After Chekov was moved to a private medical suite in the base, Hammond decided it behooved him to visit him. Quickly though, as Fraiser was looking particularly fierce after he received her permission for a brief chat.
He found the battered Chekov in a hospital bed in a dimly lit hospital room. The Colonel was clad in hospital garb, probably the first time Hammond had ever seen him out of uniform. His eyes were closed, but he was awake, as each finger on his right hand was repetitively touching his right thumb as he was working to maintain mobility in his hand. To Hammond's rather amused surprise, there was a large fruit basket on the colonel's night stand along with a vase full of sunflowers. Each sunflower had been meticulously given a set of google eyes (complete with eyelashes) and a bright red pipe cleaner smile. It seemed Jack O'Neill, while promising to behave around the Russian Colonel, had still decided to be himself.
Baby steps, Hammond thought. Baby steps.
Colonel Volkov was sitting next to Chekov's bed and he stood when he realized General Hammond was in the room.
"Colonel Chekov, General Hammond is here to see you," Volkov announced.
Chekov opened his eyes, well, the one that wasn't swollen shut and struggled into a sitting position. Volkov jumped in and began propping him up with assorted pillows even though Hammond protested that he'd prefer if Chekov remained comfortable opposed to being presentable.
"General Hammond, how are you?" Chekov asked. His voice was slower than his norm, the accent more pronounced as though he was learning to speak English anew. "My apologies, I'm keeping the room dark. Helps my eyes. Have some fruit, your Colonel O'Neill dropped it off."
"No thank you," Hammond politely declined.
Chekov spoke to Volkov in Russian, Volkov barked a laugh and then Volkov nodded his head.
"The Colonel extends his apologies. He's finding conversing in English to be quite taxing so he asked me to translate. He says he's not sure if the fruit is safe as O'Neill delivered it so he's not eating it. While he doesn't have the pleasure of remembering O'Neill, he did not trust his amused look."
"I rather doubt Colonel O'Neill would try to poison you, annoy you, yes, but not poison," Hammond mock protested. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"
He spoke directly to Chekov and received this in response.
"Eto escho tsvetochki, a yagodki vperedi. Vremya — luchshiy doktor."
"The Colonel said, 'These are just flowers; berries will come soon,'. In other words, he will be worse before he gets better. Also, time is the best healer, so he is being pragmatic though he is a significant amount of pain."
"If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know, Colonel. Now get some sleep," Hammond informed the Russian Colonel before he left the room. "Colonel Volkov, I believe Dr. Fraiser wished to check on Colonel Chekov."
"I will request Lt. Beliova sit in. We're keeping someone with the Colonel that will be able to translate for him."
Hammond nodded as he realized that SG4 was not translating for Chekov, but instead promoting a sense of familiarity and constant for the amnesiac Chekov. Thankfully, Chekov remembered that the Cold War had ended else the situation would have been even more convoluted. "Next time you decide to break a car window to save someone's life, use your keys, not your elbow? That's an order."
"He tried to use his head after he broke his elbow, but evidence proves that his head isn't as hard as we believed," offered Volkov.
Chekov shot him a look that could only be declared as blistering.
Hammond wisely left the Russian version of Abbott and Costello. After Hammond exited, Chekov sat up straight without the benefit of pillows. His world rotated on its axis and he had to swallow quickly to prevent himself from vomiting. "Kharitonov is due when again?"
Volkov leaned towards Chekov. The cameras, such as it was, would show them talking, yes, but hopefully they wouldn't hear their whispered Russian.
"Eight hours. He's scheduled to meet with Hammond for a brief chat soon as he arrives. I should be able to get you dressed and presentable. I have reached someone who was interested to find out that Kharitonov has been sent here and he demanded a meeting. We need to buy some time so Kharitonov can be recalled. Your journal was quite informative, especially about Kharitonov and his dislike of Hammond. It would akin to Hiroshima to put those two in the same room."
"Interesting, Kharitonov wasn't mentioned by Hammond. There are so many possible reasons why he didn't mention it, but yet he didn't mention it. Kharitonov is dangerous at the best of times, now he has the potential to cause the planet to burn," Chekov mumbled. "What's happened to him in the last five years? Gotten any smarter?"
"Got married again." Volkov, being married for many, many happy years to the same woman, couldn't hide his scorn.
"Again? What is that… his fifth wife? Did she escape from the Democratic People's Republic of Korea so she thought marriage to him was an improvement?" Chekov closed his eyes and exhaled. "Very well, as a sign of good will plus congratulations on getting married again, give him the poisoned fruit basket."
