A/N: This is actually part of an extremely massive work I am probably never going to finish. I decided to post this because...I guess I want to know what people think of my take. Anything you would like to know (references within this fic to my large WIP not published anywhere), you may ask in comments. Also, this is strictly TOS. No reboot influences or implications whatsoever. This is also posted identically at AO3.

The Logical Thing

The room was bare, but for a small table in its center. The table was rectangular, precisely fifty-four centimeters high, sixty-one centimeters wide, and one hundred twenty-six centimeters long. It was constructed of an aluminum-steel alloy and its surface had been microscopically textured to be matte and non-reflective. In the center of the table stood a single oil candle housed in a round, black dish which measured ten centimeters in diameter. The candle itself was six centimeters high, but its lit flame brought the total height to ten centimeters.

Sarek would have found the symmetry between the candle and its dish pleasing were he not so distracted.

The cushion on which he sat was a pale hue of pink, reminiscent of the color of the sky on the horizon during the rising of the first sun. The cushion on the opposite side of the table matched his in every way. They were square, approximately seven centimeters thick, and covered by a single piece of sewn fabric. They were stuffed with foam rubber and lined beneath the fabric with sehlat fur; the design lent itself to hours of meditation.

Sarek's goal in focusing on all of these mundane facts was distraction from his...distraction. But in the three hours since the rise of Earth's sun all that he had accomplished was to cause his mind to drift to thoughts of home more and more frequently.

The room itself was quite pleasing, the walls and carpeting being the same pale yet cool shade of gray. The three-meter-high paned windows behind him allowed the room to be bathed in the natural light of the planet, and at 0924 hours it was quite bright.

This room, while originally purposed for other things, had become a favorite meditation room of Sarek's whenever he was on Earth. But on this day it felt more like a prison.

Chirp.

The sound of the chime informed Sarek that someone was at the door. He shifted his weight from side to side atop his cushion and closed his eyes, focusing on the darkness.

He felt his heart begin to increase its beats per minute, and calculated the increase to be two percent.

The bright chime sounded again, and he called out a soft, "Enter." His voice sounded alien to him.

"Good morning, Sarek," Amanda said as the door slid open, permitting her entry. "How are you this morning?"

Sarek continued to stare at the darkness behind his eyelids. Becoming accustomed to it, and with the help of the ambient sunlight, deep green capillaries were beginning to clarify in his vision. He silently counted them.

"Sarek?" Amanda's velvety voice asked again.

The Vulcan ambassador let a slow, silent sigh escape through his nose. While he wasn't keen on her presence this morning, he was grateful that after nearly four years of acquaintance she knew him well enough to simply make his tea as she always did on the first day of the week, and then leave. She was a rare example of humanity in that she respected a Vulcan's time of meditation.

Everything would be fine...

"What's wrong?"

Or perhaps not.

He sighed audibly this time and became aware of an acute pain in his jaw. He unclenched his teeth and allowed his jaw to slacken until normal feeling returned.

He opened his eyes and looked into Amanda's visibly worried ones. Their color seemed even more radiant whenever she was emotional, he observed. And her lips appeared more full...

He clenched his teeth and sighed again, but then nodded in greeting. "Good morning," he said after human fashion, though he was aware his voice sounded tense.

Amanda drew a breath and opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped. Sarek watched her internal debate through her changing facial expressions, and was grateful when she didn't repeat her question. She always knew when to be silent. It was something he appreciated in her.

Her gaze lowered to the tea service she had brought, and Sarek watched the methodical preparation. The leaves were measured and placed in the already-boiling water in the teapot. The waiting cups were set before them as a spicy aroma rapidly filled the spartan room, bringing color and substance.

A heat that Sarek had spent days fighting suddenly flooded his extremities, and he closed his eyes against the unwanted sensation. Instead of green, now bright oranges and yellows filled the darkness and a surreal perception of being back on Vulcan was rapidly overtaking his mind.

"I know we had discussed visiting the museum in Montana today, but if you would prefer to stay here...? Do something else?" she suggested after a moment. Sarek heard the sound of the tea being poured, and suddenly the sun on his back combined with the heat in his blood became too much.

