Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I don't own Star Trek, or any of it's characters no matter how much I try to bribe the true creators. Ah, Gene you truly were a visionary, I wouldn't try to steal them from you 'cause I'm not that mean. I could never imagine anything this amazing! Oh, and methinks I should thank by beta/friend/critiquer/fellow conspirator/etc, Pisces. Danka girl!
Bearer of Guilt
It had been like talking to a brick wall. Well, maybe that wasn't totally true. No, the expressions that Sulu had seen could never be expressed in any medium on a wall, not the raw and earnest pain that he now saw whenever he gazed into his friend's eyes. No matter how many times he tried to convince him, no matter how many times Uhura tried the same or different tactics, the result was always the same. His impossibly controlled posture and expression, the stiff square of his shoulders, everything that screamed at someone to help him, but then set up a barrier that shielded him from anyone trying to help. The thing that had gotten to Sulu the most was his eyes. No matter what he had been through before, neither Sulu nor Uhura had seen that horribly dead look in those expressive eyes.
"D-do you think he'll be any better after the funeral?" Uhura's eyes were tired and upset, but steadfastly refused to close. She lay curled up in a ball on the couch, facedown, something she would only feel comfortable doing in Chekov or Sulu's presence. She still wore her dress uniform, crumpled now as opposed to its neatly pressed and formal look of only hours before. Scrubbing at her eyes with a delicate hand, she glanced up at Sulu from her makeshift bed.
"Oh, how should I know? It's not like he ever talks to me, Nyota." Sulu laughed shortly, painfully, and his sarcasm could sting. "It would be helpful if Chekov had let us go with him. So he didn't have to go and face everyone by himself."
Uhura nodded into the dark blue cushion, knowing that Sulu's annoyance only served as a cover for his true worry. In that respect the two best friends were one in the same, neither one of them would be honest about what they were truly feeling. With Sulu though, it was usually tectonic, with the true emotions hiding under the surface waiting to be released if given the chance.
They both knew though, that Chekov's feelings about the Reliant, and more importantly her crew, were something that they needed to get him to tell them, but he would rather die then tell them. That's why, when they showed up at the doors to his temporary quarters asking if he would like some company going to the funeral for every other member of the crew of his ship, he profusely refused to let them accompany him. Sulu had tried to grab his friend and explain to Chekov that hiding from Uhura and him wouldn't help anyone. The dark Russian had merely shouldered past the pair, vowing that if they followed him he would never speak to them again.
"I keep trying to tell myself that he just needs some time to think about it, to get over it himself before he comes and talks to us." Uhura rose from her near-sleeping position to allow herself to more easily track the helmsman's meandering path. Stalking the unfamiliar room with a tense anger, Sulu snorted,
"But you know it will never happen. He's just going to come back and try to convince us that he's Ok, or he's just tired and wants to go to sleep, or a thousand other excuses. Then he'll drop it whenever we try to bring it up again. Uhura, I don't know what to do when he's like this. I never have. I want to help him, but I don't know how!" Sulu's frustrated explosion surprised Uhura until she realized who it was coming from. The helmsman and former security chief, former navigator knew each other with an intimacy that only years of soul-bonding friendship could bring.
Nodding her head slowly, she answered, "It's not only that, but he should have been home by now. I'm worried about him."
"So am I," Sulu looked across the sparse room to the door, saying firmly shut, "I just hope he realizes that."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He hesitated no more then a foot from the sensor that would betray his presence and open the door to his quarters. The innate sense that had been instilled into him and had saved his life countless times as a security officer was blaring in his mind like a klaxon. The only problem was, he couldn't pinpoint exactly why his senses were reacting the way they were. After a second Pavel Chekov shook his head and decided he didn't care. In all honestly he really didn't care about anything right now. He felt so sedated that he couldn't feel anything. Passively he glanced down the silver corridor, hoping to see some of his old adversaries tracking him. If he feared for his life, maybe he would feel something, but he doubted it. As the door silently opened his room to him, he noticed the shadows stalking his room. Realization dawned on him, and he recognized what he subconsciously knew was missing.
"Sulu, Uhura," he greeted them coldly, "Here to check up on me?"
As soon as the door had opened, Sulu had turned to meet his comrade's gaze, frowning when Chekov turned away apologetically. Like he didn't deserve to look into his eyes. "We just wanted to make sure you'd make it back alright from the service and everything." Sulu's blasé voice only served to heighten Chekov's awareness of his friends.
"Making sure I don't commit suicide or something? How thoughtful. Really, you don't have to worry. You may go home now." At his opening snide remark, Chekov saw Uhura's head jerk upward so quickly he almost feared whiplash.
"That's not funny Pavel," her lilting, melodious voice almost colorless now, "We need to talk."
Sulu was surprised at Uhura's bluntness. Usually the pretty communications officer found ways of being more diplomatic about getting what she wanted. He could tell, though, that Uhura was so worried she didn't agonize over hurting Chekov's feelings.
"No," Chekov faced both of them, his Slavic face stern, "You need to leave."
"We're not leaving until you-"
"I said leave!" Chekov's shout reverberated against the all-too-close-feeling walls, and the two Commanders shared a shocked look at the honest rage they heard from their friend. Cautiously edging his way towards Chekov, Sulu timidly reached out a hand to grasp Chekov's shoulder.
"We aren't going to leave."
"That's obvious." Chekov growled at Sulu, futilely trying to get away from Sulu's touch. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
With that simple question, Sulu felt Chekov all but collapse under his hand. The weight of everything; his captain and crew's death, trying to remain professional when he came onto the bridge after almost shooting Kirk, staying strong for the families at the funeral and letting them blame him for their tragedies if they wanted to, and his unsuccessful attempts to keep Sulu and Uhura away from him, suddenly came crashing down upon him. He couldn't stand the demands he and other people had put on him. He had tried to be strong to long when he really wanted nothing more then to crawl under a rock and die. Gently Sulu guided him around the glass-like coffee table and with a firmness borne of compassion, made him sit next to Uhura on the couch.