Janet Fraiser knocked before entering the room. To her surprise, Chekov was alone, without any member of SG4. He was sitting up in the bed, but his eyes were closed. His head was bowed and his left hand was covering his good eye.
"Lieutenant, you don't have to knock. You assured me you'd be back in a moment with my tea," was his soft response.
"I did not give you permission for tea," Dr. Fraiser stated. "I specifically told you no caffeine as you have a concussion. Do you remember that, Colonel?"
Chekov opened his eyes, and sighed. "No, unlike much of the last five years, I did not forget that. I just chose to ignore it."
Janet Fraiser couldn't help herself. She chuckled.
"Well, least you're still the Colonel Chekov I know," was Janet's retort. "I'm here to do a quick check up on you. If you behave, I might… MIGHT let you have a sip or two of your tea. I'll even turn a blind eye on you adding sugar to your tea in the traditional way instead of the politically correct manner."
On the night of his accident, Chekov had requested his tea be made very strong as he was exhausted. Then due to the strength of the tea, he had sipped his tea through a sugar cube. Janet had eavesdropped when he had told Cassandra that when he was dealing with those crazy Americans and various officials, he had to drop the cube into the tea, as he couldn't drink his tea the way he preferred, as they'd view him as a barbarian.
No response, instead he blinked his good eye and wiped it with his fingers.
"Colonel Chekov? How are you doing?" Janet softly questioned.
"I have lost five years of my life and my wife is dead. I am not doing well, not doing at all well," Chekov confessed. "I am angry. I am furious. My heart has been ripped open."
He made a savage motion towards his chest. "You seem… surprised…by my grief. Dr. Fraiser. I am Russian. I am not heartless."
Guided by instinct, Janet reached for his good hand and squeezed it.
"You…" She paused, and then hesitantly, "You spoke rarely of your wife, but the few times you did… it was obvious to me how much you still cared for her."
An abrupt head nod was his response. She permitted him a moment to recover his composure as she made a fuss over his vitals.
"Now I need ask you a few questions to see how you are doing," she explained. "There will be a neurologist in to see you shortly but I want a baseline. Name and rank, please."
"I have been told that I now a Colonel. So Colonel Mikhail Kirillovich Chekov is my name and rank."
She ran through the various questions, marked down what ones he would answer in English, the few that he answered in Russian and the dozen or so that he just couldn't answer. Reflexes were checked and then she nodded her head.
"You were a very good Colonel, so I will permit you one cup of tea." She turned to leave, but he reached for her hand once more.
"I am very grateful for the care and kindness you have given me, for I am a stranger in a strange land," he stated. Formally, in Russian, to boot. Then in English, "Is it permitted for you to tell me how well I knew you? I know much is being kept from me."
Janet debated for a moment, and decided to tell Chekov a half-truth. "You and I met outside of work at restaurant one night, accidentally. I had my daughter with me. To make a long story short, you were tutoring my daughter in physics recently. You were friendly with Cassie, not so much with me. At work, you only talked to me when you required Tylenol," Janet explained.
"Please apologize to your daughter, I fear that I will be unable to assist her in her physics," he stated.
"Cassie's more worried about you than physics."
"Please assure her that I appreciate her concern but schoolwork is very important," slowly stated Chekov. "Is there anyone who can help her? Her father?"
"She's an orphan," Janet paused, wondered how much she could tell Chekov, and again erred on the side of caution. "I adopted her a few years ago, it's just me and Cassie. She's taking college level physics right now and she needs someone with more patience than me."
"It's rough, not having a father," Chekov admitted.
The door opened and Lt. Beliova entered, realized that she was caught with the contraband tea and then she grimaced. Even among SG4, Janet Fraiser's reputation was formidable.
"Colonel Chekov can have one cup of tea today, and by that I mean, one cup. Do not keep refilling it from the samovar, and its diluted ratio is four parts water to one part concentrated tea. Empty that half way and fill it up with hot water. He can have two sugar cubes and… what's this?" Janet pointed at a small piece of cake.
"A piece of Kiev Cake?" the Lt. hesitantly offered. "For his tea. One can't just have a cup of tea."
"Volkov's wife is quite the baker. From what I remember," Chekov offered. "Did she…"
"Yes, she made it for SG4. It's like being home again. I could bring you a piece, Doctor?" Beliova asked. Her blatant hope for a reprieve was almost comical.
"Tomorrow, Lt. Beliova, you will meet with me at nine in the morning to discuss Colonel Chekov's tea habits. Is that understood?" Janet questioned.
