Matchmaker
It was Tuesday and Sarek had agreed to meet Amanda for lunch. However, he had been detained on a conference call so she had brought take-out to his office instead. She slipped in through the open door – it was evidently not a confidential call – and was planning to unpack their lunch on the low coffee table when she saw it was littered with a number of unique-looking data chips spilling out of a diplomatic pouch. The pouch was embossed with Vulcan symbols, so its origin was obvious. She wondered what type of information was still sent in physical form, via starship, instead of via subspace. She could see that each of the chips appeared to have a Vulcan name on it. Not wanting to pry, she left the take-out bag on the table and waited for Sarek.
He concluded his call and joined her. "I apologize for the disruption to our schedule."
"Don't worry about it," Amanda said casually, then indicated the table. "I didn't want to disturb this…"
Sarek looked down at the pouch and chips as if suddenly remembering they were there. An exasperated expression crossed his face, telling however brief. "This is of no importance," he said quickly as he scooped the data chips back into the pouch and unceremoniously dropped it on a corner of his desk.
When he sat back down across from her, Amanda could see the tiny lines of tension around his eyes, invisible to all but those who knew him well, a very small group that now included her. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Sarek repressed a sigh. It is illogical to be untruthful, and I could simply refuse to discuss it, but that does not seem…right. "The pouch is from my clan's kal-i-farr'terau…matchmaker," he said quietly. He answered her unspoken question. "I am unbonded. I am to…make a selection from the dossiers she has sent." Even as he worked to keep his voice toneless, his lack of enthusiasm for the task was clear.
"You mean you're supposed to just pick someone from a list?" Amanda asked, trying to keep the incredulity from her voice.
"Yes."
"But do you know any of those women?"
"No."
"But…what if you select someone and find you don't get along, don't… care for each other?"
Sarek stared out the window. "They are all logical choices for me, made by my clan. To be concerned with one's… feelings is not the Vulcan way." He wanted to tell her how much he did not want to participate in this process, that his thoughts were on another choice…but found he could not, yet.
"I'm sorry," Amanda said quietly. Sarek turned to her, brows raised in question.
"I'm sorry for applying my own cultural standards to your situation, which is why I'm reacting the way I am, and I'm also sorry for the fact that your choices seem… constrained."
Sarek's dark eyes were unreadable. "I… appreciate your thoughts," he said slowly. He debated internally for a split second. "And there is no one on that list whom I plan to select," he stated flatly.
Amanda's gaze fixed on his for an instant, and then, as if she had forgotten it was there, "Oh, lunch! Shall we eat? I went to Vishnu's; got the Vindaloo vegetables for you and a curry for me." She forced cheerfulness into her voice as she arranged the containers on the table.
"I will bring tea," Sarek said and rose quickly. He decided to ignore the breach of Vulcan propriety they were both committing in bringing each other sustenance even though they were not bonded. It was an illogical and rebellious act on his part, he knew, but he found at that moment, he did not care. He stepped away to collect his thoughts.
Amanda was grateful for a moment alone as she stared out the window. She had been truthful when she said she was sorry for him – the idea of him being married off to an unknown stranger seemed unbearably sad. But she was also distressed for another reason: the matchmaker's activities meant that he might soon be taken from her, and as much as she might have told herself that theirs was simply a friendship, she knew that was no longer entirely true, at least for her. She cared for him, was attracted to him, maybe even…wanted more. The realization was unnerving. And she doubted she could ever tell him; doing so would likely only make a difficult situation worse for him, and could jeopardize their friendship as well. And where could such feelings take them? He was Vulcan – the ambassador, no less – she was Human…This couldn't go anywhere. Right?
She was drawn from her reverie when Sarek returned with tea. She smiled brightly at him, not wanting him to detect her thoughts, and he in turn seemed returned to his usual self.
Translator Take Two
Their next lunch meeting was abbreviated, as Sarek had been drawn into a lengthy series of meetings with Terran legislators. Some of them, under increasing pressure from nativist groups, demanded to voice their concerns about the Centauri Accord directly to "the Vulcan Menace himself," as Sarek had been dubbed by one particularly strident commentator. He had merely flicked a brow at the epithet, unconcerned, but Stanek had increased his security detail nonetheless.
After they discussed the history and nature of such groups on Earth and elsewhere over their meal, Amanda turned the conversation to the Universal Translator.
"Sarek, before you go, I think the developers finally managed to fix that translation bug we found a few weeks ago. Let's test it again, shall we?" Amanda brought up the Translator program on her PADD.
"'Bug?'"
"Sorry. Error in the program."
"Ah."
"Let's try the same phrase as before, at least to begin with," Amanda said, handing him the earpiece once more. "Here goes," she added before leaning over her mic and reciting, "I am gratified by your presence."
