting down hard on her lip.

"But I did. There is no sense denying it," he said.

"I know, but I don't want anyone to think you did it on purpose," she said, giving him a desperate look.

"Why should they think that? It would be illogical to draw such a conclusion with such limited evidence."

"Illogical, sure. But I see it maybe happening anyway," she argued. "I didn't think anyone would take notice of us in a museum, but apparently some people found it interesting. How would it look if we showed up in an emergency room together?"

"No different than if you arrived alone. If people seek to illogically construct a series of events in their minds, they will do so without the need for a prompt. I fail to understand why you believe anyone would think this was intentional."

"I mean, it doesn't really happen much anymore, I don't think, but a long time ago, a lot of men abused their partners. Hurt them. I don't know why, but they did. I don't want anyone thinking that about you. I can just see the headline now: 'Vulcan ambassador beats girlfriend' or some such," she said.

"If you arrive in a medical facility with an injury and people suspect we are romantically involved, I fail to see how my presence or absence would sway their opinion if they have already chosen to assume I have purposefully injured you."

Her face set into a determined expression and then softened and she assented to let him accompany her to a walk in clinic two blocks away. It was mostly dark out by now and there were few people on the streets, but he still walked protectively close to her.

When they arrived at the clinic, there were three people in the waiting room staring disinterestedly at a small holographic projector in the corner and two more sleeping at the opposite end of the room. Amanda walked up to the reception counter and he took a seat by the door.

She returned awkwardly carrying a large PADD and her bag in her left hand and fell into the seat next to him and began typing information into the device. It was slow-going with one hand and Sarek felt compelled to offer her assistance. She reluctantly handed it to him and he quickly entered data into the fields for nature of her injury.

Most of the other data had been automatically populated from her records, but the questionnaire required recent information. He asked her the questions starting from the top of the list, beginning with "In the past two weeks, have you experienced a significant change in health and if so, please describe."

Towards the end of the questionnaire he asked if she, "was pregnant or suspected she was pregnant."

She turned her head slowly and glared at him and said, "What do you think?"

"I am simply trying to provide the clinic with the information they require so they can adequately treat you. I only wish to be thorough and-"

"Well here's some logic for you," she whispered. "When would I have found time to become pregnant without your noticing? And who would have knocked me up in the first place?"

Rather than seek clarification on her euphemistic language or argue, he simply typed in, "no" and continued down the list of questions. He handed the PADD back to her to sign it and then he walked it back up to the front desk.

Less than ten minutes later she was called back and he waited in the lobby with her bag. Once she was gone, he allowed himself to process his thoughts.

It deeply disturbed him that he had hurt her so severely and so easily. When her tongue had caressed the tip of his ear, it had been arousing in a way he had never experienced and it had startled him and thrown him off balance. What would happen when he entered pon farr and was less in control of his actions? 

This was one of several reasons why Vulcans initiated mating bonds with their partners. The primary function of a mating bond was of course to closely bond two individuals together for the purpose of collectively raising offspring, yet an important secondary goal was to prevent injury to both parties. It had been unwise to attempt to mate with Amanda without such a bond in place.

She emerged after forty-five minutes and shyly walked over to him. "All better. Ready to go?"

He handed her the shoulder bag and stood, holding the entry door for her to exit first.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," she said. "That was the shoulder I tore all those tendons in during my 'shuttle accident.' The doctor said dislocations are pretty common following injuries like that."

"I am glad you are well," he said. "Shall I call for a car to take you home?"

"Will you walk me home?"

He agreed, and they turned left and proceeded in the direction of her apartment.

"Thanks for keeping me calm," she said. "That was pretty amazing. And sweet."

"It seemed the least I could do, given the situation."

"It really wasn't your fault. It was just a freak thing, you know?"

"I agree, yet I still regret that I harmed you."

"You know, it's kind of funny. I was just thinking that I was having the first really good day in a while and then this happened. I'm beginning to think I'm cursed. I know you're going to say that's illogical, and it is, but I'm still starting to wonder all the same."

"You propose an inverse to the maturity of chances fallacy," he explained.

"I love it when you give me a detailed explanation of my illogic," she laughed. "But please, go on."

"You seem to be suggesting that because a series of unfortunate events has befallen you, that they are becoming more likely. Not only is this not the case, your conclusion first required you to selectively target your data."

"So you're saying I've focusing on all of the bad things that have happened and forgetting the good?"

"Precisely."

"Well, I did meet you," she said, facing him as they walked.

Her eyes glittered in a wholly content way. They didn't speak much for the rest of the twenty-minute walk to her apartment, and when they arrived at the doorstep he prepared to call a car to return him to his living accommodations.

She gently put her hand on his arm and looked him in the eye.

"What time do you leave tomorrow?" she said anxiously, retracting her arm and crossing it with the other one across her chest.

"My shuttle departs at 1000 hours."

"I just don't want you to leave like this. On a bad note. I realize it's getting late, but could you stay? Here? For the night? We wouldn't have to do anything or- I just, I'm going to miss you."

He weighed her offer briefly, then motioned to the door and replied, "After you."

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Five
How to be Alone

"Oh dammit!" she snapped, struggling to reengage the engine of the shuttle before it powered back down.

Amanda's father had taught her to drive as a teenager but because she'd always lived in large metropolitan areas, she'd usually made use of public transportation or walked wherever she needed to go. Having a license to operate a shuttle was more of a formality than an actual testament of skill. Transporters were becoming more common and there was talk they would be available for general public use soon, but the idea of being broken down into a pattern of energy and rematerialized somewhere else was about the most terrifying thing she'd ever heard. It was straight out of science fiction.

She was driving home to San Francisco after spending two days in New Chicago. She'd taken half the week off work to travel home and meet with the attorney handling her father's estate. Her trip had the added benefit of placating her mother, whom she'd stayed with during her visit.

Her mother had hounded her endlessly for information about Sarek, which was only slightly easier to discuss without him being present. She hadn't quite worked up the courage to tell her they planned on marrying, but to be honest, she hadn't told anyone that.

Despite the fact she hadn't admitted their eventual plans to marry, her mother still inappropriately asked if she would ever have grandchildren, which started a fight that ended with them both hugging, crying, and her mother admitting, "Well, he seems like a nice man, and he is an ambassador, and at least he doesn't have tentacles."

Her mother always knew how to be equal parts reassuring and racist. Amanda knew she and Sarek would need to hammer out the details of marriage sooner or later; she just didn't know how to talk to anyone about it, including him.

She knew how ludicrous it sounded: she'd only known him a short time, they hadn't gotten to know each other, and the cultural differences were staggering. Most of the time, it even sounded insane to her. Yet after all they'd been through, somehow it didn't matter as much. And when their minds touched, she was even more certain of her decision.

The night before his departure, he'd held her while she slept. It was the first time in months she slept peacefully, free of nightmares and in complete contentment. She didn't know how or when they would get married, but she felt fairly certain she didn't want anyone else.

It had been a lonely but eventful two months since Sarek left for Tellar Prime. Her job at the Rosetta Project was easily the most fulfilling work she'd ever done. Each day presented some new, unexpected challenge, but she found the change in routine to be exciting.

On Monday, she'd visited a Starfleet docking bay and been given a tour of various ship engineering compartments. She was currently working on algorithms to better describe technical components of general spaceflight and it was really stretching the limits of her abilities. She loved it. 

She got on well with her office mate, a woman named Kas from Rigel III. They often lunched together, sometimes just the two of them and sometimes with other people on the project. She was finally feeling like she fit in somewhere for the first time since she'd moved to San Francisco.

Her relationship with Vera was also back on the mend. Things between them had been strained since she returned home from Vulcan, and a week after Sarek left, she'd gone up to her apartment just to say "hi" and Vera told her everything that had happened.

When Amanda had been abducted, they'd initially taken Vera by mistake, as there was a loose resemblance between the two of them. She was horrified by what happened to her friend, and they both started crying. Amanda had almost felt compelled to tell her the truth about what really happened to herself in the spirit of commiseration, but ultimately decided it wouldn't make Vera feel better and would betray the trust Sarek and the Vulcan High Council had placed in her.

She wasn't sure their relationship would ever be the same, but there didn't seem to be any known guidebook for how to repair a friendship after being erroneously kidnapped as part of a terrorist plot. Furthermore, they had both changed a lot in recent months: Vera had started a new job and had the first serious boyfriend Amanda had ever heard of and spent most of her time with him. Amanda also had a new job and had been through hell in recent months, so it seemed natural that such circumstances could cause two friends to drift apart. Still, they agreed to make a more serious effort at friendship, and things seemed to be going fairly well.

As she entered the Rocky Mountains, she slowed the shuttle nervously but couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of nature. It was summertime and there were still a few white patches of snow on several peaks, but a brilliant display of wildflowers really caught her attention.

Then she had a thought.

Her father had left her more than she'd expected: a moderate sum of money, the shuttle she was currently driving home, and his future shares of several interplanetary mining sites. He also left her the family cabin on the lake near Thunder Bay.

She recalled many summer holidays there, especially Federation Day, which always coincided with the Perseid meteor shower. When they had been a happier family, they would sit in the dark around the smoldering ashes of a campfire, roasting marshmallows and observing the streaks of light in the dark sky.

Though she'd always been a child of the city, she secretly loved little trips to the outdoors. Memories of following her father around the woods to pick blueberries or glimpse rare birds were among the purest memories she had of the man. She clutched the necklace at her throat and sniffed back tears.

This year, Federation Day was on Saturday and she was off of work until Tuesday. She could think of no better way to honor his life and his memory than to return to the cabin that he loved so much. She let go of the opal pendant around her neck and smiled.

The necklace was another surprise he'd left. It had been in her father's family for generations and originated back to a female ancestor who had emigrated from Australia several centuries ago. It had been among the things she'd found in his safety deposit box.

Opening the box had been the most difficult task of her trip. He'd given her the code to the lock box in the last message he ever sent to her, just before he was murdered by the same terrorists who'd taken her. Her PADD had been stolen, but with the proper forms, she'd been able to visit the bank and get access to it.

Removing the contents was like finally admitting he was gone. The necklace was the only thing of any real monetary value, but the rest had sentimental meaning beyond measure.

An entire box of paper photographs of her father's side of the family dating back 300 years had been the most rewarding discovery. She'd sat cross-legged on the floor of the bank sifting through them, until the bank manager finally politely asked her to leave so they could close for the evening. Everything that remained of her father's life was now nestled in the trunk and front seat of the shuttle.

She checked the time on the shuttle's computer and adjusted her speed to return to San Francisco by 1700 hours. When she left New Chicago that morning, she'd completely forgotten that she'd agreed to watch Giles' daughters while he took his wife out on a surprise date that evening. If she was going away to the cabin for four days, she'd need to get a jump on packing, because it certainly wasn't going to be easy to do while watching twin six-month old girls.

As she cleared the mountains and watched them grow smaller on the rear sensor screen, she smiled to herself and instinctively clutched the necklace again. Things had been bad for a long time, and though nothing would ever be perfect, she was beginning to feel like the shards of her life were finally falling into a mosaic that she could appreciate.

She found a fulfilling job, she was making new friends and finding time for old ones, she was finally properly healing from the loss of her father, her mother cautiously approved of Sarek, and Sarek would be home in six days.

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Five
Spontaneity Has Unpredictable Outcomes

Sarek read the text on his PADD and contemplated his possible course of action. Each recommendation seemed more illogical than the last.

He had spent a total of fifty-nine days on Tellar Prime and was returning to Earth six days prior to the scheduled date. Negotiations had been tense and prolonged: a majority of Tellarites and a sizeable minority of other Federation members still insisted upon distributing Federation assets such as the Federation Council and Starfleet to locations other than Earth.

He had been one of five mediators working closely with those opposed to the Tellarite's proposed changes. The end result was the Tellar Prime Accords, which used an excessive amount of words to say very little. Starfleet and the Federation Council would remain on Earth for the foreseeable future, and several minor construction projects would be relocated away from Terran colonies to other Federation member planets. Ultimately, whether the council chose to adopt the recommendations would be of little consequence.

In the wake of the decision, Ambassador Julan had resigned. He saw him just after the document was signed, and Julan had told him to, "Enjoy his small-eared human female" and muttered something about Amanda corrupting his son.

When Sarek had asked for clarification, Julan had simply explained the diplomatic school was better off without her in its employ. Taken in context with Amanda's cryptic request that he give Julan her regards, it would have been easy to draw the inference that the Tellarite ambassador had a hand in Amanda's termination. It seemed appropriate enough to infer that was the conclusion his intended mate had drawn.

Whatever her motivations, she had chosen to keep her suspicions to herself, and he decided it was appropriate to respect her wishes. Ambassador Julan had been replaced with a young and inexperienced clerk named Gav, and Amanda had swiftly obtained other employment, further rendering his any involvement on his part of little usefulness.

He would have gladly provided for her, yet took her desire to postpone an official bonding as a preference for retaining a certain degree of independence from him, which seemed to directly contradict her request the night before his departure.

Due to their schedules, they had communicated little in his absence, and being in her company again would be preferable to being without it. At their last meeting, he had lain with her in her bed and observed her while she slept. Her head had rested against his chest and he had wanted to touch her soft hair but refrained for fear of waking her. His presence seemed to bring her comfort, and that pleased him.

He watched her through the night, attuned to her rhythmic breathing and sporadic twitches. It would have been beneficial for him to rest as well, yet he struggled to reconcile how he'd unintentionally hurt her with his desire to bond with her. He hadn't expected her to want to retain their relationship after he'd injured her.

The more he tried to understand anything about Amanda, the more of an enigma she became. She was generally very logical, but being human, she occasionally demonstrated many of the qualities he anticipated in someone of her race, particularly frustration, anxiety, and pride.

He intended to message her regarding his early arrival but postponed his communication due to the early hour on Earth. He had occupied himself on the nine-hour journey back to her home planet by acquainting himself with human courtship, marriage, and mating customs. They only thing he'd been able to derive was that human females seemed to have preferences that varied so widely that it would be impossible to predict what Amanda expected from him.

When investigating betrothal customs, he learned it was customary for males of a primitive Terran race called the Puritans to present their intended mates with a thimble, which he learned from additional research was an instrument required in rudimentary clothing production. Gift giving seemed to be a predominant practice: people from a region called Wales once exchanged elaborately carved spoons and young males from an island called Fiji presented the female's father with the tooth of a marine mammal. The exchange of rings to be worn on the fourth digit of the left hand still seemed to be a modern practice for humans, and among the least baffling of all betrothal customs he'd discovered in his research.

Marriage ceremonies were even more vague and peculiar. Vulcan marriage ceremonies had remained unchanged for thousands of years, and though they contained antiquated verbal vows, the primary function was the final reinforcement of the telepathic mating bond. As so few humans expressed telepathic abilities innately, marriage ceremonies for her species were strictly a formality with a wide range of execution.

He learned that people of a continent called Europe once often engaged in bedding rituals, wherein depending upon the rank and position of the mated couple, friends, relations, and sometimes even dignitaries would remain in the bedchamber to witness the pair's first mating. Though he knew Amanda to be too modest to consent to allow her close family to observe intimate relations between them, he was relieved to discover it was a practice no longer observed.

Unfortunately, that investigation had also inadvertently led to other information, and he also learned of the eccentric and even depraved sexual proclivities of some members of her species. He quickly abandoned his research into mating customs and shifted into more practical topics, such as what sort of behavior females expected from prospective mates.

What he uncovered from numerous sources was a litany of imprecision: females preferred in no certain order a male who was intelligent, funny, wealthy, adventurous, confident, good at listening, patient, kind, and charming.

That presented the question of whether there were any females who would instinctively seek out a mate who was stupid, uninteresting, impoverished, timid, oblivious, impatient, cruel, and repulsive. It seemed unlikely that any one individual could possess great quantities of every nonspecific desired trait, and therefore he found little resolution to his desire to please her on a more human level.

One quality of interest seemed to reiterate that females idealized spontaneity, finding it romantic. He personally preferred planning and disliked surprises, yet many of the articles he found in women's publications suggested she would prefer it.

So when he arrived at her apartment unannounced seven hours later, he was as surprised when she answered the door holding a human infant as she seemed to be at his presence.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her face alight with obvious pleasure. "You're not supposed to be back until the 16th."

"I am aware, yet nevertheless, here I am," he replied, fixing his gaze on the child in her arms.

"Who cares why or how? Come in," she said, grinning and speaking in a low register.

The baby in her arms began whining in frustration and tried grabbing at her hair. She gently pushed its arm away with her other hand and motioned for him to enter. A gust of wind caught the door and slammed it shut harder than he intended, and the wailing emanating from her dining room alerted him to the presence of a second child.

She smiled weakly and closed her eyes for a moment and said, "I just got her to settle down," before turning to attend to her charge in the adjoining room.

"I seem to have arrived at an inopportune time," he stated, slowly following her and noting the collection of several bags and boxes lined up along the back of her couch.

"No, I'm fine with it, if you don't mind some added company. I'm so glad to see you. I've missed you so much," she said, using her free hand to attempt to soothe another child of the same approximate age as the one straddling her left hip.

The baby she was holding was craning its neck to look intently at him and smiling in open curiosity. The child in the cradle began to scream at a staggering pitch and Amanda frowned.

"Here, hold Amanda," she said, offering the baby in her arms to him.

He was startled by her demand and perplexed by her apparent third-person use of her own name, but reluctantly extended his arms to take possession of the child. Amanda picked up the squalling child from the cradle, turned to look at him, offered a derisive smile, and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Was this not as you instructed?" he replied, raising his voice to be heard over the crying of the baby in her arms.

She started laughing uncontrollably and said, "Well, yeah, but she's a baby, not a bomb."

"That seemed evident."

"You're holding her at arm's length like she's going to bite you," she explained, stifling her laughter.

The baby that Sarek held began to wriggle and grunt. He took note of the way she held the other child close to her and attempted to follow her example.

"Careful, she likes to grab things," Amanda cautioned, continuing her efforts to mollify the infant in her possession.

She was quickly proven correct when her small hand reached for the high collar of his shirt. He tried to pull her whole body away from his, but her tiny fist had the fabric clutched tightly. He attempted to gently dislodge her grip and she started to whimper in discontent.

"Might I ask why you are in possession of these children?" he asked.

"Giles asked me to babysit them while he took his wife out for a surprise tour of the bay," she explained, finally making some progress in quelling the sobs of the child resting against her chest.

"These are Mr. Marcus' offspring?" he replied.

"You sound like you didn't realize he had a family."

"I was aware he had children. They were delivered on the day I resumed my post as ambassador here," he said, recalling the deeply personal call his human secretary received from the hospital just minutes after their initial meeting.

"Yeah. This is Sarah. You're holding Amanda," she said.

"Did he name the child for you?" Sarek asked, still making a feeble effort to loosen her grip on his shirt.

"No, it was his wife's mother's name," she explained. "Though it has been fun saying things like 'I need to change Amanda's diaper' or 'Amanda gets fussy when she's not allowed to do something.' It's a bit frustrating because Sarah has an ear infection and Amanda seems to get grumpy when she doesn't have enough attention. Giles offered to cancel, but he really wanted to surprise Celeste and I wanted to do something nice for them because they were so nice to me after my father passed."

"Is that a common practice among your species?"

"What?" she asked.

"Preferring surprises."

She thought carefully to herself for several seconds and said, "Yeah, I guess. Depends on the surprise though. You showing up at my door was one of the best ones I've had in a long time. Of course, it probably wasn't the best surprise for you."

