Dvrin Kal Rekk
Title: Dvrin Kal Rekk
Author: A. nonymous Rex
Raiting: PG-13ish?
Pairing: S/Mc
Setting: Post-TMP
Warnings: D/s themes
Disclaimer: Star Trek and all characters belong to Paramount/NBC/Viacom and do not belong to me. I own only this story and make no profit from it. Please don't sue me.
Author's notes: Back in the saddle again. Feedback welcome
“Goodnight, Bones,” Admiral Kirk said, as he leaned in to give the doctor a hug. “It’s good to have you back.”
“’Night, Jim.”
Despite the Admiral’s invitation to follow, Spock did not. Instead, he stood as he had been, too close to the door to have a real conversation, and yet too far inside McCoy’s quarters to give him a sense of privacy. Despite glaring at him, and then trying to ignore him, the Vulcan stayed put.
Finally, McCoy turned to look at him again. “Why are you still here?”
“We need to have a discussion, and, due to the topic, I would prefer to do so in person.”
The doctor narrowed his eyes, incensed by the tone of voice, and, more egregiously, the fact that the Vulcan might dare use his preferences to run roughshod over McCoy’s privacy. “Call me callous, but I don’t give a damn about your preferences.”
Spock did not react outwardly to that. The doctor supposed he shouldn’t have expected otherwise; this wasn’t the same Vulcan he had spent five years with before retiring. “I also believe that you would prefer to do so in person.”
“And what gives you the right to make that assessment?”
“You have not taken any lovers since the end of the last mission.”
“Get out.”
“Doctor-”
McCoy slammed his hand down on the desk and rose to his feet. “You forfeited any right to talk about this three years ago. Get out.”
“Leonard.”
This was the first time McCoy had heard his given name in that voice in so long - that same three year period, but it failed to calm him down. Too much had transpired, and, any benefit of the doubt or good will he had been willing to extend to Spock had evaporated when the Vulcan had rejected each and every overture of friendliness or familiarity during this mission. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to listen to you gloat about my choices.”
The Vulcan looked hurt, and that was the first truly emotional allowance he’d made in the doctor’s presence that was also directed at him. “You think me so cruel that I would gloat about your solitude?”
McCoy narrowed his eyes again. “What would you call joining a monastery after I told you I loved you, and we were planning for the future?”
Spock inclined his head, accepting that for what it was. “I...panicked.” It was not easy for him to make such an admission; the doctor knew that, but he didn’t have the energy for dealing with the other man’s ego. Panic was not an excuse, even if it was a reason of sorts.
Before the doctor could point that out, Spock continued. “This is the topic I wanted to discuss.”
“I think we’ve already said plenty.” McCoy pointed at the door, silently commanding - yet again - that the Vulcan leave.
Spock stood where he was, but he clasped his hands in front of him and bowed his head. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Excuse me?”
“I wanted to apologize,” the Vulcan repeated. “I have hurt you deeply, which was never my intention.”
“What, exactly, was your intention when you left without so much as a ‘by your leave’?”
Spock did not lift his head, although he spread his hands. “I was selfish, Leonard. I do not want to embroil you in the details of my time at Gol, but I know this now, and I offer you no excuse for my behavior. I hurt you, and I would like to try to earn your forgiveness.”
McCoy sighed, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Spock, I can’t just forgive three years of-”
“I would never ask that of you.” The Vulcan finally lifted his head. “I am here to earn it.”
Spock saw the look of incomprehensibility in the doctor’s features. He considered that preferable to outright rejection. “I offer you Dvrin Kal Rekk.”
The doctor continued to stare at Spock, prompting him to explain, “In Standard, it roughly translates to ‘atonement through servitude.’
“I don’t want servitude. I just want to be left alone.”
“Then I will leave you,” Spock replied. However, he lingered. “Before I go, I should explain: this is not an empty gesture but a serious rite to complete, and a right that you hold. While we strive for egalitarianism, the Vulcan Ways are thousands of years old. When one betrays another with whom they share kinship - and a physical and mental relationship constitutes kinship - their status is forfeit. This is why T’Pring was to become property for the challenge, rather than wife. I betrayed you, and I am no longer Kolinahru and can claim no sanctuary; I have no status but for that which you grant me.”
