Holography 3
As a Reminder and a Promise
by
Pat Foley
Chapter 37
Now that Sarek knew where and how to look for her, for his investigation into her background was thorough, he saw her fairly frequently. She was sometimes one of the distant figures who skated on the frozen water of the lake, silver blades flashing, ice crystals flying up from the sharp blades as she jumped and flew and landed. He'd seen her coming into the embassy with those skates hanging over her shoulders, tied by their laces. She had put rubber guards over the blades, but he'd asked curiously to see them, having never heard of this method of travel over frozen water, and she'd slipped one of the guards off to show him. The blades had gleamed, the edges as razor sharp as a lirpa. He had to confess that he wasn't quite sanguine about them.
And once, as he'd been walking, partly meditating – partly on her – in a park in the evening, he'd been startled, astounded to see her across the park, quite a distance away, but seemingly running toward him. She had something cradled in her arms, and she was being pursued by a host of others, some men, some women, hot on her heels while others tried stringently to catch her as she swerved to evade them. The last dozen yards she ran almost straight toward him, as if seeking rescue. But her head was down, she did not see him, was not aware of him, still protectively cradling the apparently precious object in her arms. And as he stood, astounded and disbelieving at the scene before him, unsure how to react, if to rescue, those pursuing her caught up to her, and knocked her to the ground.
Violently knocked her to the ground. All of it happening in a few seconds. But the shock, the rush of emotion that flooded him had shaken him to the core.
He forced his vision clear of the flames that had momentarily engulfed him – she was not his - this was no challenge. He saw she was on the ground, others, males females, pinning her there. He took a step toward the group, far away though they were. They did not attack her further, their intent seemed to be on the object she was holding. And then he heard someone call "Touchdown!" and Amanda sat up, not frightened or cowed, but laughing, throwing the once precious object to the ground and he saw it was an oddly shaped ball.
She had raised her hands above her head as if in victory, leaped to her feet obviously uninjured, and done a little dance, a few seconds of triumph, before the whole group lined up again for another strange move.
She'd only been playing a game, he'd realized, letting out a shaken breath. One of those games of sport of which he'd heard Terrans were so enamored.
And yet the feelings that had washed over him, the violence of them, the possessiveness, seeing her chased like an animal, borne to the ground by others, by other men, lingered in him for days, colored his next meeting with her. And his next.
He had come to realize this was no momentary, passing attraction. It was not going to fade in a few days like the others in his life. It was becoming, in fact, more entrenched. He had wanted her before, and that wanting had not diminished on closer acquaintance. Instead it was growing stronger. After seeing her in that violent, primitive light, after experiencing his own possessive reaction to it, he acknowledged that this was the woman he wanted for a bondmate. In the split second she'd been borne to the ground, he'd reacted to her as a male faced with challenge. This would not be true if he did not think of her as his. He wanted her… passionately. He did not need to face that knowledge, it plagued him, began to color his every waking thought, and disturb his rest.
He began to feel that he would know no peace until he had her safely bonded. Until he had taken her, mind and body. Until she was irrevocably his, and he could rest, secure, that she always would be. His wife. It was how he had begun to think of her, that human girl.
That was the paradox, he told himself. She was human. She had no conception of Vulcan needs, Vulcan sexuality, of the passionate madness of the Time. He hadn't concerned himself too much with that, when he thought his interest was a mere passing fancy that would fade. Now that he realized it was real, and lasting, he faced the fact that she was human. She was alien. He told himself this in many ways. As if he might find a way for it to have weight against the desire that had encompassed him.
Logically, he should dissuade himself from marrying a human. There were obvious, undeniable disadvantages to it.
