Title: Hold It Against Me

Each day, Chekov's health continued to deteriorate, the weather got a little colder, and Leonard's hope of getting off of this planet alive - and together - dwindled away.

Leonard was certain that he was no longer the reason for their slow pace and mornings got a little later, breaks a little longer, and evenings a little earlier as Chekov just didn't have the energy to keep going for too long. The "cuddling" continued and as shameful as it may be, Leonard could admit to himself that he enjoyed it. They were both warmer for it, but the real comfort for Leonard was knowing that he could feel each breath, each shift, each stifled cough. He couldn't do a damn thing to help either of them, but he could wrap his arms around Chekov every night and feel just a little more secure.

It wasn't much but it was something.

While the nights weren't too bad in whatever cave or other hollow in the rock they could find to protect them a little against hypothermia, the wind did its best to make up for that during the day.

Every gust carrying the smell of oncoming frost literally took Chekov's breath away, leaving him coughing in its wake before the gust rushed up along the water and rocks.

Leonard finally couldn't let it go anymore. "We need to find somewhere to stay."

No response from Chekov. There was no way that he hadn't heard.

"We need somewhere that we can hunker down and-" And what? Wait this out? Wait for Chekov to get better? They both knew what they would really be waiting for.

"No."

Leonard stopped walking. He wasn't going to argue this while Chekov's lungs were already fighting with walking and at least Chekov would have to turn around and put his back to the wind to tell Leonard why he was wrong. "Chekov, the wind alone-"

"No." Chekov's words were so forceful they were almost a yell. He did turn around, as Leonard had hoped, but the flush on his overly pale cheeks was less than comforting. "No, Leonard, we have to keep moving. We're too far from the crash for staying put to help them search for us. We're probably still being tracked, but there are settlements all along this river, not just the one we had to pass up. We have to keep going."

He'd called him Leonard, but he hadn't been able to get through a single sentence in one breath. Leonard wasn't sure which it was that caused his own breath to feel cold and thin in his chest.

Leonard wasn't very good at hiding his emotions and the negative ones had a tendency to leak out onto his face. Chekov just looked away, tried to take a deep breath, and failed with a barking cough.

They just stood there, Leonard looking at Chekov and Chekov looking at anything but Leonard, for a while in the cold wind whistling along the rocks. Chekov didn't look back before he turned fully to the trees and started to weave his way up one of the less steep areas.

"We'll move into the trees. Get away from the water." It was a small concession, but Leonard would take it. Walking through the trees was only slightly easier than going over the rocky bank, but at least the trees blocked some of the wind.

/\\\

It wasn't long before Leonard was keeping watch all night.

Not only was Chekov too tired and Leonard too guilty to wake him, but the feel of Chekov against him had turned from a blessing to a curse. His temperature was too high, his ear burning against Leonard's cheek as he rested his head on Leonard's shoulder. Every wet cough was a reminder that Chekov wasn't just sleeping peacefully in his arms, wasn't there because he wanted to be but because he'd feel like he was drowning with the fluid in his lungs if he were to lie down.

Leonard was too tired to get too worked up about it when he had trouble waking Chekov one morning. When Chekov did open his eyes to Leonard's pestering, they were bleary and unfocused, the hand batting him away was weak as a kitten.

He'd known this would come one day and Leonard honestly wanted to just curl back up under the fallen tree they'd been sleeping against and wait for the inevitable. He didn't even flinch when a twig snapped right behind him. He just sat there, feet tucked under him and his side pressed against the tree, until he heard what was distinctly a foot stepping on the fallen leaves.

When he finally turned to see who it was, he almost thought he was hallucinating. What else would a little girl be doing out in that forest?

She wasn't human - she was too blue for that - but without the ridges on the sides of her face, with her dark auburn hair tied into pigtails with two windblown bows as it was, some dirt on the knees of her thick trousers, she was still familiar. She was carrying a bundle of sticks like she'd stepped out of some fairy tale. Leonard couldn't for the life of him remember what fairy tale had a little girl out picking up firewood in a forest, though. Whichever it'd been, it'd probably ended poorly for her.

They just stared at each other, the little girl thinking whatever she was thinking and obviously surprised to see them, Leonard stupidly trying to remember what the hell fairy tale that he'd been thinking of. Chekov drew both of their attentions with a thick, wet cough, and they both turned to watch him weakly tilt to the side to spit out some blood.