With that, Spock bowed his head again and left McCoy’s quarters.
Alone, and now with a headache, the doctor poured himself a drink. He needed to sleep.
Yet, against his better impulses, he searched the ship’s data banks for any information on Vulcan status customs that he could find.
*********************************
McCoy needed time to himself, and he spent two days alone in his quarters outside of his shifts in sickbay and breakfast with Kirk. Spock, for his part, gave him space and made no attempt to contact him after his offer.
On the third day, the doctor felt as though he had a firmer grasp of the situation. When his shift ended, he sought out the Vulcan; the computer informed him that Spock was in his quarters, and so McCoy went there.
“Come,” the Vulcan called out when the buzzer alerted him to a guest. When he saw it was the doctor, he rose from his meditation stone.
McCoy crossed quickly to the center of the room, a data chip in his hand. “Is it true that it’s invoked through being offered?”
“My status was forfeit through my actions, not the offer.” Spock bowed his head. “You can refuse, of course; that is as much your right as to accept.”
“And that we can’t be friends unless I accept?”
This proved more difficult to explain that Spock had expected. Three years ago, he would have tamped down on the emotion he felt, would have tried to suppress it due to shame (another emotion, although that sense of inferiority for his human blood had always been encouraged, at least through the inverse of other Vulcan’s superiority for their full-blooded status). Now, after returning and merging his V’Ger, he embraced it and allowed the regret to flicker across his features.
“The only relationship I am allowed with you is through the atonement. That is the price of my betrayal. Without atonement, I am nothing, and we can be nothing to each other.”
“I don’t want this!” McCoy barked. “You freed T’Pring. Can’t I just do that?”
“I did not free T’Pring; I gave her to Stonn and transferred her service. The situation was unique; she betrayed me, but, by choosing Captain Kirk, she also betrayed Stonn. I have betrayed only you.”
The doctor couldn’t argue with that point; it had hurt because Spock had left him, because they were supposed to be more to each other.
But, even if he could transfer Spock’s service, he didn’t want to do that, either. The thought made him shiver.
“So that’s it then.”
Briefly, Spock lifted his eyes, dared a glance at McCoy. Misery was etched into his features. “You have no obligation to accept,” he reminded the doctor quickly. “Your refusal would be deserved.”
“I don’t-” The doctor began, but then he caught himself. “I was hurt. And when I stopped being hurt, I was furious at you. I might even have harbored a revenge fantasy or too, nothing harmful or specific. That’s human of me, but I never...”
He took a deep breath. “I’ve never wanted to be above you.”
“You are not above me; through my own actions, I lowered myself.” Spock did not know how else to explain it, not again. Particularly not since it was apparent that McCoy had read up on it, if the data chip and his specific questions were any indication. “At your feet, I can raise myself again.”
McCoy’s fingers trembled, the tell-tale sign of him struggling with resignation. “The information I found wasn’t specific.” Much like most of the information about specific Vulcan rituals located in the data banks. “How long would it be?”
“Tradition dictates I serve for as long as you have suffered, as compensation. That would be three years.”
The doctor closed his eyes. “Three years...” he whispered.
“Leonard.” He spoke the human’s name gently.
McCoy’s eyes flew open, and he focused his attention on the Vulcan again.
“You are not a cruel or sadistic individual. I accept whatever you give me, be it refusal or acceptance of my offer. If you accepted, I have no fear of your hand; you have never risen it to harm before.”
“That type of power changes people, Spock.”
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit.” That was the most that Spock could say, given the pain he had caused and his lack of standing. “But the decision is yours.”
The doctor lapsed into silence for several moments, inwardly agonizing over the decision. Three years was far more than he had expected, and was all the more daunting. “If I accepted, would anyone have to know?”
“Not on the ship or in Starfleet.” McCoy stared at him, and so Spock explained, “My clan must be informed, so that they can make the appropriate arrangements for when my period of service has passed. But nobody else need know, not Miss Uhura or Doctor Chapel...or Jim.”