And he discovered he could not focus logically on any of them. He didn't care that she was human. She was female. That was enough. He had chosen her. He wanted her. The fact that she was human was unfortunate in that it raised undeniable difficulties, but it seemed to make no difference to his desire. It only raised obstacles that his logic must overcome. He was Vulcan, a species in which logic ruled supreme in all areas, save one, and that one was of marriage, of bonding. If he chose, he was entitled to passion reigning supreme over logic in this area. No one could deny him this. It was the Vulcan way. And he did so choose. And for all the logical arguments he could summon for not marrying her, his passion, ruling supreme here, dismissed them all, and instead he put his logic to work on the means, the ways, the necessity of securing her.
As to that, she still had no real idea of his desire or his intentions. When she had seen him again, she treated him exactly as when they had first met. Friendly. But nothing more, she had clearly discounted his previous gesture and words as some sort of cultural error.
And he was at a loss in trying to ascertain the proper way of making such advances to a human. There were apparently many ways, and he had yet to evaluate them, or determine a course of action. And while he was thus delayed in frustratingly tiresome, confusingly contradictory research, she could bond to another. This world was full of Terran men. They could not all be so stupid as to leave a girl like her unbonded much longer. He didn't trust that colleague of hers not to make her an offer. According to his dossier he was also unmarried, a widower, and Sarek was deeply suspicious of his intentions. Amanda had already admitted to an attraction – to this man's work, if not to him. If she was asked by him, she might well say yes. This man was prominent in her field. It was a logical alliance. More logical, in fact, than the one Sarek intended for her. While Sarek himself dallied in tedious research, trying to understand human courtship rituals, this man could make an offer, and she might well accept. Probably would. It was incumbent on him, thus, to act.
He had coldly acknowledged, if only to himself at that point that he was running out of time. That he must finish his investigations, however confusing they might be, choose a course of action and pursue her in such earnest that this time she could not fail to understand his ultimate intentions.
He had at first sought to meet with her alone, very much alone. They walked. They talked. She began to show him bits of her world, things she felt he should see. He was, in truth, little interested. He had come to dislike Terra, the cold, the damp, the restless public emotionalism of its populace. Its deserts did not compare to Vulcan's Forge, and its oceans were …horrifying. The rest of it was either frigidly white, enrobed in ice and snow, or too often covered in dense, green, humid vegetation. And all of it too loud, too wild, too frenetic.
He was Vulcan enough to prefer the warm dry winds of his home, the peace of logic and discipline in its public life. Emotion should be relegated to private affairs. As this was. He was interested in her emotions. The rest of Terra was nothing more than a distraction.
But such sightseeing was an excuse, a reason to claim her company. Before the backdrop of Terran wonders and marvels, they moved from acquaintance to friendship. He began using her given name. She began using his, sans the Ambassadorial title. It took an effort for him to say her name without the feminine prefix he kept wanting to assign to it. But he mastered it after a few hesitations. Amanda. Her name was Amanda. Terran names were not unlike Vulcan ones, they had special meanings. He looked hers up and discovered it meant beloved. He wasn't sure how to interpret that. Felt momentarily taken aback by it. It seemed a poor omen. He had no expectations of loving her.
For all the omens portent in her name, love did not leap into the equation of their relationship. They seem stalled, first on moving from formality to acquaintance, and then from that to friendship. Friendship was not his ultimate goal, but he had come to understand that given Amanda's total unfamiliarity with things Vulcan, including him, he could not move to what he wished before he established himself in some sort of personal regard, something more than a business associate. She did not know who he was, his family position, his background. His character was not a given to her, he had to prove himself. It wasn't granted automatically by virtue of his lineage, as it would be for a Vulcan woman.
That had been something of a shock. He had not realized his pursuit of her was going to require far more effort than even he'd considered, apart from the difficulties of her humanity. With a Vulcan female, the conventions were simple and well established, there was no ambiguity, and his family position virtually guaranteed his success with whomever he chose. But none of that applied with Amanda. It was as well he was determined, for securing her was no simple matter.
They were returning to the embassy after a long day. One of the tedious requirements of courtship was constantly needing to come up with new excuses to seek her company. He wanted to simply request her attendance, the request being almost a command, and that he could not do. He had to seek ostensible excuses for her company, and offer them in the real possibility she could refuse. An exceedingly tedious process. He'd soon put his staff on the search for such diversions as were considered suitable. He'd made the requisite suggestion for the next day, and was waiting, watching her, for her reply.
