Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and make no money from the words I string together.
Becoming Real
"What is REAL?"
"It's a thing that happens to you. …When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the rabbit
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt." **
Xxxx
"I am unsure how to proceed."
Amanda studied her son. It had been some time, years in fact, since she'd seen a look of uncertainty in his eyes. She felt her love for him, her very heart, swell within her chest at his predicament; to suddenly realize what one wants, be resolute in the desire to attain it, and yet have no idea how to accomplish the goal. In this instance there was no formula or chart that could be given to help him find his way.
She thought of Sarek. She knew her husband had told Spock that his choosing to marry her had been a decision based in logic. It was. They were perfect for each other. But her mind's eye filled with a myriad of moments leading up to that 'logical decision' that she was certain her husband had not shared with their son, primarily because the majority of them were actions he deemed highly illogical. She smiled.
"You're quite clever. I'm confident you will do fine, Spock. Your father was successful in a similar venture, was he not?"
Xxxx
Nyota had been avoiding Spock for a week. She was humiliated. Caught by the man himself upon startling awake, holding his abused uniform jacket to her breast like a child holding fast to its most cherished and beloved toy. Embarrassed further as she let every single inappropriate thought and feeling for him flood her being under his battered countenances curious, unwavering gaze.
She told herself later that everything she felt while under that gaze as well as every other one he'd bestowed upon her wasn't real. She was a smart girl; too smart to fall in love with someone who couldn't love her back. And his constant kindness to her should not be misconstrued for caring. She was simply a cadet to him, one face in a sea of hundreds he saw everyday. No…she was less than that she told herself as a means to attempt to diminish the warmth in her belly the remembrance of his face provoked. He was Vulcan; therefore she was just a number. Yes, she thought, I am just number x in the class of xyz. She repeated it over and over. She told herself that he didn't take note of her… that, to him, she wasn't real.
She was greatly mistaken.
**Direct quote from The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams