Disclaimer: I'm a fanfic writer, not the owner of Star Trek, damn it!
A/N: Hey, thanks for reading. First of all, I want to thank LadyFangs, who gave me the encouragement I needed to finally write this- it's been on my mind for awhile now, but I didn't think I would ever actually write it. Without her insistence this wouldn't exist. So thanks!
Some of the events in this will tie into some things mentioned in my Spock/Nyota fic, Essential, which is now completed. It's not required that you read that to read this, but I would certainly appreciate it if you read all my work ;)
If you haven't read my notes I wrote on Essential, then I'd like to tell you what I plan on doing with this story...most of the beginning will focus on how Sarek and Amanda met and ended up together, but after awhile I'm going to skip through time a bit to show other moments in their lives, ending shortly before Amanda's death. This has been done, of course, but I want to bring my own ideas into it. This fic will have fluff, but there will be some angst, too. Anyway, I'll stop rambling now and get to the actual story.
The Vulcan's Wife- Chapter 1: The Embassy
Amanda Grayson stared in disbelief at the woman before her.
"You want me to what?" she asked, alarmed.
"I'm sure you heard me," Linette, her boss, said coolly. Her eyes narrowed. "You're still new here, Grayson. Don't test me."
"It's just...I don't know how to-"
"It's simple, Grayson. You greet him, show him inside, give the grand tour, and leave him at the director's office. Even a newbie like you can do that, right?" Linette was definitely annoyed now. "If not, maybe I should just hand you a pink slip."
Amanda looked down at the floor. No, she didn't want a pink slip. She had only been working at the United Planetary Embassy for six weeks, and she needed the job- badly.
"No, I can do it," Amanda said quietly.
"Good. Now, he'll be arriving by hover-car in ten minutes. You'd better be outside waiting for him," Linette said, turning away from her and heading into her office. Amanda glared after her, then sighed and turned toward the lift she had just come out of.
As the newest employee, the least favored tasks were always foisted onto her. Ever since she had first arrived, they had kept her busy- answering calls, getting drinks, delivering packages and messages all over the building, and organizing hundreds of appointments. Three secretaries were hardly enough for the whole building.
She entered the lift and ordered it to the lobby. On the way there, she thought about how she had even ended up at the embassy.
She attended the San Francisco State University, and was working toward a teaching degree. She was struggling to pay for her tuition and books- she had been desperate for a job, any job. Her cousin worked at the Embassy as well, as the director's private secretary- and when she heard of Amanda's troubles, insisted on helping her. She had gotten her the part-time job. Amanda was truly grateful- but she didn't like the position. At all.
She wasn't cut out for answering calls and delivering lunch. She wanted to be a teacher- and this wasn't helping her get there.
Amanda stepped off the lift and headed for the double doors that led out into the California sunshine. There was no one out there- and still plenty of time before the new ambassador arrived. She sat on a bench near the entrance and stared off into the distance.
She knew plenty of people who would jump at the chance to work in a building that housed offices for ambassadors from every planet in the Federation. Her sister, Sarah, for one. Sarah was attending San Francisco State to study xenoanthropology, and would have been ecstatic to have the opportunity.
But a job was a job. Her bills were getting paid, and beggars couldn't be choosers.
Amanda straightened on the bench when she saw a hover-car approaching. It was black- a new, sleek design. The kind rich people drove. It purred to a stop at the entrance, ten feet away from her. She stood, folding her hands before her. The back door opened, and a tall figure, dressed in a black tunic and pants, stepped out.
She could see immediately why no one had wanted to greet him. Vulcans were not known for their warm personalities, and this particular man seemed to embody everything the name Vulcan stood for.
He had dark hair cut in a severe, helmet-like style; sharply arched eyebrows, pointed ears...his eyes were black, and cold. His face was completely still, as if made from stone. As he walked over to her, he towered over her small frame- he intimidated her.
"I was told that someone would meet me. I deduce that person is you, unless I am mistaken," the Vulcan said, his deep voice seeming to reach down to her very bones, making her tremble. She wasn't sure if this was because his voice intimidated her in the same way his tall stature did, or if it was because his voice was surprisingly...well...sexy.
"Oh-I...yes. Yes, that's me." She almost winced at herself.
"And you are?" The Vulcan clasped his hands behind his back, watching her as she struggled to compose herself.
"Grayson...my name is Amanda Grayson," she replied. She hoped Linette wouldn't find out about what an incoherent mess she was being. Really...why was she so nervous? He was only a man, after all. Just a very intimidating one, with pointed ears and cold eyes.
She was being incredibly stupid. What was wrong with her? This wasn't the Amanda Grayson she knew. She didn't usually stumble over her words and she certainly wasn't frightened by men.
"I am sure that your job is not to stand here, staring at me," the Vulcan now said.
"Oh- I'm sorry. It's just- I've never met a Vulcan before," Amanda explained. "I did take a few quarters in Intro to Vulcan my freshman year of college...I think the proper greeting is 'Dif-to he sumsa?'"
He stared at her for several seconds. She felt her cheeks begin to burn the longer those dark eyes bore into her. She pressed her lips together, wishing he would say something.
"It is dif-tor heh smusma," he finally said. Amanda felt her cheeks grow even hotter in embarrassment. This was going from bad to worse.
"Right. Sorry," she said, wincing. "Maybe I should just shut up now and show you the building."
"Shut up?" he asked, and displayed the first hint of any emotion on his face- both of his eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch.
"It means...it means that I should be quiet and stop saying stupid things," Amanda said. Great. Just great. What would he think of her now? She had not shown him so much as an ounce of her intelligence. He would leave her thinking she was stupid. "Follow me, please," she added sadly, and turned to lead him into the embassy, berating herself the whole way.
She was acting like a child. She needed to get ahold of herself. Where was the mature, smart, witty Amanda Grayson? She was afraid that she was coming off as someone with no more sense than a teenage girl.
"This is the lobby- just somewhere people with appointments can wait, and where most of the embassy takes their breaks," Amanda said, gesturing around at the bare marble floor and the plastic chairs set against one wall. "The next four floors are offices for other ambassadors. Yours will be there, somewhere. Then there's the floor where I work. The director of the building works there, too."
"Informative," the Vulcan commented dryly. She bit the inside of her cheek...this really was a disaster. She was still too new at this job to know what she was doing. She had never greeted an ambassador before- in fact, she had never even spoken to one. She was mentally kicking herself as she led him to the lift. They ascended in silence to the top floor.
"There's the director's office," Amanda said, gesturing half-heartedly in the right direction. She really had made a fool of herself. She wasn't sure why she cared- after all, she would have minimal contact with him after this- but for some reason, she had wanted to leave a good impression on him.
"Thank you for your assistance. However- I will put in a request that the director assign more adept members of his staff to greeting new envoys."
He said this just before turning and walking away, toward the office she had indicated. Amanda felt like someone had just shot her in the gut with a phaser. She felt tears threatening her, but forced herself to keep them at bay. She wouldn't let herself cry over something a Vulcan said. No matter how hurtful it had been. She turned to her desk and sat down in her chair, staring down at her hands.
So much for leaving a good impression.
A/N: It's short, I know. And I don't think I'm capturing Amanda's personality very well- but keep in mind, this is the first time I've ever written Amanda, so I'll get better with practice.
Anyway, let me know what you think.