She smiled at him genuinely. Fascinating.

Amanda the younger let go of his collar and ungracefully tried to steady herself by gripping his face. It caught him off guard, and the result was that for a fraction of a second, her mind touched his. He pulled her back and she stared at him open-mouthed and with huge eyes and a second later began to cry.

He attempted to mimic Amanda's behavior of holding the younger Amanda lower and more closely to his chest and bouncing her up and down, but the moment he drew her close enough, she stopped crying and started reaching again for his face. He noticed the elder Amanda observing him carefully.

"She seems to like you," she said, turning to put the other child back into the small bed. "Which is impressive, because she's usually the more grouchy one."

The moment she tried to unburden him of the infant, she began to scream indignantly, which caused the other child to resume her crying.

"They are very emotional," he remarked.

She cocked her eyebrow and stared at him.

"Well, they're… babies," she said in astonishment, patting Amanda's back. "What, are Vulcan children born spouting the Teachings of Surak?"

"No," he explained, willing to concede he knew little about raising children of any species.

It took nearly half an hour for her to settle the children down, but eventually he found himself sitting next to her on her small couch while she reclined at a gentle angle and allowed the child called Sarah to sleep on her chest while the infant given her own namesake sat unsteadily on a blanket at their feet, playing with a set of colored plastic blocks.

"So that now that no one's screaming anymore, let me just say 'thank you' for helping me with them. I'm sorry to just kind of dump a baby off on you, but you handled it well," she said, her face flushing slightly.

"I did arrive unannounced," he admitted. "Therefore your apology is illogical. You required my help and I gladly rendered it."

She smiled and gently leaned her head on his shoulder. "Can I ask why you're back early?"

He briefly explained his activities on Tellar Prime and she listened attentively.

"I really missed you," she said at the conclusion of his account, sitting up slightly. "You're not leaving again any time soon, are you?"

"Not that I have been informed of. The consulate intends to close tomorrow for the observance of Federation Day and remain closed through the 15th. Perhaps we might spend a portion of the time in one another's company," he suggested.

Her eyes glimmered and she grinned and continued to rub Sarah's back.

"I was packing to go to the cabin for the weekend, as you can see from the mess on the floor behind the couch," she said quietly. "But I would gladly blow it off to spend any amount of time with you."

She explained how she'd gone to visit the lawyer handling her father's estate and had been willed a plot of land located in the wilderness in the Northern region of the continent.

"I see no reason why you should not keep your prior commitment," he argued. "Is it not possible you could do both?"

"You want to come?" she asked in obvious incredulity. "Of course you're welcome to, but I have to warn you, it's pretty primitive. There's indoor plumbing and a power generator that works the lights and some old appliances, but the generator was always sketchy at best and it still has a wood-burning stove."

"If your description is correct, it seems more than adequate enough to meet basic needs," he maintained.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to get away with you for the weekend, I just want you going into it with your eyes open. It gets cold at night, even in the summer. And there are mosquitoes. It's a lot cruder than you're used to."

As he began to explain his ability to tolerate physical hardship was likely far greater than she imagined, there was a gentle knock at the door.

"That'll be Giles," she said, standing slowly so as to avoid jostling the child in her arms and injuring the one on the floor.

Sarek stood politely and the baby on the floor reached out her arms to him almost reflexively. She began to whimper and seemed on the verge of tears, and wishing to prevent another episode of wailing, he stooped to pick her up as Amanda went to answer the door.

"Thank you so much for doing this," Giles said, stepping into the room and balking when he noticed Sarek.

He nervously looked back and forth between Sarek and Amanda several times before Sarek said, "Good evening, Mr. Marcus."

"Ambassador Sarek?" he said with a distinct quaver, before adding deferentially, "I knew your itinerary changed, I just, um, didn't expect you here. Welcome back. Um…"

"Yes," Sarek answered, noticing the particular unease that seemed to be mounting in the room.

When Sarek tried to turn the infant over to her father, she started shrieking and reaching back toward Sarek helplessly. Mr. Marcus quickly collected her and his other child and their belongings and bid them both a good night.

When he left, Amanda's hands rested on the door and she casually turned to face Sarek.

"Thank you for coming and for being such a sport. You amaze me in some different way every time we're together," she said.

"It is late," he said in reply. "I should return to my accommodations and rest. What time do you depart tomorrow?"

"Um, well, there was no specific time…"

"Then how shall I know when to-"

"0900 hours," she interrupted with a weak grin. "Be here at 0900. If that's ok."

As he moved toward the door and she reached for the handle to let him out, she stood on the tips of her toes, kissed him lightly, and said, "I love you, Sarek."

"I am aware," he replied, pondering why she felt compelled to say that which was obvious.

She frowned noticeably and he wondered why she would seem upset by his acknowledgement of her feelings. She sighed and said, "Ok, then. Tomorrow at 0900 hours."

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Six
Vulcans Can be Surprisingly Open-Minded

Amanda checked the time on her PADD and scowled. The mechanic still hadn't returned with her shuttlecar and Sarek was due to arrive in fifteen minutes. She would have preferred to have the vehicle packed before he got there, but that seemed less likely with each passing minute.

She'd dropped it off at the shop several blocks away the day before, particularly since it had nearly stalled several times on her trip back from New Chicago. Her father had always kept it well maintained, but he was rarely home to use it, and the last thing she wanted was to have it break down on the way to the cabin. They'd called at 0730 hours to tell her the problem was with the mid-stage flux assembly and it would be easy enough to recalibrate.

When the mechanic showed up, he started explaining the workup he'd performed and she nodded impatiently, asking for the PADD in his hand to sign for the services and pay. She tried to offer him a ride back to his work but he refused, saying it was only a few blocks away and it was a nice morning for a walk.

It worked out well, since an embassy shuttle arrived less than a minute later with Sarek. He let himself out of the vehicle while the driver collected his two small, black, hard case pieces of luggage.

Each time she saw him, she found it harder to resist the urge to gleefully hug him, kiss him, and tell him she loved him. She already knew from the previous evening: he was aware. She settled instead for discreetly reaching for his fingers with her own and indulged herself in the tempered joy the Vulcan hand gesture created.

"How are you?" she asked, dropping her hand so he could pick up his bags.

"I am in good health," he replied.

It sometimes bothered her that he never seemed particularly excited to see her, yet she had a hard time imagining Sarek showing excitement about anything. She always did her best not to take it personally, but she maintained their finger embrace longer than usual, until he asked where he should place his bags.

She opened the back hatch to the shuttle and retreated into her apartment to grab her own bags and the boxes of food and other supplies. It had been years since she'd visited the cabin and she had no way of knowing what things her father kept there, so she'd packed everything she could imagine needing – everything from blankets and cooking utensils to toilet wipes and dish soap.

She emerged carrying two bags over each arm and a large trunk with pots and pans covered in a mountain of folded blankets. She detected a look of curiosity on his typically stoic face as he reached for the trunk to unburden her of it. He seemed mildly surprised by its weight and asked, "I had thought the duration of this trip was three days."

"Huh? Oh, it is; I just wanted to make sure we'd have everything we need."

He bobbed his head, turned to place the items in the trunk, and then followed her inside to collect the rest. He insisted on carrying the heavier things and she wondered if chivalry was "logical" or if he would ever admit to just "being sweet."

He began packing the larger boxes while she continued carrying the lighter odds and ends. When she finally came down with the last of it, the large red crockpot her mother had given her for her birthday, she set it in the trunk and looked at everything still sitting on the sidewalk.

"Do you think it will all fit?" she joked.

He looked at Amanda and then looked at the crockpot she'd just set in the trunk. He slowly picked it up and handed it back to her. "Is this everything you wish to bring?"

"Well, there's always the kitchen sink," she smiled.

"Will the plumbing be compatible? You had said it was an older structure," he replied.

She sighed and shook her head.

"You were jesting," he murmured, lifting bag full of medical supplies.

"Some of this can go in the backseat," she said, picking up her bag of shoes.

She wasn't the kind of girl who generally wore high heels or owned a lot of footwear purely for fashion purposes, but it seemed to make sense to pack both pairs of hiking boots, rain boots, and sandals. She'd also brought her snow boots to leave up there because she never had occasion to wear them in San Francisco.

He took the bag of shoes out of her hands and said, "Now that I have analyzed the intended cargo, I have determined its placement for optimal use of space. This is most efficiently positioned here."

He tucked the bag on the far left side behind the temperature-controlled box with the perishable food. She crossed her arms and watched him.

"Where were you when I was packing to go away to college?" she laughed.

She disliked watching him work while she stood by, but he seemed to prefer to be left alone to the task. She couldn't deny that he was on the verge of achieving the impossible by fitting it all, and when he set the stack of blankets neatly atop the carefully constructed luggage jigsaw puzzle and closed the hatch door, she almost felt like applauding.

"I was unaware you owned a shuttlecar," he said, sliding into the passenger seat.

"I didn't, until yesterday. It was my dad's. I have to warn you, I'm not the best driver," she said, grinning nervously as she set the navigation.

Since her license didn't allow for the aerial use of the shuttlecar, they would be restricted to the roads and the trip would take three times longer. The shuttle's computer currently estimated it would take eight hours and five minutes and with the time difference, they would arrive at 2035 hours that same evening.

She pulled away from the curb slowly. She was still quite a novice at driving and the narrow streets of her neighborhood made her nervous. Traffic seemed heavy, and she reasoned that everyone else had the same idea of getting out of town for the last real holiday of the summer.

She noticed Sarek keeping his eyes on the central computer monitor.

"Our estimated time of arrival has already been extended by fourteen minutes," he remarked, looking over at her.

"Are you saying I'm driving too slow?" she chuckled, triple checking over her shoulder to move into the left lane.

"You should drive at a speed you feel comfortable with, but just a moment ago, the driver of that white shuttle rendered what I presume is considered a rude gesture," he explained.

"I can't tell if you're being serious or if you're being the nicest, passive-aggressive side seat driver ever," she replied, gripping the wheel until her knuckles were white.

Ten minutes later, they left the congested center of San Francisco and quickly breezed through expansive suburbs before emerging onto the open road of Eastern California. Sarek seemed content to watch the passage of the countryside particularly after they crossed through the mountains and into the Mojave Desert.

"Kind of looks like home, huh?" she asked, looking around at the blazing landscape.

"I would say that it is more comfortable than San Francisco," he agreed.

She glanced at the dashboard monitor and said, "The external temperature is 47 degrees Celsius. Sounds more like Vulcan than Earth."

"I once visited a nature preserve near here known as Death Valley," he mused. "I found the outing enjoyable."

"I believe you," she smiled, looking at him to find he was watching her. "But I have a hard time thinking of you as an outdoorsy kind of person."

"On what information do you base your belief?" he inquired.

"I don't know, bad logic probably."

"Many Vulcans enjoy spending time out of doors. I am no exception."

"I guess I only know the ambassador side of you. You know, the guy who wears formal clothing and goes to dinners and conferences and important meetings. Indoors."

"I could say the same of you," he challenged.

"Ok," she conceded. "So you like camping then?"

"Many among my species venture into the wilderness for both recreational purposes and spiritual journeys," he replied. "I undertook the kahs-wan ritual when I was eight years of age, and have found a great inner peace in the natural world since then."

"Kahs-wan? Adult training?" she asked, trying to derive the meaning from etymology and context.

"A rite of passage for adolescent Vulcans that requires surviving ten days in Vulcan's Forge without supplies."

"So you wandered the desert for a week and a half with no food and water?" she scoffed.

"Yes."

"And your parents? They were ok with this?"

"They encouraged it. I was younger than many when I faced the kahs-wan, but my father prepared me well."

"So, let me make sure I understand you correctly. Your parents happily turned you out into the Vulcan desert to fend for yourself when you were eight?"

"The kahs-wan is deeply meaningful to my culture. It honors the time before Surak and has been preserved to ensure the Vulcan people do not grow weak by an overreliance on logic."

She took her eyes off the road and shot him an incredulous look. She knew he was being serious, but this revelation was just one of many that would cause her to redefine the man she was falling in love with.

"You do not seem to approve," he added.

"No, it's not that. You just never stop surprising me," she admitted. "Are there any other strange Vulcan rituals I should know about?"

She felt deliberation is Sarek's silence and she glanced at him inquiringly.

"Vulcans practice many rituals, each with its own purpose. Perhaps you could be more specific," he finally said.

"I guess I don't know what I don't know. And I feel like that's a lot. Like, I would have never guessed you liked the outdoors."

"There are many things I find enjoyable," he said.

"Well, like what?"

"I play the Vulcan harp and I enjoy meditation, archery, and Vulcan prose. I am also fascinated by the celestial legends of alien cultures."

She found herself looking at him again in amazement, but this time a small red light caught her eye. She glanced to the shuttle's dashboard monitor and noticed the vehicle only had six percent power left. She nervously disengaged the engine and began to drift it off the road.

Sarek looked from her to the monitor and noticed the problem. The shuttle was now clinging to two percent power. Just as soon as they came to a stop, the shuttle completely lost power and went dark. The vehicle rocked slightly each time another shuttle whirred past them, and Amanda's heart began to pound.

She blinked furiously, trying to think of what to do or say.

"It just came from the mechanic," she said, looking at Sarek in confusion. "Not even three hours ago. He dropped it off right before you showed up."

"What services did your mechanic perform?" Sarek asked.

What had the mechanic said? Flux assembly? 

She pulled out her PADD and scrolled through her messages to find her receipt.

"A calibration of the mid stage flux assembly," she replied, dialing the link for the mechanic's shop.

Sarek reached across her lap, pulled the release for the engine compartment casing, and got out of the vehicle. She tried to watch what he was doing, but the shop immediately picked up and she explained her problem.

After listening to them apologize profusely for five minutes and offer to send someone out to replace the faulty assembly, she began to feel a little better, until they explained it would be about eight hours before they could reach her.

"I am in the middle of the Mojave desert. It's like a billion degrees outside. I can't wait here for eight hours," she snapped.

"If you call a roadside assistance service, we'll cover the charges," the mechanic offered.

"Fine," she replied.

She called each of the three numbers the shop had messaged her, only to be given even longer wait times, apologies, and explanations saying, "It's Federation Day weekend. Lots of stranded drivers on the road right now."

She got out of the vehicle and gasped. It felt like the heat of an oven pummeling her in the face. She slammed the door in frustration, and walked to the front of the shuttle where Sarek was. He was holding his PADD in one hand and touching a large, cylindrical engine component with the other.

"Placement appears correct based upon this schematic I found, however, improper calibration would explain rapid loss of energy."

"Can you fix it?" she asked.

"I am not a mechanic, but the engineering is simple enough. If we can obtain an additional power cell, I believe I can correctly calibrate this component through the onboard computer."

She turned her PADD back on to find their exact location and balked. They were in the middle of nowhere. Almost exactly in the middle.

They were more than a hundred kilometers north of Las Vegas and the two nearest towns were tiny. Alamo was thirty-one kilometers to the north, and Coyote Springs was thirty-two kilometers to the south. Beads of sweat began to trickle down her temples and spine.

"You are not suited to this environment. You should return to the shuttle," Sarek said.

Amanda did as he asked. She searched for automotive repair shops and taxi services in Alamo and Coyote Springs. Alamo appeared to have both, and she dialed a link to a taxi service and received no answer. She set her PADD on the dash in frustration, and then noticed Sarek was gone.

She looked around frantically and then her heart skipped a beat. A large multi-colored bus had stopped behind them, and Sarek was talking to a human man with a long beard, a brightly colored robe, and oversized sunglasses. She tore out of the shuttle and stumbled toward them.

"And who are you, sister?" the human man asked.

She looked at Sarek in panic, but he seemed completely at ease.

"I'm Amanda," she said weakly.

"Sister Amanda," he said, nodding to himself and smiling. "I'm Indigo Rad. I was just offering Brother Sarek our assistance."

She looked back at Sarek with wide eyes and then back to Indigo.

"I think we're ok," she stammered. "But that's very nice of you."

"Sister Amanda, we are one. We are in the desert. The desert is not Eden. The desert is barren, like the hearts of people who crave material things. We will take you to a place of safety," Indigo said, reaching out his hand to take hers.

Amanda wanted to run. Sarek seemed completely oblivious to how bizarre this man was, and she wanted to take him aside and shake him violently and explain she had no intention of joining a cult. Sarek seemed to sense her apprehension, because he reached for her hand and brushed her fingers.

"I can see that you are one," Indigo smiled. "I can see that you both reach."

"Yeah," she said slowly, moving closer to Sarek.

"What did you find?" he asked.

"There's a town nearby called Alamo that has a shop that should have the power cell we need. I tried calling a taxi shuttle service and got no answer," she said.

"We're on our way to Elgin, but we can drop you off in Alamo," Indigo said.

Amanda wanted to ask whom else he meant by "we," and was about to explain she didn't want their help when Sarek idiotically agreed.

"Thank you, that will be most generous."

"Let me just get my bag," she said, grabbing Sarek's hand and jerking him back toward the shuttle.

"Amanda?" he asked.

"This guy is really weird," she mumbled through gritted teeth.

"Their group appears to have a rather unique philosophy, but he does not seem dangerous. My concern is for your health. Your physiology is not adapted to this environment, and I wish to find a more suitable climate for you."

Damn him and his logic. 

She grabbed her shoulder bag from the shuttle and locked it, and looked from Sarek to Indigo, and then back to Sarek. Sarek was logical, and if he thought it was logical to trust these people, maybe she should too. She faked a huge smile, and boarded the bus.

There were nine others, two men and seven women. They rearranged themselves to allow Sarek and Amanda to sit together just behind the driver, a woman who identified herself as "Breeze."

"I'm Rain," said the woman behind them. "We are One. One is the beginning. Are you One, Brother Sarek and Sister Amanda?"

"Uh, sure, I guess so," she replied as politely as she could muster.

"Could you specify precisely what you mean when you identify yourself as One?" Sarek asked.

"Of course!" Rain replied.

Amanda watched in astonishment as Sarek, Rain, and another man called Thunder discussed and debated principles of counterculture and the Vulcan tenets of Kol-Ut-Shan, or Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Soon the entire bus seemed to be hanging on Sarek's every word and each time he finished speaking, they'd clap in delight. She felt a strange sense of pride watching him. Sarek really was a remarkable ambassador.

The drive to Alamo was mercifully short, and when she and Sarek disembarked the colorful shuttle bus, Indigo pleaded with them to join their "free and happy lives."

"Unfortunately, I have other duties to attend to, but I wish you all well. Live long and prosper, Indigo Rad," he said, offering the Vulcan salute.

"We are One, Brother Sarek," Indigo replied, trying to mimic the hand gesture. "Perhaps one day, our children will also live as One."

Amanda surveyed the small, empty town and wiped the sweat from her brow on her plaid over shirt. There was only one main road, so it shouldn't be hard to find.

"Let's go, Brother Sarek," she teased.

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Six
Humans Bond Over Shared Adversity

Sarek worried for Amanda's health. The temperature was quite comfortable for him: he'd removed his heavy cloak that he often wore in Earth's cooler climates, but Amanda's hair was growing damp from perspiration.

"I've never been in a town this small. It's like something out of the Wild West," Amanda said, looking over the small collection of rundown buildings.

"What is the 'Wild West'?" he asked.

"A few hundred years ago, people moved across the North American continent looking for an escape from the poverty and large cities on the East coast. Some of them were miners, some just wanted to farm the land, and some were probably just running away from their problems."

"It does not sound so unlike modern space exploration," he mused.

