Spock finished his shower and shave, slipped on the black jeans and black turtleneck shirt before pulling over a burgundy cable knit sweater. Nyota had insisted on casual wear for this trip. "Uniforms are not appropriate for family visits," she had told him. "They make people nervous." After a review of Terran fashions, he selected a few classic combinations advertised as "smartly casual." Unlike Nyota, he avoided shopping and hoped that a classically styled wardrobe would help decrease the frequency of future purchases necessary whenever fashion standards changed. The sweater was warm, which Spock appreciated. The environmental controls in Allen and Margaret's home kept it at a temperature comfortable for Terrans who were used to the area's cooler climate.

He felt more comfortable after cleansing himself of his body's salts from this morning's run and last night's emotional release. Shame filled his mind as he thought about it, but it was illogical to dwell on it. What was done, was done, and he could not deny that his current emotional state whenever he thought about his mother was more solid. Would he have been able to stand in his mother's garden at the clinic and hear Swenson's narrative about it otherwise? The experience would not have been a positive one as control would have been difficult.

Spock, this is part of grieving. It hurts, and we hate it, but we go through it, otherwise we can't go on living. Nyota's words were true. His human heart had needed that outlet. Even his critical Vulcan mind had to acknowledge that, confirming that he had not been controlling his grief; he had been avoiding it.

As a scientist, accustomed to asking questions and discovering the answers, Spock had an active mind. As intelligent as he was, he could not help it. Now he contemplated Margaret's words about his own connections to the people of this area as well. He had been raised on Vulcan, outwardly appeared as a Vulcan, and thought of himself first as a Vulcan. Exploring his human heritage, which he had always tried to suppress or relegate to the back of his mind, was new to him.

How much of this heritage did he share? Though death had severed his bond with his human mother, what connections had she left him here? He had to reconsider this as he stood in her sister's home. Her family was here, not just Allen and Margaret, but Norah and Alaina and other Grayson relations. They, too, were a part of his history although, up to this point, acknowledgment of their contributions to his essence had been buried by Vulcan-centric custom and attitude.

What were those contributions? He intended to find out. Spock decided that it was time to actively acquaint himself with his mother's connections and, by doing so, continue to confront his grief and help restore the balance between his human and Vulcan natures. It was a logical path.

Hygiene tasks completed, he was ready to join the others. But first, he needed to take care of Nyota. Before walking down the stairs, he attended to that goal via his room's comm station.

-o0o-

"Margaret!" Allen's voice errupted from the study. "You have a call."

"I'll be right back," Margaret said, leaving Spock and Nyota on the living room sofa where they scanned in more photos.

Nyota had been surprised when Spock joined her in this project, which he had avoided the night before. He seemed calm, almost relaxed, even providing descriptions for most of the images they reviewed. She annotated each photo with his information as she scanned it.

"How are you doing?" she asked, leaning into him while they had a moment of privacy.

He leaned his head against hers, surprising her again. "My condition is agreeable," he said quietly. "Thank you, Nyota."

Nyota knew that his gratitude went beyond her current inquiry. "Anytime. You know that." She brushed his forearm supportively before picking up another photo. "Your parents. Your mother looks so young here."

Sarek and Amanda wore formal robes. Sarek stood expressionless, as did Amanda. However, a certain warmth emanated from her despite her attempts to adopt a Vulcan's bearing.

"After their bonding ceremony on Vulcan," Spock supplied. "Mother was 1.8 years older than you are now."

Nyota picked up another. "Oh, look at this!" she exclaimed, her smile widening.

A close-up of a smiling Amanda, who was seated on a lounge chair holding a bundle, her newborn son whose eyes were shut in contented slumber.

"Oooo, look at those long eyelashes!" Nyota cooed, her fingers nearly touching the image as if she intended to stroke it.

Why did human females adopt high-pitched voices and lose their logic when viewing images of young children, especially infants? Spock had seen this behavior many times. He never understood it.

