Amanda sighed and put her mug down on the table. She had been behaving as if it were very delicious coffee, even though it was replicated and therefore tasted mostly like nothing. They probably didn't have coffee on Vulcan.
"I needed to see you, is why I came, not the other way around," she said. "Spock wouldn't have done this because he considered it to be the logical thing to do. It seemed to me that Spock was sick to death of acting upon logical, that time on the way to Babel. He uses it as a justification for his actions, is all. He had to have wanted to do this or he wouldn't have done it. I'm pretty much certain you're the only one who can tell me anything but talking to you is like pulling teeth."
Jim was staring at his hands, trying to think of something to say.
She continued on without him. "He was always absolutely terrible at being a Vulcan, but he tried really hard for it. He kind of created a little paradox for himself to live in. His whole T'san S'at business seemed to revolve entirely around his desire for belonging; its purpose was to extinguish that part of him that needed a solid sense of community and acceptance. You know that about him. You probably don't know what T'san S'at means, however, but that's hardly important."
Kirk swallowed and looked up at her. "Yes, I assumed as much. I don't know him," present-tense tasted like false optimism. "I suppose it…"
"Of course not," she cut him off, "No one knows anyone. My point is, you know him the best of anyone. Better than I do, at least. Someone else knows you better than anyone. It's probably not Spock. Spock never even knew himself." And then she shifted in her chair and said, "no one feels like they know Spock, especially not now. My theory is, no one is completely unpredictable and everyone does everything for a reason. Even if the reason more often than not eludes us."
Jim smiled. "How long has it been since you've been on Earth?"
"Twelve of its years. Four of them since I've been outside Forty-Eridani"
"Well, then, I honestly don't know what we're doing in here," he said, inclining his head toward the window, "it's not raining anymore."
"You're sure excellent at changing the subject." Amanda stood easily and Jim followed suit, and they left the room at the same time.
The air tasted damp and the sun was still dim. Little puddles of water collected on the cement and ran down the fronts of the steps. The wind was trying to untie Amanda's hair as she was lead towards the water. Kirk was standing slightly behind her so it felt like she was leading him. A small bit of coastline laid just past the Expendable building and down a narrow, winding path through exotic plants, some of which unfurled with the air current and clenched themselves back up when they realized someone was looking at them.
The bay was murky, despite the best efforts of hoards of twenty-third century ecologists. "It must be really dull down here on earth, for you, after all of that… gallivanting around the galaxy. It's only appealing to me because I'm so used to Vulcan being hot and dry and the color of sun-dried tomatoes." she looked at him without turning her head.
"Dull is an appropriate choice of word. It's … calm, not always unpleasant."
She nodded.
Pause. "Spock said you 'consider yourself a very fortunate earth woman.' I was never sure what that meant."
"Is that a direct quote?"
"For the most part."
Amanda laughed. "I'm surprised to learn he'd said anything of me."
"It was a rare occurrence."
"Something that no one realizes is that Spock grew up listening to Carol King and folding laundry. Sarek and I pulled him out of school after he mortally injured a student who liked calling him names. After that the two of us would stay home all day while Sarek was at work. Sometimes he would drown himself in scholarly papers about anti de-sitter space. Once he read a ten-volume piece about modern linguistics and for a month afterwords he couldn't stop asking me questions. So sometimes he read and sometimes we just talked. One day he asked me, 'when you were young, did you know you were going to be a linguist?' I said that I'd always dreamed of studying language and culture but I never knew my passion would lead me to such a beautiful life. He said, 'You're very fortunate, aren't you? Not many people get to do what they love.' It was meant as an I love you, but of course he took it as, I am very satisfied with my career, of course. I think that's what he means, for the most part.
"I read his journals for the Terran Space Administration."
"All of them?" Kirk asked, a little taken aback. There were more than a hundred entries. Most of them were lengthy, but not one of them was dry.
"Yes, Admiral, all of them. I have quite a bit more free time than you do, I'm sure." Jim filled his cheeks with air and let it out through his lips. "I love that they're all in the archives. It's such a gift to give laymen access to their society's scientific findings and political struggles. The transparency makes the Federation a better place."
He gawked, slightly, and said, "I feel exactly the same way."
Amanda looked over the metal railing at the green-colored water lapping at a few feet of rock. There were bits of seaweed floating in the ripples, bobbing up and down in the waves.
"What did you think?" Jim asked.
She looked up but not at him. "About the journals?"
Jim nodded.
"You're expecting the answer of a proud mother, a civilian, or a linguist. I don't know which. I'll tell you that Spock speaks his Standard like he learned it late in life––which of course isn't true, that as a civilian, I was intrigued, and that the whole thing put Sarek's knickers in a twist."
Jim laughed.
"It did though; he was outraged."
"I honestly can't imagine why."
Amanda fell silent for a few seconds. "Did Spock ever tell you why he chose to retire from Starfleet in the first place?"
Jim shook his head. "I asked him, he said… you know what he said."
"It was the logical thing to do."
"In my humble opinion, retirement isn't logical until you're unfit for duty or you're no longer useful. Spock was neither. Which leaves us with all the other not-so-logical but nevertheless completely understandable motives," he said. "I don't think he had a reason."
"Spock always has a reason."
"Wanting to do something counts as a reason to do it, for most people. Just not Spock. He didn't retire so he could do this, I'm sure of that much."
Amanda looked up at him then. He was only two inches taller than her, but the way she was looking made it feel like looking up. Usually Amanda's gaze felt level. "He had a reason, you know it, and you know what it was. You're not an insightful person. You're an understanding person, but not an insightful one. You understood Spock, you don't understand this, and neither does anyone else."
Kirk didn't say anything. He felt like Amanda was trying to squeeze out of him what he wasn't willing to admit to himself. It was getting dark.
Amanda yawned, and said, "I need a place to stay."
"You can stay at my place. As long as you don't mind sleeping on my pull out couch."
"Thank you, Admiral, I appreciate it." She smiled.