He pulled loose his tight collar and quickly began shedding his outer robe.

"Sarek? Are you hot?"

"Yes," he said curtly, pushing the heavy fabric off his shoulders and dropping it behind him. He felt confined in what were usually very comfortable layers of clothing, and untied his second, lighter robe and pulled that off as well.

"Are you ill? Should I call a healer, or a doctor?" Amanda asked, and Sarek's attention was drawn upward again at the anxious tone her voice had taken.

The two cups of tea stood steaming on the table, the vapors mixing with the smoke of the candle. She was seated on her knees, leaning forward, and clasping her hands tightly in her lap as was her custom when she was distraught. And her cheeks were flushed a deep vermilion, matching the shade of the dress she was wearing.

Her clothing, he had noticed, always seemed to be of exclusive choice when they had a planned outing, as opposed to how she dressed for her classes. This morning was no different. She had donned a sleeveless gown with a low, curving neckline, made of a material that fell over the natural shape of her body in a way that he could not deny was pleasing to the eye. It occurred to him that were he a person motivated by emotion, her attire might encourage him toward some illicit purpose.

"Sarek," she said again, not hiding her worry any longer.

"No, Amanda. Call no one. I would prefer to be alone."

"Oh," she said, misunderstanding. Sarek allowed the error. "Would you like me to leave?"

He looked up into her expressive eyes and found his words to the affirmative evaporated like the steam from the tea. She appeared...disappointed.

"I...do wish to be with you, Amanda," he found himself saying. He calculated another three percent increase in his heart rate as he spoke.

"We can stay here," she said quickly, reminding him of her more impetuous days from years past. "We always find something to do when you can't leave the embassy."

Sarek nodded in acknowledgement of the truth of the statement. It had become a pleasant routine for the both of them, that every Sunday morning when he was not on a diplomatic assignment and she was not attending classes, that she would bring him tea as he finished meditating and then they would spend at least some of the day in each other's company until obligations parted them again.

It was a friendship that had not been immediately accepted by those around them, and was still not understood. But at least those closest to them now supported the association.

Sarek also knew that her loyalty to him was boundless, and whatever he requested of her she would immediately obey—

He felt his heart rate increase another five percent.

"Indeed."

Her brow furrowed then, and she looked at him with a confused, questioning expression. He wondered if she was aware that her face betrayed so many of her thoughts.

He took a sip of his tea and his eyes were drawn to her hair, cut a bit shorter than when he had first met her, but still falling in abundant curls over her shoulders. It was soft and unique in its texture. Nothing on Vulcan was comparable.

He stretched his left hand across the table, aware of his exposed wrist as he was now clad only in a very light mantle over his undergarments. In actuality it was indecent of him to be clad in such a way in public, however no one but Amanda and his aide Soran would dare enter his chosen meditation room, and it did not injure his vanity or modesty for either of them to see him in that state.

Amanda blushed, a lighter pink than when she had been worried, when his fingertips touched her hair. He gently pulled against the soft strands, separating the curls until his fingertips pulled free and came to rest on her bare shoulder.

His eyes slowly traveled to meet hers, and he found her expression to be solemn and controlled—quite unlike most human females he had encountered. It was only in those unemotional moments when he was unable to guess at her thoughts.

He was startled when the thought entered his mind that to meld with her would be very instructive in that moment. But of course, such an act was impossible. He was uncomfortable with mind melds as a rule, but that he could consider something so desperately intimate with someone outside his species was appalling.

"What is it?" she asked then, her voice as even as her countenance. Sarek wondered then how much of his thoughts were betrayed on his face.

He closed his eyes and tried to center his thoughts. It had been difficult enough the last six days, but now in her presence it seemed logic was as elusive as a bird in a vast meadow.

"Why...do you desire to spend your time with me?" he finally asked, hoping her answer would provide some relief to the turmoil he could no longer deny he was in.

Amanda blinked several times, seeming surprised by the question. "Because...I enjoy your company."

"But why...my company? Why not that of any other man?"

His choice of noun was not lost on either of them, and Sarek was aware of a slight change in the balance of her human hormones.

"Because you...are a prime specimen of your species," she said.

