Disclaimer: I don't own it. ;w;

Spock, age 5

"-a point 257 Standard units upstream. What is the velocity of-"

"Recite the central dogma of molecular gen-"

"Three-point-one-four-one-five-nine-tw-"

The voices of programs and children swirled around the dimly-lit room, emotionless and flat. Spock suppressed his unease, fighting to keep his face neutral as he followed the instructor into the learning chamber. Their steps made crisp taps that cut through the cold air.

The instructor paused in his steps, turning to Spock. "This is your assigned room," he began tonelessly. "Proceed to learning pod E3-24. Remain in your pod until the program is complete, after which you will report to the assignment room and await further instructions." The instructor then proceeded towards the room's exit, offering no further assistance.

This would be Spock's first day of proper education, and it was already three weeks into the first term. The reason for this delay was his questionable heritage—as a half-Human, he was at first deemed unsuitable for Vulcan schooling. However, his father, Sarek, was a member of Vulcan's most respected clan. Sarek's position in society allowed him to bargain with the High Council to request for Spock's admittance into Seh'priek Academy, one of Vulcan's most prestigious primary schools.

The students of Seh'priek Academy were mostly children of noble and distinguished families, well-versed in Vulcan traditions and carriers of admirable dignity. Spock glanced around the schooling chamber, peering into the learning pods to observe the prestigious children and took note of their impeccably emotionless faces and even tones of voice. It was an impressive display of control that Spock could not yet imitate.

With an unsteady hand, Spock clutched the small amulet that his mother had placed around his neck that morning. "For luck," she had informed him fondly. When Spock had protested that the notion was illogical, Amanda crinkled her eyes and chuckled in such a Human manner that he was almost temped to do the same. "Just keep it, dear," his mother had insisted.

His hand tightened around the amulet, even as he reminded himself that the action was highly illogical and that his father would greatly disapprove.

Reminding himself that trepidation was an emotion- and Vulcans do not tolerate emotions- Spock slowly made his way to pod E3-24, which emitted a soft glow as he approached. The cover smoothly lifted, allowing Spock to descend into the pod. He carefully maneuvered down the steps and stood stiffly in the center. Immediately, the cover closed, and an automated voice began to speak.

"Welcome, S'chn T'gai Spock. This session will complete the following courses: 1) Novice-level Algebra (Sections 8 and 9), 2) Novice-level Physiology (Sections 2 and 3), 3) Novice-level Chemistry (Sections 15 and 16)."

The courses began, and Spock became immersed in learning, absorbing information and reciting it as prompted. He was immensely grateful of the fact that his father had hired a private tutor for him to make up for the three-week late start. Without the tutoring, Spock admitted that he would have not been able to keep up. Spock settled into a comfortable rhythm. His unease had vanished, lost in the sea of new concepts that were greedily consumed by his brain. Occasionally, Spock would pause to correct his expression, trying as best as he could to maintain a stony façade. He had to be a perfect Vulcan, so his father would be proud—no, no —satisfied. Pride was an emotion. Vulcans do not tolerate emotions.

Eventually, the session was concluded. There had been an overall assessment, which Spock had thankfully scored a 100% on. Still somewhat dazed, Spock exited the pod, taking note of the other students that did the same. The majority of the students headed towards the chamber exit to report to the assignment room. Spock hesitantly followed the trail of students, almost flinching as he was regarded by his peers. Spock kept his face as neutral as possible and stiffly walked alongside them.

Eventually, one of his classmates spoke. She began, "Our class had been informed that we would be joined by a new student, S'chn T'gai Spock—" here the classmate paused— "the half-Human." Her face betrayed nothing. There was a subtle shift in the stances of the other classmates as their observation of Spock intensified with this statement. "I presume that you are Spock?"

"Your assumption is correct," the half-Human replied. He desperately tried to control his reaction, but the tips of his ears still turned light green. Spock averted his gaze to his feet, which prodded forward uncertainly.

If his classmates had been Human, they would've sneered at this shameful display of emotion. Instead, being Vulcan, they focused their cold gazes on Spock's colored ears.

A Vulcan boy with a larger-than-average build broke the icy silence. "It would appear that the half-Human has emotional control far inferior to that of a pure-blooded Vulcan." Even as the classmate spoke those harsh words, his face remained impassive. "That is not surprising. Humans are weak-willed creatures. A half-Human could never hope to compare to a full Vulcan."

Spock's ears burned more intensely, remaining silent as the students around him continued to stare.

—

Jim, age 4

A crash of breaking glass echoed around Jimmy's horrified ears. He whimpered as a snarl and yell followed. A slurred voice agitatedly rambled, the words angry and undecipherable. Jimmy scooted back into the corner of the closet he was hiding in, clutching Sam's hand.

"Don't worry, it'll be over soon," Sam whispered. "It's happened before, and we made it out okay, right?"

Jimmy nodded, though Sam wouldn't be able to see it in the darkness of the closet. Frank got drunk a lot, and Mommy was never home often enough to keep it from happening. Why, though? Why does he always get drunk? Why do we have to hide so much? There was a loud bang, and another whimper escaped his trembling lips. He felt Sam's hand tighten around his.

"It'll be over soon," Sam repeated. "It'll be over soon, soon, soon..." Sam continued to chant, and Jimmy didn't know who he was comforting anymore.

A floor-shaking boom elicited a squeak from both Sam and Jimmy, and Jimmy felt the arms of his big brother wrap around his smaller, shaking frame.

If only his real daddy was here. Mommy had told them about Daddy before, about his kind heart, loving care, and playful personality. She told them about how brave and strong Daddy was, how he saved a whole crew of people when their starship was attacked by those terrible Klingons; how he sacrificed his own life for the safety of others.

Bitterly, Jimmy wondered why Daddy had to do that; maybe it was heroic, maybe it was noble, but it left his own sons at the mercy of a drunken monster who was currently smashing beer bottles in the living room. If Daddy was still alive, maybe Mommy would also be at home, and they could laugh and love like a normal, happy family. Maybe then, Mommy wouldn't gaze at Jimmy with cold, distant eyes that saw phantoms.

Abruptly, Jimmy's reverie was shattered with the same force as Frank's latest glass victim.

A/N: Just a super-short prologue... Worth continuing, or should I trash it?