That made it a bit easier. The doctor didn’t think he could face his friends if they knew about any of this. “So in public, we could pretend otherwise?”
“You set the terms, Leonard. If silence is your desire, then I am obliged to provide it.”
McCoy accepted that and mulled it over. “The data bank said something about a ceremony of some sort?”
“That is private unless you desire witnesses.”
“Absolutely not,” he snapped.
“If you accept, then we can conduct it at any time.”
The doctor hesitated before asking, “Will it hurt?”
“No.” Spock lowered his voice and added, “This is done to ease your pain; adding to it would serve no purpose.”
“I can’t believe I’m asking this,” McCoy replied with a sigh, “But what do I need to do?”
****************************
The ceremony took longer than usual, owing to a combination of Spock needing to repeat everything in Standard after speaking the ritual apologies in Vulcan, and McCoy’s hesitation and discomfort which held up his own end of the ritual.
When it was over, the Vulcan wore a collar he could hide under his uniform (which McCoy groused about), and the doctor owned Spock’s best meditation robe.
And Spock himself.
“What do we do now?” McCoy asked, looking anywhere but at the Vulcan.
“That is up to you, as you set the terms.” Spock had the distinct impression that he would have to repeat this often. “Traditionally, the dvinsu - that is to say I - would spend the first night at the foot of your bed to symbolize our relative positions, and then would tend to chores in the morning.”
“The foot of my bed? You’re not a dog.”
“No, but I am bound to you.” Not bonded to him, as that was the highest honor, the deepest expression of a relationship between Vulcans, or a Vulcan and an off-worlder spouse (in the case of his parents). Bound, as chattel.
That did nothing to sway the doctor, and so Spock tried a different tactic. “At Gol, I slept on stone. This would be a marked improvement.”
“Let’s just not talk about it,” McCoy suggested, and Spock promptly shut his mouth.
*I could get used to that,* the doctor thought, although the humor rang hollow. He conceded, “You can get our breakfast in the morning.”
“As you wish.” By contrast, Spock sounded almost eager.
McCoy didn’t know what to think about that. He didn’t know what to think about any of it, but he had three years to figure it out.
Author: A. nonymous Rex
Raiting: PG-13ish?
Pairing: S/Mc
Setting: Post-TMP
Warnings: D/s themes
Disclaimer: Star Trek and all characters belong to Paramount/NBC/Viacom and do not belong to me. I own only this story and make no profit from it. Please don't sue me.
Author's notes: Back in the saddle again. Feedback welcome
“Goodnight, Bones,” Admiral Kirk said, as he leaned in to give the doctor a hug. “It’s good to have you back.”
“’Night, Jim.”
Despite the Admiral’s invitation to follow, Spock did not. Instead, he stood as he had been, too close to the door to have a real conversation, and yet too far inside McCoy’s quarters to give him a sense of privacy. Despite glaring at him, and then trying to ignore him, the Vulcan stayed put.
Finally, McCoy turned to look at him again. “Why are you still here?”
“We need to have a discussion, and, due to the topic, I would prefer to do so in person.”
The doctor narrowed his eyes, incensed by the tone of voice, and, more egregiously, the fact that the Vulcan might dare use his preferences to run roughshod over McCoy’s privacy. “Call me callous, but I don’t give a damn about your preferences.”
Spock did not react outwardly to that. The doctor supposed he shouldn’t have expected otherwise; this wasn’t the same Vulcan he had spent five years with before retiring. “I also believe that you would prefer to do so in person.”
“And what gives you the right to make that assessment?”
“You have not taken any lovers since the end of the last mission.”
“Get out.”
“Doctor-”
McCoy slammed his hand down on the desk and rose to his feet. “You forfeited any right to talk about this three years ago. Get out.”
“Leonard.”
This was the first time McCoy had heard his given name in that voice in so long - that same three year period, but it failed to calm him down. Too much had transpired, and, any benefit of the doubt or good will he had been willing to extend to Spock had evaporated when the Vulcan had rejected each and every overture of friendliness or familiarity during this mission. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to listen to you gloat about my choices.”