"Maybe in a way, but I like to think we've become better people since then," she said, shielding her eyes from the sun to look at him. "Most of the settlers pushed the indigenous people out and tore the land apart. Anyway, little towns like this were supposedly common and would spring up almost overnight. I thought most of these towns would have either modernized or ceased to exist by now."

When they passed a vacant brick building, she was startled by the presence of a thin, tawny-colored canine rustling through a metal bin.

The animal cowered and darted back through the narrow space between the buildings.

"Do you think it's weird that the only living thing we've seen has been a coyote?" she asked.

He had noted the complete absence of other people and looked around.

"That looks like the mechanic," she said, pointing with her free hand to a building nearly two hundred meters away. "Maybe it's just too hot for people to want to be outside."

When they arrived at the lone engineering shop, they found a crude, handwritten sign on the door that read, "Closed today. Gone to Sheila's. Everyone's invited."

Amanda sat down on the long metal bench in defeat under the shop's overhang and pulled out her PADD to try the taxi service again. Sarek walked to the back of the building and was met by a balding, rotund man in a sleeveless, white shirt sitting in a chair too small for his bulk.

"Hi there. You don't seem like you're from 'round here," he said.

"No," Sarek admitted. "Are you the owner of this shop?"

"Naw, that's Homer. He's at Sheila's. I was about to go down there myself. You're welcome to come."

"We do not wish to impose upon Sheila. Or you," he explained. "We merely need to purchase a power cell."

"Ah, well, I never knew Homer to turn down business. We don't get a lot of people out this way, you see. If you come on with me, I'm sure he'll sell you what you need."

Amanda came around the corner and jumped at the sight of the large man.

"Hi there," the man said, his expression brightening when he saw Amanda.

"Hi," she replied, looking back at Sarek.

"You folks together?" he asked.

"Yes," Sarek explained. "I am Sarek, and she is Amanda."

"Willie," the man smiled. "So do you want to go or not?"

Amanda glanced toward Sarek and furrowed her brow.

"Sheila loves company," Willie insisted. "The more the merrier."

Sarek looked back at Amanda and her eyes widened.

"I can't get in contact with the taxi service," she confessed.

"Oh, that's because Madge, the lady who owns the only taxi in Alamo, she's at Sheila's too," he added. "Whole town's there. I'm telling you, it'll be a lot of fun."

"It appears we have no choice but to accept your offer of hospitality," Sarek replied. "We are grateful to you."

"Great," Willie exclaimed. "Let me get my shirt and we'll go."

He stood up from the tiny chair with some effort and retreated into his house.

"Did he say who Sheila was?" Amanda asked.

"No," Sarek answered. "But the man who owns the engineering shop is there. He seemed convinced he will open his business to sell us the component that we need."

"Well, I guess we're going to Sheila's," she said dourly, before beginning to laugh. "Maybe we'll get lucky and find Madge there and she'll give us a ride back to the shuttle."

Willie emerged from the door, buttoning a short-sleeved plaid shirt in a similar color pattern to Amanda's.

"Hey, we match!" he said, walking down the porch to gently elbow her in the ribs.

"Yeah, I guess we do," she smiled uncomfortably.

They drove to a large meeting hall on the outskirts of the town wedged on a long, single seat of an ancient shuttle painted with a myriad of colors. Some of the paint patches looked newer, some older, but the vehicle was operational and possessed environmental controls.

They arrived at a plain building with fading yellow paint and a crooked sign that said, "Sheila's Shack."

"This is Sheila's," Willie declared, exiting the vehicle and pulling his shirt down and pulling his pants up.

It had seemed an obvious conclusion, but Sarek said nothing. He could hear muted, raucous music from within the building that greatly increased in volume when Willie held the door for them.

"After you folks."

"Thank you," Sarek nodded, pausing to let Amanda enter first.

In all his years as ambassador to Earth, he'd never attended such an informal function. People were dancing, laughing, and outfitted in clothing more suited to hard labor. Along the back wall was a long table with a buffet and on the opposite wall was another long table where people were sitting.

Amanda had stopped moving and seemed transfixed by the woman seated in the middle. She was wearing a bright pink dress with a piece of white fabric clipped into her hair. He noted her complexion growing pale.

"Is this a wedding?" she asked Willie.

"Yeah, Sheila's fourth. She and Ronnie finally decided to make it official."

"Oh my goodness," she stammered. "We didn't know. We're not dressed. We didn't bring a gift. We don't even know them. Oh, this is so embarrassing. We should go."

She began walking backward toward the door and Sarek chose to follow her lead, uncertain of the proper protocols of human weddings.

"Nonsense," Willie shouted over the music.

He picked up two clear plastic cups full of amber-colored liquid and offered it to them. Sarek took them both hesitantly.

"Let me go find Homer for you and tell him you need something from the shop," he grinned.

He quickly disappeared into the throng of people and Sarek made eye contact with Amanda. She moved toward him and whispered, "This is so awkward. I didn't realize it was a wedding."

"Nor did I," he explained. "Yet the sign on the door of the engineering shop implied it was an open invitation."

She moved closer toward him and he could feel the damp heat from her body.

"I believe one of these was intended for you," he said, offering her one of the cups.

"I'm not really a beer drinker," she grimaced.

"Nor am I," he admitted.

Though Vulcans didn't experience the same deleterious effects from simple alcohols that humans did, most members of his race abstained from consuming alcoholic beverages anyway. It seemed prudent to respect human custom in such a situation, and he took a small sip. It was shockingly bitter. He saw Amanda staring at him in disbelief, but she smiled slightly, rolled her eyes, and took a drink from her own cup.

Moments later, he was startled by a slap on the back and wheeled around.

"Well Mr. Sarek, I found Homer for you," Willie announced, gesturing toward a small, older man. "You two should stay. They're gonna cut the cake soon."

"How are you?" Homer asked feebly as Willie struck up a conversation with a woman at the beverage table. "Willie tells me you need a power cell?"

"Yeah. Uh, yes please," Amanda said, giving him the model of her shuttle.

"Yeah, I got that," Homer said, scratching his chin. "I gotta give the toast here in a few minutes. Sheila's my daughter you know. But Dave can take you back to the shop. He's been wanting to leave since he got here."

"Oh, well, thank you so much for helping us. We're so sorry to intrude on your daughter's wedding," Amanda said, shaking his hand.

"Oh, it's not a problem. Helping folks out is what I do," he said kindly, letting go of Amanda's hand to shake Sarek's.

He took it out of respect for the man's custom, despite the enormous discomfort it caused him and thanked him as well.

They were soon introduced to the man Homer had referred to as Dave, who drove them back to the shop and sold them the necessary power cell. Dave was talkative, and like many humans, easily offered many personal details about his own life that Sarek found unsettling.

He was kind enough to give them a ride back to their shuttle and on the way, he and Amanda learned that Dave had worked for Homer for nine years and had been Sheila's third husband, that was until he found his former mate in bed with Ronnie, who was also his cousin.

Dave was weeping bitterly by the time the shuttle rolled to a stop. Amanda nervously patted him on the back and glanced at Sarek with wild eyes. He was uncertain what to say and excused himself to begin recalibrating the flux assembly.

Sarek had nearly completed the task when Amanda stumbled out of Dave's vehicle, looking dazed but smiling broadly. She waved goodbye as Dave sped off, and sat down on the dusty ground and looked at him. Her face was red and she looked overheated and tired.

"I believe I have made the necessary adjustments," he said as he closed the engine compartment. "Are you ready to resume our journey?"

She didn't speak. She stared listlessly at the dirt and began laughing.

"Amanda?"

Her laughter began to overcome her and he noted the emergence of tears at the corners of her eyes that swiftly proceeded to roll down her face.

It was paradoxical: he knew that humans cried from physical or emotional pain, yet laughter was a positive emotional response. He could sense some overwhelming emotion brewing within her that he could not identify.

"Are you well?" he asked.

She seemed to make an attempt to catch her breath and lifted her head to look at him.

"I can't say I've had a lot of dull moments with you," she choked, beginning to laugh again. "To be fair, it's not as bad as the first trip we took together. At least we weren't abducted and tortured."

She laughed harder. He had never seen her so out of sorts and was unsure of what to do.

"I did not think today was unpleasant," he mused. "As ambassador to Earth, it it my duty to experience human culture to create understanding between our peoples. Today was a unique experience for me."

She gave him an incredulous look through her fit of laughter.

"It was a pretty unique experience for me too. I mean, in one day, I got us stranded in the desert, we were almost recruited into a cult, we crashed a wedding, and we just sat through a living soap opera. You can't make this stuff up," she panted. Another fit of giggles emerged and she flopped down onto her back.

"Are you capable of operating the shuttlecar?" he asked.

She continued to laugh in between deep breaths and sat up. He helped her to her feet and dusted the soil from her back.

"Ugh, I smell like a sweaty racehorse," she moaned. "And I must look terrible."

"Your appearance may not be optimal, but you are made no less lovely because of it."

She looked at him affectionately and kissed him lightly on the mouth. He could taste the salt of her sweat on her lips, but he noted a happy tenderness in her eyes.

"You're pretty incredible," she said, settling herself back into the driver's seat.

"Yours is a statement with many interpretations," he replied. "The most obvious of which is that I possess some trait that makes my existence impossible."

"Sarek?" she said, rolling her head on the back of the seat to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Don't ever change."

She powered the vehicle on and he carefully monitored the power consumption for several minutes, making minor adjustments to the output settings. When he was satisfied, she engaged the engine, looked at him cheerfully and said, "Let's go."

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Seven
How to Spend the Day

She awoke to the thrumming of a woodpecker somewhere very near the cabin and smiled. It was a sound she hadn't heard in years. She listened carefully as other hymns of the forest emerged: the insects and birds and the rustle of leaves. She felt empty; her last visit to this untarnished place had been just before graduate school.

Dim pre-dawn light filled the room. She threw the heavy blanket off of her lap and glanced over at Sarek. He'd fallen asleep sitting upright at the other end of the couch. She repressed a grin. The typically dignified Vulcan with the excellent posture was not only slouching, but his head was rolled back onto the sofa, his mouth was slightly open, and he was snoring. He seemed so vulnerable and that was oddly refreshing; she was beginning to wonder if he slept at all.

She tiptoed across the creaky floor and into the kitchen area. The cabin was small with a single large central room and two small bedrooms to the side flanking a single bathroom.

They had arrived late last night following their disaster in the desert. They had managed to bring everything inside, and then had sat down on the couch to continue their conversation before they both had drifted into an unexpected sleep.

It was funny – the more she scratched the surface of the man who was Sarek, the less she felt like she knew him. Conversely, the deeper she dug, the more she wanted to know.

She put on a pot of tea and stretched. It was surprisingly cool in the cabin for August, but the weather here had never been predictable. She didn't mind the cooler weather, but she knew it was hard on Sarek, given he often walked around San Francisco covered head to toe in dark, heavy fabric.

Unfortunately the cabin lacked modern environmental controls, and the only source of heat was the wood stove in the corner. She hoped there was firewood in the woodshed.

She tenderly covered Sarek with the heavy blanket and managed to catch the teakettle before it began screaming. She poured herself a cup and grabbed the burlap wood carrier and the work gloves hanging on the peg by the door with the other odd assortment of hats, scarves, and knickknacks, and retreated into the crisp forest air.

She was dismayed to find only unsplit log rounds in the shed. She would need to cut them into firewood, and her hands and back ached at the thought alone. When she was younger, her father always made her help cut wood. Amanda hated it, but he insisted it built character. And muscles. And blisters.

The only pleasure she'd ever taken in it was knowing that it horrified her mother to see her daughter put to work as a quasi-lumberjack.

She began to get emotional when donned the work gloves and grabbed the first log and set it on the sawed off stump. Her father had cut these logs. She wiped a tear on the back of her glove and grabbed the slightly rusted maul.

It was heavy. She was definitely going to be sore. It was slow going but strangely satisfying.

The sun peeked over the small lake and cast a beautiful warm glow over scene. The weather was quickly warming up as the sun rose, and she began to sweat. She soon filled the wood carrier and continued splitting logs to have enough to last through the weekend.

She rolled a final log round onto the stump and paused with her hands on her knees. She reached back for the maul and jumped when she saw Sarek standing on the deck. His hands were folded behind his back and he was watching her intently.

"Good morning," she grinned, wiping her forehead with her sleeve.

"Good morning," he replied. "Do you require assistance?"

"Uh, no?" she guessed, looking at the stack of wood she'd cut. "I'm pretty much done, unless you want to start bringing it inside."

She took a swing with the maul and evenly split the last log round. He lifted one of the halves with his foot and handed it to her. There was something off in his expression and she cocked her head inquiringly. He didn't speak, but picked up the full wood carrier and took it inside.

Three more swings and she was done. She arched her back and stretched her arms, knowing she was going to be extremely sore by the end of the day. When Sarek returned with the empty wood carrier, she helped him refill it, and after several trips, her morning's task was done.

They worked together to make a breakfast of biscuits and gravy and she couldn't help but notice the ease with which they fell into a quiet rhythm. Amanda had always considered herself an average cook, thanks to cooking programs on the holoscreens and summers with her grandmother. Her own mother was likely to burn a pot of canned beans, and so Amanda had learned to fend for herself from quite a young age.

Sarek easily put everything she thought she knew about cooking to shame, though his approach was founded squarely in scientific principles and not in culinary artistry. She enjoyed listening to his explanations on the subtleties of thermodynamics in convection cooking, and he taught her about a number of Vulcan substitutes for common Terran ingredients.

It was amazing how cooking together did a lot to expand their vocabularies and bridge cultural differences. When he asked her for complex slok, it began a curious back-and-forth in which he described the stereochemistry of a complicated carbohydrate. She did her best to recall science classes from years ago, but eventually gave up and told him he would have to settle for cornstarch.

She decided it must have been an adequate substitute, because when they sat down and she took her first bite, she marveled at how perfectly it had turned out.

"Is there anything you don't do well?" she smiled, taking another savory bite.

"Many things," he replied. "I have never been adept at-"

"I was joking," she interrupted, reaching her hand out and take his forefingers.

She didn't think she would ever grow tired of the happy sensation that ozh'esta brought.

"You never did explain why this primitive cabin possesses such a large musical instrument," he said, looking over her shoulder to the piano in the corner.

"My dad was kind of a jack-of-all-trades," she said, thinking back on childhood memories.

"I am unfamiliar with your terminology."

"It means someone who has multiple talents. A bit like you, I guess. He liked the piano. He tried teaching me a few times but I was never very good," she explained. "But when we'd come up here, some nights he would play for me and my mom. We would curl up on the couch and fall asleep listening to Bach and Beethoven."

Those were happier times, when her parents were still together. Her father ended up taking more deep space missions after they split up and trips to the cabin became few and far between. She had asked him once why he kept the cabin at all if he was never on Earth to visit it, and he had told her that it was his break from technology. The older she was growing and the more time she spent living in a large city, the more she was understanding his sentiment.

They ate quietly and she gazed out of the large, front bay window over the lake. There were a few gray clouds in the sky but the sun was still shining, and it seemed like it would be a beautiful day. It was the end of summer, which made it an excellent time for wild berries and bird watching.

"What do you want to do today?" she asked.

"What do you recommend?"

"Interested in a hike around the lake?" 

They set out a little more than an hour later when the dishes were cleared, the rest of the supplies were unpacked, and they had both showered. She carried a small backpack with water and trail mix, and the weather had warmed enough that she felt hot even in the light pink t-shirt and shorts and was wearing.

Sarek was naturally curious about the local ecology, and she couldn't deny that she felt pleased to be on the informative end of their conversation for once. Blueberries and raspberries were in the peak of season, and though the birds had picked a lot of them clean, she still collected a small handful as they walked.

"Want some?" she asked, pouring half from her left hand into her right and offering them.

"Vulcans do not touch their food with their hands, except to prepare it," he explained.

"Is that really an exclusive rule?" she teased.

"I suppose it is a strong preference," he admitted, cautiously taking the fruit.

They stopped and she watched him pour them into his mouth and chew anxiously. She almost laughed in surprise.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it," she admitted. "Now I feel like I bullied you."

"It is not the first occasion I have ever consumed food in this way. As a diplomat, I have often acquiesced to the cultural practices of others in the spirit of politeness."

"I don't want you to be Ambassador Sarek right now. I just want Sarek," she said. "Be yourself. You can tell me 'no,' you know."

"You have a tendency to be persuasive."

"Really?" she asked, wondering when she had ever persuaded him to do anything.

"The few requests you have made of me have been simple enough to oblige and are often acceptable. As an example, these blueberries remind me of a Vulcan stone fruit I rather enjoy."

"Wait, are you saying you've never had blueberries before?"

"No, I have not."

"You've spent how many years on Earth and never once had blueberry pie, blueberry muffins, blueberry pancakes, nothing?"

"Why is this difficult to believe?"

"Sometimes I wonder how much of the real Earth experience you're getting as Vulcan ambassador," she laughed, turning on her heel and continuing to walk.

He quickly fell in step with her and said, "I have learned a great deal about humanity from my time with you and for this I am grateful."

"I've learned a lot because of you," she agreed. "About everything. Vulcan. Cooking. Physics. Myself. So thank you."

The one thing she really wanted to know more about was Sarek. She started to get the sense they were both constantly in a dance around the obvious question of how to advance their relationship. She had halfway jokingly agreed to marry him in six months when he'd proposed a bonding, and that time was half gone and they often still felt like strangers in many ways.

Given they were spending the rest of the weekend together, she didn't want to make it awkward by bringing all of that up now, so she tried to put it from her mind and enjoy the scenery. They walked for another hour, and in that time they encountered a bald eagle, a pair of beavers, and both deer and moose tracks.

Their conversation remained on the mutually safe topic of comparative biology and ecology of Vulcan and Earth plant and animal species. The sky grew a bit grayer as they walked, which eventually led Sarek to suggest they turn back.

"Well, that's a bit of a problem," she explained. "We're roughly about halfway done. I think it would actually be faster if we just kept going, since there's a forest service trail that runs along the West side of the lake.

It was raining when they made it to the wide trailhead, and given the impossibility of them making it back to the cabin before being thoroughly soaked, they continued at a moderate pace.

"I know it's illogical to apologize for the weather, but I'm sorry I took you on a hike in the rain," she murmured.

"The company is pleasing," he replied. "Though you seem to have a unique ability to strand yourself in unfavorable conditions."

"And I could say that the fact that you think that just shows that you have a tendency to get yourself stuck right along with me," she retorted, raising her eyebrows playfully. 

He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow in response. She could almost swear she saw the faintest line of a smile on his face, but she knew better. They continued in easy silence until they reached the cabin. He held the door for her, but she shook her head and told him to go ahead. She stood alone on the porch for a few minutes, watching the rain on the lake and feeling wholly alive.

Her mind drifted as it so often did to what life could be like with Sarek. She was fairly certain Vulcan didn't have a rainy season, and though it could be a nuisance, she enjoyed rain and the green things it delivered.

She frowned and trudged inside. She kicked off her wet shoes by the door and padded to the familiar room on the right to get out of her wet clothes. Instead, she shrieked and slammed the door closed.

She'd just walked in on Sarek changing into dry clothes. His back had been turned, but he had been completely nude.

"I'm so sorry," she called through the door.

It had been habit to go to this room, as the right hand bedroom had been hers growing up. Sarek had moved his things in there and she hadn't seen the point in being territorial over sleeping arrangements.

She leaned her head against the wall in defeat. After everything they'd been through and done together, how could things still be so damn awkward sometimes?