Sarek listened, and his eyebrows shot up a second time. "It translated, 'Your presence stirs my passions.' Indeed…"
"Oh my goodness, Sarek, I don't know what's wrong with this thing!" Amanda exclaimed, blushing furiously and trying not to replay in her mind the sound of his voice saying those words. "I'm going to have a word with a few of the developers."
Mindful of his limited time and embarrassed enough that she wanted to make an expeditious exit, she quickly picked up her PADD and prepared to escape.
Crossing a Chasm
He arose as she gathered her things to leave the courtyard. "Amanda."
She looked up. "Yes?"
"A…personal inquiry." He paused. "Would you… care to dine with me on Friday evening?"
His face was a study of expressionlessness, yet for Amanda the air crackled. This was not a cultural exchange. Sarek was staring at her, calm as always, and yet…different. Standing before her was not Sarek the Vulcan ambassador, but Sarek the man, seeking her attention. But what about the matchmaker? He did say he wasn't going to choose anyone from that list…
"I'd enjoy that, Sarek," she replied, willing the unsteadiness out of her voice. This is surreal, being asked out on an actual date by the Vulcan ambassador. But no, this is still Sarek, my friend and…maybe more? The tingling in her core she had felt before with him returned with a forceful rush. Oh, my…
"Excellent," he answered softly. "I will call for you at 1900 hours." Amanda got the distinct impression that he had never done anything like this before and was stepping across a vast cultural chasm to do so. His eyes were riveted on her and she suddenly felt self-conscious.
"Sure, great. I'll see you later…" She escaped to the door, feeling like she was about fifteen. A silly grin briefly lit up her features before she wiped it away, not wanting to have to explain it to the rest of the Translator team.
As soon as Amanda disappeared Sarek let out the breath he had been holding. Of all the interactions he had had with a multitude of beings – debates, negotiations, confrontations – this had been one of the most stressful. This form of courtship – and that was what he was attempting to do, to learn the things he needed to know – was literally alien to his experience. He only understood the process from research, questionably reliable research at that, in his opinion.
Millennia ago on his own world – eons ago and yet in but a blink of time's eye – he would have simply had to plan his conquest, lead his campaign and bring his prize home. A bloody and unsustainable methodology, to be sure, but one that seemed far more predictable than this. However, it would seem, at least, that his first step using this Terran method had succeeded. He squelched the pre-Reform sentiment and contemplated what he needed to do next.
Dinner
The embassy flitter arrived at exactly 1900 hours. Fortunately Amanda had expected this and she was ready to go, wearing a modest but pretty dress, leaving her hair down in a mass of loose curls. They both paused awkwardly at 'hello'; Amanda could swear he was staring at her hair, while she was distracted by his attire – he looked dashing. He wore a long, open cloak over a dark grey suit with maroon and black accents. To Amanda he looked like some Victorian era prince.
Sarek directed her into the back of the flitter, and she was momentarily dismayed to see T'Lina and Stell in the front. As much as she liked the two security guards, she hoped they wouldn't all be eating together. Something on her face must have revealed her thought, for a moment later Sarek leaned close to her and murmured, "We shall be dining alone." The warmth of his breath and timbre of his voice sent a warm shiver down her spine.
The flitter wound its way through San Francisco's ancient streets until it came to a stop near the top of Telegraph Hill. The restaurant, La Belle Étoile, looked like a small, antique residence on the outside and was tiny inside, featuring a warm fireplace and a half dozen tables, each overlooking the bay. Amanda's eyes widened at the romantic scene; she hadn't really expected this. Sarek, meanwhile, inspected the interior with interest. He had sent Soran around the city earlier in the week with a list of 'appropriate' criteria for such an establishment; judging by Amanda's reaction, it appeared that his aide had made a satisfactory selection.
A few heads turned when they were seated, but they were otherwise given privacy. Stell and T'Lina had taken up their posts outside. It wasn't long before any vestiges of awkwardness disappeared. Amanda found herself laughing as Sarek recounted the tale of building his first hover bike as a teenager. "So you built it from scratch, and then your father wouldn't let you ride it? How unfair!"
"In particular he was concerned about the safety of its use after dark or in the desert. Of course, those were precisely the conditions for which I intended its use."
"So what ultimately happened?"
"I convinced my father to have the hover bike professionally evaluated. The engineers he hired could find no operating flaw in the vehicle. However, they unfortunately did discover that the navigation, distance and rate of motion logs had been reset multiple times."
"Sarek!"
Sarek inclined his head. "A youthful indiscretion for which I paid the consequences, I assure you."
"I had no idea you had such a rebellious streak," Amanda teased, amused.
"I have often been accused of such. I maintain that a… broad-minded perspective enables me to be receptive to new ideas. Quite logical in my profession."
