Perrin stood with a few other members of the orchestra in the grand foyer under the chandelier marking the entrance to the Grand Escalier, which led into the theater. Most of the Palais Garnier's audience on Fridays was off-worlders so Perrin was not caught off guard seeing Sakkath with a small group of Vulcans pacing the hall observantly, eventually following further into the building. He saluted Perrin as he passed, opening his mouth but pushed past before he could say anything. She peaked around the door and smiled as he went up the stairs.

"I'm actually kind of impressed with the crowds." One of the harpist whispered into her ear. She leaned in to reply, casting off another smile to the crowd, returning a handshake with a regular.

"Tonight is the anniversary." She gestured around the building.

"Ah." Answered the harpist, going back to thanking everyone for coming.

Perrin scanned over the crowd, stepping up on toes so that she also caught the edge of the ceiling. She looked up at it with wonder; with a bittersweet remembrance of when she was young and her mother would greet her and her father coming in to see her performing. These past weeks she finally took notice with pride for it being the first thing she saw going in for practice and to preform. Her eyes naturally followed the glided columns up to it, to the framed paintings that danced along the hall and folded along the sides slightly. At night noticing the details was impossible so Perrin settled for a vague impression of the different scenes being acted out by renaissance nudes framed in gold painted molding over the foyer.

As the foot traffic started to trickle, she and the other performers went outside to the side entrance leading backstage. Thinking she saw someone else she recognized, Perrin hesitated until the others called back to her. She hurried after as the wind furiously whipped tuffs of slush at them, and she tripped on a streetlight. While rubbing away the pain she forgot why whom she noticed looked familiar. Perrin followed the rest inside, refocused on tonight's performance. Perrin thought of her mother again; she remembered sitting on the other side of the stage with her father to watch her.

When the performers heard the theater doors shut in front of the curtains, they readied their instruments, sat down—upright. The heavy fabric would be pulled back soon and the night would begin. Perrin's heart raced.

A packed house appeared before them. The boxes closest to her held high-ranking ambassadors; the President's reserved box was empty. A small light was still visible towards the back of the box, which was odd as it was unoccupied. She leaned forward as though adjusting her posture but saw no one. The conductor came out and bowed, bringing her focus back to the stage. The whole orchestra stood to greet him, sitting down as he reached his stand.

The night's pieces were meant to showcase certain performers as they had a guest cellist, flutist, and pianist all from the Chicago Symphony. Perrin rested her violin on her lap for the first half hour and looked on as they performed with a few harmonious parts dolled out in the percussions. The last piece before the entire orchestra would continue as normal had her and five others moving temporarily to the front of the stage to play the second movement of Brahms' Sextet No. 1. The guest cellist, Jordan, reached out to shake her hand as they had been missing each other all week and would be playing together for the first time. Caught off guard by his crushing grip, she pinched lightly the back of his finger as they did. Not realizing he was holding her hand so hard, Jordan frowned apologetically and they both turned to face the audience. Someone was in the President's box now. She didn't look to see whom as the conductor lifted up his arms to begin.

At the end when she went back to head second row of violinist she saw whom: Sarek. She had to close her eyes as she sat back down, nearly missing the string section's lead into the proceeding nocturne. Her heart raced as she rushed to get into form.

Perrin played evenly despite her mind drifting to him and his eyes, due to the closeness of the box he watched from, heaving his focus on her alone. She listened deeply to the others play around her and allowed that to pull her back onto the stage though she felt some of herself remained teetered on the balcony that Sarek pressed against; it felt the elevated heat he expelled. That heat she remembered had clutched her in despair, and had kissed her as she weaved under her own grief. Though she was aware it was the lights bearing on them, Perrin felt like she was curled at his side as the heat intensified through the rest of the night, unto the moment they thanked the audience for coming and bowed.

Normally she would stay out to talk with the others but she ran back to the dressing rooms to grab her coat and case. Jordan found her as she skirted towards the exit.

"Hey; I'm sorry about that; Remé has a really firm grip." He was another violinist that played the part of Perrin for Jordan and Jordan for Perrin the past week. Perrin passed it off as nothing, trying to leave but he begged her to stay with a look of concern.

"I really just hope I didn't offend you so don't leave because of me."

"No I was simply—"

"Please, my boyfriend just came back from patrol by the neutral zone, he wants to meet everybody."

"I am truly just tired—"

"Oh please, please. I am really sorry; just stay one minute, one second." He begged, by then his expression distraught and his shoulders hunched woefully. Remé himself came over to them and helped Jordan drag her into the crowds. She attempted to move closer to the exit but was led along deeper into the building.

Parried down the grand staircase they had corralled her to for two hours, Perrin toed between the same five steps gaining no ground. The audience members surrounded her only knowing that she'd been put front and center for the sextet; the other violinists held her close to complain about the upcoming roster of impossible pieces. She stepped to the side and gave a brief nod to Mia and Darrin, both scaling up the bannister to sneak around the crowds. Perrin hadn't seen them come in when greeting guests. They waved enthusiastically; Darrin eyes were soft, slightly concerned. Swirled around by Jordan and Remé to explain their joke that she and the visiting cellist had met during that night's performance, she saw Sakkath between their two heads that crooked in laughter when the punch line was given. He came up with his acquaintances and waltzed her into an explanation of the songs. Their dry interest carried her back to the top of the stairs; the grand foyer below became overridden by people now starting to leave. Before answering their questions Perrin looked around desperately trying to make sure Sarek had left too. No other pointed ears among the people still there.

