A/N: Here is a shorter chapter. Sorry, Sarek is Really hard for me to write for some reason. Vulcan's don't think like we do, but hopefully this sheds little more light on where our poor guy is coming from!

Chapter 4

Sarek POV

Humans and Vulcans were different species.

Therefore, it was logical that humans customs differed from Vulcan customs.

He had accounted for this.

The differences were not insurmountable, therefore, it was unnecessary to deny his bond with a Terran woman simply out of tradition. He had, however, taken precautions, proposing to her in what he understood to be a Terran manner, over a private dinner.

He even ignored Vulcan reserve in favor of the Terran tradition of sealing their engagement with a kiss. Or, the Vulcan equivalent.

He would not express a wish in further contact until they were able to cohabit. His Vulcan nature would not allow for anything less than treating his bondmate with the utmost respect.

Perhaps she was impatient?

His superior Vulcan senses allowed him to follow his mate's scent across the campus at a more sedate pace than her rapid departure.

Perhaps a lesson in time management was not unnecessary, considering her habit of missing assignments and rushing to appointments. The bad habit would only lead to falling further behind in her classwork, which would in turn extend the time required to complete her degree.

An unacceptable delay.

It was imperative for them to return to Vulcan, he could only shirk his responsibilities for so long.

If her frenzied behavior was born of impatience, then it was only logical to expedite their departure and subsequent bonding.

On a more concerning note, her constant exertion, pushing the limits of her inferior Terran physique, increased her chance of injuring herself by 58.67 percent.

Something clenched in his gut at the thought of his wife being injured. Similar to the stress reaction coursing through his system when he was informed that Amanda was so ill, she was unable to attend classes.

It was unacceptable that his wife did not inform him of her illness. Her response that she did not want to distract him from his responsibilities was admirable, but illogical.

She was his bondmate, his first priority.

Her independence was endearing and her rumpled appearance should have been distasteful, but wasn't.

She seemed surprised at his presence; that was unacceptable. She should know that as his wife, her health and safety came before all other matters.

Her lack of trust in him would need to be addressed.

….And Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

"Wynona!"

I pushed through the doors of the library, ignoring the scandalized hissing of the librarian that had probably worked there, since before paper was obsolete.

Wynona looked rougher than I had seen her since exams. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a lumpy ponytail. She looked wired, a large coffee sat next to a stack of PADDs.

"You!"

She snapped when she saw me.

"Wynona, you've got to help me. I've got a huge problem!"

I flopped into the seat across from her, my breath wheezing in and out of my lungs. I was not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination.

"You have no idea." Wynona took a long swig of her coffee and slid a PADD towards me.

"Ad-oo-na." I read carefully. "A colloquial term used by Vulcan males to refer to their bondmates."

"Bondmates, Amanda! What did you do?" She slammed the cup down on the table (luckily, it was so close to empty that it didn't slosh), causing a few raised eyebrows and more distant hissing from the librarian.

"I didn't do anything!" I protested.

"Don't you lie to me! This is serious. How couldn't this have happened?"

It almost sounded like she was blaming me for this. How could this possibly be my fault that the alien was off his meds?!

"I have no idea! I told you! The alien is crazy!"

Wynona slumped back in her seat. "Vulcans aren't crazy. They are logical to a fault. They go out of their way to avoid misunderstanding." She rubbed her temples. "I have no idea how you managed this."

I felt a nauseating clenching in the pit of my stomach, followed by a twinge of concern, bordering on frustration at the back of my head.

"That's not the worst part...I-" I glared at one of the freshman sitting at the next table, not even pretending not to stare. Rude.

I leaned forward across the table, dropping to a whisper. "I think he's in my head."

The feelings that were not mine, the weird dreams...

Wynona gave me a deadpan look. "Of course he is. Vulcans are touch telepaths."

"What?"

"They form psychic bonds with their chosen partner, Terrans are psi-null, so yours is one-sided. You can feel his presence, but you can't communicate."

This was news to me. Telepaths? They couldn't just be weird and pointy, they had to have super powers too?

"So, what, he's trying to read my mind and can't?"

She pulled at her pony tail. "Sort of. It's like he can sense you, kind of the way that you can sense him? But it's not the full kind of bond that mates usually have. It has to be putting a strain on him."

I sat up. "A strain on him?"

"Yeah, it makes no sense."

She scrambled for one of the PADDs and showed me.

"Vulcans practically mate for life. Unless one of them chooses to follow the Path of Logic to its conclusion. Which is basically the Vulcan equivalent of being a nun. Choosing Koon ut so lik, a new bond is a big deal and that fact that you're human, is practically unheard of!"