Sarek raised one eyebrow.

"You are...completely Vulcan, completely logical, and yet somehow...without emotion you are still able to have compassion for others. I can't think of another word to describe it, but you...embrace the diversity in the Federation without losing who you are. It's...a commendable and desirable quality."

Sarek pulled his hand away from her shoulder and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. Her offered reason was not what he had expected, but then, his expectations were often confounded wherever she was concerned. Despite being a very emotional human, she was not controlled by that part of her. And thus, had the capacity to at times be logical.

"Why...do you choose to spend time with me, an emotional human?—still just a child compared to a Vulcan," she stated as if apologizing for herself.

Sarek considered his response, and as the seconds passed he again became aware of the sun at his back.

"You are a prime example of your species, Amanda. You fascinate me."

Slowly, the corners of her mouth curled into a smile, and Sarek found his heart beating faster again, though not in a displeasing manner.

He watched her face, controlled again and revealing nothing as she sipped her tea. "Your attention honors me," she said finally.

Sarek watched a lock of hair fall over her shoulder, watched the gentle flutter of her eyelashes as the steam drifted into her face, the silken shine on her lips as she delicately licked away a drop of tea that remained

"It would be...illogical, to deny our true natures...would it not?"

She looked at him quizzically, and was about to speak when the door chimed.

Sarek looked up and was surprised when the door slid open before he gave permission. Soran entered slowly and paused, allowing the door to close behind him.

"Good morning, Soran," Amanda greeted pleasantly.

The young Vulcan inclined his head. "Miss Grayson."

A silence followed, and Sarek heard Amanda turn to look at him again—but he did not see, for he had closed his eyes. His chin lowered to his chest as he fought more strongly now against the sensations that he had foolishly begun to allow in Amanda's presence.

"Miss Grayson," he heard Soran begin, "I require a private word with the ambassador."

Sarek looked up, his brow rising.

"Of course," she said, rising from her cushion gracefully.

Sarek closed his eyes and lowered his head again.

"I understand you had plans to travel to the Montana region today. I will contact you when the ambassador is available."

There was another brief silence, and Sarek knew without looking that Amanda's emotional eyes would be showing confusion. Soran had never mediated communications between them except when Sarek was unavailable due to his duties, and the reason for the sudden imposition upon them was only too clear to Sarek.

If it were not illogical, he would thank his aide for the protection he provided.

"All right. I'll...see you later, Sarek," were her parting words.

Sarek didn't know if that would in fact be the case anymore, and so didn't respond. He listened to her soft footsteps, and the opening and closing of the door. Only then did he open his eyes.

Soran stood two paces inside the room, his hands clasped calmly in front of him.

The ambassador realized there was nothing either of them could say that would not be embarrassing, and left it to his aide to begin the conversation that in this situation was unfortunately, unavoidable.

"Ambassador," the younger man finally began, "I have observed severely increasing changes in your habits for the past six days. Would I be correct in the assumption...that your preferred destination of travel would be Vulcan?"

Sarek stared at the flame of the candle in front of him. His blood and heart were burning, and the mere mention of his planet brought visions of it to his eyes. But the satisfaction it should have given him was marred by a feeling of emptiness; like the Fire Plains, he felt desolate, with a sensation of doom underlying every thought.

"I would prefer to return home, if I had a reason to," was Sarek's even reply.

Sarek watched as Soran's lips parted briefly in understanding. "I see," was his reply, and he began slowly pacing the length of the far wall.

The room measured precisely ten meters in length, six meters in width, and four meters in height. There were four paned windows on the wall behind him, all one-point-seven meters in width and three meters in height, evenly spaced across the wall.

"If at this time—"

Sarek looked at him sharply.

"—you do not wish to travel to Vulcan, would you like me to...postpone your duties for the next several days, so that you can remain in meditation?"

Sarek considered this. There was no documentation on the effectiveness of meditation on his present condition, just as almost no documentation on his condition really existed. He completely understood why his race chose to keep knowledge on the subject dubious, but...a growing uncertainty had been rising in his mind over the last several hours as his condition worsened. And the startling effect that Amanda's presence had had on him also made him doubt meditation would be enough.