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Seven
How to Spend the Night

"Corvids?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes."

"Perhaps you could offer a demonstration of the word's use in a sentence."

"The word 'corvid' describes a family of blackbirds that includes crows, ravens, and magpies."

"I shall defer to your expertise," he replied, mentally summing the points for the word with her cumulative total.

"What's the score?" she asked.

"You have 393 points, and I have 112," he remarked, quickly processing the numbers in his head. "Based upon the point values of the remaining tiles, it is mathematically impossible for me to win."

Amanda had suggested this game following her four consecutive and decisive losses at chess. The rules of Scrabble had seemed simple enough, yet her command of the Federation Standard language was far superior to his.

"Do you want to do something else?" she asked.

Her index finger stroked the knuckle of the middle finger and he glanced up from the board to observe her face. He sensed anxiety within her.

"I would prefer to finish the game," he said. "Though it does not seem as if you do."

"Well, after you slaughtered me at chess, I thought it would be fun to play something I know I'm good at."

"Do you imply that you do not prefer to win?" he asked.

"No, just that I wish there was a game we were evenly matched at."

She bit her lip as she often did when she was thinking on uncomfortable topics.

"I don't mean to imply you're bad at this," she added, looking at him. "I mean, I did get most of the high value letters and you've been stuck with most of the vowels, so it hasn't been entirely fair."

"While there is an element of chance in this game, I believe you remain the superior player," he admitted. "It would seem that you also have not been playing to your full potential."

She chewed her lip harder and smiled. "True. Earlier I could have played 'jay' on a triple word score for 39 points, but I opted for 'banjo' on the double for 28."

"Why?"

"'Banjo' is a more interesting word. And I was already so far ahead I didn't want to feel like I was showing off."

"I fail to see the point in playing a game if one does not play to be victorious," he countered.

"In case you don't remember, I am winning. By a lot."

"By 281 points," he added. "But do you mean to suggest your attempts to temper your score are done out of pity?"

She laughed out loud and covered her mouth. "You said it, not me."

"I appreciate your skill with language and your ability to strategize with it," he remarked. "And as you have never begrudged me any of my talents, it would appear you hold yourself to a different standard than you hold me."

"Pity…" she mused. "Do Vulcans feel pity?"

He was unsure of what to make in her sudden shift in the conversation. "No. Though 'pity' is often imprecisely interchanged with 'empathy.' Empathy is admirable, as it defines a rational understanding for the plight of others without being emotionally affected by it, as the word 'pity' suggests."

"Hmmm," she said, rested her chin on her palm.

She looked down at the game and was clearly retreated into her own thoughts.

"Was there a specific reason for your query?"

"No," she replied, refocusing on the present and looking at him. "Maybe. I don't know. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be you. How you think. How you experience the world around you."

"Yours is a question without an answer, as I have no frame of reference as to what it is to be anyone else. Nor do you."

"What about when you mind meld?" she probed.

It was a thoughtful question that forced him to carefully consider his answer.

"To meld or to bond with another person is not the same as becoming that individual," he said after a few moments. "Psionic connections simply offer greater understanding of another person. I have mind-melded with you, but you are still you."

Her face remained frozen in thought. "What is it like for you when you mind meld with me?"

"Your question is vague," he explained.

"What is my mind like?" She looked up from the board and stared at him.

"A mind is not a simple thing to describe, and even so, I have only touched yours briefly on several occasions. We do not share a formal telepathic mating bond."

"What's the difference between mind melding and that?" she pressed.

"There is a significant difference," he said hesitantly.

"Like what?"

Amanda's question was a rather delicate one. It was a conversation most typically had between a child and a parent of the same gender, yet her ignorance was understandable. Vulcans were a very private people, especially when it came to their mating practices, and it was unrealistic to expect she could have learned of such things on her own.

So he was left with the uncomfortable task of trying to explain to the woman with whom he wished to bond exactly what Vulcan bonding was. Though his intentions toward her were genuinely pure, he disliked the exploitative nature of such a relationship.

"Perhaps you would like to finish our game and take an evening meal," he said, reaching to embrace her fingers as a means of placating her and deferring the conversation to a later time.

She scowled at him. They stared at one another for a time until Amanda finally yielded. Two more rounds and their game was complete, and they packed it away and set to work preparing dinner.

He'd sensed a subtle change in her demeanor throughout the day. She seemed more pensive following her unintentional entry into the bedroom while he was dressing. It would be illogical to speculate on the subject of her thoughts, but her recent questions about bonding were suggestive of more romantic overtures.

They ate a meal of mixed vegetables and baked potatoes in silence. He felt content to observe her as she gazed out of the window. He did not mind simply being present in the moment, yet he knew humans disliked long periods of quiet.

"Is there some motive for your silence?"

The sound of his voice appeared to startle her. "I'm just thinking," she mumbled, spearing a vegetable and chewing it carefully.

He had offered her the opportunity to speak her mind and she'd refused. He did not wish to intrude upon her thoughts by pressing the matter further.

"It's a shame there are still clouds out," she declared.

Daylight was fading into pale gray rather than the red-orange sunset the planet's atmosphere experienced during clearer weather. He looked out the window and observed the sky. There were breaks in the clouds above, but it was still quite overcast.

"Did you have plans for outdoor activities?"

"Kind of, yeah," she replied, seeming to distantly recall something. "The Perseid meteor shower peaks around this time each year."

"If memory serves me correctly, I believe your planet's nearby moon only just entered its waning phase, which would also obscure celestial phenomena."

"Yeah, I remember on years when the moon was near full my dad would wake me up right before dawn to be able to see them."

"Perhaps the weather will clear and we might do the same."

She smiled and her eyes darted toward him. Her mood seemed to be lightening and there was a noticeable shift in the silence.

"What do you want to do until dawn?" she asked.

"I should like to meditate for a time later this evening," he admitted.

It had been days since his last serious reflective period and spending so much time in Amanda's company often made it difficult to focus his thoughts with the precision he was accustomed to.

"Sure, of course," she said, rising from the table and collecting their empty plates.

He followed her to the kitchen to help her clean.

"Did you have something else in mind?" he added.

"I don't know," she muttered. "I thought maybe we could talk."

"On which subjects?"

"Us."

"Specify."

She opened her mouth to speak but her lips transformed into a nervous smile. She seemed to be considering her words carefully.

"Are we still going to get married in less than three months?" she blurted. Her own question seemed to startle her.

"I appreciate that the parameters of our agreement were hastily made and understand that I have been away for much of the period in which we intended to make ourselves better acquainted."

She looked at him, but he noted that her eyes didn't quite meet his.

"I'm falling in love with you, but sometimes things still seem weird between us," she said. "Then there are times when everything seems so perfectly natural."

He was unsure what she intended for him to infer. She dried her hands on a dishtowel and moved to fill a teakettle with water.

"Can I ask why you were in such a hurry to bond with me?" she asked.

On the morning he'd asked her to be his bondmate, he'd spent the entire previous day reflecting on the matter before admitting to himself that he cared for her. His choice to tell her had been one of the most rash acts of his life, perhaps short of divorcing his previous mate. He had seen no other perfectly logical alternative at the time and had chosen the most logical of the illogical options available to him.

"When you were my guest on Vulcan, I concluded that if I did not make my intentions known that I might not have been afforded another opportunity to express my great care for you," he eventually said.

Her eyebrows furrowed as they often did when she was deep in thought. "It's kind of funny; that's why I said 'yes.' I certainly liked you, enjoyed your company, and knew I was falling for you, and I was afraid if I said 'no' that you would never ask me again."

"I will not hold you to our initial agreement, if that is what worries you," he replied.

Her face fell sharply and she asked, "Are you saying you don't want to be with me anymore?"

"No, I was merely indicating that I respect your desire to take the necessary time to be at ease with our arrangement, in accordance with your customs. I shall not require you to honor a deadline you made arbitrarily."

"Oh," she replied as her face flushed. "But now that you mention my customs, I feel like I wish I knew more about yours. Every time I'm close to you, I find myself wondering if I'm touching you in some way that makes you uncomfortable or some way that's deeply offensive."

"I would inform you if that were so," he explained.

"Well, ok, but it's hard getting you to talk about your customs and what you expect from me."

"I presume you refer to your earlier query about telepathic mating bonds."

"Well, yeah."

"Yours is a question on a subject that is profoundly private to my people," he began to explain. "It is not something generally discussed."

"But you're asking me to be your bondmate. I feel like it's kind of unfair to ask me to fulfill a role that I don't even understand. You want me to share my life with you, but you won't even talk to me about how that's going to work."

Her points were valid but no less uncomfortable to discuss. "A telepathic mating bond is somewhat similar to a mind meld, but it more securely links the minds to two individuals together, which is of particular importance… for several reasons."

"Ok," she replied impatiently. "That's what's so embarrassing for you to talk about?"

"It is not a matter of embarrassment. Embarrassment is illogical. It is simply a matter of practicality and Vulcan biology."

"Practicality how?"

"For instance, two months ago when you attempted to initiate mating, I needlessly injured you. The connection that a mating bond provides likely would have prevented that."

"Then why didn't we do that first?" she asked.

"It is not something to undertake lightly. It is a deeply personal commitment to another person. It is most often performed as part of Vulcan matrimonial rites. Mating bonds are not easy to sever and the strength of the bond cannot be easily predicted until it is already in place."

"But if we're going to be married, or bondmates, we're going to have to do this eventually, right?" she argued. "Are you afraid that if we initiate this bond that I'm going to change my mind?"

"There is often a marked permanence to mating bonds, and since you seemed uncertain of me, I did not wish to attempt to sway your judgment during your deliberations."

"So you're saying if we do this, you think I won't be able to back out?"

"It is a possibility," he admitted. "I have no desire to manipulate you into making a decision. The choice must be yours."

"I see," she mumbled, chewing down hard on her lip and looking at the floor.

"Perhaps you would like-"

"Could we do it now?" she interrupted, looking at him with a distinctive intensity.

"Now?"

"Yes, I mean, can you initiate this bond now? With me? Here?" she asked.

"It is possible to do, but you must understand how strong this union of the mind is-"

"You've given me the 'fair warning' speech," she interrupted. "I think I understand what I'm getting into. I love you, Sarek, but I feel like you still hold me at a distance, and I want to be closer to you. Is there some other way you can think of that we can do that?"

"No," he replied.

"Then why not do it now?"

"Are you certain?"

"Are you?"

He thought over it carefully. Yes, he was certain of his choice in Amanda. He worried about exploiting her, yet she was also an intelligent woman capable of making her own decisions.

"If that is what you wish," he finally said.

His answer obviously surprised her, but she nodded confidently and said, "Ok then."

"Did you mean at this moment?" he asked.

"Did you have some other pressing plans I didn't know about?" she retorted.

He stepped forward toward her, unfolding his hands from behind is back. He recognized a keen curiosity and nervousness in her and possessed the self-awareness to know he shared her sentiments. He repressed those emotions within himself and then reached his hands to her face.

The powerful push of her emotions swarmed his consciousness. The first thing he could perceive was fear that threatened to boil over into hysteria. As their minds joined, the rush of Amanda's memories, thoughts, and feelings breezed through his awareness.

"Amanda?" he said, reaching out to her mentally to test the bond they were creating.

The release of his own mind threatened to overwhelm him and then it was quickly over. He let go of her face but she didn't respond, prompting him to suppress a creeping fear that he'd damaged her in some way. He looked over her carefully and eventually she said, "Sarek?"

"Relax," he instructed mentally, pushing his focus outward to console her.

She was dazed and he could feel her struggling to make sense of their newly forged bond. She stumbled forward and embraced him, turning her cheek to rest her face on his chest. This action soothed her and the closeness of her body was eliciting a sensation in him that he began to fight to control.

"Are you ok?" she asked through their bond, loudly and unfamiliarly.

"Are you?" he responded.

"I think so?"

She was not accustomed to telepathic communication, and the action was choppy and imprecise. It would be something she would have to learn to control, but could easily learn to do with time.

They remained silent and still for several minutes and he felt her mind beginning to calm. He did not wish to probe her consciousness too closely and startle her, so he simply held her.

Sarek could feel the beating of her heart and followed the pattern of her breathing. He found he was beginning to have to consciously repress his desire for her and she seemed to be sensing it.

"Amanda?" he asked aloud, wishing to break apart from her to ease his arousal.

Instead, she spurred it further when she leaned back, kissed him, and lightly caressed his face. He returned her kiss hungrily, momentarily losing control. Her lack of inhibition was startling and the more he explored it, the less he cared about regulating his emotions.

Their physical advances began to reach a fever pitch and when they stumbled into the nearby bedroom and began shedding their clothing, he completely abandoned his Vulcan stoicism.

That evening in the small cabin in the woods, they shared their bodies for the first time and he finally understood part of what Amanda had been seeking all along.

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Eight
How to Navigate a Mating Bond

It was still dark when she woke. She was on her left side and Sarek's right arm was tightly wrapped around her midsection. He was snoring softly and she could feel his breath tickling her neck. She blushed deeply when the memories of a few hours earlier drifted into her mind. What had she been thinking?

One moment she'd asked him to bond with her and the next moment, they were bonding in a completely different sense of the word. For as much as she couldn't believe she'd let herself get so carried away, it was almost impossible to think of Sarek ditching his inhibitions the way he had.

Yet here they were, bodies entwined and naked under a quilt. She'd slept in this bed as a child, but now she knew she'd never look at this room the same way again.

She carefully tried to turn over without waking him and winced from the aches tearing through her body. Between splitting wood and more amorous activities, she was going to be sore for a while. She eventually managed to extricate herself from his grip and sat up, rolling her head around on her aching neck.

Her body and mind felt almost alien: she was the same old Amanda, but somehow she also wasn't. She recalled the sensation of Sarek's mind touching hers and felt a strange surge of some positive emotion that was a unique mix of love and anticipation.

They were mates now, according to Vulcan custom. That was terrifying. What had she been thinking?

He'd said that telepathic mating bonds were generally performed as part of a Vulcan marriage ceremony. Did that mean they were as good as married now?

She stared sharply at the wall and stifled a laugh. Had she just gotten married, or some Vulcan equivalent of married?

As she mulled over the distressing prospect of unanticipated matrimony, she suddenly realized that she didn't really mind in the way that she thought she should. When Sarek had asked her to marry him several months ago, she'd thought he was insane. However, now that she was on the other side of a Vulcan mating bond, she better understood where he had been coming from.

She loved him and now they were connected in a way that human language didn't really have an adequate word for. She never believed in the concept of predestined soul mates, but that seemed to be the closest analog she could contrive. They might not have been born to be together, but it very nearly seemed that way.

She stood, stretched her aching muscles, and tiptoed to the bathroom. She examined her reflection in the small square mirror and smiled broadly, then promptly tried to hide her smile with her hand.

She wondered why she so often did this and dropped her arm to lean over the small pedestal sink. She was happy and she was in love. So why shouldn't she smile?

She noticed she had strange, dark material beneath her fingernails and set to work trying to wash it away. She glanced down at her body and her eyes widened. She had bruises on her hips in the shape of a large handprint. Had he really been so rough? It hadn't seemed like it at the time.

She turned on the water for the shower and let it run for a moment while she brushed her teeth. She went through her usual routine of making funny faces at herself while she worked. There was a soft knock at the door and she nearly jammed her toothbrush into the back of her throat when she jumped in surprise.

She spit into the sink and said, "Yes?"

"Are you well?" Sarek asked.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. You can come in if you want," she stammered.

She blushed furiously when he entered the bathroom. She wasn't accustomed to seeing him naked and she felt ridiculously silly for being shy after what they'd just done.

"Human emotions are mysterious things," he said, looking at her patiently.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to be… embarrassed," he explained. "Yet I sense you do not want me to leave."

She laughed. "I think I might regret this mating bond thing after all."

He cocked an eyebrow and she explained, "I was kidding. I just don't know what it's going to be like if you can read me like an open book."

"You imply that you wish to keep secrets from me."

"Well, no, but surely you have thoughts and feelings you'd prefer to keep more private," she explained.

"Certainly," he agreed. "You are not accustomed to a connection of this kind, but solitude within your own mind is something you will learn with practice. I shall never deliberately intrude upon your thoughts."

"Well that's a relief," she murmured. "But you can still pick up on my emotions, can't you?"

"Yes," he admitted. "It is… unfamiliar. On previous occasions when I mind-melded with you, a fleeting connection would often remain and I could sense particularly strong emotions in you, but now my awareness has been greatly expanded."

"But if I were Vulcan, you wouldn't feel my emotions because I'd constantly be repressing them."

It pained her to think that by simply being herself, human feelings and all, she was putting an undue strain on Sarek to have to repress additional emotions. Her emotional human side was going to make his stoic Vulcan side work serious overtime.

"I was prepared for this," he said telepathically. "You are not Vulcan. You are human. I do not require you to be anything other than you are."

She jerked at the unexpected telepathic communication and smiled faintly. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to talking that way."

"You will," he insisted. "With practice."

She looked him in the eye and her stomach fluttered. "I was about to shower, if you'd like to join me," she said, trying to change the subject.

He nodded without speaking and moved toward the shower, and when her eyes caught a glimpse of his back in the reflection of the small mirror, she gasped. "Oh my God."

He had angry green streaks running the length of his shoulder blades. That was what had been under her nails: his dried blood. He casually glanced at his injuries in the mirror.

"You were not in control of yourself," he said dismissively, looking down at the bruises on her hips. "It was unintentional and as you have not questioned me about the minor damage I have inflicted upon you, it would seem as though you are again holding yourself to a different standard than you hold me."

"Still, I'm sorry," she said, gently stroking one of the scratches on his back with her index finger. "And before you say it, it's not illogical to apologize for doing this to you. And I packed a dermal regenerator, so there's that."

The shower stall was small and Sarek was large. He nearly had to stoop to fit in it, but they worked well together in tandem to shower.

"I am not accustomed to water-based cleansing systems," he said, examining the bar of soap with intense curiosity.

She recalled the sonic pulse shower he had at home and grinned. "I tried to tell you that you were going to have to 'rough it' out here at the cabin. If you can call clean, running water 'roughing it.'"

"I do not mind this activity with you," he explained.

"You don't mind?" she asked jokingly. "Vulcans really don't like being wet, do they?"

"No."

She grabbed the bottle of shampoo and turned to wet her hair under the stream of water. She found that even lifting her arms above her head to wash her hair hurt. Sarek seemed to intuitively sense this, and began to gently apply neuropressure to her back.

Vulcan neuropressure could be painful, but also soothing. She braced herself against the tile and sighed deeply as the water ran down her chin. She felt herself growing aroused again and shook slightly and turned around.

"We should stop," she mumbled. "You know, before this turns into a vicious cycle of sex, which leads to sore muscles, which leads to your hands on my body, which leads to more sex."

He gave a subtle, patient nod and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him chastely on the lips. When they were done showering, she loosely braided her wet hair and dressed in a pair of jeans and a long sleeved flannel shirt. It was cool in the cabin and though she didn't mind, she wanted Sarek to feel comfortable.

She was loading firewood into the stove when he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his typical, thick black attire. She gently blew on the wood shavings to stoke the small blaze and then closed the stove door and stood to greet him.

"Take your shirt off," she said, her tone more challenging than she'd intended.

His left eyebrow noticeably arched at her demand, but he complied without complaint. She quickly found the dermal regenerator in the med kit she'd brought and they sat on the couch so she could set to work repairing the scratches in his back.

