Title: To Err Is Human, To Accept Is Logical

Rating: FRK
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just the idea.
Spoilers: Star Trek XI, 2009, or any Star Trek TOS episode or movie reference that you might recognize.

Summary: Oneshot. When he was 6 months old, Spock accidentally banged his head… Spock/parents. Movie spoilers.

OMG! My first Trekfic! Spock, OMG! Loved Spock, since, like, forever!

The smigginest amount of AU. Tad OOC.

When he was 6 months old, Spock accidentally banged his head on the sonic shower wall. Tears had sprung to his dark eyes, and tiny wails had filled the private bath where Amanda Grayson had been cleansing her infant son.

He had been sitting on his mother's lap, blissfully clapping his hands together at his mother's array of funny faces, (which Sarek would later request her not to do; she wouldn't listen anyway) when in all his excitement, wrenched his head too far to the left and collided with the side panel.

Acting promptly, Amanda had cradled her son to her smock covered chest, whispered soothing words in his peaked ears, and ran a gentle hand over the tuffs of black hair that covered the skull's point of impact.

The infant's cry had brought Sarek out of his study, only to witness the final hiccups of his son, and the peaceful murmuring of his wife as she rocked him, singing what was obviously an Earth nursery rhyme involving some creature referred to as a mockingbird.

Though a Vulcan, such behavior was expected at such a young age. One was hardly expected to fight innate instincts, when one failed to comprehend the basic functions of bladder control and speech patterns.

He was too young to know better.

When he was 8 months old, Spock started teething. For months Amanda and Sarek would be woken up at any hour of the night to see to their disgruntled son. Sarek would simply rise from his sleep or state of meditation, place Spock and himself on the floor with a cool teething ring, and allow the child to wear himself out.

Amanda, on the other hand, did as humans do, and fussed over her son; cuddling with him as his first deciduous teeth slowly made their way through the gums. Every so often, she'd run her fingers through his hair, sweeping the baby-soft locks from his forehead, humming some random tune, delightfully unconcerned that she had early classes to teach tomorrow.

Some nights, or days for that matter, were particularly longer than others, as Spock's pain tolerance would fluctuate from a dull ache to a mild throb. Some times he'd blabber as if he was trying to tell you of his anguish, different times he'd whine for hours, kicking his legs out and slapping his hands on any surface in front of him, and others still he'd cry when the pain became too much for such a small person to bare.

His crying was the worst. Sarek merely adhered to what Spock's physician had said, that it would eventually stop and he would be a more developed child for it, but Amanda could not sit idly by at her son's irritation. Instead, she would scoop him up in her arms, burry his head in her neck and slowly dance with him around whatever room she happened to be in.

Vulcan's rarely danced, Sarek would point out, but baby Spock didn't know what his mother was doing with him, just that it helped to ease the pain.

He was much too young to know any better.

When he was 11 months old, Spock fell off the living room sofa, banging his head on a coffee table on the way down. His mother had taken to working out of her office, as young Spock was forbidden to enter either her or Sarek's study, and had been marking test from her afternoon class. Spock sat beside her, grabbing at random hand-held scanners and data discs, as his mother looked up at him every couple of seconds. (She really wasn't getting much work done.)

Just as she was about to check on him again, she had lifted her gaze a fraction too late to see him reach for a communicator on the coffee table. His centre of balance off, his legs had kicked out in an attempt to counterbalance himself, while his hands had extended blindly for the table.

He missed. Instead, falling between the open gap; head colliding with table's edge, tears streaming down his face in the second it took his mother to grab for him.

Setting him on her lap, Amanda surveyed the damage as best she could under the mass of dark bangs. A small scrape covered a mere centimeter of his forehead, and Amanda gently ran her lips over the mark. Spock whimpered and wrapped his small hands around the material of his mother's robes as he burrowed his face against her chest.

Sarek entered the living room suite after just completed a sonic shower and regarded the scene impartially. It would take his infant son many tries before he figured out what was, or was not, within his grasp.

He was just too small to know any better.

When he was 2 and one half years old, Spock fell while walking up the steps of the Vulcan Science Academy. It had been Professor Amanda Grayson's day off, and wouldn't you know it, she had forgotten important documents in her office at the VSA. With Sarek about the town with Council affairs, Amanda had no other choice but to bring Spock along. Guiding her young son up the steps, Spock skillfully climbed the entrance stoop, mastering each step with a firm footing, and a tight grasp on the railing.

That was until he sped up. In his increased pace, he misplaced his footing, as his right foot slipped from its step, subsequently sending him down a few steps in the slight jumble. But all had not been lost. Gravity worked in his favour; bringing his weight forward instead of backward, he brought both hands to steady himself on the step before him, ceasing any further movement, and grabbing hold of dignity, he would, years later, learn he had.

Hearing his mother's call above him, he had looked up to see her frantically moving down the steps to his aid, no doubt, to check any possible damage, as well. Righting his feet, he moved to correct his stance when a supportive grip grasped him around the bicep.