She took them into back into the theater to answer one of the younger Vulcan's questions. Seeing them, she let Mia and Darrin go first. Inside she pointed to the vastness of the room.

"We actually chose those pieces because of the Chagall frescoe; they represent some of the people he chose for his work." She turned back to Sakkath, listening to Mia and Darrin run madly to the stage behind her.

"Why for that specifically?"

"Well, it's an anniversary for the Palais Garnier. Tonight marks when—" she was cut off.

"Oh hey! Again I swear to god I didn't mean anything that day, still not sure if that's why you keep looking like that." The stomping on the stage stopped as Darrin yelled across. Sakkath moved past her. She turned. Sarek. He had lingered in the lowest box and did not move to her though his eyes seemed to have such a clear focus Perrin was almost certain his Vulcan hearing would have allowed his eyes to see her through the walls when she'd been standing on the grand staircase a moment ago. Her heart picked up and she was forced to meet to him if she wanted to remain aloof.

"My expression is independent of emotional considerations." Sarek replied to Darrin without facing him.

Sarek's attention did not waver on her.

Sakkath saluted him and moved to allow Perrin to step closer as he spoke. "Ambassador Sarek I had spoken with Perrin on a previous occasion concerning you." Sarek did not appear moved.

"And what did you discuss?"

"She is in search of a teacher of Vulcan meditations. I was my conclusion that you would be the most logical choice given your abilities." Sakkath stated. His acquaintances, hearing this, went to stand by the stage. Sarek turned to address Perrin who tried to follow the other Vulcans to continue her earlier conversation with them but he caught her eye before she could.

"I have received no request of that nature from you."

"I simply saw no reason to bother you with such a silly request Sarek—ambassador." She glanced at Sakkath while correcting herself.

"It is no bother Perrin. I have taken a leave of 18.5 days to reacquaint myself with earthmen. I noted in a discussion with Ambassador Taylor that in my two-year negotiations on Excalbia has dulled by knowledge of Earth's current interest. I hope to rectify that and to assuage the Federation's fears regarding recent events affecting my abilities as an ambassador."

"Quite logical ambassador." Chimed Sakkath; Sarek acknowledged him with a nod.

"Surely we couldn't do it tonight. This place is quite crowded and management has it emptied by midnight every night. It is 11:41 already." Said Perrin.

"Your argument is quite logical. Yet there is another option if you feel a need for such techniques to be known."

Sakkath cut in "I believe so ambassador; she displayed textbook symptoms of emotional distress when I spoke to her. Listlessness, unfocused eyes, furrowing of the lips, delayed responses, heightened pitch in her voice."

"That does warrant immediate attention in my experience Sakkath. There are other places we could go; your loft has a small seating area." Sarek suggested to Perrin. Her heart began to race in confusion.

He wants to go, just he and I, to my loft, she thought. Remembering how he'd left her childhood home without any consideration for her despite that he'd witnessed her grief firsthand in a mind meld, she didn't understand what he wanted now. She'd come to learn he was not a cruel person; he left her in the cruelest way then. If I had never seen him again I could assume his reasons were logical, she thought bitterly. Here he is. Maybe they were not.

Sakkath's acquaintances left, followed by Mia and Darrin who both patted her on the back suggestively. She then remembered with a blush how much they enjoyed spinning tales. Perrin wanted to follow them. Instead, she agreed to take Sarek to her apartment, unwilling to let him cause her to slip back into suspicion and isolation as Valor originally had, not wanting him to question why if she didn't.

They dodged the deer and foxes that came begging for food in the streets of Paris due to the lowered traffic from the snow. Sarek and she went unnoticed as they walked in silence to her house. He led up the stairs when they arrived at her building and went first into the loft. He remembers the code, Perrin thought when he automatically keyed it in to open the door. Moving towards the only chair in the loft, Sarek settled near her bed, finally breaking that unconscious focus she'd felt from him since the performance earlier. It turned introspective; his eyes glazed, faraway now. She stood at the end of the bed and managed to raise her eyes to meet his, still distant.

Not sure what she wanted him to say but sure it would not be what she wanted to hear, couldn't be, she did not speak. With the lights still off her despondence stretched to fill the whole space. He did not move closer to her and betrayed no intentions to. She hoped he would, glancing at the shelf that held the photos of people she cared about; every one of them was now dead. And Sarek was the only one besides her who had sat in the chair he sat in now. She cleared her throat as it felt dry from the stage lights in the theater. Sarek remained still.

Perrin took a chance and lied down on the bed as though she were tired. It put her inches from him. He began to shift. Her heartbeat picked up.

He sat on the edge of the bed, just above her head. He hovered over her and leaned down to whisper though the windows and balcony doors were shut.

"Your playing was quite satisfactory Perrin." Her breath caught at his tone.