Leonard was sure she would run then, what little kid wouldn't, but instead she just stepped to the side to see around Leonard more easily. She peered at Chekov, his skin pale as frost with splotches of fevered pink and shiny with sweat. The ridges where a human's eyebrows would've been and her tiny purple-tinted mouth twitched and Leonard got the feeling she was frowning.

She said something that sounded almost musical, but Leonard had no idea what it was. She said it again, looking straight at him this time, her little mouth screwed up in what he was sure would be frustration. He'd had enough looks of frustration from the people in his life that he was certain he'd be able to identify in any species with even a vaguely humanoid face.

She said something different and stepped forward. Leonard still didn't know what she wanted.

Apparently this culture also rolled their eyes, because that was definitely what she did next. However, Leonard didn't expect her to step forward and grab the strap of one of the packs.

"Hey!" he started, scrambling to his feet as she picked up what turned out to be the heavier pack and hefted it with ease onto her shoulder. The inhabitants of this planet had more efficient muscle than humans did, but he'd never have expected a child to be that strong. "What do you think you're doing?"

She rolled her eyes again and repeated the last thing she'd said.

A weak and raspy voice called out as strongly as it was able behind Leonard, "She wants you to follow." Leonard turned to see Chekov looking much more awake, though he'd set the bar pretty low before. He turned back to the little girl standing impatiently with pack and stick bundle, and looked between them, little girl and young man.

He had no idea what her motives may be or where she would take them, but after another cough from Chekov, Leonard decided that he didn't much care. There were only so many ways this disaster could end.

Chekov had closed his eyes again and jumped when Leonard's arm wrapped around his back. "What're you doing?" His words were weak and slurred, and Leonard's determination grew.

"If I'm following her, then so are you." It couldn't be comfortable with his arm over Leonard's shoulder, the height difference more pronounced by the way Chekov was carrying himself, but Leonard couldn't carry him completely and the second pack and expect to get very far, and he had no clue how far this little kid meant to go.

She could be taking them to people who would want to kill them for all that Leonard knew, but they were already up the figurative shit creek without a paddle, and with Chekov out of commission, it was Leonard's job to take over and make the decisions, as bad as they might be. He didn't really have the best options to choose from, either: wander the unfamiliar forest as winter set in or follow someone who at least knew where the hell they were but who might want them dead after xenophobic indoctrination by her family.

This away mission kept getting better and better.

The girl was remarkably patient, waiting for the coughing breaks and politely looking away when the shaking became too much and all Chekov could do was cling to Leonard and rest for a bit. This patience encouraged Leonard - perhaps foolishly, but hope was dwindling and he'd cling to what he could - that she wasn't actually taking them to their pursuers. Though, if they were going to kill them anyway, maybe she just knew that they wouldn't mind waiting a bit longer as long as they got there at all… Optimism had never been Leonard's strong suit.

If they hadn't been walking so much lately, Leonard would've been inclined to hyperbolize that they'd been walking forever by the time they finally came to the girl's intended destination. It was in a clearing that Leonard was too tired to take much note of and the building was a- Well, the word "shack" didn't quite cover the level of decrepitude, in Leonard's opinion. It was barely bigger than what was surely an outhouse they passed by on their way around the "shack" to its front "door."

But whatever sarcastic and disparaging remarks Leonard may mentally have for its appearance, the building stood up to the wind and - even better - blocked that wind pretty well. Inside, the girl used some of her bundle to light a fire in the little metal stove and urged the men over to the large cushion in the corner. Leonard's eyes teared up a little at the weak but contented sigh that escaped Chekov once he'd been gently lowered down onto the lumpy surface of the almost-mattress. The building was small enough to heat up pretty quickly, even with the occasional gust of wind leaking past a loose board.

Leonard turned to thank the girl - not that she'd understand his words - but when he did, her back was already to them, setting the pack by the door and then stepping out of it into the cold. Part of her bundle had been stacked neatly next to the stove and looking at it made those tears in Leonard's eyes spill over.