Looking down at the young Vulcan before him, Sarek (who it turned out, had business at the Academy with an associate) leniently hauled his son up, in a strong, but moderate grip. Releasing his son, Sarek stood fast as Amanda made her way down to their level, and took her son's hands in hers for inspection. Dirt and rock clung to the pale green-tinged skin, but no abrasions.

Sarek simply proceeded up the stairs once his wife had righted Spock's clothes, and fussed over small, non-existent scrapes. Spock would have to walk before he could run.

He was just too young and too uncoordinated to know any better.

When he was 4 years old, Spock scraped his knee on a rock. He had been accompanying his mother on her small hiking excursion, climbing and meandering the lower banks of the L-langon Mountains, while much to his mother's amusement, studying the landscape, as best a 4 year old could, and making mental assumptions on the bluff's widths, and heights.

Initially, Sarek was perplexed at his bondmate's quite distasteful desire to climb the treacherous mountain, (it was entirely unwife-like), but upon her insistence that Spock would, indeed, be learning something, if not to later benefit him on during his Kahs-wan, then a better knowledge of his home surroundings, approval was met.

Amanda, however, had other purely enjoyable motives, as well. Packing a picnic basket with a healthy array of both Terran and Vulcan fruit and vegetation, they went on their journey, joined by family pet I-Chaya. All was well until said rock gave way under young Spock's weight, and clipped him in the kneecap.

Green blood trickled from the inch long abrasion, and Spock, just beginning his lessons in emotional self-control, held fast throughout the pain (the only indication that he was in any discomfort, the teeth marks in his lower lip) as his mother washed the cut with water from the basket, and concealed it with a just-in-case bandage from her pocket and a kiss.

It was alright to feel distress she told him, where he just shook his head.

He was beginning to be too Vulcan to know better.

When he was 7 years old, Spock burned himself on a hot roasting pan. As was customary when daily lessons were done, Spock would often aid his mother in preparation of the evening meal. It was more his mother's desire that he participated, than the actual knowledge obtained while doing it, but Spock, (if you will) enjoyed the experience.

At such a young age, there hadn't been much he could do but set the table, or procure things from his mother's Terran garden, but even still, Amanda wished to involve him in the ways of her people. If she had little to no say in his education or upbringing, she could at least make him self-sufficient.

While his mother had prepared bertakk soup, Spock observed her very human way of dicing, and mixing the ingredients. Throwing 'some of this and a little of that', (a human phrase he knew little about) Spock peered over the rim of the pot; accidentally bringing his hand too close in his inspection. An abrupt pain ran through his forefinger, and a slight rush of air escaped his mouth.

Amanda heard, what must have been the Vulcan equivalent to a gasp, and eyed her son thoroughly. Seeing his extended finger, she tsked away his post Kahs-wan comment of 'Merely a burn, mother,' and examined the digit. Running cold water over the green-tinged mark, Amanda insisted ('Unnecessary,' Spock would fruitlessly add) on a bandage.

Once treated, Sarek arrived home, and dinner was served. Considering the bandage briefly, Sarek said nothing at Spock's unsuccessful attempts to refrain from using the damaged hand. He had quickly learned to, as human's say, 'see with your eyes, not with your hands.'

He was just too curious to know better.

When he was 11 years old, Spock got in his first fight. He had just finished his lessons on concavity for the day, when three Vulcan youth accosted him, yet again, once exiting the education bowl. Verbal sparring had ensued, and once the lumps of insensitive bipedal protein realized the Vulcan-Human hybrid would not give them what they wanted, a human emotional response, further stimuli was inflicted.

Shoving the younger Vulcan, his tormentors continued their futile, though stinging remarks…until one went too far. "He is a traitor, you know; your father, for marrying that human whore." Humanity won over him as the enraged adolescent slammed into the bully, both landing in a neighbouring education bowl. Caught unaware, the older boy attempted a hasty nerve-pinch, but was deflected when Spock threw him to the ground, both fists making contact with the tormentor. Green blood flowed, and with human satisfaction, Spock took note that it was not his.

Once the fight had been broken up, Spock sat alone on a bench avoiding eye contact with both of his parents. His mother had a look of concern on her face, Spock knew, coupled with anger and what he would ascertain to be pride. His father, however, did not. Nor did he look disappointed, just indifferent (of course). Hearing footsteps, he bore a hole in floor with his eyes. No such luck. A small, dainty hand hooked under his chin and a cloth was produced. His mother smiled comfortingly at him as she wiped away a small amount of jade blood oozing from his swollen lip, before turning and exiting, sparing not even a glance at his father.

Sarek allowed Spock a moment to absorb his actions, then proceeded to sit beside his son in poised fashion. Spock would have to accept the shame his actions brought, and acquiesce to any punishment his parents' saw fit.

Sometimes he was too human to know any better.

When he was 13 years old, Spock contracted Tuvan Syndrome. Or at least, that was what his symptoms led his parents and physician to believe. For two weeks, he battled against slight vertigo, mildly uncoordinated balance, and a ringing sensation in the ears; all quite an inconvenience for such a graceful race.