"How kind; thank you." She answered simply. He searched her face a moment.

"I had been considering it and decided to come listen to you tonight." He searched her eyes now, her lips. "Why are you in need of a teacher?" He asked, referring to Sakkath's comment. You, she thought, tilting her head slightly to hide in the shadow of her wardrobe. But she couldn't decide whether to say so; she settled on something less true but not wholly dishonest.

"I have been able to pick myself back up after my father's death. But I simply feel lost at times. As if I'm wasting away slowly; it comes and goes." She ended as blasé as she could. Her eyes reached for his anyways and she felt recognition in his. Sarek spoke, finally facing his attention to her.

"I could guide you through the same technique as last—"

"No." she cut him off, her voice breaking slightly, "I think you had your reasons for leaving me then. I will not have you coming back unless I'm certain you wish to be here. Why are you here Sarek?" Perrin demanded.

"I have a decision to make that involves you Perrin. I am uncertain I should tell you what that decision is."

She nodded. She watched him closely, trying to see if anything would show how he felt. He closed his eyes as he spoke with a degree of restrained tension, pulling back his lips.

"Did you find your time on Vulcan satisfactory?"

"Ambassador Sa'lak took me once when I was young; I've always liked it there." She answered.

"What emotions do you experience regarding me?"

Perrin's heart raced enough now she could feel each beat threatening to carry her down to the street, out into the night, far away back to her childhood bedroom. She wanted to hide there and pretend it would be sufficient. But the past year had taught her it wouldn't be. She answered truthfully.

"Love. Trust. Anxiety. Hope that you might—" she buried her face in the comforter, "feel the same. I feel you do." He did not answer with words.

Sarek reached out to hold her hand and gently moved her across the bed so he could lie down beside her. He laced his other hand through her hair, pushing it away so he could move closer. Feeling relief as he did, Perrin buried her head in his neck, pulling him to her with her other arm as her left hand held his. Not like the light of T'khut, in the moonlight she could barely make the flush of green along the base of his neck, the brilliant embroidery along the collar of his tunic that felt soft to her cheek. She could feel the strained muscles on his face loosen, his lips curling up so lightly she wasn't entirely certain they had. She turned to meet them as he'd once with her.

What was it like with Amanda? I had asked some of the other humans I had encountered in the course of my work of the accepted amount of time before one asked to marry. No consensus could be reached so I was forced to foretell her of my intentions without adequate preparations to insure the proper reception of my intent. Her agreement was immediate. I experienced joy though the emotion was unnecessary; it seemed she had been making similar inquires towards the Vulcans at the embassy.

There was some agreement that the proposal should not be made within the first month; at the turn of spring should be enough.

Sarek had woken some hours before as the curtains had not been drawn and the last drunks were coming home at dawn. He'd meditated, drawing the covers over himself further as the winds picked up in the street. They knocked on the door, slipped through the cracks to whirl around him, to brace against his skin with a cold touch the longest nights in the deserts of Vulcan could not manage. And he turned from the cool air to note whether Perrin felt it too, she shivered and moved closer to him, still lying over the heavy quilt. When she settled her head, on his forearm, she woke. She looked blearily at Sarek, smiling after a moment. Looking down, she laughed; why escaped him. Perrin started to pull back the sheets. It is strange how humans can live in such conditions, he mused as a draft came through the gap Perrin had created by lifting them; he held them back down with a quirked eyebrow.

"You look like a little cat under the sheets." She teased. Sarek saw no need to respond to such an illogical statement.

Perrin got up and went to her wardrobe to get another blanket and to turn up the heat on the environmental controls.

"You will close the curtains as well." Sarek called to her as she came back to the bed.

"Are you sure?"

"I have not acquired the proper amount of rest due to the light." He explained. Sarek had noted he had accrued a great deal of vacation time and used a portion of it on his visit to Earth: 18.5 days of it; there was no need to deprive himself on rest under such circumstances. It had been long since he last spent any real time on Earth. Perrin pulled the curtains. With a playful laugh she threw the blanket she had grabbed over Sarek as she came back. He sensed her jumping across him and the bed shaking wildly when she landed. She snatched away the blanket so that he could see again. He looked over at her. She had a sly look in her eye that faded quickly to contentment, her face then fell slightly so he could not say whether what emotions she felt were positive.

"Do you wish to speak?" Sarek asked. Perrin looked behind her to a row of photos in thought.

"Was there anything you would have told her before she died? Anything you would have done?" Sarek concluded she spoke of his wife.

He spoke hesitantly, "Perhaps. Many cultures feel that death crosses beyond the normal routines of life, cuts through the standards of social interactions. During my time as ambassador to Earth I noted this with humans especially; it is so with Vulcans as well. My wife never expected me to examine the human customs of affection; it is not our way. But—" Sarek thought back to the day Amanda was meant to die, to how he had planned her dying moments to be, "could I deny her that closeness if she was near death? If I held her then, who would have found fault?"

Perrin leaned on his shoulder for a moment; he let her. His reputation in the Federation, on Vulcan, satisfactory, who could fault him for allowing her hold onto him from time to time? If he held her in return it would only be logical.