I do NOT on Star Trek. No, really. Much love and thanks to my fantastic beta - Selek.

Chapter 2

The beach was lovely and secluded. Selek was the young ambassador prior to Sarek's re-posting on Earth, and, like most Vulcans, he was fascinated by Earth's seas. He had managed to secure this tiny stretch of beach as an addition to the Vulcan embassy.

Now the beach was empty save for the small Vulcan family gathered around a large beach blanket. To the side stood a grill and a picnic table. A lovely Human woman, nearing her sixty-third year of life, expertly cooked a variety of vegetables from both Earth and Vulcan.

To her left at the picnic table sat an older Vulcan gentleman, huddled in a thick robe against the wind of this overcast day. Sarek of Vulcan, the great ambassador, watched his wife cook their noon meal as he listened to his son and granddaughter. He was most content this day.

"And do you know why we celebrate Federation Day?" Spock quizzed his daughter.

"Yes, Father," Mandy replied. "Today is the day that marks the anniversary of the founding of the Federation. Beings all over the Federation celebrate this day every year. On Earth, the day is celebrated instead of the older holiday of July Fourth."

"Correct," Spock answered. "You may play now."

"May I go swimming?" she asked eagerly.

"Not today, child," he replied evenly. "Clouds are blowing in. No doubt a storm is on the way."

Her reply was polite if a bit sullen. "Yes, Father." Soon she was engrossed in building castles of sand.

"I'm afraid we'll have to take the picnic indoors," Amanda added. She cast a glance at the sky. "It does look like rain." Expertly, she flipped the vegetables on the grill. "Spock, do you think Christine will make it for lunch?"

Spock turned back to answer his mother. "I do not think that she will be able to lunch with us. This past week Christine missed some very important aspects of her residency. Thanks to you, Father," he inclined his head towards Sarek, "the hospital and her supervising physician have agreed to allow her to make them up. She should, however, be here sometime after the noon hour."

Sarek nodded, his chin touching the top of his robe. "You owe me no thanks, my son." Quickly so as to change the potentially embarrassing subject, he turned his attention to his wife. "I believe you are burning, my wife."

"No, no, Sarek, the veggies are just fine," she told him. "They ought to be ready soon, though."

Allowing himself the slimmest of smiles, Sarek explained, "Not the food, Amanda. Your skin is burning." He stood and reached for her arm.

"Oh my stars, who'd have ever thought you could get sunburned on an overcast day," she exclaimed mildly. "I slathered Mandy with sunscreen and forgot to cover myself as well."

"Spock," Sarek called, "please supervise the grill while I assist your mother."

Dutifully, Spock rose from the blanket and took the tongs from his mother as he watched his parents. Sarek, with an ease born from years of practice, smoothed the pinkish cream on every inch of Amanda's exposed skin. His father leaned closer to his mother's ear and spoke softly. Spock could not hear Sarek's words; the wind had blown the sound away. In any event he would not have willingly eavesdropped. Amanda blushed slightly and giggled, then she playfully pushed at his arm.

Strangely, Spock felt no embarrassment. Since his bonding with Christine, he now understood many things that previously had only confused him. Pretending an intent interest in the cooking vegetables, he looked out from under his lashes and took careful note of his father's technique in smearing the cream. When Christine arrived, he would borrow some of his mother's sun cream and likewise cover Christine's skin. It was his duty to protect her, especially now. A tiny smile peaked around the corners of his usually stern mouth.

Sarek, intent upon his wife's skin, did not notice, but Amanda did. "You're burning our dinner, Spock," she said softly.

Jarred from his lapse in concentration, Spock cleared his throat and began removing the vegetables from the grill. He placed them on various platters and set the platters onto the nearby picnic table.

"I was thinking of Christine," he admitted carefully. Then lowering his voice, he added, "You are to become grandparents again."

"Oh, Spock, that's wonderful," Amanda cried, a radiant smile on her lips.

Sarek nodded his head in agreement. "May I offer my congratulations, my son?"

Spock inclined his head in a slight bow. "Your family grows, and the generations spread out to your honor." The formal Vulcan words came easily to Spock's tongue. He had practiced them for two days now.

"Speaking of grandchildren," Amanda asked as she looked around the cozy picnic area, "where is Mandy?"

Spock turned quickly, a nagging thought pulled at his subconscious. Something was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. "She was here a moment ago, creating constructions from sand." He called loudly, "Mandy, it is time to eat. Return at once." The nagging feeling grew. Spock knew, with a depth he could never explain, that something was wrong.

Sarek willed his eyes to scan the waves. His thoughts had warped back to yesterday's conversation with the child, when she had insisted on swimming alone to the sandbar in an Earthly version of the kahs-wan. Although he could never admit to it, waves of fear swept over him just as the waves swept over the beach. A pit of hollow fear struck at him as he noted a slight movement of iridescent pink making a painfully slow effort towards the sandbar. "There!" he shouted, his voice raspy with fear.

Amanda and Spock swung around to see pink ruffles floating in the high waves.

"Heaven help us," Amanda muttered as she ran quickly towards the waves. The sand itself seemed to rise up and slow her steps, and she felt as if all were closing down to a pinpoint of slow motion. But still she ran.

The water was cold as she dove into it, a momentary shock against her burned body, but Amanda raced on, pulling and straining against the outgoing tide. She had always been a strong swimmer, but she was older now and frightened.

Many years ago, Amanda had taught Spock to swim when they had visited her relatives on Earth. He had learned fast and was very capable of saving himself, but he would never be able to rescue another. Still, he was there with her in the cold water, only a split second behind her. She sensed his presence rather than saw him because she was focused on the bits of pink ruffles bobbing now, sinking now, ahead on the tall waves.

