Chapter 8: Dealing with Pain
A/N: Yes, I'm updating AGAIN! Please don't get used to it… I simply cannot promise that it will stay this way (no matter how much I want it to! Actually I should make myself take a break. My wrist hurts from spending so much time typing like a fiend...). Apparently I'm just having a REALLY easy time writing all this angst… and I am SO FREAKING INSPIRED all of a sudden. I seriously blame Tumblr.
I just had to do some awesome research to figure out what McCoy would have used to treat Chekov's injury… epic win for me. And epic win for the Star Trek wiki…
And yes, I do get tired of the angst after a while, but I can't stop now… I did, however, totally take a break from the angst and write an epic romantic scene… sadly, it won't be for a few chapters yet… but damn, even I need a break from the angst once in a while. So, romance. Adorable romance. With Chekov acting all cute and puppyish and Sulu being all flustered and uncertain. My drug, that thing right there. (happy sigh)
Disclaimer: Don't own Star Trek or its characters.
Oh, and I'm shaking things up a little. This chapter will start with Sulu's point of view, then end with Chekov's because it just works better that way right now. Just this one time. For now.
For Hikaru Sulu, it seemed like an eternity, but it was really only a few minutes before Dr. McCoy burst into the dorm room. The bathroom door still hung open, and McCoy saw the bloodbath almost instantly. He swore rather colorfully at the sight before him.
Sulu knew how it must look. His heart hadn't properly started beating since he'd first laid eyes on the pool of blood covering the bathroom floor, and the still form of Pavel Chekov in the middle of it all. He looked up to meet the doctor's eyes.
"What the fuck happened here?" McCoy managed to gasp as he stared.
Wordlessly, Sulu pointed to the razor blade that still lay on the floor where he'd dropped it after prying it from Pavel's hand.
"Shit…" was all McCoy managed to say.
"He's still got a heartbeat at least," Sulu said weakly.
"Not for long, he won't," McCoy snapped, slipping into professional doctor mode. He unwound the towel from the teen's arm, made an irritated noise when he saw the damage to the arm, and immediately applied the vascular regenerator to heal the vein that had been so precisely slit.
"He… he'll make it, won't he?" Sulu asked.
"We'll see… I'll give him a hypo to stimulate blood production… We'll just have to wait and see, but he's hung with us so far," McCoy said, sounding cautiously optimistic.
Sulu exhaled a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding.
"We'll take him to the clinic where I can keep an eye on him," McCoy said.
Sulu's eyes widened. "The clinic? But…"
"But what?"
"If you take him, then…" Sulu bit his lip. "This will become official Starfleet business."
"Sulu, a suicide attempt is pretty fuckin' serious in my book, and he did a damn good job of it, don't ya think? I'd much rather have that on record so maybe the kid can get some help 'stead of bein' left on his own to try this again!"
It made sense… yet the thought still made Sulu slightly ill. Or maybe it was the smell of the blood that was still everywhere and had soaked into his clothes and was all over his hands, and… just everywhere.
Seeing the unhappy look on Sulu's face, McCoy relented a little. "Okay, fine… We'll at least wait til he wakes up… But if he shows ANY sign of being suicidal, he's headed straight to the clinic to get some damn help!"
Sulu nodded weakly.
"So what are we gonna do with him?" McCoy wondered. "I'd take him back to my place, but I have to work at the clinic and I'm not comfortable leaving him alone… Jim comes by often, but I have a feeling you want to keep this as quiet as possible," he said, lifting his eyebrows.
Sulu nodded. "We can take him to my apartment. I live alone, and I was planning on staying there to study anyways."
McCoy nodded. "Sounds good. Take him back to your place and get him cleaned up. And get yourself cleaned up too. I'll clean up here and grab some of his things."
Sulu nodded his approval and gave the doctor his apartment number. McCoy gave Pavel the promised hypo, but the teen didn't react to the needle at all. McCoy didn't seem too concerned, but Sulu worried the whole way back. He was relieved that it was so late and dark… he barely saw any other students, and no one could see him well enough to see all the blood or Pavel's unconscious body.
Back in his apartment, Sulu cleaned Pavel up as best he could, ignoring the red-tinged water as it slipped down the drain. He washed his own hands and threw away his shirt, making up his mind to burn the damn thing the second he got the chance.
