I would just like to thank everyone that has reviewed so far, especially Lady Chekov and Stella McCoy. You know how to do really good reviews. I always like to hear what is good, and more importantly, what can be improved upon in my stories. Please, if anyone else reads this and has an opinion on it, good, bad or otherwise, please review or feel free to e-mail me at trekkie606@aol.com I always want to know if you guys really think I got the characterizations right, whether you think that a character would or wouldn't say something. Any additions or omissions you think I should have made. It makes me a better writer. Please, anyone who reads this. Take a few minutes and review!
"You know why we can't. We care about you too much to make you go through this alone." Uhura slipped an arm around Chekov's shoulders, heart twisting at his pain.
"I tried, I tried so damn hard…." Chekov choked out. Sulu threw a puzzled glance in Uhura's direction, not fully aware of what was being referred to. Chekov's next admission cleared the confusion, "I really thought that they'd be there when we went to pick them up."
Tears caught in Uhura's eyes; remembering the journey to Ceti Alpha V, ready to pick up the survivors of the Reliant. When her hails hadn't been answered she remembered seeing the look of stark panic on Chekov's face, demanding to know where they were. Khan had neglected to mention that when he marooned the crew on the harsh planet it had been without any protective gear, and they hadn't been anywhere near shelter. They had died eaten away by the raging, sandy winds devoid of hope and rescue. Even Admiral Kirk had ducked his head in a feeble attempt to cover his shock at the brutality forced on the blameless crew. At that time, Chekov had merely stood stiffly like an old frozen Russian soldier, paralyzed.
"It's not your fault. You couldn't have done anything to help them, even if you wanted to. You aren't to blame." Sulu couldn't think of anything else to say to try and appease the demons trying to destroy his friend.
"I missed a whole planet Sulu! How could that not be my fault? I couldn't get Captain Terrell out fast enough and he died, my own hand sent the killing blows to my ship, Captain Spock died trying to save the ship from a madman I helped put in control, do I have to go on? This is my fault Sulu-don't lie to me!"
Shaken, Sulu couldn't find the breath to counter the degree of self-loathing that stung like venom coming from his friend. Uhura managed to step into the breach. She had, to some extent, a reputation on the Enterprise for being a councilor of sorts, when crewman felt awkward talking to the much more imposing Dr. McCoy. In all her sessions, though, she had never heard such honest disgust towards oneself as she did now. "The sensor readings from our original tour were wrong, Pavel, not you. The gravitational fluxes in the region and the haste with which we did everything caused us to take false readings. You were only going by what you could guess. When the sensor readings didn't match up with what we had picked up you had to presume something had happened, and there was no way you could have known."
"Besides, the important thing is that we don't blame you for what happened. Admiral Kirk doesn't; he was Spock's best friend! Like you're ours. If he doesn't blame you for anything you shouldn't blame yourself either," Sulu tried to reason.
"A lot of people blame me, Sulu. More to the point," he spat, "I blame me, so it doesn't matter what other people think." Chekov brought his face into his hands, while Uhura squeezed his shoulders reassuringly.
Disgusted with his attitude, Sulu finally broke. "Well you're wrong, so live with it." The no-nonsense, I-don't-care-what-you-think characteristic in Sulu's voice caused Chekov to look up, confused at this change in tactics.
"What?"
"I'm sick and tired of this. I will not listen to you down yourself anymore. You just need to get over yourself, realize that me and Uhura are right, and come back to the human race. You have no other choice. I will not listen to you anymore," Sulu demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest in an age-old sign of finality.
"Hikaru you don't understand I-"
"Shut up! I don't want to hear it!" Sulu interjected. "You're a good man and I will not let anyone else, much less you, down yourself. Got it?" Sulu was trying to put every ounce of intimidation he could into his voice and when Chekov turned to stare at the ceiling in thought, he took the opportunity to mouth 'I know what I'm doing' to Uhura. At least, he hoped he did. Chekov was the kind of person who would die in a second for someone, but never understand why anyone would ever consider dying for him. It was a paradox that Sulu had yet to break him out of, and when the dour Russian lay in sickbay from a firefight he was the only person Sulu knew that would have felt worse if it was someone else in instead of him. It was a damn annoying but surprisingly compassionate trait for someone who usually hid behind a bravado of toughness. Sometimes the only thing that would break that was being as harsh and unyielding as the barricade Chekov put up to keep people out.
"I hear what you're saying, both of you, and my mind says you're probably right, but my heart is telling me it's still my fault." It came out in a rush as Chekov tried to express everything he wanted to before Sulu overrode him again.
"You're heart is wrong," Sulu said bluntly. Chekov couldn't help but laugh morosely.
"I thought the whole American ideal was to follow your heart and let it direct you to what you truly want?" he countered.
"It is," Uhura jumped in, "but your heart is so clouded by your stupid guilt that it's telling you the wrong thing, because it thinks that's what you want to hear."
As much as Sulu wanted to keep his stern, drill sergeant-like expression, he had to struggle. 'Stupid guilt' was pretty strong language coming from Uhura, the same woman who got mad at people when they were rude to computers.
Defenses weakening, Chekov rejoined with a weak, "And how do you know what my heart is doing when I don't?"
Sulu took this one. "We're just smarter then you are."
"Not to mention," Uhura added, smiling mischievously, "that we have lots of time while you're out killing yourself to roast marshmallows, watch old 20th century movies and psychoanalyze you."
Grudgingly, the telltale signs of a smile crept onto Chekov's face. "You never let me wallow in my own self-pity," he mock-whined. "I can't decide if you're the best or worse friends a man could have."
"Oh, definitely the best," Sulu assured him.
"And how do you know this?"
"Weren't you listening before?" Uhura asked, "We're smarter then you are, we just know these things."
"Sorry, I forgot." Chekov sobered suddenly, "Really though, you should go home, you both look horrible, and I feel bad making you stay up all night yelling at me."
Sulu restrained himself from slapping his forehead. Did he not hear anything they had just said? The whole 'not blaming himself' deal? The boy was hopeless.
"I think one of us should stay," Uhura stood, dragging Chekov up with her, "Just to make sure you're alright."
Chekov looked down at Sulu, now lounging comfortably on the couch. "Seriously, I'm alright."
"Pavel Chekov, I don't think I've ever heard you say 'I feel horrible, terrible, and don't want to have you leave me alone.' I don't expect you to start now." Uhura disregarded his weak attempt to get them to go away.
"I'll stay," Sulu decided, sprawling out so he covered the whole couch. "I've got a comfy couch, great conversation," he smirked in Chekov's direction, "what more could a guy ask for?" Not to mention that both he and Chekov were too chivalrous to have Uhura sleep anywhere but her own quarters.
"It's settled then."
"Really, Hikaru, you don't need to." Chekov stared deeply into his friend's eyes, plainly conveying the message of "Go Away". Sulu's were just as plainly responding, "Make Me".
Knowing that he was beaten, Chekov sighed submissively. "Whatever makes you happy."
Moving over to pinch his cheeks like an old aunt, Uhura said, "You do, you crazy Russian." Leaving him blushing where he stood, she whisked out the door.
Tuning back to Sulu, Chekov felt as if he was about to face his own executioner, but not before being invited for tea. "So," Sulu started, "want to chat?"
"Do I have much of a choice?"
Sulu laughed, "You've finally figured it out."
Chekov started talking.