He was quiet about it, but the tears were there, streaking through the grime that was inevitably on his cheeks at this point. They still might die. The smoke could be noticed and investigated by the people chasing them. The little girl could betray them. But Chekov was warm and settled on a cushion that would only get more comfortable once Leonard wrapped some blankets around him, and for the first time on this damned expedition, they hadn't had to fight for something. They had food in their packs, water in their canteens, heat, and shelter.

He couldn't ignore the wheezing or the fever as he leaned Chekov forward enough to get between him and the wall, rearranging them both into the sleeping positions they'd had since that night in the cave. It was quite the change to actually be warm, and with Chekov sleeping soundly against his chest and securely in his arms, Leonard thought that maybe this was enough.

Leonard had no delusions that either of them were strong enough to walk any farther, that somehow Chekov would get better without modern medical attention, that the girl would return with a doctor that could treat a human, or that somehow their friends would find them and rescue them. But if this was all they had until time ran out, well... there were worse ways to go.

When Leonard woke up, it was dark and he had no idea how long it'd been. It was colder than it had been when he went to sleep. He carefully shifted Chekov and climbed out from behind him, settling him back against the wall. The fire was almost out. They could've been asleep for a while.

He fed the fire, made a quick trip to the outhouse in the freezing air, and used some of their water to wash up as best he could. With a fire, the mess kit was finally useful and Leonard had the pleasure of waking Chekov up for the first warm food they'd had in far too long. Yes, it was only some stewed roots, but the broth might soothe Chekov's throat and cough and that was more than Leonard had been able to offer him since this whole thing had begun its final downward slide.

The light from the open stove door cast disturbing shadows in the hollows of Chekov's cheeks, making his eyes look even more sunken than in daylight. It was almost skeletal and Leonard was glad to settle himself behind Chekov again and wait out the night while Chekov went back to sleep. He should've at least tried to be on watch earlier. That was a personal failure that could've gotten them killed and Leonard would at least make an effort this time. He could at least keep the fire going.

Chekov's voice startled him just as the light outside the cracks around the door had started to turn gray with the dawn. His flinch jostled Chekov into another coughing fit and Leonard groped around for the canteen. Chekov managed some sips as Leonard apologized.

"What was it, Chekov? Did you need something?"

Chekov leaned slightly to spit onto the dirt floor, returning to rest his head against Leonard's collarbone as he tried to speak. "I'm sorry."

That was just confusing. "For what?" For coughing? For spitting up blood? For Leonard being afraid that Chekov would die and Leonard would be all alone and not even able to bury him properly? Leonard couldn't think of a thing Chekov would need to apologize for, but the brain was a strange thing and Chekov probably could think of a number of things in his fevered state.

"For before. On the ship."

Three words. Three tiny fucking words, three syllables, was all he could get out between each need for breath and- "What?"

"On the ship. I was cruel. I shouldn't have-" A coughing fit this time and another shaky sip of water.

Leonard pulled the blankets a little closer around Chekov. He needed something to do with his hands. "You don't need to apologize for that. I was an asshole and I deserved it."

Chekov shifted and Leonard thought that maybe he'd try to twist to look at him which would only make Chekov cough again, so he wrapped his arms around the smaller figure a little more tightly to discourage it. Any other time, Chekov would've easily broken away, but he quickly gave in and that broke Leonard's heart a little, probably just starting early on the complete shattering this conversation would probably cause if Chekov decided to pursue it.

Leonard thought that maybe he'd given up when the pause dragged on, but he was never that lucky, as recent events had pretty much proven. "You weren't. The only-" Another wet cough and shuddering breath. "Was my fault. All of it."

He must've known Leonard would disagree. He reached up and gripped Leonard's forearm to silence him in a quiet Let me finish. "At the club." Oh God… Leonard didn't want to talk about this. "I thought- I was so stupid. The whole time-"

Leonard tried to interrupt at that - if anyone was stupid, it sure as hell wasn't Pavel Andreievich Chekov - but he was cut off by another coughing fit, weak but dragging on so long that he sat up a bit farther to prop Chekov up a bit more, help him lean enough to spit out whatever was choking him like that. When they both settled back against the wall, the light coming in around the door was enough to see how pale Chekov had become and Leonard didn't want this to be their last conversation.

"We were both stupid and it's done." It wouldn't do any good to argue. "I'm sorry I was an asshole. It's over." It was all over and yet Leonard would give anything to go back to Chekov being healthy and hating him. "So don't worry about it. We're good, right?"