"Yes, Ma'am," was Chekov's response. He pointed his finger, "Make sure you bring her a piece of cake."
Having escaped that, Janet Fraiser decided she needed to speak with SGC's resident headshrinker, James MacKenzie, for a chance to realign and refocus. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? She needed to bitch.
Mack was delighted to see her and he offered her a seat. They were longtime friends prior to working together at the SGC, and had further bonded over the fact that they were the ONLY sane people working at the SGC. (Hammond being quasi accepted as a potential candidate for inclusion.) Mack had also helped Cassie adjust to her new life, and had kept in touch with her daughter over the years, offering a friendly ear when she needed it, opposed to being an 'official meeting'.
"Good, I'm glad you stopped by. I desired to talk to you in reference to our Russian Colonel and Cassie. I called her, hope you're ok with that? I just wanted to touch base with her. I know from my conversations with Cassie that Chekov has taken an avuncular interest in her and they're close. She has experienced a great deal of loss in her life and…"
"Just spill it, Mackie," Janet protested.
"Cassie wants to visit Colonel Chekov. She feels very guilty about him being in the car accident. I reminded her that Chekov being involved in the accident helped save people's lives. Did you see the latest on KCNC? The van driver that helped at the accent scene is a retired Air Force Mssgt. We're talking Cold War era retiree, and then the fact that Chekov's a Russian Air Force Colonel? The last interview ended with the Mssgt wanting to buy Chekov a beer. Or a vodka. Plus there was that one lady with three kids….Well, I digress, sorry. Needless to say our Russian Colonel is being declare a Big American Hero by KCNC."
"No, I haven't seen any of it," Janet confessed.
"Janet… what's your assessment of Chekov right now?" Mack asked. He leaned back in his chair and pretended that it was a friendly conversation.
"He's grieving for his wife," was all Janet would first admit. Then after a long pause, she added, "He's in the angry stage. He didn't even hit the denial stage because it was Volkov who informed him of her death."
"What did you tell him about your relationship with him?" was the next intent question.
"Mackie, we never did the horizontal Lezgian," Janet protested. At the shrink's confused expression, Janet added, "We never had sex, Mackie. There was no physical relationship, so I just told him that we didn't really talk. I mean, he's ripped apart of his wife's death, how do I tell him that we had a mild flirtation over the last few months? He had told me that it was the most he's done since his wife died, so I just couldn't tell him."
Mack exhaled and rubbed his eyes.
"Janet, he doesn't know about Sergei Ivanov, Alexi Zukov, Sergei Vallarin and Vitaly Marchenko. Volkov reached out to me because he's not sure how Chekov will react to their deaths on top of his wife's death. I mean, how do we cushion the blow? Volkov, Chekov, Zukov, Marchenko and another officer, Alekseyev, were tight as thieves. Alekseyev died in a training accident, so Chekov and the rest embraced his daughter, Lt. Alekseyeva as their adoptive niece."
"He was curious about Cassie's father," Janet admitted. "I glossed over the fact that she's an extraterrestrial, but I mentioned that I had adopted her."
"Russian psychology is not my strong point. But Cassie really seemed to have connected with him. It might be good if she visits him. For both of them," Mack decided. "Talk to Volkov, get his insight. Volkov's worried that Chekov might slip back into being the old grieving Chekov. After his wife died, Chekov was… angry; very, very angry."
Cassie had been warned, repeatedly, to be careful when she visited Chekov. He didn't remember her, didn't remember how she called him Misha, didn't know about his relationship with her mom and most assuredly didn't remember how Cassie had set in motion the events that had led to his injury. She had practiced her greetings and how to act while Sam drove her to the mountain.
She knocked on Chekov's door and heard 'Enter' and so she did. He was standing by his bed, and he gave her a warm smile when she entered. Chekov… Misha… was wearing dark sunglasses to hide the worst of the damage. He still appeared as though he had been beaten but still he stood.
"Hello, Cassandra. It is kind of you to come see your tutor who, as you can, see is not at his best. We will be having tea as you are visiting. Well, you will be having tea. I will be relegated to having water as your mother is quite fierce. However, there will be… cake."
He was pretending that he was fine, just for her. Cassie's composure broke and she impulsively hugged him. Her embrace startled him, but he soon returned it.
"Oh, Misha, it's all my fault. All my fault, I'm so sorry," she wept.
"Little pisicuţă, do not worry. It is not your fault. Your Misha bear will be fine. I assure you."