arek watched Amanda, his world still a haze. The nuances of human behaviour…were fascinating. She placed a hand upon Archer, smiled and whispered in his ear. Sarek wondered what she was saying. Archer nodded, looked over and waved. Sarek did not know why, but he felt the impulse to return the gesture. Soon, they were caught in a waving loop, an illogical display of splayed hands! A strange look passed over Archer's face and he broke the human ritual, turning back to interact with other guests.
Sarek's hand continued moving from side to side, making it difficult to stop the motion. Amanda returned to his side and gently helped him lower his arm.
"I do not understand," he murmured, confusion marring his words.
"I told him you needed to leave," Amanda explained.
Sarek blanched. "Miss Grayson, the scandal-"
"Don't worry," she reassured him, "I told him you are due a meditation ritual."
"I was not worried."
"No…of course not," there it was again, the teasing lilt to her words.
"He took no offense?"
"Oh, bless your heart, no Ambassador. No offense was taken. Truth is, he's probably quite relieved to see the back of you."
"Relieved?"
"Between me and you," she whispered conspiringly, "you unnerve him."
"So many emotions," Sarek mused with a huff of amusement; a sound that didn't quite belong. Evidently, he was still not quite himself. His lapse on the balcony was not yet over.
"Yes well, we're only human," she shrugged nonchalantly.
"There is nothing 'only' about it," he said, because even he, with his limited knowledge, knew there was more to her species that could ever be recorded on a data chip. Amanda Grayson was more than an 'only'.
"We should go," she suggested," before you become any more sentimental on me."
Amanda's expression was as soft as starlight and made him giddy with delight.
He tilted his head in agreement, eyes half-lidded, "that would be agreeable."
"Come on, I told Henry I'd drive you to your assigned quarters myself."
"That is not necessary."
"Maybe not, but I want to."
"Why are you being so…" Sarek's nose scrunched in concentration, as he reached for the foreign word, "nice."
"You think I have some ulterior motive?"
"A Vulcan would," he pointed out. He could not find the logic in her actions. Probably because there wasn't any.
"Well, I'm not Vulcan, Sarek."
"Evidently."
"I just happen to like you."
Sarek blinked. "Like me?"
"Is that surprise I hear, Ambassador?"
"Negative," he averted his case and tried to suppress a wave of self-consciousness.
She seemed to understand that they were teetering on the edge of a boundary that he could not cross. Miss Grayson had a talent for reading between the lines.
"It's okay," she reassured him, "I've got you."
Her arm looped through his and they walked into the night together.
The warmth of her touch burned through the layers of his clothing. For once in his life, Sarek did not try to fight this simple feeling.
The streetlights passed by in a blur of surreal colour. The vibrations of Miss Grayson's hovercar thrummed through him, and his head leaned back against the plush headrest. The strange alien city rushed by so fast his brain could barely compute his surroundings.
Miss Grayson was quiet, although he frequently caught her casting glances at her rear-view mirror. A frown line was forming between her eyebrows, and although he lacked full awareness, he realised that it had something to do with him. He could not comprehend why she was so worried about him. Until this night they had been strangers, living separate lives, on two completely contrasting planets. Coincidence had brought them together, but she was choosing to stay, out of some strange, Terran loyalty.
A Vulcan would have arranged transport. Accompanying him would never have come into the equation. Yet Miss Grayson had not left his side since the moment his symptoms appeared. She was the most illogical being he had ever encountered. He'd been taught all his life that logic and reason were the ultimate aim for a superior life form, but none of his teachings had prepared him for her.
"You better still be breathing back there," she said, words wrapped in a contradiction of worry and joviality.
"I am…functioning," he said, his voice lacking its usual rigour.
"I doubt that," she sighed, "but at least that's something."
"Indeed."
"What's your assistant's name again?" she asked.
"Sakkath," Sarek winced. The mere thought of his assistant stirred a persistent throbbing in his skull.
"And he's…reasonable…this Sakkath?"
"Negative. He is disagreeable."
"Surely he won't punish you for being sick?"
"Debatable," Sarek hummed, his tongue too heavy for his mouth.
"Why?"
"He advised me not to attend the after party."
Miss Grayson's eyes lit up with mirth-laced understanding and laughter flowed freely from her lips. His cheeks flushed with a faint tint of green as he leaned toward the alluring sound.
"Miss Grayson?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just…I didn't realise Vulcans also receive "I told you so" lectures."
He flopped backwards and nodded, chest heaving with exasperation. "Sakkath gives them frequently."
"Archer's the same. It's always…Amanda don't do this…Amanda don't do that."
"It is…infuriating."
"Maybe but their hearts are in the right place. They're just trying to look out for our best interests."
"I will consider that."
"Good, because we're here," she said.
The engine died away and Sarek experienced a current of overwhelm. He did not wish to face Sakkath, not when the very essence of his Vulcan principles were in the process of unravelling.
Miss Grayson exited the vehicle, and the passenger door opened with a mechanical hiss. She gently unclipped the seatbelt and her hand slid down his side, resting gently on his iliac region. He sat there frozen, useless.
"Hey, it's okay."
"I can not do this," his lips trembled, another slither of his control disappearing.
"You can't stay in the car all night."
"That…is a possibility."
"It wouldn't be very logical of you."
"Logic has abandoned me."
"No it hasn't," she assured him, her fingers tracing silent circles above his heart, "you've just temporarily lost your way."
"You believe this is temporary?"
"I do. You're Vulcan. Your essence is logic, Sarek. There's no fighting that."
"Your faith is appreciated," the crippling feeling in his chest loosened, yet he could not bring himself to exit the hovercraft.
"There's no rush, if you need some space before you face Sakkath, I'm happy to give it to you."
"I require readjustment time."
"Then you have it," she affirmed.
"Miss Grayson?"
"Yes Ambassador?"
"You have done much for me,"
"It's not a big deal," she shrugged.
"It is momentous, but I find myself wondering…"
"What is it? You can tell me anything."
"May I ask for one more favour?"
Her eyes met his, deeply intense and curious. "What favour?"
"Would you…hold me?"
"Ambassador…"
"It is too much," he turned away from her, shame creeping into his bones unbidden.
"No, it's not too much, just unexpected. Are you sure? The last time we touched was…"
"Disastrous," Sarek sighed, his shoulders subtly shuddering.
"Why do you want this?" she searched his face for answers.
"Connection," the one-word answer hardly conveyed the depth or intensity of his need, but he could barely articulate how much he required her presence.
"We'll take it slow, but it stops if you show any signs of distress. Got it?"
"Affirmative," Sarek nodded.
"Shuffle up then, Ambassador."
He followed her instructions, moving painstakingly to the other side as she climbed in and shut the door behind her.
"Computer," Miss Grayson spoke clearly, "turn window tint up to one hundred percent."
The hovercraft's computer bleeped a confirmation, and the windows dimmed, blocking out the chaos of the world outside. It was just them, a Vulcan and a Human, cosied up in their own little private bubble.
"That was considerate."
"Yes, well, can't have the world knowing the Vulcan Ambassador is a softie, can we?"
"That would be unfortunate."
"Lean back," she said softly, "I've got you."
He tilted toward her touch, his head gravitating downwards, landing soundly on her shoulder. She held him around the waist and her lips pressed against his scalp. The shapes of their bodies fit together, like a puzzle that was simply meant to be.
"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular," he said, and she knew not what he meant, but the intention behind his language was clear.
He cherished this bond, as fragile and new as it was.
He cherished her.
And as she cuddled closer, there was no doubt, the feeling was entirely mutual.
Translation for this chapter:
Taluhk nash-veh k'dular = I cherish thee