He sighed and stared down at the steady flame. It was illogical to deny that he had begun his fifth pon farr, and in a matter of days, perhaps hours, the plak-tow would begin and his life would be in danger.

He was grateful for Soran's tact and interest in his preservation, even if his first suggestion was not entirely logical. For even if he did buy a wife, as was permitted in an emergency like his, the travel time between Earth and Vulcan was too great and he would be dead long before he arrived.

To die at a mere sixty-six years of age would be a waste, but if meditation did not work that would most definitely be his fate. His gaze broadened to include the rest of the small table, with its small tea service and the two cups of cooling liquid, one before him and the other slightly obscured by the flame in front of it. He regretted that he had not bid Amanda farewell, as he knew if the meditation was unsuccessful, he would never see her again.

"It is the only option available to me," he said, and hoped the defeat he already felt was not apparent in his voice.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. But now visions of his planet invaded his mind almost constantly. ShirKahr, his father's estate, the bridge, the cave... But T'Rea was strangely absent from his thoughts. He had wondered upon her death, if his mind would yearn for her now. But apparently death had broken the bond, and he was simply alone. Adrift in a sea of blood, boiling, rising beyond his ability to control, spilling over into the hot sands—

A sharp sound caused him to open his eyes, and he realized the sound was his open palms impacting the table. The tea service clattered, and a few drops of liquid had leapt from the cups and landed on the table.

He looked up at Soran, who had halted in the far corner.

"Forgive me," he said, embarrassed at the loss of control.

"Ambassador, there is perhaps another option. One with a higher probability for successful resolution."

Sarek blinked at him dumbly.

"Have you considered...bringing your problem to Miss Grayson?"

Sarek's jaw fell slack and he felt a ten percent increase in his heart rate.

"She...she..." he swallowed anxiously, shaking his head. "Humans marry for love, it would not be a just action on my part."

He had tried not to consider that option consciously, but now that Soran had proposed it, he saw her even with his eyes open. Her soft hair cascading over her shoulders, the joy in her smile, the elegant way she had always carried herself even when he had first met her...

"Has it not occurred to you," Soran began, bringing his focus back to his aide's face, "that she may possess that emotion for you?"

Sarek was surprised once again. Amanda had never acted flirtatious or romantic towards him, save for a single incident almost three years ago that they had both determined was illogical and a mistake.

"I do not know. Ours is an...unusual association, but..." he paused, finding that his breaths were coming with some difficulty now, "she has always been entirely professional."

"With your permission, Ambassador," Soran said, approaching him, "I can ascertain her feelings for you to make your decision easier."

Decision? Oh, of course. She would be a definite solution to his problem, and for several years if in fact she did...love him. But he could never return her love. What kind of marriage would that be for a human?

"How would you do this?"

"I would ask her. Leaving out, of course, the...specific reasons for my line of questioning."

Sarek closed his eyes and shook his head again, not wanting Amanda to know anything of what he was experiencing. But his homeworld invaded his mind once again, now with a vision of Amanda imposed in the hot sands. He needed to know if this option was available to him, and soon. Because he could not attempt a healing meditation as long as she was in his thoughts.

"Very well. Say what is necessary," Sarek croaked out, and lowered his head, too embarrassed to look his aide in the eye any longer.

He opened his eyes to stare at his hands when a silence ensued, and then Soran's voice one last time: "Your trust is the highest honor, Ambassador."

Quick footfalls sounded upon the carpet, followed by the swoosh of the automatic door. He watched the flame as it flickered slightly from the displacement of the air at Soran's passing, and then focused his gaze beyond on the second teacup and solitary pink cushion.

Amanda had changed clothes upon returning to her quarters from the attractive swing dress to a plain skirt and shirt. She threw a light Vulcan robe over it that had been a present from Sarek in preparation for a settled day indoors. It was clear from Soran's statement that whatever he needed to talk to Sarek about would be keeping him for the entire day.

So much for the First Contact museum...

She relaxed into the chair at her desk, pulling her feet up as she read from the display monitor. There were some interesting new proposals for required education of Earth children that she was interested in. Her friendship with Sarek over the last four years had made her aware of aspects of Federation life that she had not been privy to in her schooling, and she was examining all of Earth's education system now.

