Chapter Text
Aboard the USS Ardent
Stardate 2227.03
The Starfleet transport vessel Ardent carried diplomats, scientists, and administrators as a matter of routine. Its crew had seen its fair share of the unexpected, but the presence of a Vulcan ambassador and a human school teacher journeying together toward Vulcan had elevated idle curiosity into something of a blood sport. Sarek had told her to ignore it, but it was easy for him, as so many things were. He stood out so clearly, and his presence was so imposing, that people often fell silent at the mere sight of him. She, on the other hand, blended in so completely that those whispering usually had no idea the subject of their gossip was standing just a few feet away.
Amanda Grayson stood near one of the replicators in the mess hall, waiting for her food. She did not turn when two female voices drifted toward her.
“Did you know they have separate cabins?”
“That only makes it funnier, doesn’t it? I’m not sure who they think they’re fooling when they’re practically glued together all day.”
“You think it’s all an act?”
“You don’t travel halfway across the quadrant like that unless something’s going on.”
“Oh come on, he’s Vulcan. They don’t do ‘something going on.’”
“Maybe he’s taking her home to meet his parents,” the second woman scoffed.
“There’s no precedent.”
“There’s always precedent. You just don’t hear about it.”
The conversation devolved, predictably, into speculation about Vulcan gentalia, and Amanda set off towards the far end of the hall. As she walked, her gaze drifted to a brass plaque bearing the ship’s name, set into a nearby bulkhead.
Ardent.
If only those women knew how wrong they were.
She suspected Sarek would find nothing amusing in it at all, and had to press her lips together to stop laughter from spilling over at the thought.
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As he walked towards the mess hall, Sarek was acutely aware of the interest his presence, in conjunction with Amanda’s, was generating, but he refused to pay any attention to it. The decision to travel together had not been impulsive. It had been discussed, evaluated, and agreed upon - and it was nobody’s business but their own.
He was drawn to Amanda, and she to him.
That much had been established months ago, when she’d been introduced to him after receiving the T’Relan Award for Excellence in Teaching.
“Miss Grayson,” he said formally. “I am gratified to make your acquaintance.”
She met his gaze steadily, then offered a small, wry smile. “I wonder, Ambassador, is your evaluation of new acquaintances as thorough as your reputation suggests?”
He raised an eyebrow. Most humans deferred reflexively. She had not. In fact, he was almost sure she was baiting him - waiting to see if he would respond in kind or falter. The subtle audacity engaged his curiosity immediately.
“I will endeavor not to disappoint” he replied evenly.
A spark of amusement danced in her eyes. “I will look forward to that. Good evening, Ambassador.”
She had moved on to the next person in line, but his thoughts had lingered on her; turning over the encounter and planning with careful precision how he might engineer another meeting.
It had been remarkably easy to do.
Over subsequent encounters he had become aware of her presence in a more physical sense, too. The way she moved, her innate warmth, and the subtle shift in how others responded to him in social circles when she was present. Beyond that there was her sense of humor. She teased him in ways which were completely foreign to him until he’d met her, creating opportunities to participate in moments of levity without ever compromising his Vulcan nature.
It was not long before it occurred to him that she embodied all the qualities desirable in an ambassador’s wife, but when he’d broached the topic she had laughed.
“Are you looking for a trophy wife, Sarek?” she asked, arching an eyebrow the way he did.
Her words caught him off guard, but he saw a perfect opportunity to test the waters of her joke with logic. “In many years’ time, you will have aged and I will be the trophy.”
Amanda snorted her tea, then looked up with him laughter in her eyes. “Touché.”
“Do you have any reservations regarding this .. arrangement?”
Her eyes dimmed slightly at his query. “Yes, and I do not particularly care for the word ‘arrangement' either.”
He felt an unfamiliar pang at the realization that he had inadvertently offended her.
“What are your reservations, Amanda?”
“I have too many questions to give a definitive answer,” she said. There was a protracted silence, and then she added, “would you consider a stint on Vulcan, so that I might determine whether I could be content there? We would also spend together on our way there and back. A test run, if you will.”
It had been logical to agree. They were considering a future neither one of their cultures had yet defined, and it was not something to be undertaken lightly.
What he had not anticipated was that in addressing her reservations, he would uncover ones of his own. He had been so blinded by their intellectual compatibility, that he had failed to account for the fact that humans required connection in ways Vulcans did not. They expressed need openly, sought reassurance through proximity and touch, and found meaning in gestures he had been trained to minimize. The concern was not whether Amanda would adapt to Vulcan ways, but whether he could offer her enough without compromising what - and who - he was.
He entered the mess hall just as Amanda approached the table they had claimed for every meal over the past several days. She looked up as he drew closer, her expression brightening in the unguarded way that he now associated with her. The familiar tug he felt each time she looked at him this way conflicted sharply with the doubts he had been methodically assembling. He inclined his head in greeting, but the dissonance persisted.
“You appear amused,” he said, taking a seat opposite her.
“I am.”
Sarek waited. Experience had already taught him that she would elaborate without prompting.
“I overheard a pair of officers just now. They were discussing the Vulcan ambassador and his human companion in separate quarters who spend every waking hour together.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, a mischievous smile on her face. “They think they’re onto us.”
“An inefficient use of their cognitive abilities,” Sarek said dismissively. “Speculation without data yields no meaningful conclusions.”
Amanda laughed softly. “The irony of this ship’s name is not lost on me.”
“I fail to see the relevance.”
She waved a hand. “You wouldn’t. That’s all right.”
When she didn’t expound, he shifted topics. “We will be making a scheduled stop in a few hours. You will recall I am expected planetside.”
“I assume you are asking whether I intend to accompany you?”
“That is correct.”
Amanda considered this for a moment. “Perhaps it would be unwise to appear attached at the hip,” she said. “This is a test run, after all. I wouldn’t want to give the impression, to you or anyone else, that I cannot function independently.”
“Very well.” Sarek nodded, but noted with some disquiet that he would have preferred her company.