Yeah, that's not helping me. I'm not a science experiment!

"If it's so odd, why did he do it?"

She shrugged and blew out a breath. "You'd have to ask him. I honestly have no idea. By Vulcan standards, you are repulsive. Underachieving, human, illogical."

"Thanks."

"I'm being serious. There is nothing that he could see in you."

I mean, she was right, but it kind of hurt my feelings. "Hey!"

It wasn't like I wanted his attention, but still.

"Incorrect."

I jumped and so did Wynona at the sudden toneless voice. She looked awestruck, which was completely inappropriate, considering this was my unhinged stalker.

I twisted around in my seat, my spine popping at the sudden movement. "Did you follow me?"

There he was. Still wearing his uniform, he, insultingly, barely looked winded, whereas my side still ached from my breakneck pace across campus.

"Affirmative. You fled with such urgency that it was necessary for me to follow you as your rapid pace increased your chances of injuring yourself by 58.67 percent. As your mate, it is my responsibility to ensure that you are in an acceptable state of health at all times."

Wynona was still staring at him, which was kind of...weird? Whose side was she on?

I blinked, trying to decide if that was an insult. I wasn't clumsy. Lazy, but not a danger to myself and others. Jerk.

Wait, what did he just say he was?

"You can't seriously think we're married?"

He wasn't that crazy, he couldn't be.

One dark eyebrow rose.

"Negative, I do not 'think' we are married. We bonded through mutual agreement 6.792 Terran months ago. We are married. It would be illogical to debate this matter further."

Great. This was going nowhere.

He sounded so...logical, for lack of a better term. Just, automated almost. Like, the crazy marriage that he'd concocted up was somehow fact and that was the end of it.

They were too reasonable to reason with…it was chilling.

"Osu," Wynona cleared her throat.

Finally! About time you woke up!

"Terran marriage customs are very different from Vulcan traditions. Perhaps it is not illogical for a misunderstanding to take place, simply through difference of culture?"

He didn't bother looking away from me, his dark alien eyes were even more intense. "That would be logical were it not for the fact that I proposed in the Terran fashion to minimize the risk of communication and to make my intentions clear."

What?

"No you did not! You never even asked me!"

My voice was higher pitched, and though I wasn't shouting, I wasn't exactly using my inside voice either.

"Incorrect. I followed the Terran custom of proposing after a courtship."

"What?"

"I expressed my interested in your PADD program; 6.138 terran minutes later, you expressed yourself to be a follower of logic. We spoke on thirteen subsequent occasions throughout your 4.212 day excursion to Vulcan."

Was it thirteen times?

"You allowed be to procure sustenance for you when your insufficient knowledge of the Vulcan language prevented you from successfully using the replicator."

I knew I should have just starved.

"You accepted my invitation to dinner at my ancestral home."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"After the meal, during which I followed the Terran customer of serving the guest, I relayed to you my conclusion that we were compatible."

"Kinda sorta, but I thought you were-"

"I subsequently declared my intention of Koon ut so l'ik to which you were amenable."

"I had no idea what you were talking about!"

"We then followed the Terran custom of sealing our engagement with a kiss."

"What?!"

I sputted. "No we did NOT!"

I had never kissed him. He must have confused me with one of his other victims!

Did Vulcans even kiss?

No, dammit brain, not the time!

"You took my hand."

What? I think I remembered something from "Illogical but Unstoppable" where the brush of hands was a kiss, but I thought that was just bodice ripper hyperbole.

"Okay, the fact that you think a handshake is-"

He took a single step towards me. "This shall not be contested. You are She-who-is-my-wife."

A chill ran down my spine and something cold coiled in my abdomen, constricting my stomach. This wasn't a joke.

He really believed that we were married.

"Calm yourself, Aduna. I will be an excellent mate to you."

He was insane.

"My name is Amanda!"

"Affirmative. Your name is Amanda S'chn T'gai. Do you prefer to be addressed by your given name?"

I ran my hands through my hair, feeling a bizarre urge to laugh. Maybe the sight of my Terran hysterics would finally get through to this guy. I wasn't wife material for another human, let alone an alien!

"You don't know anything about me. Now, I don't know what kind of game you are playing, but I'm not your wife!"

"Peace, Amanda. Your heart rate has increased by 3.159 percent, and you could potentially harm yourself which is unacceptable. I request clarification as to your use of the word 'game'. And negative, I know that your name is Amanda, you are a 23 year old student studying to be a teacher to young Terran children, you enjoy logic puzzles, find plomeek soup to be acceptable, and lack time management skills."