True, there was a legitimate historical grievance against the Vulcans, but it was long in the past and for the most part xenophobia had been dealt with on the planet. But she wondered now if some subtle indoctrination hadn't been taking place during her childhood years, the effects of which a good upbringing had spared her. And she hoped that others on Earth could embrace the truth and logic of IDIC if not the entire Vulcan philosophy.

She was halfway through the first article when her door alert chirped, and she rose in hopeful surprise. Perhaps Sarek would be available after all.

"Come in," she called, and was surprised when Sarek's aide Soran stepped through the narrow doorway.

"Miss Grayson. I hope I am not disturbing you," he said as the door slid closed.

"No, of course not. Is Sarek all right?" she asked before she could check herself. She tried not to speak in emotional terms around Vulcans, but she wasn't always able to modulate her speech.

Soran's brows rose, though the rest of his face remained impassive.

"You are a perceptive human, Miss Grayson. I am afraid he is not."

Amanda blinked in surprise, and worry clouded her features. There were frequent occasions when Sarek did not seem himself, usually due to distraction over work, but never had he seemed so out-of-sorts as this morning.

"Is he ill?" she asked.

"Not in the strict definition of the word, madam," Soran replied evasively, beginning to turn about her small room.

Amanda always felt rather small when Soran referred to her with that particular appellation. She was only twenty years old after all, and barely felt an adult let alone someone who should be called 'madam.'

"I'll come directly to the point," Soran continued, pausing in his ambulation and turning to face her, his hands clasped before him. "How far-reaching are your loyalties to Ambassador Sarek?"

Amanda was very confused now, and furrowed her brow in thought. She chose her words carefully before posing her own question. "Can you be more specific?" she finally asked.

Soran seemed to frown with his eyes, and hesitated. "What lengths would you be willing to go, to ensure his well-being?"

That question was much easier. "Well, just about anything within the law. And within moral law."

In four years Amanda knew Sarek well enough to know that they agreed on practically everything, both politically and morally, and she had never known anyone so dedicated to the good of the Federation. She had even seen him step outside of the comforts of Vulcan non-emotion for the greater good. There was no one she admired more.

It occurred to her she could have said all that, and she was about to, when Soran spoke again.

"And...in the protection of his life...what would you be willing to do, or to sacrifice?"

A weight of dread began building in her chest, and she advanced toward Soran.

"Is his life in danger?"

The aide ever-so-slightly pursed his lips in hesitation, and then nodded.

"What would you be willing to do, Miss Grayson?"

She forced her mind past the rapid beating of her heart to contemplate an answer. "I suppose...the same as I said before. Anything within legal and moral law."

"Even if it meant...leaving your life as you know it?"

"Soran, what are you talking about? What's going on?"

The aide lowered his gaze again, and Amanda noticed he was now clenching and unclenching his fingers. Was he nervous?

"You are aware, I am sure...that the ambassador is a widower."

"Yes, he told me his wife died in childbirth. But what does that have to do with his life being in danger?" she asked emphatically.

"If Ambassador Sarek was to propose marriage to you, what would be your answer?"

Amanda's jaw dropped and she fell back a step, shocked at the non sequitur. "What...?"

"What would be your answer?"

"I..." she swallowed, and thought for a long moment. "I would have to think about it. I would want to know his reasons for asking, and—"

"Amanda," Soran interrupted, stepping close to her, and she felt a gravity of importance at his deliberate and first-ever use of her given name. "If he needed an immediate answer—if the choice was either to marry immediately or not at all—what would be your response?"

She stared into his face, where his unblinking dark eyes bored into hers. She struggled to control her breathing. "I assume this question is...not hypothetical."

Soran looked away briefly, some of the intensity going out of his eyes and being replaced with...worry? "From me, it must be. A question of that nature posed by a Vulcan can only come from the man himself. Or his parents," he added as an aside.

"What does it have to do with Sarek's life?" she asked pointedly, her own gaze narrowing on the aide's.