His skin was strangely cool to the touch. She marveled at how quickly the regenerator mended his wounds, but she couldn't help but feel fascinated by his dark, green blood. She knew Vulcans had markedly different physiology than humans, but she didn't really know to what extent.

Then a startling thought occurred to her. They had just had sex. Unprotected sex. Could she have gotten pregnant, or was that even possible?

That led to a series of mixed thoughts and feelings that she'd explored several times before. She felt too young and unprepared to have children right now, but she was beginning to feel confident that she would want them someday. If she couldn't have children with Sarek, then what? The answer finally came to her as clearly as if she'd always known. Then… nothing.

She loved Sarek and wanted to be with him, and not having a house full of kids wasn't a deal breaker. Besides, there would always be children out there in need of a home and it seemed like their relationship was proof that there were many ways to form a family.

"A family... I do want a family," she thought.

Sarek stiffened and turned to look at her.

"A family is a natural extension of oneself," Sarek replied mentally.

"You heard that?" she thought.

Sarek winced before saying aloud, "You are not yet particularly skilled in projecting or internalizing your thoughts. You also have a tendency to be quite forceful in your telepathic communication."

"What, you mean like I'm shouting into your mind?" she asked, trying to steer the subject away from babies.

"Precisely."

"Don't say 'sorry.' He'll say it's 'illogical'," she thought, trying to come up with a response.

"It is indeed illogical to apologize for something you are ill-trained to control," he replied telepathically.

"Dammit!" she yelped. "Am I ever going to have privacy in my own mind again?"

"I do not intend to encroach upon your thoughts," he explained. "But they are difficult to ignore when you project them the way you do. I shall work more diligently to respect your privacy."

"I don't understand this very well," she admitted. "Imagine being deaf and mute your whole life and then one day you weren't. You might know that yelling is rude and inappropriate, but it's another thing entirely to even understand what yelling is, if you've never done it or heard it. Everything would sound like yelling."

"An apt analogy," he agreed.

"Well, how do I get better?"

They spent thirty minutes practicing back and forth. Sarek patiently instructed her on narrowing and subduing her mental focus, but she couldn't tell how well she was learning, and that was frustrating. She gazed out of the bay window and wondered when the sun would come up.

"It is only 0314 hours," Sarek told her through their bond.

She gave him a cynical, sidelong glance for reading her thoughts.

"It seems like it would be later than that," she thought back cautiously.

"The clouds have largely dissipated, if you would like to observe the meteoroid display."

"Yeah," she said quietly with a subtle grin. "I'd like that a lot."

They stood on the cabin's upper deck and craned their necks upward and when their eyes adjusted to the dark, they were eventually greeted by a rapid streak of white across the night sky. She felt a surge of joyful nostalgia, recalling the late summer nights with her father.

She saw Sarek observing her from the corner of her eye and slowly turned her head to meet his gaze. She sensed he was picking up her strong emotions and began to wonder just how much of a toll their bond would eventually have on him and if it were possible for Vulcans to go crazy.

"Do not apologize for your happiness, or for your happy memories," he said through their bond.

"Do you have any happy memories? Is that a thing, for Vulcans?"

"There have been many occasions in my life that I recollect with a degree of fondness," he admitted.

She couldn't explain why she found the concept of Sarek reminiscing about the "good old days" to be surprising.

"I recall our first meeting," he added.

"What about it?" she grinned apprehensively.

"You were observing Vulcan spiny firefish at the Science Conservatory's aquarium."

"Yeah, I know. I was there, remember?"

"I was impressed by your ability to appreciate the beauty in a thing that I disregarded as common. I admired you for your honest simplicity and then when you acknowledged my customs in proficient Vuhlkansu, I admired you for your mastery of a complex language."

"That's… much sweeter than what I was going to say," she admitted. "I don't remember it like that at all. I was terrified of you."

"Why?"

"I'm not used to mixing in those kind of social circles, so I was down in the basement hiding with the fish when you ambushed me. You were the first Vulcan I'd ever met, and I didn't know who you were. I was afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. I always felt that way, working at the diplomatic school."

"Interspecies interaction is a task that often results in failure and misunderstanding," he admitted. "Yet as with all things, it becomes easier with practice."

"Yeah, no kidding, considering that the aquarium was only a couple of months ago, and now look at us."

A pleasant silence fell between them as they observed the trickle of meteors against the black sky. She felt content, though sad that she knew this moment wouldn't last forever.

"Sarek?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to get married?"

"In time, when you are ready. I explained that I would not hold you to our prior arrangement-"

"I know," she interrupted. "But I think I finally understand where you were coming from, when you asked me to marry you. Yeah, there's a lot to figure out, but I'm happy to figure it out together."

"I better understand your position now as well," he argued. "There are many logistical concerns that I do not believe you wish to ignore."

"You're a diplomat. You go a lot of places and meet a lot of people. I'm a linguist. I can 'linguicize' anywhere."

"I do not believe that is a word," he said.

"It isn't," she admitted. "But the fact is, I'll follow you wherever you have to go. I've been holding on to this idea that I had all of these life plans that I wanted to accomplish before settling down, but I really don't. Earth is where I was born and I love it here, but I can make a home anywhere, and would happily do it so long as it was with you."

"You are certain?" he asked telepathically.

She nodded and kissed him.

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Eight
How to Plan a Wedding

They had watched the meteoroids for a time before retiring back indoors. He had put several more logs on the fire and rekindled it, and they sat quietly on the small sofa.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the wood burn in the stove. He considered her request to marry and was uncertain how best to proceed. He knew she was in earnest, and so was he. Initiating the mating bond with her had been the most serious step in cementing their union and now a marriage ceremony was largely a formality. A serious formality, to a diplomat.

He did not question that Amanda would adapt to a more public lifestyle, but he found himself once again questioning how content she would be. "What are you thinking about?"

"Marriage," he answered.

"Ok, I guess that was kind of a stupid question."

"I have done research into the matrimonial customs of your species, and I have found wide variations in the practice."

"You did research?" she asked, sitting up to face him.

"It was prudent to acquaint myself with your expectations."

"That's both really sweet and- well, I don't know, smart," she agreed. "I don't know anything about Vulcan weddings. But I don't really have any expectations. A white dress, flowers, a wedding march, music, all of the people I love gaping at me: none of that ever seemed appealing. I've never liked being the center of attention. What are your expectations of me?"

"I had not considered it," he explained. "If you wish to forgo the traditions of your own race, I would be satisfied to formally bond in a small, private Vulcan ceremony."

He explained to her the ancient customs of his people, of the priestess and the marriage drum and the intricate vows. She listened patiently and then smiled.

"If that's what you want to do, let's do that," she finally said when he'd concluded.

Like Amanda, Sarek had no strong preference for the marriage customs of his people. His father had always stood on ceremony and the ancient ways, and he'd often thought that perhaps as he aged, he would grow more conventional as well. Instead he found he was growing more practical.

His first marriage had been a large, formal Vulcan wedding, yet it seemed illogical to place a great deal of emphasis on a ritual when the strength of the underlying bond was far more relevant. His bond with Amanda was far deeper than it had been with T'Rea, and so a highly formal ceremony seemed superfluous to solidify the bond with his newly chosen mate.

A marriage on either planet would be legally recognized throughout the Federation, and so for simplicity's sake, it would be more practical to be wed on Earth, as they were already here.

"If we get married on Earth, that means I'll have to invite my mom," she said telepathically.

He was surprised by the unexpected intrusion into his thoughts and the skill with which she'd managed it.

"Sorry," she said mentally. "I'm not trying to eavesdrop. This is still pretty new to me."

"You would not want your mother to attend your own wedding?" he asked verbally.

"I would, I guess. Not really, no. Maybe? I don't know. Ok, no. She just gets so domineering, and I know if she caught wind of it, I'd be having the wedding I never wanted and getting paraded down the aisle in a fabulous dog and pony show for everyone's benefit but my own."

"You know your mother better than I do, yet I imagine she would take offense to being excluded from her only child's wedding."

"Yes, yes she would," Amanda smirked. "But that's what you get when you spend your whole life tormenting your only child."

"Human familial relationships seem unnecessarily complex."

"What are Vulcan families like?"

"Much like human families," he admitted.

She grinned and rested her head back on his shoulder. "So you really have skeletons in the closet and gossips and bad apples just like everyone else?"

"Skeletons in the closet?"

"You know, like, dark family secrets?"

"Are you implying serious crimes like murder? It seems illogical to hide one's victims in a closet where they may be easily discovered."

She laughed loudly and hugged his arm. "No. Nevermind. But at least I know who to ask if I ever need to hide a body. Anyway, let's just get married on Vulcan. Aside from my mom's crazy antics, do you remember how my fellow humans thought were two scoops of adorable just for walking around a museum? Imagine how bad it would be if we got married here."

Aside from her unusual turn of phrase, her logic was sound. He was a public figure, but he preferred his private life to remain private.

"When do you wish to have the ceremony?"

"Well, it's almost 0500 hours on Sunday. I should go back to work on Tuesday but could probably push it to Thursday. It takes, what? Twelve hours to get to Vulcan?"

"Fourteen, at standard intra-Federation travel speeds," he corrected. "I had not anticipated that you intended to be married immediately."

"Is there a better way to elope?" she mused. "Best to just get it done before too many people catch on."

He was unaccustomed to spontaneity, but he was willing to indulge her impulsive request, given he knew it was based in well-considered and reasoned thought. He considered his plans for the upcoming week, and reasoned travel to Vulcan would be feasible with minimal rearrangements to his schedule.

"Sarek?"

"Very well," he agreed.

"Really?" she said with a hint of alarm, sitting up straight.

"Were you jesting?"

"No," she explained. "But I didn't think you'd actually go for it. Way to call my bluff."

"Then I believe it is your move, to expound upon your euphemism."

She blinked. "Yeah, ok. Let's go get married. We're getting married. I'm getting married. I'm going to be Mrs.- wait, do you have a last name? And do women take their husbands' last names in your culture?"

"S'chn T'gai. And yes, the adoption of the male's surname is common practice among my people, though if you do not prefer it, I shall not ask you to alter your name."

"S'chn T'gai? Wow, that's some lingual gymnastics," she scoffed. "This is crazy. Let's just go before we realize just how crazy it is."

Amanda began swiftly packing the cabin for their departure, and he noted her lack of order as he observed her unceremoniously stuff unfolded blankets and clothing into various bags. He quickly prepared his own small pieces of luggage and began arranging their belongings in the back of the shuttle.

Thirty minutes later, she raced through the dwelling, looking for any overlooked items, and just as quickly pronounced that she was ready to leave.

"It would be unwise to depart with the coals still smoldering," he said, glancing toward the cast iron stove.

"Huh?" she mumbled, following his gaze to the dying fire. "Oh."

She retreated outside and soon returned with a small bucket from the corner of the porch that had filled with rainwater. She pulled the stove door open and heaved the contents of the bucket over the glowing logs. An immense swell of steam erupted and she examined the result proudly.

"And you call yourself a scientist," she murmured, walking past him to return the bucket to its original location.

He followed her without another word, and once they'd settled into the front seats of the vehicle, she looked at him nervously.

"Where do you intend to go?" he asked.

"Uh, well, the closest interplanetary ports I know of are in Chicago or Montreal. I don't know how often either one sends commercial flights to Vulcan."

He extracted his PADD from the inside of his cloak and swiftly determined Chicago would be the more optimal choice. She quickly programmed the navigation in the shuttle and engaged the engines.

Sarek began composing a message to his secretary explaining that he intended to extend his absence by several days, and then set to reading his official and personal correspondence from the previous day. Most of it was routine, yet there was one message that caught his interest.

It was from T'Rea, his former mate. He skimmed the message's contents and learned she'd recently given birth to a son and had left the monastery. It was the final line of her missive that troubled him.

She wished to meet with him. Immediately.

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Nine
How to be Happy

"This is much better than the last time I came to Vulcan," she said through their bond, noting the planet's reddish hues through the window of the shuttlecraft.

The last time she'd arrived on this planet, it had been in a stasis chamber packed among giant rats on the Varith, the Vulcan research vessel that had rescued them from the Romulan escape pod. Before meeting Sarek, she'd never even travelled off of Earth's North American continent. She looked back at the man she'd come here to marry, marveling how greatly he'd expanded her horizons in such a short amount of time.

Sarek said nothing but she could feel he was watching her. They'd had several hours in her shuttle car, plus three more of waiting at the departure terminal, and then a fourteen-hour space journey to continue exploring the new bond they'd forged.

He admitted he had never travelled commercially between Earth and his home planet, preferring instead official spacecraft more suited to his post, and that had made the voyage just that much more interesting. She'd made a joke about him "slumming it," and then spent a few minutes trying to explain the euphemism before giving up.

Most of the ship's passengers were Vulcan and several of them seemed to recognize Sarek, but none approached him. A sizeable minority of their fellow passengers was human and she and Sarek received a number of curious looks. The Vulcans hadn't stared, per se, but it was obvious they were paying attention.

She wasn't sure which bothered her more: the humans, who were openly gawking, or the Vulcans, who were pretending not to. It had been the same at the science conference they attended and would probably be the same for the rest of their lives. No matter how hard she tried to prepare for it or accept it, it was still a bit unsettling. Sarek had said people were naturally curious, which was a fair assessment, but it didn't mean they also had to be naturally rude.

When the ship finally made it to orbit and they boarded the shuttle to take them down to the planet, they ended up sitting in seats that faced a Vulcan couple. Rather than engage in a staring contest, she chose to gaze out the window.

Vulcan really was a beautiful planet, in its own way. She wondered what Sarek thought of Earth each time he viewed it from space.

"The first time I saw Earth, I was fascinated by the vast quantity of water," he said through their bond. "I believe it covers more than seventy percent of your planet's surface."

She smiled and avoided glancing at the Vulcans sitting across from them. Closing off her thoughts was proving a difficult skill to master. Her mind was beginning to feel like a leaky faucet, and no matter how hard she wriggled the handle, she couldn't completely tamp the flow of her thoughts to prevent Sarek from sensing them.

Twenty minutes later, they disembarked the transfer shuttle and entered the large terminal in Shi'Kahr just at the onset of dusk. She had left most of her things in the trunk of her shuttlecar and only brought a small bag that she'd carried with her during their journey with basic hygiene items and three changes of clothing. They moved along with the other throngs of travellers, finally coming to the customs desk.

"Ambassador Sarek," said a young agent. "You were not expected."

"I had not notified the consular office of my arrival," he explained.

"Welcome back to Vulcan, Ambassador Sarek," the agent said, waving him through the entry. "Live long and prosper."

Amanda remained in place, uncertain what to do. They were together, so to speak, but this agent didn't know that and she wasn't an ambassador. She wasn't even Vulcan. It seemed like bad form to just expect preferential treatment simply because of who Sarek was. She looked at him and remained in place. He seemed to understand, and telepathically said, "I'll procure transportation."

She had to admire Vulcans for being so efficient in a task that most people bemoaned as being a bureaucratic nightmare. She was given a PADD with a twelve-page checklist of things to declare and things that were prohibited and reasoned that if she didn't know what it was, odds were, she didn't have it.

She approached an older Vulcan man and was instructed to take a seat while he looked over her form. He began to ask questions regarding the length and purpose of her visit, where she planned to stay, and whether or not she had in her possession any of a long list of plants, animals, minerals, seeds, weapons, known disease-causing agents, or pharmacological chemicals.

She felt tempted to make a joke about having Tellarite mushrooms in her small carry-on bag that had been eaten by the pox-infected tiger cub she was trying to smuggle onto the planet as part of an illegal animal fighting operation, but wisely held her tongue. She didn't know many Vulcans, but the one she was most closely familiar with often failed to appreciate sarcasm.

When the agent was finally satisfied that she wasn't a time-traveling Suliban warlord visiting Vulcan to recruit the youth into subversive activities against the government, he released her to the other side of customs. Overall, she decided she'd been a little premature in admiring Vulcan efficiency, but she could not deny that they were very thorough.

As she was leaving, she instinctively smiled and thanked him for his help, which prompted a response about it being illogical to thank a civil servant for simply performing his duty. She frowned, realizing that was probably true and feeling rather silly, but she figured he encountered dozens of species from around the Federation each day, each with their own social pleasantries, so maybe her faux pas was just one of many in a sea of daily tedium for him.

She wondered where to begin looking for Sarek, but he very quickly found her.

"That was an experience," she announced.

"One you chose to undertake," he replied.

"I'm not sure if I did the right thing or I wasted everyone's time, but either way, it was interesting," she said, trying to stifle her grin.

She typically felt relaxed enough around Sarek to be openly expressive with her emotions, but knew Vulcan society saw it quite differently. Broadly smiling in public seemed about as rude as belly laughing during a funeral service. Thinking about her comparison only made her want to laugh, and she chewed on the inside of her mouth so hard she drew blood.

This was going to be a lot more difficult than she thought. 

"I believe you will learn to adapt," Sarek countered telepathically, without looking in her direction.

She tried to keep her face neutral and reached his mind to say, "You make it sound so easy. You've had a whole lifetime to learn how to do this stuff."

"And you have the remainder of yours to learn to do the same," he replied. "However well you progress, your effort will not be unappreciated." 

They took a taxi to Sarek's home on the outskirts of the sprawling capital city. During their ride, Amanda watched the large, brilliant Vulcan sun fall over the horizon and scatter vibrant hues across the landscape. It was a striking view.

They arrived at his estate just as darkness finally fell and she was surprised by the cool breeze in the air that lapped her face. The last time she had visited here, the temperature fluctuated between awful and unbearable, but this time they had arrived during winter in the hemisphere.

It was still warm inside his house and he thoughtfully adjusted the environmental controls to better suit her physiology. She waited self-consciously for him by the door, wondering if she should put her things in the spare room that she had stayed in before, or if it would be too presumptuous to put them in his room. She followed him down the hall anxiously, looking for some sign from him, when she heard his voice in her thoughts again.

"You may sleep alone, if that is what you wish, though I would be glad to share my bed with you."

She blushed, not only at the prospect of sleeping together, but because she seemed to so often forget that he could sense her thoughts with so little effort.

He held the door to his room for her and she began to chew her lip. She chose to enter despite her trepidation and found a dark room that was nearly twice the size of her living room. He turned on the lights, and her eyes instantly found it difficult to decide where to look.

An enormous bed was centered on the back wall and covered in fabric similar to the heavy cloak he often wore. Much of the furniture and décor looked like a more ornate Vulcan analog of what she had in her own bedroom, replete with nightstands, lamps, two large wardrobes, and several cultural artifacts on the wall.

A large window comprised half of the southward-facing wall and lead out to a private outdoor terrace. There were several instruments positioned by the massive glass pane, one of which she instantly identified as a telescope very like the one her father had kept in their living room. The others looked like a mix of modern and antique versions of Vulcan stargazing equipment.

When she'd put away her few belongings, they prepared a meal together in his large kitchen. It was difficult not to be sentimental: this was where he'd proposed to her several months ago.

They ate a bowl of savory broth in the formal dining room and began to discuss their plans for the following day. Sarek had made arrangements for a temple priest to meet them in the morning at his family's ancestral marriage site. He explained the nuances of the ancient Vulcan wedding customs to her, and she instantly felt overwhelmed and began to regret not taking him up on his offer to have a simple ceremony performed by a civil servant back on Earth.

As Sarek explained it, they were already forgoing most parts of the formal ceremony, including the participation of the wedding party and some kind of ritual gong and drum. Still, she prayed she would be able to keep everything straight in her head.