She gave him a sideways glance, looking pensive. And did not answer for a moment.
"Amanda?"
She sighed a little. "I keep thinking I must be misinterpreting you." She looked up at him, doubtful but as if finally determined to learn the truth. "Are you intending what I think you're intending?"
"Yes." Then he added, "To the latter."
"Why?"
He was non-plussed at this.
"Why me?"
"Do you consider yourself unworthy in some way?" Sarek asked. "Is that why you are not in a relationship?"
She seemed astonished at this. "Unworthy? No. I have not found the right person yet. It has not been a priority of mine at the moment."
"Yet?" His raised eyebrow indicated both interest in that yet and a subtle reference to himself. Which she resolutely chose to disregard as if it were another cultural misinterpretation.
"I'm only twenty. I've been more interested in establishing my career."
"By Vulcan standards you are yet a child. Over young for such a relationship. But you are-" he looked her up and down, "quite grown up, are you not? By human standards, not ineligible."
She colored, his first experience with that phenomenon. "Are you ill?" he asked, studying her flushed face.
"It is an emotional reaction to embarrassment. Yes, I am …quite grown up. " She looked at him. "I didn't mean to slight you in saying 'yet'."
He half smiled at her quickness in relating his personal remark to the one she'd eschewed. "I preferred to take your qualification in the past tense. I was pleased, not offended. It means you are open to my suit."
She looked at him again, disbelievingly. "Your suit. You still didn't answer my question. Why me?"
"You have many laudable qualities."
"I'm not Vulcan."
He looked at her. Her emotions, her behavior told that to him without need for the physical evidence of her person, much less her words. But then he realized what she was saying. "Do you believe that should be a requirement?"
"I would think so, yes."
"Is a man of your species, a human, a requirement for you?"
Her blue eyes were wide. "I've never considered otherwise."
"Then it is time to take such consideration."
"Given that I'm sure there are many Vulcan women with… laudable qualities, probably more laudable than mine, with whom to associate, I have to ask again, why me?"
"I desire you."
She drew up a little, looking at him. "Excuse me?"
"I want you."
She colored again. "Do you mean-"
"I mean in all ways." He met her eyes squarely, his direct gaze making his intent plain.
She didn't fail to understand, the color deepening in her face before she looked down, away, embarrassed anew.
"I can't believe you said that to me."
"Is it improper to express such intentions?"
"Your manner of doing so is…rather blunt."
"You have left me little choice," Sarek said, terse in turn. "I have tried to express them less plainly. You have chosen to misinterpret those expressions."
"Yes. That is true." She looked at him. "I apologize. For that, and if I sounded…critical."
Daring, he covered her hand with his. He had made, finally, a formal declaration of intent, one she did understand. A Vulcan woman would answer in kind, but he had come to realize Amanda could not be expected to yet. There were too many unknowns, for both of them. And her emotions were an equal handicap. As competent and capable as she seemed to be in a professional setting, she seemed at a loss to know how to respond to this intent. Hence his touch of her hand. After his commitment to her, considering himself entitled, he allowed himself some perception of her emotions, though he shielded against her thoughts. He sensed, not rejection or indifference, but confusion, a little fear, a sense of vulnerability and ….attraction. The latter two heartened him, put their relationship on a more intimate level.
She was looking down at her hand in his. They had spent enough time together, that she sometimes forgot his Vulcan standards, forgot, perhaps that he was Vulcan, and she would take his arm, or his hand as they walked. He gathered it was standard behavior for a Terran female with a male, and he had allowed it, pleased in that respect she could regard him as such, and letting that license alone speak of his intentions. But this was not a casual contact, and she raised her face to his, as if his touch finally confirmed that she was no longer misinterpreting, in error, of his intent.
