Disclaimer: I do not own anything canon-related.

Summary: This is love, Sarek./on sharing love and friendships that defy boundaries

"Hello?" the voice is female, muddled with fatigue and sleep. He can hear the shuffle of papers, a large object being dropped, the fall of footsteps. The video flickers in, a face appears – dark circles, hair falling out of her low bun – pen mark slashed against one hand, very dark against the pale of her skin. Sarek reaches to clear his throat. She moves first.

"I can be in SanFran in a couple of hours."

"I shall meet you at the arrival platform."

She travels light, a bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair is still slipping, the sleeves of her thin shirt scrunched up around her elbows. He holds a warm cup of coffee in his hands, unsure of the peace offering or how many sweeteners she would need – and stands awkwardly in the crowd. Her eyes are tired, but she takes the beverage gratefully.

"I grieve with thee." she states, and does not grimace at the taste of the drink.

Spock is sleeping when they arrive, wrapped up in one of Amanda's favored blankets. A bottle rests on the bedside table, a com unit next to it. Sarek closes the door and activates the sound proofing, Nora sinks gratefully into a chair at the small kitchenette. The room is warm, he realizes belatedly – thoughts are muddled – and begins to reach for the temperature controls.

"Leave it." she yawns. He sits, folds his hands on the table and tries to ignore the pounding headache.

"How can I help?"

He stares.

That was how we met, Amanda told him, fingers splayed over the scrapbook. She saved me. A soft smile slings low over her lips.

Sarek sees a warm grin that eclipses an entire face and a glittering layer of beads that wink at him like the San Francisco bay – a worry springs into his heart, he cannot wear such smiles,

Amanda brushes her fingers against his.

"I think you'd like her." she says.

"Hello?" The woman wears her hair braided up around her crown, sensible shoes on her feet. Her expression is too complicated and she quickly smooths it out.

"I am looking for this person." Sarek taps the name on the registry. Comprehension lights her eyes.

"Follow me," she says. "Soln is in the garden."

Soln spends his time on Earth because he is, as much as it causes him embarrassment to admit it, desiring comfort.

"I find myself content with the conversation with the others on the ward, the books in the library and the service that is given. It would not be the same on Vulcan."

(Soln was a great scholar, struck blind and mate-less during a transportation accident in San Francisco many years ago. His head injury left him more human than Vulcan and he was unable to successfully re-establish himself on his homeworld.)

"It seems most adequate." Sarek allows this. The woman, Amanda's friend is patient. Calm, firm. She cares, with gentle reminders and encouragement; willingness to listen. She remembers their favourites, advocates on their behalf. The home is comfortably sized, the greenhouse large and warm. The staff are unobstructive, the atmosphere calm.

"Now Sarek," the blind Vulcan turns to him with a hint of a smile. "Tell me about Amanda."

"Soln?" Nora peaks her head in the door. "May I interrupt?"

She drops a piece of paper into his lap, rolls her eyes when he voices his discontent with taking his pulse. Reaching into her pocket she pulls on a purple glove and delicately reaches for his wrist. She is silent for a moment, frowns and then pulls out a pen.

"The medication is not working?" Soln asks. Nora hums and marks a figure down on the PADD in her hand.

"I'm not happy with it," she says finally. "But it's not something that I am able to control." Soln nods at this, fingers slipping over the paper. She taps his shoulder.

"Don't forget about-"

"I am aware." he tells her. She rolls her eyes again.

"Yeah, we'll see about that come tomorrow mister." She leaves, waving to another client who is busy pulling out small weeds.

"The care here is most interesting." Sarek cannot keep the disapproval away in his tone.

Soln frowns.

Amanda?

(his wife cries, shoulders shaking.)

Oh Amanda, Nora sighs. It'll be alright.

(you cannot possibly understand, she whispers, nothing is-)

None of that. Nora is firm, eyes flinty. You can do this.

(the odds, the attitudes – everybody hates me)

Amanda, this is but one more dragon to slay.

(they say such terrible things)

Tell them to die in a fire.

(Amanda laughs, just imagining the looks on their faces.)

(Nora grins, unabashed. Besides, she says – I'm seeing an Orion. You should see the faces here!)

Children are terrible monsters, Nora says.

(I cannot help him, Amanda explains miserably. He is to be raised Vulcan.)

Children have to learn it from somewhere. Amanda, you cannot be surprised at any of this. Vulcans are terrible snobs. They're frightened at anything not-Vulcan. It is no different from when we were in school and kids picks on me because I was not like them.

(I worry about him)

He was always going to have to be Vulcan, Amanda. It's not like you had a choice.

(I don't think it's right.)

I know it's not right. Spock needs Vulcan control – but I don't think being Vulcan is good for him.

(Sarek will not listen.)

I know.

You look okay.

(a wince; it was not as bad as I was expecting.)

Well, Nora says with a sigh. I suppose it could be worse.

(Amanda agrees, only a broken wrist and dehydration, vaginal tears. They were so surprised, she says bitterly, to see me awake.)

the silence is heavy.

Amanda, Nora says quietly. What are you going to do? The implication: you are not getting younger. Sarek will long-outlive you.

(I do not know.)

(I did not think very far ahead, Amanda admits. You were young and in love, Nora replies.)

"She cried alot you know," Nora says quietly, tracing the lip of her coffe cup. "She hated living on Vulcan."

"She acclimatized." Sarek replies, tiredly.

"She wanted to leave," Nora admits. Sarek feels anger rushing up from his spine. Amanda would never leave him. "She was getting old, her family had shattered and she was tired."

"No."

"That's what I told her."

(just one more dragon to slay, Amanda, you can do this)

(not without you)

(don't be silly, I've always been right here, cheering you on)

"It was not always kind of me, the things I asked of Amanda." Sarek admits.

Nora nods.

"She loved you."

Sarek closes his eyes. He can still hear her echo in his mind.

"Hello?" Spock is confused. This should be Nora's apartment – the Orion looks at him for a moment, before drawing him in. "Nora!" he shouts, "Nora, Spock's here!"

The woman steps into the room, and she looks exactly like Mother's pictures – hair slipping out of a low knot, dark eyes and an aura that shimmered.

"Spock," she says with surprise. It hurts, but not without need: he's never visited, a few letters or quick conversations when Mother had her on vid-call. "How can I help?"

A weight vanishes.

(please Spock, Mother had written, please ask for help; it proves you are a man of character.)

"Please," he says. "I cannot find an apartment." The shame is thick. The Orion huffs.

"There now," he says. "We'll fix them noorsh-jka's tomorrow, eh? Tonight, we feed you."

"We have space," Nora says, picking up his bag. "Come in. No need for shame."

"I am sorry," Sarek says. "That I took her away from you."

Nora smiles.

"Amanda wasn't mine, nor yours. She belonged to no-one but herself and allowed us to love her."

Sarek closes her eyes.

"That is what love is Sarek, no matter what colour or creed or planet."