He felt Chekov nod against his shoulder as he coughed again. "My parents…" He didn't continue.

That sinking feeling appeared in Leonard's gut again. "What about them?"

"Call them? Want you to." Leonard's interruption was so weak that Chekov just continued. "Please. Promise."

He couldn't say it. He couldn't promise that he'd call and he couldn't tell Chekov that it would all be okay. He wouldn't lie to him about such important things. But he didn't want to say out loud that neither of them would be getting off of this fucking planet, that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to talk to Pavel's parents even if by some miracle he did survive. The fire was dying and so were they.

"Leonard." His voice was weak and shaking, his grip on Leonard's arm the same. Leonard rested his cheek against sweaty and dirty curls. "Please. They need to- I want you to."

Leonard closed his eyes and lied. "Okay. I promise, Pavel."

Pavel let go of his arm and patted it softly, almost petting the fabric of Leonard's shirt. "Thank you."

Once he was sure Pavel was asleep, he pressed a kiss to the side of his head and turned to watch the light around the door get brighter.

Eventually, he had to get up to feed the fire, to shift Pavel and hope he stayed asleep, and use the last of their wood to keep them warm. Leonard wondered when he should go get more. It was light out now, so he'd be less likely to get lost if he had trouble finding dry wood nearby, but he'd have to wake Pavel to tell him where he was going. Pavel's health had deteriorated so much that he'd probably sleep most of the time, but Leonard didn't want him to wake up alone. At the same time, he didn't want him to struggle to keep himself awake and worry about Leonard being gone.

Leonard almost laughed at himself. It wasn't like such a little problem like this mattered any more.

Looking back down at Pavel, though, the desire to keep Pavel from waking up scared and alone and in pain won out over anything else. He stepped over - it wasn't far in such a tiny space - to wake him when he heard it.

The snapping of a twig.

Really, it could be anything: an animal that Leonard would have no hope of killing for food, the little girl back to check on them, the cold snapping it all on its own. He thought it might be cold enough for that last one. It's not like a boy from Georgia would have much experience with this climate.

Should he go investigate? The space around the ill-fitted door should be enough for him to at least get a look at the area in front of this little shack and that's where any danger would really come at them, right? Leonard was too bone-tired to think too clearly at this point, but it kind of made sense. He turned and stepped back toward the door, grateful for the dirt floor and no risk of creaking boards. He'd check out front and if he wasn't satisfied, he'd wake Pavel and take the gun from Pavel's pack and hope that the quick lesson he'd been given on the run would enable him to protect them.

He stopped. Maybe he should get the gun first.

A deep shuddering breath behind him - a wet sound that made Leonard's chest tighten - and then silence. Leonard turned back. Pavel was so still. He was so pale and so, so still and Leonard needed to check on him, but he was afraid. More afraid than he'd been this entire time.

He stepped forward, "...Pavel?" His voice didn't sound like his, small and wavering, but he tried again a little louder as he took another step. "...Pavel?"

The door crashed in behind him and strong hands grabbed his arms. Foreign words shouted orders, but Leonard couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say and he couldn't stop looking at the figure propped against the wall - so small, too small too still - the figure that didn't even twitch when another of their hunters jabbed him with a rifle.

The world tilted as Leonard fell to his knees, gaze not shifting even as he was dragged out of the door. How could they even move him? He felt like he weighed a thousand pounds, and then a thousand more when his line of sight was blocked, first by a body, then by the door, then by being turned and dropped, finally allowed to slump to the ground.

His captors shouted at him, kicked him, pulled him back up to his knees, and Leonard didn't feel a thing. Nothing - not even when the muzzle of a rifle jabbed the side of his head, not when a fist struck his cheek and whipped his head to the side. The presumed leader kicked him again and Leonard crumpled, hands barely catching himself, coughing and spitting up blood onto the ground - a sight that finally made him feel something, a mere twinge and of nothing good or useful.

A hand gripped his hair and pulled his head up sharply. The rifle from before was held to his head again and finally, Leonard had a coherent thought.

He could see the little girl from before, peering out at him from where she hid in the foliage behind his executioner and all he could think was, She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be seeing this.

Leonard closed his eyes, but he didn't flinch when the sound of a shot echoed through the clearing.