"Amanda. I understand you need to adjust to the possibility of such a relationship." He closed his fingers around hers, drew her hand to him and covered it with his other hand. A quiet definite possession, even if momentary. "I do not wish to rush you on that score. But as we have much to learn in this regard, I would hope you would not misinterpret that as my being less than …resolved."
She looked down again at her hand in his. "Resolved." She looked up at him, as if she'd never seen him before. Wonderingly. "How resolved?"
"Quite… determined."
It seemed to take her aback. Her eyes widened anew. With her head raised to look up at him, he could see the muscles move in her throat as she swallowed.
She shook her head and drew a step back, eyes narrowing, "Sarek, I—"
But he had done with words, chose to make the gesture courtship required with a human female. As contradictory as his research had been, it seemed definite on this. He leaned down, forestalling whatever negatives she'd been about to express, and kissed her. She drew breath in surprise as he brought his mouth down on hers. He felt it as if she drew the very breath from his lungs. And it made him want to take the very breath from hers. By the time the kiss was over, she was in no doubt of his desire. He drew back from her, and she looked up at him
"Amanda," he said, tasting her name as he would say it forever after, as his bondmate. As his wife. And then he leaned down and kissed her again.
She submitted for a moment, and then pulled back from him, or tried to. Even as part of him was shocked at the action in a female, he retained the presence of mind to let her go.
She looked up at him, her shoulders rising and falling. He had not thought he'd held her so long. She didn't say anything, one hand flat against his chest, in gentle restraint, while she got her breath back. He had miscalculated, forgotten that being from a more oxygen rich environment, human lung capacity was not equal to Vulcan.
She looked up at him, measuringly. And very slowly, as if in stages, as if she didn't quite dare to believe what she was doing, she raised her face to his, closed her eyes, and kissed him.
He was a little surprised, at such forwardness in a female, but he reminded himself she was human. He had ample evidence that human females were aggressive in sexual matters. She drew back a little after the first brush of lips, as if the warmth of his mouth, alien and unfamiliar surprised her, before leaned forward and kissed him, delicate, tentative, unsure. Then she drew a breath, and kissed him for real, her mouth opening to his. He returned it, with more restraint, aware he'd been too forceful in his last kiss. And then she drew back, and he, reluctantly, let her go. She was not quite his yet.
She looked at him, something new in her eyes, and he felt a measure of triumph that she felt something similar to what he did, even if a pale shadow of Vulcan passion. Then she let out a breath, and asked, "Do you love me? Even a little?"
He drew himself up at that, well and truly caught in this. He had no answer for her.
And the something in her eyes faded and died. "Wanting me isn't enough, Sarek. It's not enough for me. And it can't be enough for you. Neither is curiosity." She half turned away.
He took her shoulders in his hands, held her in place. "Amanda-"
She just looked at him, and shook her head. Regretfully. Reached up and traced his lips with a fingertip, unconsciously choosing a Vulcan touch, one that sparked green flame throughout him. "Wanting me just… isn't enough."
"Do you think my interest in you is merely physical?"
She half smiled, even at this. "What, you admire my mind?"
"I admire many things. Amanda, perhaps my choice of words was poor, but-"
"I don't believe that. You're a diplomat, Sarek. Words are your business."
"Not these words," he replied "Are you saying you require that I," his brow furrowed at the incongruity of it in reference to himself, "that I love you before you would marry me?"
"You want me to …to marry you?" She looked and sounded shocked in turn.
Now he was confused. Could she possibly have misinterpreted his intentions yet again? For a moment they stared at each other, both equally confused.
Sarek recovered first. "What else did you think I was asking?"
"I didn't think you meant marriage." She looked at him, still shaken. "I thought you were asking for …" the color rose in her face again, "a more casual encounter."
He stared at her, and then it was his turn to – not blush for Vulcans did not blush – but feel the scathing sweep of utter embarrassment flood through him at her assumption. "Vulcans do not engage in such casual liaisons."