"I shall remind you, if you forget," he said telepathically.

She smiled at his reassurance and finished the rest of her food. After dinner they stood on the terrace adjacent to his bedroom and looked up at the stars, and he told her of the celestial legends of the ancient races of Vulcan. He allowed her to look through his telescopes to observe nearby phenomena more clearly, but she found she had trouble concentrating when their faces were in such close proximity.

So they ended their last evening as single people by making love for the third time on his bed. Their bed. She was growing more assertive in these endeavors, and this seemed to excite and fascinate him.

Later, as she drifted into a peaceful sleep, she found all the uncertainty of her spontaneous choice to travel to Vulcan and elope with a Vulcan ambassador falling away.

She knew in her heart that she had made the right choice. 

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Nine
The Lengths to Which Humans Can Love

Sarek found he was unable to sleep, but for the first time in months, he was untroubled by this. His mind was more active than he'd prefer, but he would meditate soon. For now, he wished to observe her. His eyes focused on Amanda in the dark as she slept, drinking in her soft and pale features by the ambient light of the stars streaming through the long window.

In a few hours' time, she would be his mate in every sense of the word, but he wished to appreciate this moment for as long as it would last. He listened to the sounds of her breathing, her occasional whimpers, and the rustle of the sheets as she moved.

He was curious about the contents of her dreams, but would never explore them without her express permission. Ever since they'd formed their bond, the constant barrage of her feelings and thoughts had assaulted him, and while it was fascinating to explore the workings of the human mind, it felt inappropriate to peruse her mind so freely.

She may be his mate, but she still deserved privacy. Still, he found it difficult to give her privacy when she so innocently yet boldly projected her consciousness toward him. She'd already learned to control this to a fair degree, but it would take her years of practice to be continually proficient. He would have to assist her; both with strengthening her mental abilities and with maintaining his own mental discipline to give her the privacy she was due.

When she settled into a deeper sleep, he rose from the bed to perform a meditation cycle. He had too long neglected it since he'd resumed his position as ambassador to Earth, and he found he required it now more than ever.

He dressed in a heavy evening robe and quietly left the bedroom and proceeded down the hallway to the house's formal meditation chamber. Of all the places he performed his ruminations, it was this place that made him feel most at ease.

He settled onto his knees on the hard stone floor and began a cycle of deep breathing. He allowed his mind to reflect the previous three days, and instantly found the source of nagging restlessness.

T'Rea. 

Her message had caught him off guard: he hadn't spoken with her since the day they'd finalized their divorce. Their telepathic mating bond had been easy to dissolve over the course of several weeks, as it had never been particularly strong. She had been content to go her own way, so why should she desire to speak with him now, following the birth of her son?

Simple mathematics and biology told him that her child could not be his; T'Rea had even admitted this. He had been in Rigel III when she'd become pregnant, and rather than choose to ignore the truth or challenge her lover to ritual combat, he'd chosen the more logical option of divorce, since an annulment wasn't a viable legal option when a pregnancy was involved.

Polite Vulcan society had frowned on his choice and he knew his reappointment to Earth to serve as ambassador was a demotion for his actions. He knew his political banishment to Earth was likely mild compared to the reprimands T'Rea had received from her own family for her reckless and selfish affair.

T'Rea came from an old and very powerful family: her grandfather was cousin to Sorel, Vulcan Minister of State, her father had just been promoted to the head of the Vulcan's Security Directorate, and her aunt was poised to take a seat on the Vulcan High Council in the coming year.

After the death of his father Skon, Sarek's own immediate family's influence had been somewhat diminished. Following his divorce, his own more influential distant relations had grown more socially distant and Sarek was essentially alone in a culture that valued connections and authority.

Seeking an audience with him after all these months seemed fruitless. It would be illogical to speculate about her motives, and just as illogical to meet with her prior to formally bonding with Amanda. Considering the matter as resolved in his mind as he could manage, he continued his slow meditations for another hour

He was very nearly finished when he heard the soft chime of his door, alerting him to a visitor. The sun was not yet risen and no one knew he was at home.

He opened the door to find his former mate standing calmly on the front entrance to his house. She was unchanged since the last time he'd seen her: she was still the towering, imposing figure with thin features and sharp eyes that was etched into his memory.

"Sarek," she said with a slight, respectful nod.

"T'Rea," he replied, refusing to move to allow her entry.

She noticed the social slight, but true to Vulcan custom, was completely unfazed.

"How did you come to know I was at home?"

"I believe you are aware that my father is head of the Security Directorate," she answered.

"I was unaware you were reconciled to your family," he retorted.

"I am not, though that is why I have come to speak with you," she explained, taking a step forward.

"I fail to see how I can be of any assistance in that matter," he replied, also taking a step forward to more fully block the entryway.

"Perhaps you could invite me in so we might discuss it," she said, inching forwards another step. "It is quite cold during this time of year and I believe it would be good manners."

"It is cold this time of year," he agreed. "And this time of night. I believe it is also good manners to call during more appropriate hours, and with an invitation, either express or implied."

"This was my home once too, Ambassador Sarek," she said with biting formality.

"Yes, it was."

They allowed a brief silence to fall between them, but eventually Sarek took a step back and allowed her to enter. She didn't press the issue for asking for typical Vulcan hospitality rights; she simply removed her large overcloak. He watched her expectantly.

"I have given birth to a son," she said at last.

"I received your message," he admitted.

"My son is called Sybok. His father has chosen the way of the monks at the sanctuary of Vulcana Regar, and has thus forsaken all familial attachments."

Her confession was unsurprising. His former mate had always been deeply religious, spending more time at temple than at home, and he was beginning to believe he understood her purpose for coming. He immediately set to work formulating a logical refusal.

"In recent months, I have studied under the High Masters of Gol, and wish to devote my life to the pursuit of their teachings," she continued.

"And you cannot do that if you are divorced," Sarek interrupted, "But nor can you if you are married."

She did not respond. He began to consider the legal possibilities to deduce precisely what she was asking of him.

"You wish to remarry and then seek a formal annulment," he finally finished.

"I believe there are many benefits to such a decision," she said. "For all of us."

All of us. She was referring to Sybok as well.

She was seeking a putative marriage to legitimize her son. Under Vulcan law, a child conceived or born of such a marriage would be considered a legitimate heir, regardless of whether the parents were married at the conception or birth of the child.

A simple annulment would have been preferable to divorce, but she had been pregnant and therefore, he had been unable to obtain one. His other option would have been to annul the marriage following the child's birth, which would have given Sarek legal recognition as the child's father.

He had rejected that alternative, choosing not to raise another man's child as his own firstborn heir. Now she was suggesting he should retroactively choose this option. She could have sought a putative marriage with the child's biological father, but it seemed as though he had refused if he'd chosen life in a monastery.

To be an illegitimate child on Vulcan carried no obvious legal punishment or formal hindrances, but it did mean enduring a number of informal, societal obstacles. It had never seemed logical to Sarek to categorize individuals based on the nature of their birth, and many progressives and moderates agreed with him.

Yet old customs and prejudice often seemed the last vestiges to die of staunch conservatism, and if her son Sybok remained legally fatherless, he faced many challenges in his future. Sarek was sympathetic, but he was not responsible.

"No," he said firmly.

"I do not believe you have considered the logic of your choice," she countered.

"I have. I am not your child's father."

"I would require nothing of you, financially or otherwise," she insisted. "And after an appropriate length of time, the marriage would be annulled. Many within my family would be immeasurably grateful. To both of us."

Her words were vague and imprecise, but he knew exactly what she was implying. It seemed T'Rea had more at stake than he'd first realized. It was clear now that her family was willing to renegotiate her ostracism if she would correct the hasty divorce from Sarek and retire to a religious order, unattached and out of the public eye.

"I cannot and will not honor your request," he insisted. "I have come here to take a new mate."

"I was unaware," she replied. "But perhaps your prospective mate can help you see the logic in my proposal. I am not asking you to abstain from a new marriage, only to postpone it."

"And you would seek to make your child my legal heir."

"It is an unfortunate consequence of the facts," she admitted.

"Sarek?"

He turned to see Amanda, dressed in a light robe and quietly padding down the wide hallway in her bare feet.

T'Rea's eyebrows rose and she looked at Sarek carefully. Amanda had frozen in the hallway when she noticed T'Rea and he sensed her confusion through their bond, mingled with substantial intimidation.

"This is T'Rea, my former mate," he explained. "She was just leaving."

T'Rea nodded imperceptibly but did not move. "I apologize for intruding upon you. Live long and prosper, Ambassador Sarek. And I urge you to reconsider my offer."

When she had left and Sarek had shut the door behind her, Amanda shuffled toward him and embraced him in the human fashion.

"What was that about?" she asked.

He could feel all manner of negative emotions emanating from her. He had not planned on informing Amanda of T'Rea's visit, but now felt conflicted about how much to reveal to her.

"What offer was she talking about?" Amanda insisted.

"It is a complicated matter of Vulcan law," he said.

Amanda furrowed her eyebrows and he knew he could not conceal the entirety of the truth from her. So he began to explain everything, despite the sensitive subject of his former mate's affair and their subsequent divorce. As he spoke, he could feel the emotions growing within her, and when he concluded, she was staring down at the floor.

"If you don't remarry her, her family is going to take it out on you, aren't they?"

"That seems very likely," he responded.

Amanda didn't speak, and he was startled to discover he could not feel her thoughts or feelings as clearly as before. She was struggling to keep him at a distance, and she was finding moderate success.

"Amanda, I do not intend-"

"I can't marry you," she stammered, beginning to choke on tears.

"Amanda, I have established a bond with you. I do not intend to sever it because of my former mate's choices or the often archaic laws of my people."

"I know," she whispered as the tears freely streamed down her face. "But I can't let you throw away your life for me. It isn't fair."

Sarek was about to reply that "fair" was a very human notion as far as interpersonal relations were concerned, but she stood and quickly walked down the hallway to the bedroom.

"Amanda," he called after her.

"I have to go home," she cried. "I can't stay here."

"Please be reasonable," he said, entering the bedroom behind her.

"I am being reasonable," she sobbed.

It was paradoxical to claim rationality during a clearly observable effusion of emotion, but Sarek noted he was beginning to experience emotions of his own.

He was afraid. He was watching his mate pack her belongings and was unsure how to convince her to stay.

"Amanda, I care for you," he said quietly, knowing that the spoken expression of such sentiment often profoundly moved her: it was why he said it so sparingly.

She stopped moving and stood in a posture of utter defeat. Tears dripped from her quivering chin and she was trying to slow her breathing. She looked at him with her red eyes, and he found they displayed the pain he could already feel inside of her.

"And I love you, Sarek. I love you enough to want better for you than to throw your life and career away for me."

He was beginning to understand that he had lost her and his own emotions started to flow freely. He left the room to allow her to finish collecting her things, and desperately pondered various means to change her mind.

Unfortunately, he found himself alone several hours later. Amanda had taken a taxi back to the terminal to procure passage back to Earth, and it would have been inappropriate to stop her. She had made her choice, and he was forced to respect it.

Only one other time in his life had he found so much difficulty in controlling his emotion, and that had been only months before when he had been forced to watch helplessly as Amanda was nearly tortured in front of him.

Now he was finding it difficult to separate his grief over her loss with his anger at T'Rea. None of it was logical, and it would take him many days of meditation to find some means of understanding.

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Ten
There's No Good Way to Move On

Amanda thought she understood suffering. She had lost so much in the past year: her privacy, her father, her job, and even her cat. She had been a tabloid object following her breakup with a sketchy politician, a victim of torture, and a target of political revenge when she'd been terminated from the diplomatic school. Had it not been for Sarek, she might not have held on to her sanity.

And then she walked away from him on the night before they were supposed to elope, and she soon found herself in a dark hole from which she feared she would never escape.

She had done it for him, but a tiny part of it had been for herself too. Nothing would assuage the guilt she felt condemned to feel. Sarek was such a bright diplomat: the few times she'd seen him at his craft, she'd often been spellbound by his oratorical skills and his ability to bring about compromise when none seemed possible. It would have killed her to see him censured on her account; he deserved better.

But he also deserved to share his life with the woman he had bonded with. They had rushed into bonding at her insistence, even after Sarek had warned her about the strength of a Vulcan mating bond. He had taken a great risk in trusting her with such an intimate connection, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd betrayed him.

She couldn't see any way to make it right.

She cycled through the same emotions: jealousy, anger, love, guilt, grief, and regret. There was no way to make heads or tails of any of it: it was all just a mess.

The journey home to Earth had been particularly difficult. Her emotions were so raw that she felt like screaming and crying until she passed out, but most of her fellow travellers were Vulcan, and she was desperate to avoid making a scene.

So she had found a quieter compartment on the commercial starship, took a seat in the corner, and buried her nose in it. She had covered her face with her jacket; ostensibly to block out the light and make it easier to sleep, but all she'd managed to do for the fourteen-hour trip home was stay mostly quiet as tears seeped down her face.

In those early days, she'd very often been close to contacting him and trying to find some way to fix it. She hoped against hope that he would, and spent hours checking her PADD for a new message from him. None came.

The weeks dragged on and so did Amanda. She managed to get herself clean and slog herself into work day after day, and her performance didn't seem to suffer enough for Tolek to comment on it, but her officemate Kas noticed her overpowering depression. She often encouraged Amanda to join her for lunch or coffee, and Amanda agreed sometimes as a means of simply feeling alive, but after several months, Kas began to sense it was a hopeless cause and had started to ask less and less.

Her neighbor Vera had tried a little harder and still hadn't given up. Her free-spirited friend was busier than ever with a new job and a new fiancé, but she did her best to find time for Amanda, often by threatening to burn her sweatpants and stuff her into pretty clothing and force her to go to out in public.

She appreciated everything people were trying to do for her, but they were a poor substitute for the void left by Sarek.

As the weeks turned into months, she began to worry. She'd hoped that time would fade the bond they'd formed and give her some perspective, but she found she was beginning to physically wither. She lost weight, she slept the weekends away, and she was developing frequent migraines. She wondered if her mind was beginning to crack, because she'd often wake in the middle of the night feeling like Sarek was there with her, only to find herself alone.

She knew it was made infinitely worse by the fact that she could still feel him. She assumed a mating bond would weaken with distance and disuse, but several times a day she found she was acutely aware of his consciousness. She realized that meant that he could probably sense what she was feeling, and in a way, that made her angry.

If he knew how badly she was hurting, why didn't he say anything? Then she would remember that she was the one who broke things off with him, and knowing Sarek's logical mind, he wouldn't want to subject them both to the indignity of seeking her out when she'd made it plainly clear things were over. Then she often felt sad, wondering how he was getting along.

It was impossible to know. Sarek had feelings, but kept them tucked so far away inside of himself in accordance with Vulcan custom that she had never been able to perceive them very well.

There were really only two times she could recall feeling what Sarek felt. She had once felt his overwhelming fury when she was nearly tortured in front of him aboard the commandeered Romulan ship, and then she'd sensed his intense confusion and sadness on the night she'd left his house on Vulcan. Her record of provoking emotion in Sarek only included pain, and that only made her feel worse.

At the start of the New Year, she found herself at a crossroads. She was sorely in need of some kind of closure, and knew if she didn't move on with her life now, she probably never really would. Her contract work on the universal translator was more than half complete, and she would need to find other employment before May.

In mid-January, she was sitting alone in the basement cafeteria of the embassy complex when she heard a familiar voice over her shoulder.

"Long time, no see."

"Hello, Giles."

She smiled weakly without turning to look at him, and he quickly took a seat next to her.

"You're a long way from the Vulcan consulate," she said.

She was surprised by how even mentioning Sarek's workplace could poke at her heart so viciously.

"Yeah, I just turned in my notice today," he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's great work, it pays well, but I'm missing out on watching my girls grow up," he explained.

"They must be almost a year old now," she said in amazement.

She hadn't seen them since she'd babysat them with Sarek. She felt another little tug at her heart, and she started to instinctively chew on her cheek.

"Yeah, little weeds they are. Walking and babbling and lots of fun," he grinned.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I just took a job with a private transport company. There are a lot of prototypes of the universal translator out there and the comprehensive one is almost done, as I'm sure you know, but there's still a real demand for linguists, translators, and interpreters. After all these years out of Starfleet, I'm going back to space."

"So how is that going to help you be with your family?" she questioned with a forced laugh.

"They're coming too," he explained. "Celeste is nervous, but we figure it will be good for the girls to see the quadrant while they're young. The ship is large with lots of families, and if we stay, they'll end up going to school and everything."

"That sounds really interesting," she agreed, wondering what it would have been like to grow up in space.

"Yeah, that's actually why I came down here. I was looking for you. They're looking to fill a lot of positions and asked me if I knew anyone. I know you said you were working on a year-long contract here, and I thought you might be interested."

"Oh, I still have more than four months left," she explained.

"I'm sure they'd let you finish your contract first. I know it's impolite to ask how much you make, but I can tell you that I'll be making almost three times what I did at the Vulcan consulate."

Her jaw almost dropped.

"That almost sounds too good to be true," she said cautiously.

"I thought so too, but an old Starfleet buddy of mine has been doing it for three years and he loves it. All the fun of space travel and seeing new places without any of the hassle of Federation service. It makes sense if you think about it: good linguists who are willing to live in space are hard to come by. Starfleet sharks most of them and a lot of the others would prefer a cushy teaching position at home."

Amanda quickly got lost in thought. Her father had taken longer and longer assignments in space following her parents' divorce, until eventually he practically had lived there. She'd always wanted to travel more, and this seemed like a pretty prime opportunity.

"So can I forward them your contact information?" Giles asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "That would be great."

They said their goodbyes and she promised to stop by over the weekend and see the girls. For the first time since she'd broken things off with Sarek, she felt almost hopeful and excited. This would be a chance for a fresh start.

She had her first interview with the transport company two weeks later, and took several exams to become a certified translator in Vuhlkansu and the Tellarite language. It took another week for them to process her background investigation, which was followed by a second interview. She was cautiously optimistic, and realized she was looking forward to leaving Earth more than she probably should.

She was at home alone on a Saturday in mid-February when she received a formal job offer at nearly four times her current salary. They were willing to defer her start date to allow her to finish her contract on the project, and they would pay her moving and storage expenses. She would be assigned to a large vessel that frequently travelled between Earth, Andoria, Tellar Prime, the Rigel system, and Vulcan.

The thought of visiting Vulcan again wasn't particularly appealing, but she reasoned she could simply stay aboard when they came to port.

Despite her excitement, she was reluctant to send a message back right away and accept the job. It was difficult to explain even to herself, but she sensed she was facing a decision that would shape the rest of her life.

Later that afternoon, she answered a knock at her door to find Vera, soaking wet, clutching her coat tightly around her body, and shivering against the rain.

"What's up?" Amanda asked.

"Peter was trying to drag me to one of those boring concerts for cultured people tonight, but thankfully, he has to work," her friend explained as she entered Amanda's apartment.

"You came by to tell me that?" Amanda joked weakly.

"No, just because I don't want to be alone, and most of the time, I worry about leaving you by yourself for long periods."

"Really?" Amanda replied, feeling slightly dumbfounded and embarrassed that Vera viewed her as a liability.

"Well, I can tell you're lonely. I've never seen anyone have it this bad over a guy," Vera frowned.

"Yeah, it's pretty stupid, I guess. I'm getting better though, I think," Amanda lied.

"Where's my tea?" Vera joked, looking impatiently at the kitchen. "No one makes it as good as you."