Thankfully McCoy arrived minutes later and he shooed Sulu to the side, cleaning Pavel and dressing him in pajamas with the practiced clinical detachment only a true doctor could possess. Then Sulu scooped the boy up in his arms and laid him in his own bed. He'd sleep on the couch.
"Hey Doc, when do you have to be at the clinic?" Sulu asked, wondering if he sounded as exhausted as he felt. Now that the adrenaline and fear had mostly worn off, he was becoming very aware of how insanely early in the morning it was.
"I have a couple hours yet," McCoy said with a sigh, gazing down at his own bloody hands.
"If you want a shower…" Sulu began.
"Nah… You take a shower. I'll stay til you're done, then head back to my place. I need to pick up my scrubs and replenish some of my medical supplies anyways."
"Okay," Sulu agreed with a nod. He was so exhausted…
"Chin up, kid, he's gonna be fine… at least physically," McCoy amended with a scowl.
Sulu didn't even try to smile at that. He just walked into the bathroom, showering away the last traces of Pavel's blood. Then he wrapped the clothes he'd been wearing in a towel and threw it all into the incinerator. He knew he'd never be able to wear those clothes again. After saying goodbye to Dr. McCoy, he carefully scrubbed the bathroom and the few traces of blood that had been tracked from the door to the bathroom. This led to him scrubbing his entire apartment until the whole place reeked of bleach because if he didn't, he thought he might vomit.
But finally, finally… things were clean. Stepping into his bedroom, Sulu stood next to Pavel, just watching the boy breathe. His arm was a mass of white bandages and Sulu felt sick all over again. He ran his fingers through those soft curls, watching them tumble perfectly back into place. Then, realizing what he was doing, he took a step back. Then he turned and went out to the couch, berating himself all the while. He collapsed onto the couch, tossing and turning agitatedly as he tried to keep his mind from wandering… and finally fell into a restless sleep.
A knock at the door woke him up, and for one unreasonable moment, Sulu thought that someone had found out about what had happened and was coming to take Pavel away. But hearing more knocking, and some Southern-accented swearing, Sulu realized what was going on and he staggered to the door.
Dr. McCoy looked about as angry as Sulu had ever seen him. "Well, don't you look like a jolly ol' ray of sunshine," he snapped.
"Thanks, Doc, you look amazing too," Sulu said dryly. The doctor's clothes were rumpled, there were shadows under his eyes, and his hair was mused. If Sulu didn't know any better… but he did and this was not the time to make jokes.
"As well I should," he snapped. "Damn fool kids and your damn fool bullshit..." he muttered as he stormed into the bedroom. He took Pavel's pulse, quick and efficient as ever. "Well he doesn't seem any worse than he did this morning," the doctor muttered to himself. "We'll let him sleep this off, and tomorrow I'll check the bandage and use the dermal regenerator to clean him up. Nobody will ever know what happened."
"Thanks," Sulu said softly, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. It hurt to even look at Pavel's still form. He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.
The doctor's expression softened. "You look pretty worn out… Do ya want me to stay a while?"
Sulu shook his head. "You haven't slept yet, and you should. We'll be okay here."
"If you're sure," the doctor said, but he looked just a little relieved as he headed for the door.
Sulu shut the door behind him and rested his head against the doorframe. "Fuck…" he muttered. He didn't want to fall asleep, but he was too exhausted to be awake any longer. And taking a sleep aid was out of the question… What if Pavel needed him? He would not sleep through that.
So he walked over to the couch and fell onto it, falling asleep in minutes.
And then the nightmares came.
Pavel Chekov opened his eyes. That was something of a surprise to him. He hadn't planned on doing that ever again.
His eyes flicked in all directions, trying to figure out where he was. He wasn't in his dorm, or in the Academy clinic. But there was something familiar about this place…
And then Hikaru walked through the door and it all came flooding back and he knew he was in Hikaru's apartment, and he honestly thought he was going to be sick.
Hikaru's eyes widened slightly. "Oh. Hey. You're awake."
Chekov stared at him for a moment, then turned his eyes up towards the ceiling. Hikaru hesitated in the doorway.
"Um… do you need anything?"
Chekov pretended he couldn't hear the other man.
Hikaru shuffled his feet. "Um… okay then…" And finally he turned and left.
Chekov exhaled. He couldn't explain it, but… he wasn't ready to face Hikaru yet… or anyone. Well, actually it made sense… Some way, somehow… Hikaru had saved his life. And Chekov wasn't entirely convinced he should be grateful for that.