It had started out with a few misplaced steps, but when each action became more difficult for her son's usually fluent form to handle, Amanda began to worry. Once pregnant with Spock, she had immersed herself in research and observation of the Vulcan race. Vulcans, by birth, are majestic, dexterous, and, for the most part, controlled. There were only a handful of aliments to null and void this natural poise; one, Bendii Syndrome, an accelerating loss of emotional control, which he didn't have; or two, Tuvan Syndrome, a gradual a loss of motor skills, which in her worst nightmare, he did have.

Fortunately, she also had the sense of mind to test her Vulcan-Human son for Terran illnesses as well. Just as a precaution. However, as they were on Vulcan, a planet unfamiliar with Terran maladies, it would take some time for results to formulate. This left an Earth week of anxiety, and not just for a mother.

Spock who seemed to understand the severity of his undeterminable, unfounded affliction was still very much the controlled Vulcan he strove to be, but once alone with his emotional mother, he allowed himself (for her soundness of mind, of course) a brief respite. No matter what ethnicity you were, a mother's touch always soothed. As she once did when he was young, Amanda held her son in a comforting embrace, running small fingers through his hair, and placing the occasional kiss along his temple.

The beginning of the following week, tests results came back negative for both Bendii Syndrome, and Tuvan, while positive for a human ear infection. Sarek, if it could be said, found amusement in his wife's behavior over such a small condition, while Spock took the news in stride. He still had many more years to understand, and master his biology.

He was just too much of his mother's son to know better.

When he was 21 years old, Spock enlisted in Starfleet Academy. The decision to venture out was one based on analysis, practicality, and logic. While a position at the Vulcan Science Academy had been appointed to him and would be a stable foundation, he felt, the experience and hands-on approach given with Starfleet would be more favourable to the study of Science.

The High Council, however, did not follow the same line of logic. Once chiding his decision, twisting his arm (his mother would say), albeit unsuccessfully, and insulting his mother, Spock rejected the ideals set for him.

His mother, being the emotional woman she was, expressed pride, yet sorrow at the decision. The distances would be too long, the interaction too passing, and the communication too fleeting, but she was his mother, and a mother always supports her child's endeavors. "As always, whatever you choose to be, you will have a proud mother."

On his last morning before embarking, Amanda Grayson served her son his favourite breakfast meal (blueberry waffles), and dutifully adjusted his collar like she always did. Spock allowed her the formalities, even allowing one of his own, and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

Sarek merely inclined his head, not completely pleased with the decision, yet accepting the result as a show of personal growth within his son.

He was too much of his father's son to know better.

When he was 25 years old, Spock lost his mother. A rogue, Romulan tyrant by the name of Nero, had a score to settle. Amanda Grayson, wife to Sarek, mother to Spock was collateral damage when the planet Vulcan, with its' harsh deserts and mountain ranges, was swallowed up in a black hole and vanished from its' star system.

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"They are creating a black hole at the centre of Vulcan? How long does the planet have?...Minutes."

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"Clear the pad. I am beaming down to the surface."

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"The planet has only seconds left. We must evacuate."

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"Spock to Enterprise; beam us up, now."

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"Mother!"

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And then she was gone. For all his mastery in the Vulcan principle of logic over emotion, Spock was unable to keep his sadness and anger at bay. Attacking a fellow Officer proved that much.

"Speak your mind, Spock."

"That would be unwise."

"What is necessary is never unwise."

"I am as conflicted as I once was as a child."

"You will always be a child of two worlds. I am grateful for this. And…for you."

"I feel anger for the one who took mother's life; an anger I cannot control."

"I believe, as she would say, 'do not try to'."

If she had of been here, she would have held his hand, or touched his arm. Maybe even did as she had done many times when he was an infant and kissed his temple.

But she was not.

Sarek, knowing of Spock's pain, did all he could do…all he knew how to do, but he knew words would only get him so far. Spock was just as human as he was Vulcan.

Hesitantly, Sarek reach across the distance and touched his son reassuringly on the shoulder. Having only ever shown physical affection towards his wife, the concept was foreign to him, but Spock's shoulders relaxed and his posture slackened in a way that Amanda's did when complacent.

Without consent, without any indication it knew what it was doing, a single tear ran down Spock's cheek. Disregarding whatever his father thought, he let the liquid curve around his mouth, and fall off his jaw onto the blue linen of his Starfleet tunic.

He loved his mother too much to care any different.

Author's Note: First Trekfic. Any spelling mistakes are my own. Please be nice. Any ages are in human years. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to make all these accidents/emotional situations for Spock?! I mean, come on! He's perfect! It's like finding fault in Sarek, and in my clearly biased love for both Spock and Sarek, impossible. Spock is my favourite ST character (Leonard and Zach; swoon), and Sarek/Amanda are my fav ST ship. I tried to be as factual as possible, but I know I have erred numerous times. I apologize. If someone would give me a book listing every minor detail about Vulcans, that would be appreciated, until then, I will continue to make things up as I go. "I like this fic. It's exciting!" Like I mentioned, a small amount of AU just to appease myself. More Trekfic in the future…hopefully.

Huge thanks to my sis. She's swell…even if she wouldn't know descriptive wording if it ran her over.