Negotiations were living, breathing things. They were wild creatures that must be maintained within a sense of balance. You give too much, and your opposition finds you weak. You take too much, and they shut down. One of the many reasons Sarek held appreciation for the work that he undertook was because of the skill that it required. No day was more acceptable than one in which his mind felt stretched.

With as temperamental and paranoid as Andorians tended to be, they required all of Sarek's faculties. This journey would prove to be no different. The negotiations were over nothing of outward consequence. They weren't discussing land or armistice, just the distribution of grain throughout a joint colony on some long-forgotten moon.

The solution which could have been elegant in its simplicity, increasing shipments from both governments, was made into a quagmire. Neither side would agree to the other's requests for concessions, and centuries of distrust and xenophobia from either planet could easily escalate to endanger a treaty that was tenuous on the best days.

This meant that Sarek was spending the next several weeks, if not more, on the Andorian side of that miserable little celestial body. It could have been more comfortable and likely should have, with the generous suite of rooms that they had provided Sarek during his stay. But Andorians were a mixture of clever and cruel, heeding the words of the ancient Earth philosopher Sun Tzu: 'The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.'

They had not raised a weapon, but they were doing their best to unseat Sarek from the moment of his arrival, made evident by the arctic temperatures to be found in his quarters. For the last twenty minutes, Sarek had attempted to acquire control of the heating system. Yet there was nothing to be found on his console, no touchpad located anywhere within the rooms, and the computer was proving to be worthless.

There was the option to request help or to return to his ship. One would leave him indebted, no matter how small, to those who housed him, and the other could be viewed as insulting. Scylla and Charybdis his predicament may not be, but it was no less frustrating.

As he did in most situations which found him verging on irritation, Sarek settled himself to meditate. On the journey, he had made the time to sequester himself away from diplomatic communiqués and inquisitive aides. It was the first time he'd been able to fully immerse himself in his practices since his meeting with Miss Grayson and it came as a welcome relief. What had once been fraught with turbulence, at least in Sarek's opinion, settled into stillness.

Finally, he was able to parse the disquiet her appearance had roused in him. Each response was examined in detail and potential paths were projected. There were no definitive answers discovered, as their experiment was a two-body problem, and Miss Grayson's input was necessary. But Sarek was determined in one thing, he would be lacking were he to cease his pursuit of the storms she brought into his mind.

Thus courting her was the only logical response. To begin with, it would be a way for him, and through the transitive property - his people, to learn more about human nature on a deeply intimate level. But also, and this was at the very depths of his self-reflection, Sarek knew that he was fascinated by her, and would feel the loss if he was unable to explore what that meant.

Meditation on his ship had been easy and welcome, like slipping into a sonic shower after a day trudging through the Vulcan desert. In those frigid rooms, though, Sarek found that his mind continued to wander. Images of her smile, the lilt of her laughter, and the feel of her lips against his skin, all plagued and distracted him, keeping him from his needs.

Laying the blame squarely on the temperature of the room, Sarek stretched out stiff limbs as he decided to admit defeat for the moment. He would take the time to make tea, moving through the well-known ritual of steeping leaves he had important to Earth from Vulcan, and made a point to bring with him on all assignments that he could. If it happened that he had time to write Miss Grayson the promised missive while he waited for his tea to brew, that was just happenstance.

He wished to tell her of his decision, to discuss the ramifications therein, but this was a thing better done in person. After all, if she could not bear their separation for such a time, there would be no possibility of bonding in their future. He had been given the great honor of being an Enovy of the High Council, and as a result, he went where they requested, life partner or no.

What should have been a quickly done thing, just a few sentences dictated to the computer, became weighted as Sarek analyzed each syllable. Was he giving too much? Or perhaps he was not sharing enough to continue correspondence?

Tea in hand, Sarek had the computer read back his message once more, before releasing it into subspace. After all, Sarek had no doubt that she would not spend as much time on the reply, instead spilling out each thought she had readily onto the PADD.

From: S'Chn T'Gai Sarek

To: Amanda Grayson

Location: 321 Harborview Place, Apt. 543, San Francisco, California, USA, Earth

Comm Channel: Diplomatic

Miss Grayson,

As agreed, I am sending you a message from my assignment. There is little to report beyond the fact I have arrived. At our parting, you mentioned wishing to continue our discussion. Is there a specific topic you have in mind?