Dr. McCoy showed up a short while later. Chekov gave short quiet answers to his questions about how much pain he was in and other symptoms, but when Hikaru walked in, Chekov promptly closed his mouth and didn't say a word. McCoy looked bewildered, and Hikaru just turned and walked back out… and Chekov refused to feel guilty at the hurt that flashed across Hikaru's eyes.
As he lay in bed that night, trying to think of anything except removing the bandages on his arm (which McCoy had expressly forbidden, and Chekov didn't want to risk the doctor's wrath), he heard noises from the living room. Hikaru… having trouble sleeping from the sound of things. And Chekov quickly squashed all his concern for the other man.
'He doesn't want you around,' a mean little voice in his head reminded him. 'He's probably only keeping you here because McCoy told him to. And you didn't even want to be saved.'
But he couldn't make his ears block out the distressed noises coming from the living room. Nor could he block out the hurried footsteps and the retching noises that followed. Part of him wondered what was going on, and if Hikaru was okay. But part of him was trying to stay detached. He'd already let himself be hurt badly… he couldn't allow it to happen again.
When Chekov woke up again, the apartment was dead silent. Hikaru wasn't there, he was sure of it. And he felt slightly ill, realizing that he had been abandoned.
The door to the apartment opened, and the soft Southern-drawl identified the entrant as Dr. McCoy. The doctor puttered around for a short while, then walked into the bedroom.
"Hey there, kid. Still alive I see," the doctor said.
Chekov made a noncommittal noise in response.
Dr. McCoy unwound the bandage. He'd used the dermal regenerator on the arm the day before, and the new skin was soft, pink, tender to the touch… and completely free of any marks. It was like a brand new arm, and Chekov had trouble looking at it.
"So how much longer are you gonna be givin' Sulu the silent treatment?" Dr. McCoy asked in a mock-casual tone.
Chekov glanced down at his lap and didn't answer.
Dr. McCoy was quiet for a moment. Then, "Ya know, you're a terrible friend."
Chekov's head jerked up to look at McCoy, then his glance darted away again.
"Would ya mind tellin' me just what ya hope t' gain by pushin' away your best friend, the man who saved your damn life?" McCoy asked, and there was an angry edge to his voice, true anger rather than his usual blustery gruffness.
"He is NOT my best friend," Chekov muttered rebelliously, trying to pull his injured arm away from the doctor.
McCoy just gripped the arm harder, making Chekov wince. "Really now? How d'ya figure that?"
"A real friend vould not haff lied to me and ditched me."
The expression on McCoy's face was pure incredulity. "Have you lost your damn mind? He's studying for his FINALS! Not everyone is a teenage genius like you! Us mere mortals actually have to study!"
"He still lied," Chekov muttered.
"What did he lie to you about?"
"I thought he vas my friend. Apparently he vas just YOUR spy," Chekov muttered, glaring at McCoy through the curls that fell onto his face.
McCoy just stared. "Wait… You think I asked Sulu to spy on you to make sure you weren't suicidal?"
Chekov didn't answer, but his stare became more pointed.
McCoy just rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "First of all, I wouldn't do that. If I'd had any proof, I coulda just summoned ya to the clinic for a psych evaluation. Second, even if I did ask him to spy on ya, ya shouldn't take it out on him. Third, considering the wound I'm healin' for ya… I'd say I'd have been pretty damn justified sic'ing a spy on you, don't ya think?"
Chekov opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn't really refute that.
"Now you listen to me, kid… That man who saved your damn life is worrying himself sick over you. I really doubt he's slept since you did this to yourself. The least you could do is maybe acknowledge his presence once in a while or somethin'."
Chekov swallowed. The doctor had a point.
"So you'll talk to him?"
Chekov swallowed, then nodded. "Yeah… I vill."
"Good," McCoy said. Then he stood up. "You're healin' up pretty well. Keep takin' it easy."
Chekov nodded again, and McCoy left, leaving the teenager alone with his thoughts.
A/N: Woo, wasn't that fun? (maniacal laughter) I feel so awful. I'm being REALLY mean right now… It'll get better though, I promise. One more chapter of epic angst though! It's gonna be amazing, I already have most of it written. We get to find out why poor Hikaru is having these nightmares!