Spock pulled hard against the cold seawater, ignoring the iciness of it sluicing over his body. The nagging thought uncoiled in his mind, attempting to force his concentration away from Mandy. Determined, he locked his thoughts onto saving his child, locked them as coldly as the seawater surrounding him. Logic. Cold logic was what he needed now. To give in to the emotions roiling inside would only make the situation worse. Slowly he allowed his thoughts to harden, and he cast his emotions into the cold depths of the ocean water. Nothing could reach him now.

Much better. Now he could think logically. He knew his mother was the better swimmer. She would reach Mandy first. But would she have the energy to return both herself and the child to the shore? He did not believe so. It would take every ounce of his Vulcan strength to help them both back to shore. Consciously, he stopped his swimming strokes and rested, treading water, waiting for his mother to bring the child to him.

For a split second, Sarek was frozen with fear. He knew he could not help the child, Amanda, or Spock. Was he to stand here and watch as the cold Pacific swallowed his family? His logic shook and threatened to crack as that thought played across this mind.

A metallic beeping noise drew him from his numbing terror. Spock's personal communicator lay on the sand at his feet. He remembered Spock tossing it at him, ordering him to call for help. That thought broke through, and Sarek was at last able to move.

Quickly, he snatched up the communicator, activating it.

"Captain Spock?" An unfamiliar voice, a woman's professional voice spoke when he activated it. "There is an emergency at Mercy General Hospital. You are needed here."

"Mercy General?" Sarek repeated aloud. "Yes, there has been an emergency," Sarek replied. His voice was strong, and he put all of his forcefulness, all of his many years of debating into it. "This is Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan. We have need of a rescue team. This is an emergency situation. A child is drowning. Transport a rescue team to these coordinates at the Vulcan embassy immediately. There is no time to waste." He cut the connection, knowing she would obey.

Amanda had now reached Mandy. The child had gone under for the third time. Taking a deep, fearful breath, Amanda dove deeply and pulled her back to the surface. She had the child now, cradled in a rescue tow behind her. Turning in the water, her energy nearly depleted, she looked back at the shore. So far away and she was so tired!

Please, Lord, let her be all right. Amanda's thoughts were a continuous mantra in her head as she doggedly pulled them both toward the shore.

Halfway back, Amanda met Spock. He switched the child to his arms and held his mother briefly. "I will take her, Mother," he yelled over the waves. "Can you make it back to shore?"

Amanda nodded. She could make it. She would make it.

From the sand, Sarek watched his family. Slowly they came closer to the shore. But it was taking so long, so long!

Behind him, a transporter sparkled. Three members of Mercy General's drowning rescue team materialized. The emergency medical technicians raced across the sands toward the surf line as Spock, carrying the limp child, stood and trudged up the sand.

Two of the rescue squad met Spock and took the child from him, lying her on the sand. In unison, they bent over her and quickly began to examine her. Soon they were treating her. Spock knelt beside the child, calling her name, willing her to open her eyes and answer.

The third member of the team ran past and dove into the water. With strong, sure strokes, he quickly reached Amanda and helped the older woman back to shore.

Sarek was there as they emerged, dripping wet and cold, from the ocean in the whipping wind. Amanda collapsed into his arms, and Sarek gently lowered her to the sand. Her rescuer insisted that she be examined, and Sarek agreed, but he knew she was well. She was exhausted, cold, and hungry, and anxious about the child, but she was undamaged. Their bonding told him that. Inhaling deeply, Sarek willed himself to be calm and moved briskly to his son's side.

Spock continued to call Mandy's name as the technicians worked on her. He seemed oblivious to all else.

Alone, Sarek watched the unreal scene unfold before him. Then he saw one of the medical technicians catch the eye of the young man who had rescued Amanda. With a soft, negative shake of his head, the young man stepped backward from the scene and spoke in a low tone into a communicator.

Sarek did not hear the words, but he knew what the content of them was. Grief threatened to overwhelm him, but he held it at bay. His son and wife would need him to be strong. Tenderly, he reached down and grasped Spock by the shoulder. "Spock," he whispered, "no more, my son."

Slowly, the medical team rose and quietly backed away from the terrible scene. Mandy lay too still on the sand. The whipping wind of the coming storm ruffled her curls and the pink ruffles of her new swimsuit. Nothing else moved.

Spock, intent upon his child, ignored Sarek and the technicians. They were wrong. Very, very wrong. Mandy will awaken. She only needs a little more time. Torn between anger and despair, Spock purposefully placed his long fingers against the child's still head. His intention was to establish a meld with her, to awaken her.

"No!" Sarek thundered. He reached down and tore Spock's hands away, wrenching his son up and away from the tiny still form. "I will not risk losing you, too!" He forced the words into Spock's face, into his mind.

Spock's stricken face bled with unspoken emotion. His eyes wildly searched the sky.

"I grieve with thee," Sarek offered the words and his hand for a healing meld.

But Spock stepped back, stumbling and nearly falling into the surf. "No!" he yelled. "I will master my emotions alone." Turning his back to all, Spock closed his eyes and willed his heart to become stone.

Dropping his hand, Sarek turned instead to his wife. She was kneeling at Mandy's side now, gently smoothing back the unruly blonde locks. "Amanda?" he whispered.

Raising her red-rimmed eyes to his, Amanda wept unashamedly. She wept for all of them, for her Vulcans who were unable to do so for themselves. Overhead, thunder shattered the clouds, and the rain poured down on them all.