"Really?"
"Never. Is that truly what you thought I was requesting?"
"I apologize." She flushed anew. "But what else do you expect me to think, when you tell me you want me …in that way? And that you don't love me."
"I want you in all ways. But I am Vulcan."
"And I'm human."
He looked at her for a moment, "My apologies. I didn't intend to inadvertently insult you, or to have my offer misintentioned."
"I didn't take it exactly as an insult. Interest is always flattering. I just didn't want to be the object of mere curiosity."
"You have not answered my question. My intent is not a casual liaison, but marriage. Now that this is clearly understood, is love a requirement for humans in such?"
"Not all humans."
He drew a relieved breath.
And then she looked up at him. "But it is for me." She turned away from the reaction even he could not control, looking away. "Love is even more important in marriage than in a brief affair. I need to love the man I marry. And I need to be loved."
He looked at her, thwarted by a requirement he had never even considered. It left him surprisingly bitter. His disappointment made him blunt, his tone terse. "I am surprised at you."
"At me?"
"A theorist in comparative ethology should be open to considering equivalent forms of …devotion."
She looked at him, eyes wide. "Are you accusing me of being provincial?"
"That is up to you is it not?"
She looked at him sharply. "I'm sorry. I guess I should have said something sooner. I didn't mean to lead you on."
"What did you take my attentions as a measure of?"
"Many things. Interest in my field, curiosity about things human, friendship. Even …some attraction. I never thought you intended… marriage." She shook her head, her disbelief still strong. "I still find it difficult to believe that you are serious. That you have really thought this through."
He raised an eyebrow.
She flushed. "All right. I will concede that."
"I could not be more serious. I would hope you would expect that of me, as a given, particularly in such serious …discussions."
There was a wounded look in his eyes that shocked her. "All right. I'll acknowledge that your intentions are serious. And deserve more serious consideration." She seemed shocked herself at even granting that. "I will also grant that there are many forms of…devotion. And that love is perhaps peculiarly human form. And that other, equally valid ones exist. But Sarek," she looked at him, "I am human. So human forms are important to me, as I am sure Vulcan ones are to you. Considering such a marriage would – will - take time."
He straightened, relieved and feeling on firmer ground with this. "How much time?"
"What?"
"It is a logical question. You have asked for time. I would be told the period required."
She shook her head. "I don't know."
His brows drew together in frustration and perplexity. "How can you not know what you have just requested?"
"Because what you're asking is a life decision, not to be lightly made. I don't have all the facts yet to make such a decision. And I haven't even thought of all the questions needed to gather those facts. I need time."
"That is also logical," he conceded reluctantly.
"And to get to know you."
"Is that not what we have been doing?"
"Not in this context."
He raised an eyebrow. "Does it make a difference in our knowing of each other so far?"
"To a certain extent, yes. Context is everything. I was relating to you as a friend. I still find it hard to believe you want more of me than that."
"You need have no doubts on that."
"Even though I'm human?"
"Regardless."
She lowered her eyes. "You've been thinking about this quite a bit longer than me."
"Since our first meeting."
She looked up at him, really shocked at this. "That's …I had no idea."
"I admit to a lack of competency in making my intentions plain. Now that you are aware of them, I hope you are willing to give me the opportunity to prove them."
"It's more than merely proving them, Sarek. I can acknowledge your…intent and still not – You understand, I'd have to love you. And feel the same from you."
He was taken aback by this. "Amanda …I cannot promise that. I hope that you could acknowledge my intent…without holding me to a human emotion."
She looked at him. "It's important to me. Though I suppose that is…somewhat provincial of me. The Vulcan equivalent then. Is there a Vulcan equivalent?"
"That I am already quite…lost to."
She'd looked up at that, her eyes wide.
"Amanda."
She shook herself out of it. "Well, I'd have to feel that from you."