"I am afraid I cannot answer that. And you must not ask the ambassador," he said as she opened her mouth to protest. "We are an extremely private people, especially in our most intimate relationships," he continued, now looking past her at a point on the wall. "If this subject...is one he wants to discuss with you, he will do so. If not, then our conversation here did not take place."

"But what about his life!" she cried, forsaking her attempt at remaining logical. "If something is threatening him we have to save him!"

"Agreed. But I, Miss Grayson, can do nothing. Only Sarek or yourself have any power to save him now."

She caught her breath at the frankness of his words. "He...you mean he could die?"

Soran nodded. "Most probably."

Amanda couldn't control the flow of tears that left her eyes and slipped down her cheeks as she gazed at Soran hopelessly, her eyes pleading for an explanation.

"The ambassador is one of the most logical Vulcans I have ever met, but what has begun...must continue to its conclusion. And it may be that not even he has the power to control it."

"I still don't understand," Amanda said, shaking her head.

Soran sighed. Not a sigh of contempt as she often heard from Vulcans, but one of futility.

"Miss Grayson. Do you...love the ambassador?"

The gravity on her heart grew heavier. She lowered her eyes and they darted across the floor as she thought. Love? 'In the form of great respect, admiration, and even affection brought about by prolonged close association.' Those were words Sarek himself had used to describe their friendship when asked by those who would condemn them. But that wasn't really what Soran was asking.

She took a deep breath and looked back up at him, her tears stilled and her expression earnest.

The aide stepped quickly to the door, his presence activating it. But instead of exiting he stepped to the side.

"Go to him, and see what course he will take for the remainder of his life."

She fled the room.

A sky filled with red clouds, a golden horizon... Silhouettes of mountains spewing orange fire were in conflict with the beauty. And all the while a bridge, a long pathway, with one end leading to a cave and another to a place of ceremony were before him.

The door chime sounded, and Sarek blinked back to awareness—a hideously easy task.

"Enter," he called out in a tone that sounded harsh to his ears, and he was only somewhat surprised when Amanda rushed through the door.

She stopped just inside, as Soran had done earlier, and he surveyed her appearance.

She had changed out of her attractive dress from before, and now wore a very plain gray skirt and blue shirt. Over it, she wore the sleeveless gray robe he had given her over a year ago. The embroidered symbol of IDIC was visible on the left shoulder.

She had also pulled her hair back, clearly preparing for a day spent alone in her quarters. But her hair didn't need to be away from her face for him to see that she had been crying.

How much had Soran said...?

"Sarek," she said, her voice catching with emotion.

"Amanda," he replied, slowly bringing his hands to rest on the table.

Silence followed, and after a moment she cautiously stepped forward and sat on what they both considered her cushion. She kept her posture erect, despite her obvious emotional difficulty, but her shoulders were tight from the stress.

They stared at each other in silence, Sarek's countenance having returned to his usual equanimity, and hers struggling for her own.

Sarek sensed motion and peripherally glimpsed her hands fidgeting. "You forgot the tea service," he said.

She took a breath. "Soran says you... He implied you...that you may die."

"All beings die, Amanda—"

"Soon! He said you might die soon," she gasped, and Sarek let his eyes flicker up to hers before returning to the now-cool tea.

"Is it true?" she asked firmly, when he didn't respond.

Sarek was surprised to feel so calm now that parts of himself had been laid bare, as opposed to before when he had been trying to hide it. Emotion was illogical, but it would in fact be logical to continue on a course that was bringing him relief, no matter the personal cost.

He sighed in resignation. "It is true."

Her breath caught, and he held his in anticipation of the next question that would be impossible to answer. But it didn't come. Instead, he heard her breathing relax, and he knew that when he again looked up her expression would have returned to its usual grace and solemnity.

"How can I help?" she asked.

Sarek looked up in surprise, and met her steady and committed gaze.

"He...told you that you could," he said carefully, again trying to ascertain what she knew.

She nodded slowly.

"But he did not say how?"

"No, not...not really. He said it...that I would have to sacrifice my life as I know it. And that there was no time to weigh the decision."

The calm with which she explained was astonishing to him, and he gazed on her with admiration. At times she was almost like a Vulcan. She truly did fascinate him.

