A/N: I've been chewing on different plots for this story for a long time now. I'm not quite sure what is going to happen just yet, and I'm not quite sure where this will go, other than the obvious direction of Sarek and Amanda getting married and living together on Vulcan. So... Read this first chapter and tell me what you think about it. And yes, the title is actually a song by Fleetwood Mac. I think that "Go Your Own Way" would have been much more fitting with the first line being "Loving you isn't the right thing to do", but I loved the name "Second Hand News", so there you go.
Amanda Grayson was wet.
She stood on a woebegone street corner, road water sluicing in grimy rivers along the beaten curbs and amassing in little pools around overflowing drains and gathering in cracks and holes in the pavement. The rain beat down on her bare head with bleak resolution. It tapped incessantly at windows, beaded on the loamy tree leaves in the nearby park and bathed the sides of buildings. Under the downpour, her long grey cotton coat soaked up the water and turned a few shades darker, her wavy brown hair separating into strips, her eyelashes doing the same. In her drenched sneakers her freezing toes wiggled sadly, trying to retain any sense of warmth that they had before.
Humanoids passed by her woebegone street corner and flicked their eyes, with impassive curiosity, at her sad, sodden figure gazing out into the road with a despairing young face. Amanda barely moved, even when a hovercar, sleek and white, stopped to let her cross only to realize that she wasn't going anywhere.
Amanda knew that before the third world war, Earth had been a much tougher and unjust place to live in. She was thankful for the changes warp drive and first contact had brought the Human race and the joint equality in everything that was now shared in her world at the present time.
But life, being a creature of fickle ways, had certainly been unjust to her today.
Approximately sixteen light years away, the sun beat down heavily on the Vulcan city of Shi'Kahr. It was high noon, and a slight breeze kicked the dust from the deserts on the outskirts of the massive metropolis. Just as the sand began to churn, the weak winds would cease and the grains would fall back to the rocky, rust-coloured ground, only to be brought back up again minutes later. Overlooking this restless activity was an impressive spiralling stone building, its ancient, elegant curves buffed to shining from the close proximity of the merciless desert. High arched windows were cut in with green-tinged glass on every floor, with a handsome balcony to fit each one.
It was on one of these balconies that a Vulcan man stood, leaning forwards on the thick stone railing. He wore a light tunic, coloured a deep green, and simple black trousers and shoes. His black hair was cut close to his head, a style that Vulcans seemed to prefer, but if one looked close enough they would notice the slight inward or outward curves at the very ends of his shorn hair that insinuated curls. Being proud of his logical culture and their collective views, he made sure that his was cut regularly as a pre-emptive strike. He was young for a Vulcan, tall and tan. His face was strong; his brow was heavy over bright brown eyes, his nose long and wide and his mouth neat.
The young male was broodingly (in the most expressionless way possible) looking over the vast populated city without truly seeing it. His brilliant mind whirred with a million unanswered questions, theories and possible solutions, but he simply could not fathom whatever he was pondering. It not make the slightest bit of sense to him, and although it pained him to do it, the sole conclusion he could determine was that the reason must surely be illogical.
Seeing as the thing he was pondering was a decision made by Vulcans of very high regard and that he was forced to admit their reasoning was illogical, this was a very disturbing notion indeed.
"I fail to see the reason why I should depart for Earth at this time."
He turned, his hands clasped behind his back and his racing mind hid behind a calm, collected expression and faced the elderly woman standing in the doorway of the ancient balcony. She regarded him with stony resolve and Sarek (which was the name of our pondering young Vulcan)had a very strange feeling, deep inside of him, that she was mocking him. He could see it now, her flinty dark eyes laughing hysterically at the ridiculous task that was being asked of him.
"I have the proper documentation here", she said, thrusting a PADD towards him.
Sarek could only stare at the brightly clean scrap of technology in barely concealed dismay, wondering if this was some queer occurrence that humans called 'jest'. He took the PADD and on the screen of the handy device were the documents, real and signed. He closed his eyes. He opened them again. It was still there. The old woman with the laughing flinty eyes peered at him and then finally, with a lick of her wrinkly lips, she departed and he could practically hear her internal wheezy giggles as she left him alone to his fate.