He took that as license, though he knew she did not intend such. He touched her cheek with his hand, fingers lightly brushing her temple. She had a little psi, many humans did, but she was completely untrained and she had no shields at all to speak of. Such barriers as she had were easy to get past. As he splayed his fingers, she understood well enough what he was attempting, and drew a breath, her eyes wide.
But she didn't stop him. He felt her tremble as he let down his own barriers, and she tensed a little as the contact deepened, but she didn't pull away.
He didn't touch her thoughts, held himself with discipline from even delving too deeply into her emotions. But he let her feel a measure, a small measure of his feelings, gauging her reaction in turn as he did so. Letting her know exactly what he was doing, and something of what he was holding back. As he removed his hand from her temple, he dared to also run his fingers through her hair, tempted by the unusual color.
"The Vulcan equivalent," he said, of the mind touch. And then unable to resist, he caressed her again, the soft skin of her cheek, and remembering that she was human, he leaned down and kissed her, more gently this time. An implicit promise that their marriage would, could include both sorts of touches, mental and physical. And drew back, reluctantly. Hating the necessity. "You will consider my suit?"
She was trembling. He realized she had a reason to do so. This was probably the first true mind touch between their species, Vulcan to human. Odd that he had not thought about that until afterward. It had not felt strange to him, but rather …right. As if meant to be. But it was not part of her species interactions and therefore had to have been strange to her. He had not sensed anything of severe distress on her side, apart from the mix of confusing emotions she felt for him. She did not love him, not yet. The question was, would she even allow for the possibility that she might?
"Amanda?"
She looked at him, as if seeing him anew.
"Will you consider it?"
She nodded. And then found her voice. "Yes." She looked at him again. "I will."
He let out a relieved breath. "I am well pleased." Then thought of something else.
"Amanda. In my culture, one does not consider more than one suit at a time."
She colored again. "I'm not in a relationship."
He looked at her, thought of her colleague and decided if she did not regard him in that light, it was best he not bring the option to her mind. "Correction. You are…with me."
She shook her head again, not in rejection, but in wonder. "This is so strange."
"No." Sarek denied that. And liking the intimacy of the act, leaned down and kissed her again. She drew back first again, catching her breath, and he realized he had to perfect his technique somewhat in that regard. He seemed to be kissing her breathless. He settled for touching her face, fingers tracing along her temple, a dangerous, too tempting touch, more so than a kiss for it was of his own culture, and had inherent implications. It was tacit promise to himself of the bond he would someday form with her, as a kiss was not. "This is logical."
"Logical?"
"Naturally." Sarek answered absently, fingers brushing her blond brows. Such an unusual color. But not unpleasant, this gleam of near gold under his fingers. It made him wish for even more intimate touches. Even though he was shielding, to touch her so and think such thoughts tested even Vulcan controls, and her eyes widened as if she recognized his thoughts. That didn't disturb him, he considered it so much the better. He would teach her shielding in time, he himself would learn to shield against even a marriage bond, even in such intimate circumstances as these. All that would come in time. And this proof that they were telepathically compatible was only a plus. He forced himself to take his fingers from her temples. Were she Vulcan, he would have had his answer by now. And it would have been yes. There were disadvantages to her humanity that he had not considered.
"The appropriate, logical response to mutual attraction between potential mates is marriage. Is it not?"
She stared up at him in wonder. "I suppose so."
"I do not suppose. I am …quite certain. In that. And in this." He did not touch her mind again. Too much of that, and he'd become too bound himself, unable to leave her an option. But he kissed her again, attempting to make her as certain as was he.
He sometimes felt she had never lost that utter wonder that he had chosen her. And he had never wavered in that. It remained merely for her to choose him.
Perhaps by her standards, it had not taken her very long.
His standards were not hers. By his, it had taken her far longer than he'd expected. Utterly, abysmally, incomprehensibly long. He knew his own mind, he knew humans were sometimes slow to reach conclusions, that they did not calculate with Vulcan speed. But he found it difficult to wait the interminable length of time it took while she came to her own conclusions. To resist helping her to those conclusions, urging, arguing, debating her to some logical position. He could not do that. This was not a quantifiable issue, and there were huge unknowns to consider.