"I see," Amanda replied with mock dubiousness. "Who knew, such a model of Vulcan propriety…"
Sarek drew himself up. "Indeed. Am I to suppose you have no similar examples of regrettable behavior from your youth?"
"Well," Amanda said with studied casualness, "I was arrested once."
"Arrested?" Sarek's brows climbed.
"It was a student protest. The university wasn't granting financial aid at the time to students from outside the Federation. We thought that was unjust, so… we chained ourselves to the front door of the dining hall."
At that moment dessert arrived.
"An illogical approach."
"Mmm! Sarek, you have to try this."
"You are aware that chocolate is an intoxicant for Vulcans, are you not?"
"The approach might have been 'illogical,' but the publicity persuaded the alumni council to look into the matter, and ultimately the policy was changed."
"Indeed. I shall be on the alert for such a tactic should we have another disagreement over the Universal Translator, then," he deadpanned, and Amanda chuckled.
"You never know, I might chain myself to the embassy's front doors. Oh, and I'm not trying to get you drunk," she added, starting to pull back the spoon she had proffered.
"Quite an interesting prospect. And as my staff is quite unfamiliar with such methods, I would likely have to contend with you myself," Sarek said slowly, eyes on her as he reached out to take the spoon. "Small quantities do not… usually… result in inappropriate behavior, I'm told," he continued, wrapping his generous mouth around the spoon. "Indeed; most agreeable." Amanda could not tear her eyes away.
They were the last to leave La Belle Étoile. As they prepared to depart, T'Lina comm'd Sarek, and Amanda guiltily realized the guards had been outside for three – or was it four? – hours. "S'haile, we appear to have a contingent of Terran press awaiting you," T'Lina informed him. "Are they expecting a statement?"
Sarek repressed a sigh. "No. We shall depart forthwith." As they exited the restaurant, they did indeed see a small group across the street, armed with holo-cameras and recorders.
"I fail to understand this Terran predilection," he murmured as he protectively maneuvered Amanda toward the flitter.
Amanda turned and said conspiratorially, "It's too bad we don't have your hover bike now…"
He bent slightly toward her as she spoke, catching the aroma of her hair.
At that moment, whether due to luck or skill, a holographer hit pay dirt. The image of Amanda's seductive smile, apparently whispering into the ambassador's ear, his touch as he leaned close to help her into the car, would be reborn into thousands of electronic copies with the morning's news.
The Terran Press
It wasn't the first holopic of them to reach the news. It was the first such report to feature only the two of them, however. The next morning, a vid reporter chattered, "And in Lifestyle's 'Seen Together' report for today, we uncovered this unlikely pair, Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan and Dr. Amanda Grayson…"
It was just the beginning.
Soran's Observations
Soran knew his s'haile better than most. Inured as they both were to the path of c'thia, of non-emotion, Soran could read his longtime friend and schoolmate quite well. He knew his moods, though they both would eschew their existence. He saw Sarek's intensity in his desire to complete a set of negotiations and his satisfaction at their appropriate, and logical, conclusion; his exacting standards for himself and his staff; his impatience with the many vagaries of his non-Vulcan diplomatic counterparts; and yes, even his anger when incompetence or ill-will got in the way of an appropriate solution.
All of these affects Soran had recognized for years. There was a new one, though, that he understood much less. When the Terran linguist first came to work at the embassy, Soran frequently detected friction between her and his superior, friction of multiple types. She did not unquestioningly defer to him, nor did she make a huge effort to control the expression of her Humanity around him. They disagreed on any number of topics. They argued, and Soran sensed Sarek's irritation.
But as time went on, she teased him, and Soran detected amusement rather than impatience, and when she expressed some particularly inexplicable set of Human emotions, he could tell Sarek was not, in fact, repelled, but enthralled, drawn to try to somehow understand this delicate yet flamboyant Terran. His s'haile was fascinated and drawn in. Soran was no reader of Human emotion (beyond what was so often blatantly put on display), but he did believe he could detect similar inclinations in the Human. She seemed correspondingly drawn to Sarek's company, reaching as if to touch but daring not to.
Soran noted with some concern that the gravitational pull between the two was increasing. They were so different, yet shared enough intangible similarities, it seemed, that they were inexorably drawn closer. And the dynamics of the dance between them seemed to be slipping beyond the boundaries of a collegial relationship or even friendship.
If this were some sort of mating ritual, it was not the Vulcan way. But even so, Soran felt compassion for his friend. Having been deprived of his childhood bondmate, Sarek would inevitably need a mate at some point, and Soran could understand his reluctance to simply accept one chosen by his clan. Soran pondered the implications if Sarek's relationship with Dr. Grayson became something more, deciding to maintain his own counsel for the time being.