Finally, after about fifteen minute of mindless staring, the notion floated into Amanda's despairing mind to move. She turned slowly to the right and began to walk, not caring where she was going or where she would end up. It didn't matter, nothing did. She was alone in an uncaring city, drenched to the bone in uncaring, cold rain. There was nowhere she could go, nothing she could do. All of her credits were gone, she had lost her wallet somehow. She knew her name was Amanda Grayson, she was in university for her teaching degree, she was twenty years old, her apartment number was 472 and her family was far, far away.
The memory of the night before was so vague it seemed like it wasn't real. She remembered entering the party with two of her friends that she had met in her university courses. The music thumped, the lights flashed, she danced and danced and danced... After a drink offered by a smiling young man, everything got blurry. She could remember only fuzzy moments.
The next thing she knew, she was lying face up in a strange room in strange clothes, looking at the underside of ancient beat-up furniture. Everything was so shocking to her that she got up and ran from the strange place, out the door and onto the street corner where the calamity of the situation hit her like the betraying strike from someone dear. Time itself had seemed to stand still as she painstakingly considered all the possibilities. She checked her strange pockets, and found her wallet was gone. She was alone in a strange part of town.
The only thing that was familiar to her were the shoes she wore. They were broken now, though. The silly pink sandals with the little plastic daisies on them. On her left foot, many of the white petals were gone. She couldn't help it, no matter how she tried. Amanda started to cry, and as she wept she pumped her legs faster and faster, leaving that strange, eerie place behind and not looking back.
In San Francisco it was wet.
Very, very unpleasantly, repulsively, horridly, and coldly wet.
Sarek's nose, of its own accord, wrinkled disgustedly. Vulcans were not people to dislike things, for it was illogical to do so. Simply because one does not enjoy something will not make it disappear. But if the idea ever entered Sarek's head to dislike something, it would surely be the rains and the thick fogs that tormented the coast, letting every ounce of water into every nook and cranny like some healthy plague. Seeing as Sarek's subconscious registered rainfall as 'plague', he became increasingly broody as the weight of the fog and the task he had been assigned sat heavily on his mind.
The wipers on the windshield of the sleek white Federation hovercar whisked back and forth, clearing the windows of the driving rain. Out of his window, he gazed emotionlessly at the soaked streets of an old part of the giant city; at the square brick buildings, the old fashioned store fronts, the cracked sludge-grey sidewalks and the crumbling curbs. At a street corner, the car came to a smooth halt and the silent human driver motioned at someone standing outside. They stood there hovering for a full ten seconds, then the driver motioned more quickly and angrily at the unseen person. Sarek flicked his eyes out of the window and saw a soaked girl standing on the old street corner and staring blankly ahead. She was not even wearing a coat to protect against the chill of the rain. Illogical, he thought disapprovingly, completely illogical.
Finally, the driver got fed up with trying to convince the girl to cross, so he pulled away angrily and muttered to himself darkly all the way to the Vulcan Embassy. After what felt like the longest drive in his life, he arrived. He took his meagre amount of baggage from the trunk of the car, and walked beneath the depressing cover of the pouring rain, meeting an employee who helped him with his things. Once situated in his temporary office, he sat down at the small desk and pulled from his bag his own personal PADD. He checked to make sure that his reservations at the nearby hotel had been taken care of, and then pulled out some paperwork that he had left unfinished before his departure to Earth. It was the final documents he would ever look over and sign before his new job starting the following week.
With consternation, he submitted the documents to the proper office before donning his bag and leaving for his hotel. Once checked in, he sat cross legged on the floor and looked out of his window. Still the rain kept falling, and looked like it was not going to halt anytime soon.
And to think that he was supposed to stay in this miserable wet city for an entire year? If Sarek were anything but Vulcan, he would indeed agree that he was not looking forward to it.
A/N: Thanks for reading, please review and give me some feedback!
P.S. Don't worry, Amanda is not going to stay filled with baww for the whole story. She just had a bad experience.