Title: Joy Unspeakable (evan como'ized)
Author: evan como (evancomo@netscape.net) 
Summary: Ebonbird's 'Sarek asks Amanda a question' story
evan como's way. 
Rating: G 
Disclaimer: Amanda and Sarek belong to one another, and to 
Paramount. None of these characters belong to me, and are being 
used by me w/o their owners' permission. Please Paramount, and 
any legally affiliated persona, do not sue me for this use. 
I'm doing my part to keep Trek Love alive, but in 1999, I'm 
fairly certain that lots more folk are doing their and my 
share. 

********************************************************** 
**********************************************************
Ebonbird's  "Joy Unspeakable"
(evan como'ized)



Amanda Grayson sat patiently while Ambassador Sakek completed 
his gentle probe of her mind.  With her chin tucked against her 
slim neck, her head remained bowed out of respect for the 
procedure.  (It  would be impolite to gawk into the brown depths 
of his eyes).  Her vision shifted past the deep cowl of her 
neckline, distracted by the way one knee poked up from beneath 
the swirl-patterned fabric of her dress.

Her thought processes settled.

The fingers on her skin were warm, feeling like four individual 
rays of light focused through a magnifying glass.  Despite the 
fact that the intense contact made her nervous (Oh!  so nervous), 
she was able to maintain some level of her ingrained Educator's 
cool-headedness.

Until embarrassment boistered itself frontal.

Her sudden emotion nearly made the receiving Ambassador 
light-headed; quite an odd sensation given his age and his 
experience with performing the rite, not quite so odd given how 
rarely he mind-melded with human beings.

She watched his dominant hand retract towards the center of his 
chest with his fingers curling inward.

A different kind of dizzy remained in their residue after Sarek's 
fingers lifted away from Amanda's dewy complexion.  Dazed, she 
wasn't sure if he had spoken her name in his low, resonant voice 
or if the address had merely strummed across her consciousness like 
one of his thoughts had.

Amanda kept her eyes downcast to answer, "Sarek?"  Catching the 
rude familiarity, she immediately corrected her response with a 
flustered, "*Ambassador* Sarek?"

The crooked index finger of his furled hand straightened a tiny 
bit.  "What is," his pinkie jerked before he finished with "the 
logic of emotion?"

Her nervousness flared, searing away her breath; her skin was 
damp with perspiration, seeming to shrink her skin too tightly 
to allow expansion of her lungs.

Even worse, the after-effect of his profound touch caused her 
tongue to thicken.

"You are kind," Amanda managed to murmur.  Although his hearing 
was acute and Sarek would hear her no matter how softly she spoke, 
Amanda repeated herself. (It was an illogical waste of words, but 
she didn't care.  At least she managed to control the impulse to 
add 'My lord.').

Nearly frowning, his look of concentration intensified.  "What 
you call kindness --" he paused and did frown.  "Logic governs 
the behavior of all Vulcanians.  Humans are, in many ways, 
admirable.  It is illogical then, Amanda Grayson, for me to 
respect humans, in general.  And you -- due to your talents and 
accomplishments, in par --  Specifically."

She caught the hitch in his gentle (disappointingly gentle) voice 
as he substituted words.  (The master orator bested by adverb?)

"Logic dictates courtesy as a manifestation of respect for the 
other, yes," she replied.  She waited for the shod toe peeking 
from beneath the hem of his trousers to give her some clue of 
his reaction to her too-human paraphrase.

His silence prompted her to elucidate with a surprisingly 
steady voice, "yet, of your delegation, only you seem to 
find it unnecessary -- "  But before frustration could tie 
up the argument, Amanda cut herself off with an unhappy sigh.  
She rolled her eyes -- first to herself, then upwards.

Sarek's gaze speared hers at the height of its arc.

"Yes," he prompted.  (And, yes, Vulcanians can be impatient.)

"-- to forgive our humanity," Amanda stoically finished.

He remained silent for several long moments before stating, 
"we are in error."

Amanda's voice was heated; there was logic in her irate tone. 
(You cannot specialize in a culture without commanding an 
ability to navigate its precepts.  At least, on *some* puny 
level.) "Not *you*, Ambassador. You, on the other hand...  You 
are more than courteous.  You go beyond mere civility."

This time it was his direct eye contact that belabored her 
breathing.  Her blush and another observation -- a compliment 
of "you are gracious" -- could be said to have relaxed the 
severity of Sarek's features.

With disappointment.
 
Amanda's gentle contention did not end.  "You are not civil 
because we humans 'do not know better'.  I believe that y-"  
(Rationalize!)  "You go beyond  Surak's compromise and, in 
doing so, more than uphold the law."

The fingertips belonging to the hand held at heart-level...

Stilled.

"And for *this* reason you love me?"  (And yes -- So very 
YES!-- Vulcanian's can fathom confusion.)

(And awe.)

"You are kind."  He could not see the expression that hovered 
above the swirl-patterned knee.  "My Lord."

His pause took much longer than the amount of time required for 
inhalation.  "Everyone is kind to you, Amanda."  (How logical 
of him to state the obvious!)

Lavender lids curtained his softening features -- even more 
handsome relaxed --  from her view while Amanda's mouth thinned 
in a resigned smile.  She spoke again; this time her words 
softer, wistful.  "You are so very... Very kind."

The posturing hand extended, leading Sarek's arm; the cloth of 
his tunic's sleeve uncrumpled, spanning the distance between 
his wrist and waist.  His intoxicating fingers, spread and 
curved slightly, were not offered for touch.

But for promise.

"Amanda," she heard and opened her eyes to the hand before 
her --  this conversing extremity with its index and middle 
digits pressed against one another; the fourth and ring paired 
and rounded; the ball of his thumb laying flat in his palm.  
(How fantastic that Vulcanian's have four fingers and one 
thumb, too!)

The graceful female craned her neck, uncomfortable to be 
directly confronted with his face -- terrible in it's utter 
expressionless as he reasoned, "it is meet to please you."

With a blossom of breath encouraging her escalade, Amanda 
Grayson rose.

It was pleasant how easily her fingers rested two upon his 
two.




************************************************************* 
  
Notes: Ebonbird wrote the original version a while back. After
writing it she fiddled, diddled, and put it under her hat. Years 
later she asked evan como to make it more accessible.

Please send comments to evan como (evancomo@netscape.net) and
ebonbird (ebonbird@hotmail.com).

They'd like to know what you think.