His eyes darkened impossibly. "And you are incorrect. You are my wife. I request clarification as to your declaration contradictory to fact. Perhaps this is a symptom of your illness? You did not rest sufficiently before returning to your normal schedule."

Seriously? He thought I was crazy?

I scrubbed my hands over my face.

"Look. I don't know what's happening. Or why you're doing this. It doesn't even make sense. I'm Terran!"

He shot up an eyebrow and if I didn't know better, I would say that he looked...amused?

"Affirmative."

Jerk.

I decided to press my advantage. Wynona was right.

"I'm lazy, I'm unmotivated. I sleep too much, procrastinate too much and I'm failing Vulcan class-" Which really should be a deal breaker, if nothing else was- "there is nothing you could see in me!"

"Incorrect."

"What?"

We Interrupt this Terran Freakout to Bring you a Breaking Vulcan Insight!

Something primal deep in his mind clawed at the fabric of his Vulcan composure as he listened to his wife deprecate herself.

The more savage instinct buried under logic, found the thought of any disparagement of his mate unacceptable. It was not for the blonde female to know or attempt to understand his attraction to his mate. Logically, the relationship between and Amanda and himself should be of no interest to any outsiders.

"A lesson to the benefits of proper organization and time management would increase your productivity by 65.37 percent. According to scientific records, Terran sleep cycles typically last between 7-9 Terran standard hours. I request clarification as to your use of the term 'too much', if you are experiencing a need for rest exceeding 7-9 Terran hours, then we shall visit the infirmary and seek recommendations to improve your health. I would attribute your poor performance in Vulcan class to a lack of interest in a substandard syllabus. When I assisted you with your homework, 2.62 Terran hours ago, I noticed no deficiency in your capacity to process the presented information when it was relayed clearly."

His wife stared at him, her unique human eyes looking at him with something almost like awe. He concluded it was logical that he inform his wife of her exceptional abilities more frequently in the future. She ran a soft pink tongue over her lips, and he felt a flash of his in his core at the erotic spectacle. He knew that humans kissed via mouth to mouth. He had researched it extensively and while he found the practice to be slightly unsanitary, human females certainly seemed to enjoy the act.

Would Amanda?

In light of his curiosity, it would be a logical step to retire from the library to explore his hypothesis.

Unfortunately, he calculated a 68.787 percent chance that his wife would not be amenable to his suggestion as she was currently operating under a misapprehension.

Tell me who has lied to you, aduna.

He calculated a 73.245 percent possibility that his relationship would be easier if his were not a psi-null, but he felt compelled to attempt to communicate with her regardless.

I will ensure that it does not happen again.

She scrubbed her hands through her hair, his desire to confirm his hypothesis increased by 2.14 percent, and sighed.

"That is so not the point."

Upon further inspection, it appeared as though the amount of pressure she was exerting upon her scalp was detrimental to her inferior Terran follicles. "I respectfully request that you cease, Aduna, I calculate a 65.465 percent chance that you will cause yourself injury."

"What?"

"Exerting a constant increasing pressure upon your follicles, leads to pulling the strands from your scalp, which causes discomfort. That is unacceptable."

"You are not seriously attempting to explain the physics of me pulling my hair out, are you?"

"Affirmative."

He knew that the Terran practice of 'teasing' was an important factor of relationships between Terran mates. He congratulated himself on his mastery of this practice, however, her avoidance of his previous request was unacceptable.

"Amanda, who told you that you were unworthy?"

"Nobody!"

She threw her hands up in frustration. He watched her slender fingers and felt the urge to brush his own against them.

Such behavior was not acceptable.

In public.

Another reason for him to escort his wife from the library.

It would be satisfactory to continue this discussion in his quarters, where his confused mate would be able to rest and he could subsequently consult a physician to examine her.

It was unacceptable for his wife to be in any form of discomfort or pain.

"Aduna, I calculate a 74.356 percent chance that a return to my quarters would be conducive to your help. You shall rest and I will summon a physician to examine you, to ensure that you are functioning at optimal capacity after your illness."

She glowered at him, her fury not at all intimidating due to her small stature. In fact, were it not unacceptable socially, he would find it satisfactory to stroke her hair in a technique to soothe an irate Terran feline.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Amanda."

"The only thing I need from you is an annulment!"

He felt something constrict sharply in the vicinity of his chest.

Exactly what had transpired in their 6.873 month separation to cause such a rift in their marriage?