"Ah, and that little nose!" she squealed.

Spock felt a distinct temperature rise in his face. "Nyota, please…"

She looked at him. "Are you embarrassed?" she teased. He had taken on a greener tint. "You are!"

He did not reply, looking at a point across the room, stiffening his posture. He inhaled slowly, then gently exhaled.

"OK, I understand," she said, still grinning, recognizing his exasperation. She did not want to push him. "But you're still cute," she whispered.

Although privately pleased by Nyota's comments, Spock was relieved when Margaret reappeared.

"That was one of our cousins," she said. "With so much going on, I forgot to get back to her. Now, you're under no obligation, but I promised her that I would ask." She trailed her words, deciding on her approach. "Janelle invited Allen and me to her annual Halloween party a few weeks ago. Well, with everything that's been going on, I forgot to get back to her. She called to follow up just now, and I told her that we had you two here. She said, 'Bring them along.' I said that I'd ask you about it and let her know. So, the question is: Do you two want to go to Cousin Janelle's annual Halloween bash tomorrow night?"

Halloween, one of the Terran holidays that Spock avoided, was the next Monday. He found the peculiar attire and noisy revelry from Academy cadets annoying.

"Is anyone wearing costumes?" Nyota asked. She loved Saturday night parties.

"Costumes are encouraged, but are optional," Margaret continued. "There are usually about 60 people there. We play a few games, but mostly we sit around and talk. It doesn't get too raucous. Spock, you might get to meet some more of our Grayson relations there. But don't feel obligated to go. I know this is short notice, and it may not be your kind of thing."

"I will go if Nyota wishes to do so," Spock said.

"Whaaat? You? You actually want to go to a Halloween party?" Nyota was incredulous. She usually spent Halloween going out with "the girls" while Spock sequestered himself in his apartment or in a lab. It was an understanding that they had. "You hate that kind of stuff."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"You avoided every party we ever had at the Academy," she accused.

"No, I avoided excessively inebriated cadets," he stated calmly. "It is unlikely that I will encounter any on this occasion."

Margaret laughed. "Well, there may be some inebriation, but I don't think that anything will get out of hand. So, do I take that as a 'yes'?"

Nyota, still shocked, shrugged. "That's a 'yes.' I don't have a costume, though."

"Don't worry," Margaret smiled, mentally reviewing her collection of Renaissance dresses. "I probably have something in my closet that will work for you. Spock, do you…?"

"I will opt out of costuming."

"That's what I thought," Margaret nodded. She was pleasantly surprised that he agreed to go. She liked her cousin's annual soiree. "I'll call Janelle and let her know."

As soon as Margaret left them alone again, Nyota looked at Spock quizzically. He merely looked back at her, waiting for her to ask the questions he knew she had.

"OK, out with it…why are you suddenly interested in going to a Halloween party?"

"Does this not please you?"

She knew his tactics for misdirection. "Oh, no you don't…answer my question."

He knew that she would not back down. "My interest in the party is secondary," he said. "My primary motivation is to observe members of my mother's family."

Nyota smiled. Was Spock taking a risk, reaching out to his human family? Nyota was happy thinking so. Between Margaret, Allen, and now Cousin Janelle, the Graysons seemed to be reaching out to him. She hoped that the family's overtures were genuine. Even if he never fit in entirely, she hoped that he would at least be comfortable with his mother's people.

The pair scanned in a few more pictures before Margaret returned.

"Oh, Janelle is thrilled!" she said. "She has always wanted to meet you. When we were kids, Amanda was one of her favorite cousins. She can't wait."

Spock considered. Amanda had talked about Janelle fondly. "Indeed…"

Margaret's expression suddenly changed, and she became more focused. "We'll worry about the party tomorrow. Now, we need to get to work on your portrait. Would you come with me to the studio? I need to pick out colors, and it would be easier if you were there with me. Nyota, why don't you come along, too. I could use a second set of eyes."