Amanda smiled at her friend's brash and casual attitude. Vera had tamed a lot in the year they'd known each other, but she was still endearingly pushy. It was a quality she hated in her mother, but one that seemed to suit Vera.

They retired to the kitchen and Amanda began filling the kettle with water.

"So I got a job offer today," Amanda said nonchalantly.

"Oh, with that shipping company?" Vera asked, stuffing her mouth with water crackers.

"Yeah."

"When do you start?"

"Well, I haven't accepted yet. I will. I think. Maybe. I don't know."

Vera looked at her incredulously.

"I thought you wanted this? You need this. You're way past the desperate stage, Amanda. You need an intervention. This job is that intervention."

"Ugh, I know. It's just a big step to take."

"I will haunt your dreams if you turn this down," Vera threatened. "I'll miss you, of course-"

She was interrupted when her PADD rang. Amanda busied herself with making tea, and knew what her friend was saying was true.

"Dammit," Vera snapped, turning her PADD off. "I have to go into to work too. I'm a mathematician. You wouldn't think I would have work emergencies on a Saturday evening. I hate my life."

Amanda walked her to the door, but as she was leaving, she stopped herself.

"Oh, that's part of why I came by. I can transfer those concert tickets to you, if you want."

"Who's playing?"

"Oh, it's some classical guy. Brams?"

"Brahms?" Amanda corrected.

"Yeah, whatever. You want to go?"

Amanda considered it for a moment and smiled. Her father had loved Brahms, and she was getting the feeling she might not have the opportunity to see many live concerts if she ended up taking this job.

"Sure."

"Great, I think it starts at 1930? I'll transfer the tickets when I get to work."

"Oh, I only need one ticket," Amanda pointed out.

"Amanda, no one else I know will go. I can't give these things away. Maybe you'll get lucky, find some hobo on the street, and take him and have a magical evening. No matter what, it can't be worse than that guy I tried to set you up with on New Year's Eve."

Amanda grimaced. His name had been Todd? Ted? Tad? She'd spent most of the evening crying in the bathroom and he'd taken her home well before the ball dropped. In New York City.

"Ok, fine," she agreed.

She said her goodbyes to Vera and flopped down on her sofa and picked up her PADD. She reread the job offer, and just as she hit the reply button and began to type out her acceptance, there was a knock at the door. Assuming Vera must have forgotten something, she quickly opened it, and then nearly fainted.

Sarek was standing on her front porch, soaking wet and shivering slightly. One of his arms was tucked into his heavy overcloak, concealing a large bulge of some kind near his chest.

"Forgive me," he explained, as water dripped down his chin. "I have located your cat."

He extracted Euclid from under his cloak and held the black and white cat out for her to take. She had written off ever seeing either one of them again, and now here they were. She wasn't sure how long she stood there in stunned silence, but she felt almost certain that her heart would beat out of her chest. Tears started to cascade down her cheeks and she wondered if it was possible for a heart to shatter twice.

"I've missed you so much," she briefly allowed herself to think, hoping desperately that he couldn't sense the true depth of her sentiment.

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Ten
The Human Subscription to Fate

It was difficult to focus with the powerful flood of feelings pouring from her, but he recentered himself quickly.

"Miss Grayson?" he insisted, offering up her feline companion.

"Can you- will you- do you want to come in?" she stammered.

He did not think that would be wise, given the months he'd spent struggling to sever their bond. He had not wanted to come at all, and he had nearly turned this task over to a subordinate, but worried it would have looked too peculiar.

He'd spied Euclid yesterday in the bushes near his living quarters, nursing a wounded paw and shivering in the cold. He instantly recognized him as Amanda's lost pet from the distinctive, black triangular markings on his flanks. He'd coaxed the animal into his quarters, and then had taken him to a nearby veterinarian.

Months of feral life had been hard on Euclid: he was quite thin and missing part of his ear and tail, and seemed to be infested with a number of parasitic insects. Sarek knew his disappearance had been difficult for her to bear, and he wished to reunite them and perhaps give her back some of the happiness she'd lost.

Amanda's loss had been difficult for him to bear. He had hoped their hastily formed bond would dissolve, yet it had not. For months he had felt her grief and confusion, mixed with anger and loneliness, and had spent many hours in meditation attempting to overcome her pain. His success had been modest, at best.

The strength of their bond surprised him: Amanda was not Vulcan. Try though he might to forget her and suppress the flow of her feelings, he could not.

He remained on Vulcan for nearly a month following her departure. He had honored Amanda's final request to preserve his career: he remarried T'Rea, acknowledged her son, and then immediately had the marriage annulled. He saw her only once, and that had been at the wedding.

He had shocked several members of her conservative family by altering the ancient marriage customs and refusing to form a mating bond with her, but they had not questioned his defiance. The ceremony had been private, and they had gotten what they wanted: a woman who was no longer a black mark on their lineage.

He had attempted to resign his post as ambassador to remain on Vulcan indefinitely, but Councilwoman T'Lona had convinced him to return for a year while they searched for a suitable replacement. This favor would be one that would certainly prove difficult to reconcile.

The Vulcan Science Academy had been prepared to grant him a position as a junior professor of astrophysics following the events aboard the Romulan vessel, but he had chosen to informally decline the offer in order to remain on Earth. He would have preferred to retire from diplomacy to follow scientific pursuits, but he had chosen to pursue Amanda as a mate instead. Now that Amanda had refused him and he had settled things with T'Rea's family, there was no reason to not to remain on Vulcan.

Vulcan was his home, and he had been away for too long. He pondered whether his years in the company of alien species, particularly humans, had weakened his mental discipline and resolve. He considered his options, and decided that when his term as ambassador was complete, he would undertake the kolinahr ritual and purge himself of his vestigial emotion.

It was only logical. It was the only obvious means of finding a way to irrevocably break his bond with Amanda, and since he could not foresee taking a new mate prior to the onset of his next pon farr, his options were quite limited.

He had returned to Earth five months earlier and resumed his duties as ambassador with renewed indifference. He worked less, cutting his hours back to only eighty per week. Consequently, he meditated more, spending nearly three hours in solemn contemplation each night in the quiet of his home.

Last month, he had successfully gone two days without thinking of Amanda or sensing her thoughts when his secretary, Giles Marcus, had tendered his resignation. He explained that he was taking a position with a private transport service, and had mentioned in passing that Amanda was also considering employment with the same agency.

Mr. Marcus had never understood the full extent of his relationship with Amanda, but certainly knew she and Sarek were acquainted. It was fascinating that his former secretary's idle comment could undo months of training his mind to forget her.

He was very nearly close to forgetting her for a second time when he had found Euclid the evening before. The cat's physical condition was appalling, and he felt compelled to provide assistance, but understood he was also ethically bound to return the animal to its rightful owner.

He had not wanted to come and be confronted with the remains of his attachment to her, but now here he was. Despite her tears, she was just as beautiful as the image he retained in his mind.

He heard the sound of a teakettle beginning to scream in her kitchen, and she looked warily over her shoulder.

"Please, come in," she begged. "It's so cold out there and I can tell you're freezing."

The kettle continued to whistle loudly, but she didn't move or take her eyes from him. He stepped across the threshold.

"Your cat," he said, offering the animal for a third time.

She smiled painfully and awkwardly retrieved her pet from his arms and held him closely to her chest.

"Thank you," she sniffed, struggling to meet his eyes.

She had said she'd missed him, or rather, she had thought it and he had sensed it within her. He felt wholly aware of just how much he'd longed for her as well, and longing was illogical. 

"I should take my leave," he said simply, over the continuing shriek of the teakettle.

"Can you- will you stay?" she said anxiously, taking a few steps backward toward her kitchen.

"I do not believe that would be prudent," he explained, turning toward the door.

"No," she replied quickly. "I just-"

He could see fat tears dripping from her chin onto the cat's fur. The longer he stayed, the more he was becoming attuned to her emotions. They were more powerful and complex than anything he'd ever experienced in her. 

"I don't want you to go," she finally said.

He was unsure how to respond. He did not wish to leave either, but he did not wish to stay in the company of a woman who had rejected him, regardless of her motivation for doing so.

"Don't go," she pleaded softly through their bond.

This bold and absolute connection was a shock to his system. Months of working to forget her had been completely fruitless.

"Your teakettle," he replied telepathically.

"I don't care," she thought back.

"It is uncomfortably loud."

She bit her lip and held her ground. He recalled she made tea for him the first time he'd visited her apartment: a white oolong tea that he had greatly enjoyed. She had made tea for him the first time they'd kissed, though that kiss had been shared over a broken teacup and her badly injured hand and foot. It occurred to him that he had not had tea to drink since he'd stayed with her in her cabin.

"I shall stay, if you prefer," he finally said aloud.

She nodded quickly, set the cat down, and disappeared to the kitchen to remove the boiling water from the stove.

"Do you want some?" she asked nervously.

He considered his answer for a moment, uncertain what would be implied by accepting her hospitality. Then he heard her scream and felt a twinge of pain, followed by the almost immediate sound of splashing water. He instinctively raced to her tiny kitchen to find it was engulfed in steam, and she was sitting on the floor, cradling her left arm.

The skin of her left forearm and hand was already turning an angry shade of red and she was blinking furiously and gasping for air. He saw the teakettle lying on its side and hot water dripping from the counter into a large pool on the floor. New tears formed at the corners of Amanda's eyes, and he instinctively knelt to help her.

She began to cry hysterically, and he tenderly took her arm to examine the damage. She held it tightly and defensively to her chest, but leaned her head forward onto his shoulder and continued to weep. He slowly wrapped his arms around her and held her patiently, failing in his efforts to subdue his emotional connection to her.

They had done this once before: Amanda, injured and crying on the kitchen floor and him, bewildered and feeling powerless to console her. The free effusion of her emotion was beginning to overwhelm him, and he fought harder to keep his own emotions in check.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

"Illogical. You have burned yourself. You have nothing for which to apologize," he replied reflexively through their bond.

She cried intermittently for twenty more minutes, and she started to drift off to sleep in his arms. He looked at the burn on her arm and knew she needed treatment.

He began to gently push her back into a sitting position in order to retrieve her medical kit, but she refused to move.

"I'm so sorry I left," she whispered through their bond. "Please don't leave me now."

He knew then that he never would.

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan, Chapter Eleven
A Methodology for a Vulcan Apology

"You seem to be unusually prone to injury."

"Just around you," Amanda breathed, feeling unable to look him in the eye but desperately wanting to.

Her face was still puffy and swollen from crying, but she was calm now. She was sitting on the tall stool at her kitchen counter while Sarek carefully traced over her burns with the dermal regenerator.

She'd carelessly grabbed the kettle handle without noticing where she was putting her fingers and had ended up touching its hot steel side. The tiny amount of pain had made her jump, which caused her to lose her grip on the teakettle entirely, and she'd poured boiling water down her arm and hand.

The sensation of his hand on her arm filled her with a feeling that didn't have an adequate word in any language she knew. Words like "longing" or "heartache" fell too far short. She could nearly perceive the same sentiment within him, deeply buried and threatening to come closer to the surface. She didn't speak, partly because she didn't want to ruin the close moment, and partly because she didn't know where to begin.

"Ah," she winced.

She dared herself to look down at her arm and instantly looked away in disgust. The top layer of skin on the underside of her wrist had peeled away. The dermal regenerator was making short work of patching her back together, but it was still repulsive to look at.

She felt Sarek's thoughts on her, but he said nothing. Another minute of quiet passed, and when he was nearly done, she finally allowed herself to look at his face. His consciousness seemed to detect her attention, and he looked up at her.

She wanted to say all kinds of things. Apologize for running away, ask why he didn't come after her, explain that she actually knew why he didn't come after her, ask how he had been, explain that she knew he had been suffering just as badly as he had been, apologize for making him suffer, or tell him just how much she'd missed him.

Instead, all she managed to say was, "You're soaking wet."

He glanced down at the small puddles that were dripping from his cloak onto the floor.

"I don't care about the floor; I care about you," she added. "You must be freezing. Can I at least take your cloak?"

He finished healing her arm but she didn't look down to examine his handiwork. Instead, she stood and reached for the high collar of his wet overgarment. He didn't resist, but shrugged his shoulders and allowed it to fall away from his body. It was made of a very thick cloth, and the weight of the water made it incredibly heavy. She carried it to her laundry room, set it in the hanging dryer, and then moved to her front entryway to adjust the environmental settings to forty degrees Celsius.

"That is not necessary," he said telepathically.

Her hand froze on the control switch and she bit her lip. Hearing his voice within her consciousness made her feel more whole.

"You've never hesitated to try to make me more comfortable. Besides, if my DNA starts denaturing, I'll turn it down," she replied.

Euclid wrapped himself around her legs and as she reached down to pick him up, he bolted down the hallway. He was a lot skinnier than the last time she'd seen him, but he was still the same quirky cat she'd always loved.

"Thank you for bringing him back," she mumbled. "Where did you find him?"

"He was outside my accommodations near the consulate," Sarek replied. "And you are welcome."

Amanda took a few anxious steps forward but stopped and balled her hands into anxious fists. "So where do we go from here?" 

"Specify."

She exhaled sharply, feeling terrified of stepping too far out on a limb but even more terrified of letting him leave without trying to fix things.

"When I said I didn't want you to go, I meant that," she began.

"And I have stayed, as per your request."

"I meant in a more permanent sense," she said, her voice barely audible.

Sarek did not reply but she sensed a growing conflict within him.

"I realize I shouldn't have run away," she added, wondering if continuing to talk was a good idea. "I was very overwhelmed and thought I was doing what was best for you."

"I did not want you to leave, yet I felt compelled to honor your wishes."

"Like I told you, I didn't want you to marry me and ruin your life."

"I believe 'ruin' would be an overstatement," he argued. "Regardless, should that not have been for me to decide?"

His words stung. She cast her eyes downward and began gnawing hard on her bottom lip.

"Your career decisions are yours," she agreed. "But if we were married, your career decisions would affect me too."

"There are many ways to make a life, Amanda."

"I know this, or at least, I'm realizing this now. I'm considering taking a job with a transport company."

"When do you assume your post?"

"I haven't formally accepted it yet. I would turn it down in an instant if I thought there was even a chance of fixing things between us," she admitted. She held her breath and dared herself to look at him.

"Things between us were never broken," Sarek replied through their persistent bond.

"Then why does it feel so different now?" 

"A thing can be altered without being broken."

"Do you still want to be with me?" she dared herself to ask.

"I never wanted to be apart from you. My affection for you is unchanged."

She took a cautious step forward, allowing herself to feel hopeful. Sarek didn't move, but she could sense he was receptive to her. When she'd covered half the distance to his position, he spoke.

"I did as you insisted and took T'Rea as my mate once again."

She froze, feeling like he'd punched her in the gut. 

"The marriage was annulled the following day."

"Oh," she said, allowing herself to breathe once again. "So, what does that mean?"

"Very little," he explained.

"But now you have a son, so to speak?"

"I have never met the child and I likely never will. His mother took him with her to the monastery at Gol."

Amanda began to consider just how hasty and foolish her decision to leave had been. She knew it was ridiculous to feel jealous of a woman Sarek had been married to and divorced from before they'd ever met, but having her arrive on the night before they were going to elope had been more than she could stomach at the time. But prior to that, Sarek never discussed much about his personal life with her, and what she did know, she'd nearly had to force out of him.

"I'm going to go ahead and admit I acted very rashly, all those months ago," she said.

"I would agree."

"But even though we share this bond now, I still feel like there's a part of you that you keep hidden away from me," she continued. "I would have told you right away if I had an ex-husband and if there was a child involved, and I'm still left wondering what other things about you I don't know but I should know."

"You knew I had been previously married."

"Sure, eventually, after it came up in conversation. And then you wouldn't talk to me about it. And so I felt really blindsided by what happened back in your house on Vulcan."

"I did not anticipate ever seeing my former mate again and such things are indelicate to speak of."

"Indelicate and uncomfortable, I understand. But we were going to get married. What I don't understand is why you can't talk about things with me until they become major issues and you are forced to tell me."

"It seems to me that when I attempted to discuss the situation with you, you were not interested in doing so. You preferred to behave emotionally and refused to listen to logic."

She felt an unexpected surge of anger and finally found the courage to meet his gaze. She could sense that he was taken aback by her reaction, but she didn't care.

"Nice try, Ambassador," she retorted with more ferocity than she intended. "You're right: I ran away, and I should have stayed to listen to you and we should have found a way to rationally work things out together. I'm willing to admit I learned a hard lesson and I put us both through a lot of needless heartache for nothing. But I'm saying we might have avoided it entirely if you shared more things with me."

She noticed an almost indiscernible shift in the expression of his face. "I fail to see the logic in assigning degrees of blame. I shall do my best to be more forthcoming about certain aspects of my life, yet I still do not understand what items are of specific interest to you."

"Like I told you on our trip to the cabin, I don't know what I don't know," she explained.

"Then do you imply that you wish me to divulge every event of my life to you, beginning from my birth?"

She could feel her anger rapidly dissipating and had to force down a pained smile. "Tell me something you find difficult or embarrassing to talk about."

His eyes narrowed a fraction of a millimeter and he replied, "To use a human expression, that seems unfair."

"Ok, fine, I'll go first. Um… ok. I've had sex with three other men besides you. The first time was when I was sixteen, and it was in a pool house with an older guy I didn't even like, but I did it because I knew my mother hated him."

She could feel Sarek's shock at her confession, and almost perceived something that bordered on embarrassment coming from him. She was a bit embarrassed too and could feel her cheeks turning red, but she forced herself to keep looking at him. "Your turn."

"I do not feel that I needed to know that about you," he finally said. "I understand your culture has different mating practices than my own, though I do find it curious you would consent to mate with an individual simply because your mother would not have approved."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing and could feel her cheeks growing redder.

"You may not have needed to know that about me, and in hindsight, it's not something I'm proud of, but I wanted you to know. I don't want you to feel like there are things we just can't talk about. Now, it's your turn."

She could sense profound conflict growing in Sarek, but patiently waited for him to collect his thoughts.

"Every seven years, I experience a phenomenon referred to among my people as pon farr."

He fell silent and she looked at him and muttered, "Ok?"

"We do not speak of it, even among ourselves."

"Why?" Amanda probed.

"It is… very private. It is the price we pay for subduing our emotions. Every seven years, we begin to experience a chemical imbalance that can become life-threatening if not satiated."

"Satiated? By what?"

"The most common means is by taking a mate."

Amanda frowned and slowly started to understand what he was implying.

"So you're saying you cure yourself of this- this pon farr by having sex?"

"Precisely."

"That's really the deepest, darkest secret you could come up with? I mean, I get that sex can be a little taboo, but it's a pretty obvious fact of life. I don't know if you remember, but we've had sex, and you seemed to handle that well enough."

"Yes, I recall," he rebutted. "I do not believe you fully appreciate how delicate of a topic it is for my species."

"I guess I don't," she confessed.

"Mating is a biological function, one which is appropriate to keep private, but it is the loss of logic that is more unseemly to speak of. The serenity that logic provides is essential for a Vulcan and to freely experience emotion is not only distasteful, but dangerous."

"But I've felt emotions in you before. Not often, but they're there. You told me yourself that Vulcans feel emotion."

"We do: emotions run deeply within my species and it requires constant discipline to manage and suppress them. I do not believe I can adequately explain what it is to temporarily have a vital part of oneself transformed into something widely considered shameful."