"You would be bound to me—" he began, but without warning, the fire flooded his mind again and an involuntary shudder ran through his body at the unexpected sensation.

"Sarek!?" she cried in alarm.

He raised a hand to still her panic, and took several deep breaths as he tried to regain control.

Minutes passed. And no longer concerned about the frightful intimacy, he gazed at her face as he slowly recovered himself.

He shook his head twice. "I could not," he gasped out, "love you, Amanda. You must know this."

She lowered her eyes, and for a moment he feared her answer would be no. And more...he found that he feared he would lose her friendship as well.

But then she looked up, her face schooled to a distinctly Vulcan impassivity, and he could not discern if his words had had any emotional impact at all.

"I know."

Hope rose within him, and he struggled to straighten his posture as he fought through the ensuing fever for appropriate words. Just because he could not love, did not mean he could not be gracious.

He gave up trying to control his breaths as it seemed salvation was imminent, and modesty and vanity would soon have diminished importance in her presence. He raised his hand and slowly extended two fingers across the table. "However," he said, "even were the issue...not beyond my control... I find there is no one else...in my past or in any conceivable future...who I would rather have as consort."

Amanda blinked in surprise, and the facade she had constructed faded to a soft and affectionate smile. But it was not the giddy smile of the schoolgirl he had met nearly four years ago, but that of the wise woman he had come to call his friend.

With a questioning raise of her brow she extended her index and middle fingers, and with a nod from him she brought them to meet his over the meditation flame.

"Neither is there anyone else I would have."

His shoulders relaxed with a great sigh of relief, and for several moments he looked into her eyes, which were calm, and filled with affection.

The beginnings of plak-tow had come to him, and he found himself feeling the emotion of nervousness at the thought of such a sudden marriage. But it would not only be illogical, but dangerous to delay any longer.

He turned from her and searched inside his outer robe, still on the floor, for his communicator.

"Soran," he called, once he had located it.

"Yes, Ambassador?" came the distant reply.

"Locate a priest," he said, knowing no further instruction would be necessary.

"As you wish," Soran replied. "Where shall I look for you?"

Sarek looked across the table at Amanda. "We shall remain here." It was easier than trying to move in his condition, Sarek decided.

The communication channel closed, Sarek returned the communicator to his robe and began to redress. It would not do to be married in scarcely more than his undergarments.

In the time it took for Soran to locate a priest, Amanda explained that said aide had instructed her not to ask why marriage would save Sarek's life. And Sarek, with his cheeks blushing green, told her that since she was to be his wife it was logical that she should now be told. And then he very logically explained the biology that no Vulcan can escape.

When he finished, Amanda's cheeks were red, and they spent the remaining minutes before their marriage ceremony sitting across from each other on their respective cushions, neither speaking nor making eye contact.

It was very soon that Soran arrived, and Sarek suspected that his aide might have begun the search for a priest to perform the ceremony before his call had been made.

"Ambassador," the aged priest began, "it is your intention to be joined to this human?"

"It is," Sarek replied, he and Amanda now standing side by side before the priest.

The older man, clad in heavy red and white bejeweled robes, gave Amanda an undisguised appraising look before speaking again. "And you, it is your desire to be the consort of Ambassador Sarek?"

"Yes," she said, suddenly feeling young and out of place. She took hold of Sarek's arm as she had done when she was younger. She knew it was human, but he had never seemed to mind.

"Very well," the priest continued, "with the intention of both parties stated, and with the witness of Soran, kal'i'farr shall be performed."

Amanda found the following marriage ceremony to be very...logical, but steeped in ritual. And without a white dress, music, or even a kiss, mere minutes later she found herself no longer Amanda Grayson, but T'sai Amanda of Vulcan.

The ceremony completed, the priest left with hardly a parting word. Soran, who had stood silently as witness, now approached them both.

"I will take my leave, sir. And if it is not too forward..."

"It is not," Sarek said, causing a slight look of surprise to flicker through his subordinate's eyes.

Soran closed his eyes and nodded his acceptance before continuing. "I find your solution to be…very agreeable."

Sarek said nothing, and Soran bowed fully as he turned to Amanda. "My lady," he said, and then left with his robes swaying behind him.