But he cared little for them, his mind was made up. He had simply determined to deal with those as they arose. And he was eager to begin in earnest. Not wait, poised on the threshold of that relationship.
But her mind was not, her decision was yet to be made, and she seemed determined to consider every aspect of their unlikely alliance before making a commitment. It was logical, at least from a certain perspective. But he did not have to like it.
His resolve not to rush her suffered some serious strain. He did not press her for a decision, but the more time he spent with her, the more he was determined to have her. And he made every effort to forward the relationship. He requested her attendance, asking for her companionship at various functions. He still saw her daily at the embassy. Slowly, persistently, he wore down her resistance, though sometimes he did press too hard. Rush her.
Her sheer frustration with him sometimes meant she picked a fight merely to storm away. To get away. The first time she'd done that, he'd been appalled, certain he would never see her again. But after some research he discovered there were approved remedies to altercations in human courtship.
He filled her office with roses.
She'd thanked him for the gift, as protocol required. And told him she didn't approve of cutting flowers, that she preferred gardens.
He approved of that in turn, but his true intent had been his awareness that human custom required a recipient thanking a sender for a gift. Even if unwelcome. He'd been well versed in that custom, he expected that she would honor it as well, particularly with him. He was also well aware that humans who dealt with diplomats were also well versed. Those who moved in diplomatic circles were warned that ignoring such protocols could have serious repercussions. He had taken advantage of that.
And she had thanked him, not in person but by visiphone, her manner cool and reserved. She also apologized for her behavior, before moving to cut the connection.
Shamelessly exploiting the opportunity, he forestalled her, suggesting that in light of her interest, they tour some famous botanical gardens. She met his gaze through the visiphone screen, reluctant, exasperated, and…torn.
After a long, very long moment, when he could almost watch her resistance warring with …something else… she'd finally agreed. Reluctant, but she had agreed. And he'd drawn a breath of sheer relief.
Roses took care of the problem, that time. He'd developed an appreciation for that flower from that moment on, however thorny and occasionally garish the reality. At least they had a pleasant scent. He decided henceforth to keep a source of roses near. Just in case. A little research proved such a flower would grow on his home planet, with some needful care. He put an aide into choosing the best varieties to do so, and seeking proposals to creating a small habitat on the grounds of his home that would ensure their growth. Roses were purportedly a symbol of love.
He could not give her love. At least he could give her roses.
He had come to realize that her …fights….were something of a pressure release. She was not a contentious person, in fact, for all her strength of will, she had a gentle nature – by human standards a loving one. But she was also strong, stubborn, and as she told him once, no pushover.
When he pushed too hard, she resisted. When he became too demanding, she retreated, sometimes precipitously. Her fights were a signal that he had come on too strong, that he was pressing her too much. That his demands had become uncompromising. Telling him when she felt overwhelmed with his expectations. When she needed space.
He knew it would be better to go more slowly, to give her more time. He did not have ultimate faith in roses as an invariable solution to such clumsiness on his part. But he was dealing with his desires as well as her emotions, and mediating between the two was not easy. He felt as if time were short. Not because of his biology, not because of her emotions per se, but because of her logic. He was concerned that if he gave her too much time, she would yield, not to his suit, but to the myriad of logical reasons why they should not marry. For all the talk about emotional humans, he was discovering that at least she was not ruled by emotion, at least not entirely. She responded to his suit with an almost Vulcan caution. Or at least a caution worthy of a Vulcan in any other serious consideration.
By his standards and requirements, their marriage was logical. But he was coming to realize that by hers it was not.
She asked questions. More questions of him than he of her. But then he already knew much of her. The information search he'd requested of her had given him the facts. The Federation security briefing he'd been given on her, when she had come to work at the Embassy had given him much more personal information. And his own mind touches, brief and rare though they were, had revealed even more.