The Vulcan looked hurt, and that was the first truly emotional allowance he’d made in the doctor’s presence that was also directed at him. “You think me so cruel that I would gloat about your solitude?”
McCoy narrowed his eyes again. “What would you call joining a monastery after I told you I loved you, and we were planning for the future?”
Spock inclined his head, accepting that for what it was. “I...panicked.” It was not easy for him to make such an admission; the doctor knew that, but he didn’t have the energy for dealing with the other man’s ego. Panic was not an excuse, even if it was a reason of sorts.
Before the doctor could point that out, Spock continued. “This is the topic I wanted to discuss.”
“I think we’ve already said plenty.” McCoy pointed at the door, silently commanding - yet again - that the Vulcan leave.
Spock stood where he was, but he clasped his hands in front of him and bowed his head. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Excuse me?”
“I wanted to apologize,” the Vulcan repeated. “I have hurt you deeply, which was never my intention.”
“What, exactly, was your intention when you left without so much as a ‘by your leave’?”
Spock did not lift his head, although he spread his hands. “I was selfish, Leonard. I do not want to embroil you in the details of my time at Gol, but I know this now, and I offer you no excuse for my behavior. I hurt you, and I would like to try to earn your forgiveness.”
McCoy sighed, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Spock, I can’t just forgive three years of-”
“I would never ask that of you.” The Vulcan finally lifted his head. “I am here to earn it.”
Spock saw the look of incomprehensibility in the doctor’s features. He considered that preferable to outright rejection. “I offer you Dvrin Kal Rekk.”
The doctor continued to stare at Spock, prompting him to explain, “In Standard, it roughly translates to ‘atonement through servitude.’
“I don’t want servitude. I just want to be left alone.”
“Then I will leave you,” Spock replied. However, he lingered. “Before I go, I should explain: this is not an empty gesture but a serious rite to complete, and a right that you hold. While we strive for egalitarianism, the Vulcan Ways are thousands of years old. When one betrays another with whom they share kinship - and a physical and mental relationship constitutes kinship - their status is forfeit. This is why T’Pring was to become property for the challenge, rather than wife. I betrayed you, and I am no longer Kolinahru and can claim no sanctuary; I have no status but for that which you grant me.”
With that, Spock bowed his head again and left McCoy’s quarters.
Alone, and now with a headache, the doctor poured himself a drink. He needed to sleep.
Yet, against his better impulses, he searched the ship’s data banks for any information on Vulcan status customs that he could find.
*********************************
McCoy needed time to himself, and he spent two days alone in his quarters outside of his shifts in sickbay and breakfast with Kirk. Spock, for his part, gave him space and made no attempt to contact him after his offer.
On the third day, the doctor felt as though he had a firmer grasp of the situation. When his shift ended, he sought out the Vulcan; the computer informed him that Spock was in his quarters, and so McCoy went there.
“Come,” the Vulcan called out when the buzzer alerted him to a guest. When he saw it was the doctor, he rose from his meditation stone.
McCoy crossed quickly to the center of the room, a data chip in his hand. “Is it true that it’s invoked through being offered?”
“My status was forfeit through my actions, not the offer.” Spock bowed his head. “You can refuse, of course; that is as much your right as to accept.”
“And that we can’t be friends unless I accept?”
This proved more difficult to explain that Spock had expected. Three years ago, he would have tamped down on the emotion he felt, would have tried to suppress it due to shame (another emotion, although that sense of inferiority for his human blood had always been encouraged, at least through the inverse of other Vulcan’s superiority for their full-blooded status). Now, after returning and merging his V’Ger, he embraced it and allowed the regret to flicker across his features.
“The only relationship I am allowed with you is through the atonement. That is the price of my betrayal. Without atonement, I am nothing, and we can be nothing to each other.”
“I don’t want this!” McCoy barked. “You freed T’Pring. Can’t I just do that?”
“I did not free T’Pring; I gave her to Stonn and transferred her service. The situation was unique; she betrayed me, but, by choosing Captain Kirk, she also betrayed Stonn. I have betrayed only you.”
The doctor couldn’t argue with that point; it had hurt because Spock had left him, because they were supposed to be more to each other.
