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Whatever personal crisis the crew faced, it was checked at the door as soon as they took their post. The Enterprise faced down death too often for some petty quarrel between jaded lovers to risk the lives of the innocent by-standers. No flirting, no gossip, no betting and no fights were allowed when you were responsible for four hundred other men and women. This was one rule that James T. Kirk had absolutely no tolerance for violators. So, as Sulu slid into his place at the helm with Chekov beside him, both running diagnostic routine checks, neither mentioned what had happened in the turbo lift. The conversation would either fade into the background or plague the back of their mind for the rest of the day; it all depended on which side of the consol that particular mind laid.

The Enterprise was warping through space, exactly on course and on schedule for their next diplomatic mission. That allowed the pilot's mind to fret over and analyze every small detail and action of his best friend for the last several months. Chekov had gone from a young, naïve, sweet teenager to a promiscuous, hardened grown man. He had stopped socializing with his friends, or atleast the friends Sulu thought he had, and he had stopped spending any time with the Asian off the bridge. He watched the Russian from the corner of his eye. His fingers flying over the appropriate buttons, his mind running hundreds of calculations, but the energetic vibe that had once surrounded him like a halo was gone. He no longer whistled or sang in his native tongue while enjoying losing himself in calculus any more. He was hollow, he was desolate and it was killing Sulu as much as it was killing the blonde.

With one last stolen glance, Sulu turned back to his work, checking speed and new course readings from the labs. He would have to seek guidance on how best to approach Chekov; it would need to be done with extreme caution, because while he might not act like a fawn any more didn't mean he wouldn't bolt at the first sign of possible confrontation. Jim was out of the running, he had no emotional tact and Spock was even worse. Uhura would be an excellent choice, but she was translating the entire Code of Ethics of the Zuri natives and it would have to be done in time for Kirk to commit it to memory before beaming down. Scotty was a great guy, but if it was not a machine, he had no idea how to deal with it. So, that only left Dr. McCoy. Sulu shuddered, the man was a walking bag of contradictions, but he wanted to reach out to Chekov before he completely self-destructed, so if that meant asking the snarky physician for help, Sulu would do it.

Begrudgingly accepting the tedious task ahead of him, Sulu tried not to think about all the pretty faces that turned in Chekov's direction. He didn't want to notice how women - and a few men – seemed to take longer to report on the bridge when Chekov was on shift. Their eyes seemed to rake over his pale flesh but he never made one move to stop them or discourage their leers. In fact, he seemed to encourage them with a small wink, licking his lips or a tiny smile that never reached his eyes. To watch the precious face distort itself in such blatant invitation had gone from hurting Sulu to enraging him. By the time his Beta Shift replacement had arrived, Sulu as gripping the edge of his seat so hard his knuckles were white. Something had to be done. He nodded and quickly left, not bothering to wait on Chekov.

There was a slight tug of remorse at being so upset with Chekov, but it was eclipsed by his anger towards the teen's passé attitude. He stalked down the hallways not bothering to acknowledge any crewmembers he met. Most of them would be women that Chekov had so casually taken to bed or those who had wanted to trade places with them, and even if they weren't Sulu was in no mood to humor anyone. Grinding his teeth, Sulu told himself that he was only concerned because of the complications this was bringing into Chekov's young world; it had nothing to do with the warmth Pavel brought to his life.

Sulu found Bones McCoy in his office pouring over PADDs, which seemed to be the only thing he did, other than jab people with hypos, but Sulu tried to keep out of the doctor's company as much as possible. The door slid shut behind him, blocking out the sounds of the busy Med Bay. Slumping into the chair opposite the desk, he waited for Bones to find a stopping point. Hopefully his anger would dull as he waited.

Bones tapped for a few more minutes before returning the PADD to its cradle and making eye contact with the pilot. "Nice to see you, Sulu. Can I be of some assistance?" He folded his arms over his chest looking every bit the concerned family physician.

Unfortunately, the Lieutenant's anger had not ebbed. "I need to talk to you about a personal matter." Even to his ears, his voice was clipped.

Taking a deep breath, Bones reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his special stash of whiskey. "This sounds like something that is best accompanied by a drink. You want some?" He poured himself two fingers. Sulu nodded and was gifted some of the amber liquid. He took a sip and sighed. "Alright, I'm ready, hit me." He turned his whole attention to the other man.

Letting the alcohol burn all the way down his throat, Sulu sat quiet for a moment contemplating his response. "I want to talk about Pavel Chekov." Bones nodded for him to continue. "He has developed a rather dangerous habit. I was seeking advice on how best to approach him." He swallowed the rest of the whiskey, searching for courage.

Bones nodded. "You are concerned for him?" He asked genuinely trying to feel out the younger man's intentions.

Smirking, Sulu sighed. "That is one way to put it." He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the weight on his heart. "Chekov has been taking several different women to bed each week." Bones raised both eyebrows, but Sulu rushed to continue. "He uses them. In the mornings he breaks if off with them and that usually leads to a fight in the hallway – in front of half the crew." He sat the empty glass on the desk. "I'm not one to interfere with a guy's love life, but Bones this is different. It's like this is tearing him up – like he is addicted and can't stop for whatever reason." He dropped his head into his hands. "I just want to help him. I want Pasha back." His heartbroken whisper barely audible.

Bones made no move to reach out to the younger man; it was evident that he was dealing with his own inner turmoil. He had time to wait until Sulu could once more face him, then he would reach a diagnosis, but for a few moments he allowed the man his grief. They had all seen how much Pavel Chekov had changed, but what very few others had noticed was how it had changed Hikaru Sulu. It was several moments before Sulu lifted his head expecting an answer that Bones readily supplied. "The only way you can help Chekov is by being there for him." His voice was no longer gruff, but gentle. "He will want to fight, he will buck worse than a bull, but you have to show him unconditional support and acceptance. You are his best friend and he needs you, you are the only one he is going to allow to get close. Whatever has driven Chekov off the edge didn't happen over night." Each word weighed, each meaning exact. This was a delicate task.

His heart was heavy as he stared back into Bones' hazel eyes. While he was not relieved of the stress he had brought into the office, he was resigned to accept the challenge. Chekov needed him, and he needed Chekov. With a small smile, he left the good doctor to his nightly routine; he had a blonde to stop making a fool of himself in TenForward.

A/N: Thanks for reading

This is so different from my usually 'sunny' fics.

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