She knew little of him though, and he found it revealing as well to know what she did ask. She seemed less interested in his position and his family, and the advantages her association would entail than in his character. He wondered if she actually knew the truth of who he was, but he couldn't quite think how to ask her. She asked him hypothetical questions. She was testing him. Though he'd never expected in his life to be subjected to such a critical evaluation from a potential spouse, he approved. He answered. At times she seemed almost displeased that his answers had yet to disqualify him. She might have favored a reason, a good logical reason, to agree that this would not work. At least it would have settled the issue to something other than her emotions.
He actually found her concerns, her questions, charming. Her profession might put her in contact with a myriad of Federation races, but she herself had unsophisticated, simplistic desires. When his intentions became known to his staff, he'd been warned that humans could be devious, grasping, scheming in love. There was some concern on their part that he'd been taken in by some manipulative human siren. He found that amusing.
She'd asked him for nothing. It was he pursuing her. Apart from her career, Amanda had indicated her life goals included a home, a husband, children. To be happy – Sarek substituted contentment for that word – in those ties. And she'd stressed little else. To love and be loved.
He found that requirement – almost a sole requirement, less daunting than at first. Love apparently had many facets. But while he was unsure of his ability to simulate the romantic side of it that the early part of a relationship assumed, he found the latter requirements more familiar. To care for her, in a committed relationship, seemed to him to be its long term requirement and that he had no difficulty imaging he could fulfill. He would care for her very well.
Children would no doubt prove somewhat difficult, but Sarek promised her that if cross-species genetics and hybridology could not grant them children, they would adopt children, or she could even bear children of her own.
That he answered her questions to her satisfaction was not a guarantee she would marry him. He'd come to realize that an unsatisfactory answer might give her reason to drop the relationship, but that even with her concerns satisfied to her satisfaction, she would not marry him if she did not love him.
To affect the outcome in the way he desired, he had to keep emotion in the mix. He disliked this, this forced dependence on an incomprehensible human emotion, but it seemed inevitable. And perhaps even logical, though he resisted that. He had chosen her, in part at least, because of passion. She apparently must, at least in part, choose him out of love. He had logical reasons, valid to him, for wanting her as wife, they did not apply to her. For her, the logical reasons not to marry him to a great extent outweighed those in favor of marriage. For her, emotion - attraction, love – was a requirement, necessary to tip the balance in his favor. She needed to love. He needed to make her love him.
He knew little of love. Was new even to passion, experiencing it best with her. But in spite of her humanity, he discovered he was not ineffective at this new relationship. He might not feel human love himself, but he must have some skill as a suitor for she was yielding …slowly, but surely, to his persuasions.
He allowed himself a measure of satisfaction at that success.
Though he never quite eradicated the culture shock he felt, that his suit required so much more effort with her than it would have been to one of his own.
He sometimes considered that his …ego…if the term could be applied to a Vulcan, had never quite recovered from her taking her own time over such a difficult and important choice. Intellectually, he understood the gravity. But he had long since stopped regarding her with mere logic. His logic had become eclipsed by his desire, by passion. And he would never again lose that with her. After bonding, it would be permanent. And he had welcomed that. He had not felt that passion for any of the potential Vulcan bondmates he had been expected to choose. He had almost ….despaired…if that emotion was valid for a Vulcan….that he might go through life without that in his life. It was the one relationship where a Vulcan could feel, could allow himself emotion if he chose. He had a right to it in that one area of his life. He had not wanted, had refused, to deny himself that. If it had taken her to rouse that in him, then he would be forever grateful for her doing so. And if she was what he required, then he would have her. Had, in his own mind, an absolute right to her.
In return, he intended to grant her whatever requirements of hers that he could fulfill. Love he could not promise but short of that, he determined she would want for nothing. He would take care of her, he would care for her, he would see her equally fulfilled…or, being human, happy. It was, to use a term of Amanda's, fair trade. He had every intention of being fair.
Though he'd sensed that what she had really wanted was love.
To be continued…