Amanda reflected on his words for a moment. He had once given her a copy of the Teachings of Surak in Vuhlkansu as a means of practicing her skill with his language. It had opened her eyes to the philosophy that he lived by, but her understanding was entirely theoretical, whereas Sarek's was functional.

"I don't know if it's that you're unable to explain it or I'm unable to understand it, but thank you for trusting me enough to tell me," she finally said.

He didn't reply, and she offered him a reassuring look.

"You can really die if you don't have sex every seven years?" she asked, wondering if she was pushing the issue too far.

"There are other means of resolving pon farr, but mating is the most practical," he explained. "It is why most Vulcan children are bonded at the age of seven, so that when they reach adulthood, they have a mate readily available."

She recalled Sarek had explained Vulcan marriages were arranged, and how she'd been quick to judge the practice as ridiculously archaic. It was, by human standards. Yet knowing this, she could see how it might have a practical basis.

"Do you get to pick your mate, or do you parents do that?" she asked out of curiosity, praying she wasn't being indelicate.

"Vulcan parents attempt to choose mates for their children with whom they believe they will be compatible, though many matches are also made with consideration to the position of the families involved."

"But people change, you know?" she wondered aloud. "I sort of feel like I might be compatible with very different people at twenty-seven than I would be at seven."

"It is not uncommon for many bondings to be postponed indefinitely, or to take place and later be annulled."

She immediately understood that was what had happened between Sarek and his previous wife. Whatever last vestiges of jealousy remained began to melt into sympathy. She could feel Sarek's mind pushing against her consciousness, but she made no effort to try and push him away.

"You should not pity my former mate," he eventually said. "Nor should you pity me. Our bond was never a strong one, but she had other more appropriate options at her disposal for seeking a new mate."

Amanda looked at him apologetically and replied, "It's just a bad situation all around I guess."

"The Vulcan way is difficult," he agreed. "Even for Vulcans."

"Yes, I'm beginning to see just how difficult," she said. "If we had gotten married and had children, would we have arranged marriages for them?"

"It is preferable to allowing them to face the difficulties of pon farr alone," Sarek argued.

Neither of them spoke for nearly a minute as Amanda reflected upon just how different they really were. There were so many things about his life and culture that were more foreign than she could have ever imagined.

"As I said, Vulcan customs can occasionally be challenging even for Vulcans to bear, and perhaps it was unreasonable for me to expect you to so readily comprehend and accept them."

"You've always told me that you never expected me to act Vulcan," she replied. "But if we had gotten married, I feel like there are aspects of your culture that would be impossible for me to avoid. I think it would be really hard for me to arrange marriages for my kids and just cross my fingers and hope for the best."

"I imagine many Vulcan parents find it difficult as well, but necessity makes it logical."

"Logical," she mused.

She examined the features of Sarek's thin, angular face carefully and smiled weakly.

"Well, I already asked you once, but where do we go from here?"

Protocols for Human Courtship, Section Eleven
The Way to Mutual Understanding

They crossed the street toward the large concert hall together. The rain had cleared, but the evening was still bitterly cold, and he was grateful she had dried his heavy cloak.

Once they were through the entryway, she removed her long, black coat and he removed his heavy cloak. She turned to smile at him, and that very human expression rendered her lovely in a way that he could not specify.

She had changed into a dress of a subdued red color that covered her legs to her knees, and had gathered her dark hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. Aside from the slight pinkness of her arm where she'd burned it just hours before, she reminded him of the first time he'd observed her at the Science Observatory the year before.

Amanda had procured tickets to this concert from a friend and had thought he might be interested in the instrumental music. He had limited experience with what humans referred to as classical music, but he was often willing to explore the facets of human culture that remained unfamiliar to him.

He had not anticipated such a reunion with her, and he still felt uncertain of the most appropriate way to proceed. He had formed a bond with her that had proved nearly impossible to break and reconciliation seemed the most logical choice. He loved her, and he knew that she loved him also.

His only source of hesitation was the possibility that they might one day again find themselves in a trying situation and she would instinctively leave rather than find a logical solution or compromise. When he analyzed the likelihood of such an occurrence, it seemed small, but it still demanded consideration.

As he more fully studied her position, he recognized that he'd illogically instructed her to behave as a human would in his presence, but when she'd left the night before their intended bonding, he had treated her as he would a Vulcan.

He could feel through their bond that she did not want to sever their connection, but she had told him that she did. Vulcans routinely set aside their personal desires for more logical courses of action when the two were in conflict, and Amanda had believed she was acting logically by extricating herself from their bond to allow him to renew his formal bond to T'Rea.

When he considered it objectively, a logical Vulcan would have arrived at the same initial conclusion that Amanda had, only without the tears and other effusions of emotion. It would have been logical to postpone their bonding to allow for the resolution of personal matters, and that was where Amanda had diverged from logic. A deferment would have been logical, but abandonment was not.

As he followed her up the stairs to the balcony, he noted the sway of her hips and the slight slope of her small shoulders. He had spent hours committing her features to memory while she slept after they'd mated, but there was some new quality to her that he could not identify.

"I can't believe Vera didn't want to come to this," Amanda said, looking excitedly over the crowd below. "These seats are amazing."

Sarek observed the layout of the vast room, considering the vantage point and the acoustics and theorized that the seating did indeed seem optimal.

"And I'm glad I managed to scrounge up a date at the last minute," Amanda said telepathically. "Thank you for agreeing to come. I know it was unexpected."

"I am your date?"

"Well, like it or not, you're here with me aren't you?"

"I did not intend to imply I did not wish to be in your company," he explained.

"I know."

She turned to face him and he could see in the pale light of the concert hall that her eyes sparkled in the same knowing way they often did when she was jesting or otherwise happy, but they were slightly muted by some other complex emotion.

"There is something different about you," he said through their bond.

"What do you mean?"

"I am uncertain."

Before she could design a reply, the lights went dimmer still, and a quick burst of music filled the room, captivating his attention. He had been to a symphony once before, approximately seven years earlier, but he was largely unfamiliar with this style of music. Many Vulcan musical instruments were stringed, but none were played in the fashion he was currently observing.

It was melodic, and for nearly an hour they sat quietly, transfixed by the performance. Of all art forms, music pleased him the most for its ability to merge mathematics and personal expression so completely. More interesting than the music was Amanda.

He experienced different emotions within her each time the composition changed tempo, and he could sense that she was subconsciously associating the mood of the music with her own. He eventually realized why she seemed so different. He had initially perceived it as a kind of sadness or nostalgia, but he understood what he was observing within her was a developing wisdom.

His attention faltered when the music shifted from a faster melody into a slower one, and he was surprised to find silent tears rolling down Amanda's cheeks. The Vulcan side of him urged him to look away instinctively. Before he could inquire as to the source of her sorrow, she said through their bond, "I know we have a lot to figure out still, but I still love you, Sarek."

He reached his hand across her lap to brush his forefingers against hers, and he felt an incomprehensible surge of joy begin to radiate from her.

She loved him, and he loved her too. 

Chapter Text

How to Date a Vulcan
Epilogue

"Maybe if you ever renew your vows, you could hold that ceremony on the surface of the sun," Vera panted, adjusting Amanda's veil.

"I get it; Vulcan is hot," Amanda laughed, turning to face her friend.

"I have sweat under my boobs, Amanda," she whined. "And trails of sweat rolling down my back as we speak."

"It's actually almost winter here," she smiled. "So it really could be worse."

Vera's eyes grew wide and she scowled. "This guy had better be worth it."

"I like to think he is," Amanda admitted.

There was no mirror for Amanda to examine her reflection, but she didn't care about how she looked. What was more important was how she felt, and she felt certain about Sarek.

They had renewed their relationship five months ago and two weeks earlier during a trip to the hanging gardens in Palo Alto, he'd asked her to marry him. She had readily agreed, but had been surprised when he requested a more formal ceremony for their second attempt at matrimony.

That was why she was now standing outside in the heat of the midday Vulcan sun, dressed in a combination of the wedding garments customary for brides of both their cultures. She wore a simple white dress with sleeves and a high collar. It was more formal than she certainly would have preferred, but she understood covering her arms was appropriate for a Vulcan wedding.

Pinned in her hair was a heavy, purple veil that had belonged to Sarek's mother. It was beautiful and though she was rarely given to vanity, she felt beautiful wearing it.

"You're missing something," Vera said.

Amanda wheeled around to see her friend tapping her index finger on her chin and examining her closely.

"You need something borrowed," Vera said decidedly, pulling out her pearl drop earrings and working to insert them into Amanda's ears.

"You mean like, something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?"

"Exactly."

She was about to ask what she had on that was blue, but she gently fingered the vibrant opal pendant at her throat that her father had left to her in his will.

"Thank you for coming," Amanda beamed.

"I wouldn't have missed it," Vera grinned. "Besides, I was there from the beginning. I remember stalking his embassy profile with you all those months ago."

"It was your lucky black dress I was wearing when I first met him," Amanda reminded her.

"Yeah, and you used up all the luck it had," Vera shrugged.

Amanda grimaced. Vera had recently broken off her engagement with her fiancé Peter, citing the fact that he was too boring and she still had more to do before settling down.

"I'm better off," Vera added, noting the awkward expression on Amanda's face. "Besides, I've taken a shine to that tall guy over there."

Amanda looked curiously through the stone pillars and only saw a man in long robes whom she assumed was the priest and Sarek's brother, Silek, who had returned to Vulcan from an extended deep space mission the prior month. She had met him the day before yesterday and thought he stood in stark contrast to Sarek.

Sarek had admitted that his younger brother had a falling out with their father owing to Silek's more progressive views and refusal to follow the family legacy of entering politics. He'd lived on Earth for a time before accepting a contract nearly a decade ago to with an exploration expedition. Silek was much less reserved than his older brother; Amanda thought he was the most animated Vulcan she'd ever met. Silek was still a follower of Surak's teachings and his personality was definitely subdued according to human standards, but compared to his brother, he was practically a comedian.

"What do you think?" Vera asked.

"Please tell me you're talking about the man in the white and gray robes?" Amanda moaned.

"Ew, no," Vera said. "The other one."

"That's the brother of my soon-to-be husband."

"Really?" Vera said with a dry smile. "You'll have to introduce me."

"If you ended your engagement with Peter because you thought he was too boring, I don't think a Vulcan is the solution," Amanda rebutted.

"Maybe not long-term, but he's nice to look at," Vera shrugged.

"You're really not cut out for domestication, are you?"

"I tried it and I don't think a husband is a good idea. Too tedious; where's the flavor?" Vera mused, looking back through the pillars at Silek. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you'll be very happy. But tell me seriously, do I look ok? Do I smell ok? It's so hot I feel like I'm leaking. Do you think he'd mind?"

"I'm begging you, and I'll get on my knees if I have to, but please don't have a fling with my future brother-in-law. I'm already worried enough about how I'm going to fit into this family and culture."

"I'll try," Vera said with a wide roll of her eyes. "Now, I'm going to go get some more water before I look like a piece of jerky because I've sweated out every last bit of moisture from my body."

"Will you check on my mom?" Amanda pleaded.

Sarek had insisted she should invite her mother, and they had been close to having a very interesting fight about it, but Amanda eventually had conceded. Interestingly, the hot climate seemed to take a lot of the snark and bossiness out of the usually indomitable Jana Grayson, which was why Amanda was reluctant to complain about the heat.

She stared up at the high stone pillars of the place that Sarek had said was his family's traditional wedding site, and began to worry if she would remember the complex Vuhlkansu vows.

"The priest arrived ten minutes ago and informs me he is ready to begin, if we are."

She turned to see Sarek and thought he looked unusually handsome in the robes he was wearing.

"You know, there's this idea on Earth that it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," she said with a grim smile.

"Belief in luck is illogical," he replied.

"Somehow, I knew you were going to say that."

"A logical assumption."

"Have you seen my mother?" Amanda asked.

"The healer is still with her, though I believe she has ceased vomiting."

"You know, I imagine most women would view having their mother sidelined by heatstroke to be the worst thing that could happen on their wedding day, but I'll look at it as a mixed blessing."

"I encouraged her to allow the healer to administer the tri-ox compound."

"I know, but she's a grown woman with a stubborn streak and an irrational fear of hyposprays, and now she's learning a valuable lesson," Amanda grinned. "There was nothing you could have done."

"I do not understand the logic in reveling in your mother's discomfort," Sarek argued.

"I don't revel in it," Amanda retorted. "I'm only appreciating the irony of it, given how uncomfortable she's made me my whole life. Still, I'm glad you wanted her to come. It feels better, not hiding this from people."

"I am glad you came to understand my position."

"You know, I couldn't help but wonder if forcing me to bring people to this wedding was a sort of insurance policy."

"Explain."

"It's like you figured if you made me invite my mother, then I couldn't possibly get cold feet again, because she'd be here to shame and berate me into marrying you."

"Cold feet?"

Amanda smiled and smoothed down a crease in his robes.

"I think you were worried leave you right before our wedding again," she explained. "And my mother was a means to deter that."

"The thought had occurred to me," Sarek admitted. "Though it was a secondary consideration."

"Well played, Ambassador Sarek," she grinned. "But I wasn't about to make the worst mistake of my life a second time."

"That is reassuring."

"You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding," gasped Jana Grayson, emerging from the small stone building to their right. "It's bad luck."

"See? I told you," Amanda said, smiling glibly at Sarek.

"Superstition is illogical," Sarek replied, without taking his eyes off of Amanda.

"That might be true, but go away," her mother snapped.

"I shall go notify the priest we are ready to begin," Sarek said, nodding politely to her mother.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Amanda asked after he left. Her mother's complexion was nearly gray but her cheeks were flushed red.

"I wouldn't miss my only daughter's wedding day, though I still don't see what's wrong with the church at home. On Earth. Indoors. Where it's not a million degrees. I hope for your sake you never permanently move here."

"If I did, would you come visit me?" Amanda asked playfully.

"We'll see," Jana replied. "So how do you know when this thing starts?"

"Sarek is supposed to sound a gong. Do you remember where to stand?"

"I do, and I'll do my best not to faint, but I won't make any promises," her mother replied, fanning herself feebly with her hands.

The rich tone of the traditional wedding gong filled the air, and she glanced nervously through the doorway. Her mother gently cupped her cheeks and kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you, mom," Amanda said.

"I love you too, baby," she replied with a thin smile.

Amanda could see tears welling up in her mother's eyes and instantly felt terrified that she would cry too. She didn't know for sure, but she reasoned that crying at a Vulcan wedding was probably exceptionally inappropriate, even if she was the bride.

"I'll stop," her mother said quickly, fanning her own face and looking upward to compose herself. "Go get him."

Protocols for Human Courtship
Conclusion

Sarek gently traced his fingers along Amanda's ribcage, noting the small, familiar brown mark in the approximate shape of a kidney near her right breast. They had not mated since the night before their impulsive elopement attempt nearly a year earlier, and though she was slightly thinner, she was just as he remembered.

She was in a deep sleep, and her long, dark hair was tickling his arm.

He was perplexed by the swiftness with which she always fell asleep following mating, and wondered if there were some underlying biochemical process that might explain it. He would research that at a later time, but for now, he wished for her conscious company, but was reluctant to startle her awake.

It was only 2240 hours and after their three guests had retired for the evening, they had retreated to their bedroom to properly bond for the first time as formal mates. Her head was resting on his right arm and his left hand continued to trace over the contours of her body, brushing over her hip and across her thigh.

She shuddered and moaned in her sleep, and then rolled over fitfully onto her back and pouted her lips. Her right arm lay across her stomach, and he began to gently stroke the knuckles of her forefingers with his own. She exhaled softly, and he applied slightly more pressure to his touch. Eventually, he was successful in his efforts, and her eyes fluttered open.

She rolled her head on the pillow to stare at him, and he allowed her eyes time to properly focus.

"It can't already be morning," she groaned.

Her voice had a hoarse timbre, and she turned back onto her left side to nestle closer to him. Her skin was pleasantly warm against his. Her eyes started to close again, and he kissed her forehead tenderly, but she did not stir.

"Amanda?" he prodded quietly through their bond.

"Yes?" she replied, without opening her eyes.

He did not immediately respond, and began to recognize the illogic of his actions. He desired her companionship, but he had nothing of particular importance or urgency to discuss with her, so he rationally set aside his selfishness and carefully rolled over onto his back to allow her to sleep without interruption.

"Why did you stop?" she whispered.

"To what are you referring?"

"Why did you stop rubbing me?" she smiled. "It felt really nice."

There were still many things about Amanda that he found difficult to predict. He cautiously ran his index finger down the outside of her arm, and watched as she smiled faintly and shivered.

"You derive pleasure from this?" he asked telepathically.

"I derive pleasure from you," she mumbled aloud.

He gently caressed her for nearly an hour, sensing her subtle enjoyment. He observed the autonomic responses his touch seemed to be affecting on her body, and like everything else about this moment, worked to commit it to memory.

He expected her to drift back to sleep and contemplated meditating, but the longer his fingers worked, the more alert she became. Her eyes eventually fully opened, and they watched each other for a time in the dim light of their shared bedroom.

Eventually she sighed and pushed his hand away, and before he could ask why, she sat up on her knees and straddled him. She ran her hands down his chest and looked at him impatiently. He was mildly surprised by her assertive gesture, and sensed she was attempting to initiate a second mating when she stopped, cocked her head, and looked out of the window into the dark night.

He reached outward with his consciousness to ask, "What is the matter?"

"I guess it's finally starting to sink in," she explained.

"Explain."

"We just got married," she responded, obviously attempting to stifle laughter. "I just married a Vulcan ambassador."

"Why is such a declaration a source of amusement?"

"After everything we've been through, I suppose it seems sort of surreal," she explained. "In three days, we're going to go back to Earth and my life is going to be completely different. I feel like I should be nervous, but I feel more anxious to just start our lives together."

Sarek was aware that one of Amanda's primary sources of concern when he'd initially asked her to bond with him the year before had been her uncertainty concerning the logistics of merging their lives and cultures, and more particularly, how to fill the role of an ambassador's wife.

"You know, when you first asked me to marry you, I thought you were crazy because it seemed like you thought everything was going to be so easy," Amanda continued. "We definitely had some serious bumps, and I still don't know what the future holds, but I don't think it was as hard as I thought it would be."

"I admit I found your belief that things would be difficult perplexing," he replied. "By my current estimation, it was more difficult than I had anticipated."

"Well, maybe it's a good thing we were both wrong," she grinned, leaning forward to rub his shoulders.

She rested her forearms on his chest and lightly kissed him on the mouth. When she pulled away, he noticed her eyes taking in the features of his face, much as he often did with her.

"Are you sure we have to go back to Earth in three days?" she asked.

"I have a conference regarding Starfleet's mission in a sector of space previously held by Vulcan. It cannot be postponed. I believe I made you aware of this."

"You did," she sighed. "I guess I should have petitioned harder for a proper honeymoon."

Amanda had explained the human practice of newly bonded couples to take a holiday in order to adjust to married life. Given Amanda had spent so much time explaining that she wanted to know him better prior to their marriage, such a custom seemed redundant.

"What are you doing the week after?" she probed.

"I shall be away on Andoria, renegotiating-"

"Wait, you're going to Andoria next week?" she interrupted.

"Yes."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I just did," he replied, wondering why she should ask such an obvious question.

She began to chuckle to herself and slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"The situation between Earth and the other Federation members is still-"

She broke off his sentence by leaning forward to kiss him tenderly.

"I mostly knew what I was getting into when I married you a few hours ago," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. "I have the rest of my life to be married to an ambassador, but for tonight, I just want you."