Русские Девушки
Chekov hasn't shown up in the Officer's Mess; though he had said to Hannity and Sulu, as they left the Bridge in the first wave of shift changes, "I will see you at dinner, yes?"
He might occasionally get distracted thinking about some theory and show up later than planned, but Chekov seldom changes his mind about things like that, especially once he has stated his intentions out loud. Being reliable is important to him: He'll be here sooner or later.
Sulu finds his vague unease turning to worry as the other members of the Bridge Crew come and go, and Chekov still does not arrive.
"Listen," Sulu says, when Hannity, keeping him company, shows signs of restlessness, "I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
She smiles a little, and gives him a quick squeeze before wandering off to do whatever; and Sulu manages to notice that the view is nice, as she walks away.
He heads to Chekov's quarters, then, but the Russian doesn't answer his chime. He waits a second, and rings again – and stands in the corridor for a minute or two, just in case.
"Hey, Janice." Captain Kirk's Yeoman is passing; her quarters are just down the way. "You haven't seen Chekov, have you?"
But the blonde shakes her head. "No, I haven't – not since this morning."
And Sulu doesn't want to alarm her - or make a big deal of an absentminded Navigator missing one meal. "Okay. Thanks."
She smiles, and tosses her hair – and her hips sway a little, as she walks away. Sulu grins at that.
Janice is great. And, truth be told, so are her legs. But he suspects that she's just practicing: He thinks she has someone a little higher-ranking in mind, and, really, he can't blame her for that.
Still, he knows it makes Chekov's morning to see her, too; maybe walk with her to breakfast - and he can't blame him for that, either.
She's gone on her way, and Sulu is trying to decide where to look next, when she pops back round the corner, just for a second. "Packages arrived today," she says, and her smile is just a little bit cheeky. She probably knows he was watching her go.
He checks, and finds, that Chekov did get a package. There's no telling where the Russian is, if he's not in his quarters.
Hikaru squashes the worry that flares then. He tells himself that it's not like Pavel's a kid who needs looking after…
Maybe for some reason he had thought they'd meet in the Rec Room, or something, instead.
Sulu wanders through the Rec Rooms, from One on down. You know, just on the off-chance. But he doesn't see Pavel. And the kid's probably fine.
While he's down here, he decides to hit Botany; maybe feed some plants, water a tree – not that that's not automated, or anything, but still, sometimes things need a little extra care.
He's talking to Gertrude in the garden specimen lab, when he gets an idea.
Compared to ones on most starbases or the average member planet, the ship's arboretum hardly seems worthy of its name. But to those who would seek solace or solitude in the midst of such a place, it is a green and growing tree-strewn sanctuary.
The Captain, and Chekov - and Sulu, himself - will venture there. And though the place will still seem empty more often than not - so will countless others from amongst this vast and diverse crew.
No oak or birch, here; but Pavel Andreivich finds comfort none-the-less in the presence of these diminutive cousins of the tall dark Khimki sentinels who silently stood guard as he sought peace during the trying times of his youth.
The Russian talks sometimes of folklore, or the ancient forest itself – and in every word of those tales Sulu hears how far they are from Moscow.
So this is where Sulu thinks to look for a Chekov who has forgotten, somehow, where he meant to be.
He finds him seated at the base of the tallest pine.
It's really not very tall; but all things are relative, and this is the tallest the ship can provide.
Pavel Andreivich is gazing at the lowest branches, a foot or two in front of his nose - as though he will be swept up, at any moment, by those pine-spice-scented blue/green/black-clad arms.
But no - As Sulu walks closer, he sees that that is not what Chekov's looking at. There's something small hanging from the branch, turning in the slight breeze engendered by the Russian's soft breaths of air.
Sulu lowers himself down to sit beside his friend, glancing at him as he does. Pavel is blinking, every now and again, as he stares at the tree – and it takes him a moment to look over and acknowledge that Sulu's there.
"Hey," Hikaru says.
When there's no reply, Sulu speaks again, "We missed you at dinner."
Chekov's arms tighten around his bent knees. After a minute, he nods, miserably – and Sulu knows that that is as much for the broken promise as for anything else.
"Yeah, well, no big deal," Sulu says. "It's not exactly like we won't have another one tomorrow, or the next day, or the next." He makes his voice as casual as he can, maybe even a little wry.
And Chekov looks over at him. "That is very true," he observes, solemnly. "There will be another dinner tomorrow."
He reaches forward and takes the little object off of the tree. He holds it up, with the tips of his fingers so that it catches the light, and turns it just a bit. After a few moments, he closes his fist around the little figure of a girl. He is starting to put it away when Sulu asks gently, "What is that?"
"матрёшка," Chekov says, shrugging; and he looks away to hide his expression, which is wistful, and, maybe, a little bit shy.
"Matryoshka?" Sulu tries to imitate the Russian's accent – and does it, he suspects, very badly.
"Дa," Chekov says. "Очень хорошо: Very good. It's a 'babushka', a granny doll." And he hands the tiny thing to Sulu.
The object is small, some 6 cm tall and half as wide, roughly cylindrical, and rounded at the top with a ribbon threaded through a wire loop twisted into the wood. It is painted like a little Russian peasant woman with rosy cheeks and a curving smile. Her dress is bright and colorful - orange, and red, and blue. She looks cheerful, contented – and she makes Sulu smile.
"My mother sent it to me," Chekov says, and he is shy, again, as though he is a little afraid Sulu will laugh at him.
"It's neat, Chekov," Sulu declares, and he holds it up to the light, just as his friend had done. He sees, then, a faint horizontal line across its middle. He runs his finger over the line; then, curious, he gently grips the top of the doll with his fingertips.
Watching him, Chekov smiles faintly; and nodding, says again, "Da, ochin karosho."
Sulu grasps the bottom of the little figure with his other hand and twists gingerly. The doll breaks apart.
No, it comes apart – There is a second doll inside, a pretty young Russian girl - and inside that, another. This littlest one is painted like a swaddled baby, and its sleeping eyes are closed. The rosy cheeks and smile are just the same, though: It is obvious that her dreams are sweet.
Hikaru laughs a little at this fancy, and turns to Chekov in delight.
His grin inspires an answering one in Russian - and all embarrassment is gone.