Respectfully,

Ambassador Sarek

Special Envoy of the Vulcan High Council

United Federation of Planets

He had just settled into a chair which he would define as acceptable, robes pulled as tightly as they could be around him, when the comm chimed sharply, the noise from the Andorian tech much more aggressive than the sound which would issue from a Vulcan console. Leaning forward Sarek accepted the communication, expecting it to be in written form. Instead, he was surprised by the sight of his human interest staring back from his screen.

"Miss Grayson," he said, tone deep and even, attempting to portray a calm he was not currently feeling. She had copious amounts of skin showing, thin straps holding up what could barely be considered clothing, with dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders.

"Ambassador." That smirk she was so fond of making sliced across her features, dulled only by what Sarek could deduce was the fog of sleep. "Do you have time to talk?"

"Is it not quite early there?" Sarek inquired, gaze dipping to the hollow of her throat, before dropping lower.

"S'why I'm in my jim-jams," she yawned, uncurling herself to stretch in what could only be considered an overly wanton manner before she snuggled against what looked to be very plush pillows.

"So you are." If his tone was deeper than usual, threaded through with a husky intonation, he'd never admit it.

"If you're busy…" She sat up slightly, peering through the screen. "Is your cup steaming?" He had been in the process of bringing the ceramic to his lips, enjoying the beverage while it was still hot, shifting his gaze to look over the rim at the tendrils of heated and condensed air rising up.

"So it would seem."

"How cold is it in there?" Amanda asked, overexaggerating a shiver before most of that exposed skin disappeared underneath copious blankets.

"It is bearable, if only just," he replied.

"You look cold. Go get a blanket. There's blankets right? Then we can both be snuggled up, it's as close as we can get to being together right now."

Sarek had been curious that Miss Grayson hadn't immediately suggested that he turn up the temperature, but her desire for connection pleased him. Of course, he would look ridiculous with a blanket draped over his robes, the idea igniting a twinge of vanity within him. Vulcans, as a rule, were a particular people if not fully vain, striving to be put together at all times. An outward example of the order within their minds.

Still, Miss Grayson was the only one on the other side of the viewscreen. And even if the messages were to be intercepted, unlikely on a diplomatic channel but possible, speaking to her in that level of undress would do more damage than him looking disheveled.

With a slight dip of his chin, Sarek acquiesced, moving over to the bedroom and gathering the woefully thin cloth. Hopefully, it was made of reflective material, or it would do little good to insulate him against the chill.

"Are you satisfied?" He asked as he meticulously arranged the fall of the blanket around him.

Sleepy laughter sounded as she smiled at him across the lightyears. "Not even close. But I'm happy you won't look so pinched."

The want to defend his appearance rose within him. It was highly unlikely he had appeared 'pinched'. But Sarek settled for lifting an eyebrow and sipping at his tea. He was feeling warmer than he had moments ago. Her company, digital as it was, likely had more to do with his increase in body temperature than the poor excuse of a blanket tucked around his frame.

"So," she drew the word out, "what's going on? You never answered if you had time to talk or not."

He held the cup close to himself, breathing in the calming aroma and feeling the heat radiate from the ceramic. "I can provide you with a few more moments."

A heavy sigh was released from full lips. "Good. Tell me what you're doing."

"I am unable to share that information with a civilian." His thumb traversed the rim of his cup as his mind considered what the softness of her mouth would feel like instead. "Were you to be my wife, considerations for that role could be made. Especially if you were in residence with me."

His human obsession groaned, pulling a pillow over her face. "This is an early morning call, Ambassador. Like early." The pillow was rejected, thrown somewhere out of viewing range. "It's not marriage or bonding or what have you discussion time. In fact, until you kiss me no more talking about marriage."

"In my culture our contact has been much more intimate than a simple kiss."

She rolled her eyes. "You can talk about the telepathic touch thing all you want, but you haven't kissed me yet, Ambassador. I promise it will be sufficiently intimate."

"If that is all it takes." But the idea of kissing her was daunting. He had thought of it more than he would like to admit, in the days and nights since their shared evening. How did one cross the chasm of things holding varying levels of importance?

"Why couldn't I be infatuated with a human?" Her smile turned sly, the sleepy edge from earlier having faded as their conversation moved along.

"Would you be as interested if I were?" He knew the answer without asking, for it was a feeling he had as well. There was no logic in denying that her otherness drew him in a way he could not quite articulate.