Alone again, Amanda turned and looked up at her husband. It would take time to get used to thinking of him like that, but she suspected coming events would hasten the process.

Sarek looked at her, and then turned to the table. He extinguished the candle and began gathering the cushions. Amanda's brow rose, and then she also bent and took up the tea service.

"In the interests of my continued health," Sarek said, his arms now full, "I suggest we retire to my—...our suite for the day."

Amanda blushed deeply, and nodded. She followed him out the door, to the turbolift, and the rest of the way to his quarters in the best part of the embassy. No one turned an eye at the sight of the ambassador carrying meditation necessities, and everyone was already accustomed to seeing him in the presence of the young human female. But how would they react, she wondered, when they learned of the marriage?

Inside Sarek's suite, which she had seen before, he deposited the cushions and candle in the closet where they were stored. Then he turned to face her, where she stood just inside the door holding the tea service.

"Come," he said, and she stepped toward him with wide eyes, unable to hide the sudden apprehension she felt about the unknown.

He cocked his head at her curiously, and then took the tea service out of her hands and took it to his kitchenette. "Soran will arrange for the transport of your belongings—"

He stopped, and then turned to look at her. "Unless you would prefer to do so yourself?"

"I...think I would prefer to do it myself," she said, grasping for control of something.

"As you wish," he acknowledged.

From where he stood, he extended two fingers again. Amanda didn't know what rituals were expected between married Vulcans, but clearly she was going to need to learn.

"Come, my wife," he said as if it was obvious, and she hurried to do so and met his fingers with her own.

Their fingers joined, he guided her now to his bedchamber. Her heart began to beat heavily.

Once inside, and the door having slid closed, he let his hand fall and in a very calm, logical manner quite different from earlier that morning, he started removing his robes.

Amanda gasped soundlessly, and took off her robe as well. But there she stopped. Anything more would leave her indecent, and she had no idea what was expected.

Sarek wasn't even looking at her as he methodically placed his robes on their hangers in his closet. He happened to glance at her where she stood with her arms wrapped tightly around her and her back hunched.

"You need not be afraid Amanda. I shall not harm you," he said. He started to turn back to the closet but then paused with a raise of his brow. "It is fortuitous that Soran suggested this solution when he did."

Amanda considered all the implications of that statement as Sarek closed the closet door. He was clad now as he had been in the meditation room, in a simple and very thin silvery mantle, worn over whatever Vulcan undergarments looked like. Looking down at herself, Amanda realized she would probably need an entirely new wardrobe now as a Vulcan consort.

When she looked up, she was startled to find Sarek had stepped very close to her. He lifted his two fingers again and she met them with hers, knowing it was expected.

"It is ozh'esta," he responded to her unasked question. "It translates to 'finger embrace' in your language."

She was already aware just by observation that Vulcans were a very hand-oriented culture. But she hadn't observed this anywhere. Was it in fact a gesture of affection, much as a kiss in her own culture?

Sarek sat on the bed, and she slowly sat with him, her eyes not leaving his. He was looking at her calmly, and curiously, the evidence of his deadly chemical imbalance completely hidden. And then his eyes left hers and moved to something just next to her face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Your hair..." he said, stretching his left hand to her shoulder as he had before, the fingers of his right hand remaining joined to hers.

He didn't just let his fingertips graze her hair this time, but fully entwined them, feeling the luxurious texture and exploring from the ends of the strands all the way to her scalp.

"This...I admit," he said, "I have longed for since first I met you."

She swallowed anxiously, and raised her left hand cautiously up to his chest, and then slid it down to the base of the Vulcan rib cage, larger than that of a human's, where it protected the heart housed within. She could feel its rapid pounding against her hand.

The movement of his hand in her hair stilled, and she looked up at him. The Vulcan capacity for control was astounding.

"Thank you, Amanda. For saving my life," he said.

She was startled, having never heard him or any Vulcan speak such a sentiment before. "I am happy to do so, Sarek," she said after a moment.

His shoulders shuddered ever so slightly, and she felt his heart rate increase under her hand.

"It is good that you are," he breathed. And leaning down, he kissed her.

The End