But, even if he could transfer Spock’s service, he didn’t want to do that, either. The thought made him shiver.
“So that’s it then.”
Briefly, Spock lifted his eyes, dared a glance at McCoy. Misery was etched into his features. “You have no obligation to accept,” he reminded the doctor quickly. “Your refusal would be deserved.”
“I don’t-” The doctor began, but then he caught himself. “I was hurt. And when I stopped being hurt, I was furious at you. I might even have harbored a revenge fantasy or too, nothing harmful or specific. That’s human of me, but I never...”
He took a deep breath. “I’ve never wanted to be above you.”
“You are not above me; through my own actions, I lowered myself.” Spock did not know how else to explain it, not again. Particularly not since it was apparent that McCoy had read up on it, if the data chip and his specific questions were any indication. “At your feet, I can raise myself again.”
McCoy’s fingers trembled, the tell-tale sign of him struggling with resignation. “The information I found wasn’t specific.” Much like most of the information about specific Vulcan rituals located in the data banks. “How long would it be?”
“Tradition dictates I serve for as long as you have suffered, as compensation. That would be three years.”
The doctor closed his eyes. “Three years...” he whispered.
“Leonard.” He spoke the human’s name gently.
McCoy’s eyes flew open, and he focused his attention on the Vulcan again.
“You are not a cruel or sadistic individual. I accept whatever you give me, be it refusal or acceptance of my offer. If you accepted, I have no fear of your hand; you have never risen it to harm before.”
“That type of power changes people, Spock.”
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit.” That was the most that Spock could say, given the pain he had caused and his lack of standing. “But the decision is yours.”
The doctor lapsed into silence for several moments, inwardly agonizing over the decision. Three years was far more than he had expected, and was all the more daunting. “If I accepted, would anyone have to know?”
“Not on the ship or in Starfleet.” McCoy stared at him, and so Spock explained, “My clan must be informed, so that they can make the appropriate arrangements for when my period of service has passed. But nobody else need know, not Miss Uhura or Doctor Chapel...or Jim.”
That made it a bit easier. The doctor didn’t think he could face his friends if they knew about any of this. “So in public, we could pretend otherwise?”
“You set the terms, Leonard. If silence is your desire, then I am obliged to provide it.”
McCoy accepted that and mulled it over. “The data bank said something about a ceremony of some sort?”
“That is private unless you desire witnesses.”
“Absolutely not,” he snapped.
“If you accept, then we can conduct it at any time.”
The doctor hesitated before asking, “Will it hurt?”
“No.” Spock lowered his voice and added, “This is done to ease your pain; adding to it would serve no purpose.”
“I can’t believe I’m asking this,” McCoy replied with a sigh, “But what do I need to do?”
****************************
The ceremony took longer than usual, owing to a combination of Spock needing to repeat everything in Standard after speaking the ritual apologies in Vulcan, and McCoy’s hesitation and discomfort which held up his own end of the ritual.
When it was over, the Vulcan wore a collar he could hide under his uniform (which McCoy groused about), and the doctor owned Spock’s best meditation robe.
And Spock himself.
“What do we do now?” McCoy asked, looking anywhere but at the Vulcan.
“That is up to you, as you set the terms.” Spock had the distinct impression that he would have to repeat this often. “Traditionally, the dvinsu - that is to say I - would spend the first night at the foot of your bed to symbolize our relative positions, and then would tend to chores in the morning.”
“The foot of my bed? You’re not a dog.”
“No, but I am bound to you.” Not bonded to him, as that was the highest honor, the deepest expression of a relationship between Vulcans, or a Vulcan and an off-worlder spouse (in the case of his parents). Bound, as chattel.
That did nothing to sway the doctor, and so Spock tried a different tactic. “At Gol, I slept on stone. This would be a marked improvement.”
“Let’s just not talk about it,” McCoy suggested, and Spock promptly shut his mouth.
*I could get used to that,* the doctor thought, although the humor rang hollow. He conceded, “You can get our breakfast in the morning.”
“As you wish.” By contrast, Spock sounded almost eager.
McCoy didn’t know what to think about that. He didn’t know what to think about any of it, but he had three years to figure it out.