"No." Amanda tilted her head. "Maybe." She considered for a moment. "If it was you, then yes, I have no doubt I would be infatuated with any version of you."

He had no reply, not one that he could share readily when not in person with her. He was pleased that she admitted so easily to her infatuation. Yet, her unwillingness to consider what each interaction they shared meant for their future caused conflict within him. The connection he was offering just by speaking with her was not one given lightly.

But she did not require his response, instead choosing to continue speaking, smiling softly through the screen on his console. "So you can't tell me what you're doing and I've just been working since you've been gone. The kids are still thrilled at having gotten the chance to go to the embassy. But," the first instance of feeling conflicted flashed across her too-expressive features, "I wanted to talk about something else, it's complicated."

Curiosity and unease spiked within him. What could she possibly be referring to? "Oh?"

"It's Sybok." Relief flooded through him, indicating that he needed to meditate much more than he previously imagined. "I want to know what you've done with him while you're gone. But I also don't want to know." She paused as if searching for courage, before continuing. "I love him, you know."

Sarek nodded. "He is a uniquely appealing child."

"I think he gets that from his father," she replied.

"As you do not repress such feelings, why do you find distress at your affection for him?" Setting his cup down, Sarek folded his hands on his lap.

"Way past affection, babe." A shift into a more serious demeanor emanated from Amanda as she spoke. "I don't want my feelings for him to impact whatever I'm feeling for you." She paused, picking at the cloth draped over her. "You keep throwing around things like telepathic bonds and marriage and we've been on a single date. It makes things convoluted."

"Most Vulcans do not have the benefit of knowing a mate or courting them before they are bethrothed and the beginnings of bonds are introduced."

"I'm aware." She gave him a look that Sarek could imagine receiving for a lifetime. One that spoke of her irritation at what she considered condescension. He decided that he would not mind continuing to receive it. "But I'm not Vulcan. And going from meeting tall, dark, and devastating to being an ambassador's wife is a little warp ten for me."

"While I cannot understand the difficulty that you are experiencing," he began, "I can share with you that I likely feel a similar disquiet at the notion of trusting intimacies with someone whom I cannot feel. Someone who may, in a human fashion, choose to end our acquaintance in a premature manner." It was more than he had intended to offer, but from the beginning, they had been plain-spoken with one another. He would have it no other way.

Amanda remained silent for a moment, head tilted and hair draping across her brow. "At least we're on the same page." Her voice was soft, and thoughtful, before she sighed, rolling her shoulders and sitting up straighter. "So back to Sybok. What did you do with him?"

"Do with?" Sarek questioned.

"Where is he?" she clarified. "Did you bring him with you?"

"I had considered sending him to my clan on Vulcan, but I did not wish to interrupt his routines."

Lines appeared on her brow. "So you left him on Earth?"

"Kavor is there." The child was home, safe, and cared for both physically and mentally. Sarek did not understand the irritation he was sensing through the screen.

"Ugh." As Sarek was learning was common, Amanda rolled her eyes. "Kavor is the worst."

Sarek replied with a slight lifting of an eyebrow.

"Nevermind," she waved him off, pursing her lips before she continued speaking again. "I'm sure he's keeping Sybok safe. But I'd like to go see him. Sybok, not Kavor. Can you tell the embassy I'm coming?"

Warmth spread through Sarek's chest at her request. She was correct in feeling that her connection to the child could confuse matters, but it seemed that this complication would not be hers alone. "I would be willing to relay that message. Please bear in mind that he is a Vulcan child."

"Still a child," she chirped, the soft, sleepy smile returning to her features.

He hmmed in response, realizing that the chill of the room was no longer plaguing him. For all of his existence, he had been missing the completion that was felt by having another in his orbit, someone with whom he could complete those domestic tasks. She had given him in only a few weeks what no other had ever offered. "I regret that I must meditate and retire." And, proof positive that meditation was necessary, Sarek did feel displeased at the notion of ending their conversation. "I have much to do tomorrow."

Those expressive features communicated that she felt the same, disappointment and yearning painted in the brilliant medium of her lips and eyes. But she did not complain, or attempt to continue to monopolize his attention. "Thank you for speaking with me, Ambassador."

"Thank you for calling, Miss Grayson." Perhaps, soon, their partings would not result in the absence Sarek felt as the screen flickered to black. Perhaps he would feel the comforting thrum of her within his awareness, no matter the distance that separated them.