III.
In this galaxy there's a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And in the universe, three million million galaxies like this. And in all that, and perhaps more...only one of each of us. Dr. McCoy
"No!" Hikaru Sulu sprang to his feet, hackles raised, reaching for Checkov, now being dragged out of his reach.
"Shut up!" One of the aliens --- Sulu didn't know the species --- elbowed him in the solar plexus, stunning the Asian, making it easy to restrain him until Checkov was out of the room. With one last little chuckle, the big alien threw Sulu to the ground, leaving the room after his friends.
A hand rested on his shoulder and Sulu blinked, looking up at Jim Kirk. "Sorry, Captain. I don't know what I was trying to accomplish from my actions."
"I was doing the same thing, Sulu." Kirk helped him sit up and stared at the red patch on his chest that would surely turn to a bruise. "I'm just sorry we couldn't help anything."
Bones, who was across the room, grunted at Sulu, indicating both his displeasure at the situation and his want to get a look at the bruise. Sulu stumbled over to the medic, trying not to look at Spock on his way. The Vulcan had been injured in the scuffle that had gotten them captured and hadn't woken up since. Kirk, also sporting a few fabulous bruises, crossed right over to his first officer, taking his head in his lap in a display of affection he surely wouldn't have shown if the other man had been awake.
Sulu allowed the doctor to treat him, his whole body numb. "Why would they take Pavel?" Sulu moaned, lifting his eyes to meet McCoy's. Bones didn't avoid his gaze, but sighed. Star Fleet encouraged comradery and trust between its personnel but frowned on relationships for this exact reason: getting attached meant getting emotional, and thinking when angry or frightened makes bad decisions.
In fact, Bones thought that if Star Fleet got their way, they'd be commanding a force of Vulcans. Pointy-eared hobgoblins. But even that thought didn't have the normal heat behind it, with Spock bleeding out next to him, locked in one of those thrice-cursed healing trances.
"Undoubtedly, our captors have decided that Ensign Checkov would be ideal for interrogation purposes." Spock's voice was hoarse and anything but smooth, but even Bones smiled at the sound. He smiled even wider when Kirk, realizing that Spock was conscious once again, shot out from under him, face red at being caught in a good deed.
Sulu, rubbing his chest, glanced at Spock, eyes widening, "What do you mean?"
As if the words had triggered it, a high, arching scream pierced the dark cell. "No! I vill not! No!" Sulu buried his face in his hands, which did little to block out his best friend's screams.
Spock continued as if he hadn't heard Checkov's pain, but for a moment his face contorted slightly. Contrary to belief, Spock cared deeply for the crew of the Enterprise and, like everyone else, had a soft spot for the Russian, who could converse fluently in the higher mathematics with a passion that rivaled what Spock himself felt for the sciences.
"I believe that our captors think that Ensign Checkov's pain will lead us to…I believe the term is spill secrets….about the subject they are interested in." Spock took the moment to mop up some of the blood on his chest, making Bones look away. He couldn't stand his utter helplessness with the first aid. If he had his way, Spock would be on the Enterprise, arguing with him about his ability to go back to duty minus two pints of blood.
"And, due to his youth, he would be the most likely to produce an emotional response."
"Damn straight we're emotional!" Kirk yelled, trying to drown out Checkov's screams. "He's seventeen! They're torturing him! What part of this is not emotional?"
"I am merely pointing out our captor's most logical rationalizations for their actions." Spock defended, and his voice was so breathy that McCoy put an arm on Kirk, probably warning him not to argue with Spock while the latter was in so terrible a state.
Sulu, mostly forgotten in the corner, made himself known with the small, simple question, "Do you think he'll be okay?"
Immediately all the bluster and cockiness was gone from Kirk, and the young man suddenly felt guilty. Here he was, trying to find out motive and opportunity when one of his men (and Checkov really was no more than a kid) was being tortured, and his best friend was forced to listen. "I hope so, Sulu."
They waited, because there was nothing else they could do. Sulu clamped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the sound of the screams. "Checkov, Pavel Andreievich, Ensign…" He never gets any further before the words are cut off by a scream.
And Sulu can't bear to listen, can't do it because he knows Pavel, knows the smart, happy helmsmen, knows from hours of conversations that Checkov can't stand the taste of fish and loved chocolate dearly. Knows that he'd had a low self-esteem since childhood and that he considered the Enterprise his home. Sulu knows that Pavel's a whizz at chess and was willing to give kendo a try as long as Sulu was his teachers, knows that he prefers tea to coffee and alcohol to tea, knows that he is a dog-lover, that he gets nightmares, that he admires Kirk, respects Spock, and looks to Bones as a father figure. He knows that he's Checkov's best friend.
He knows all these things, and yet he doesn't know how to make Pavel stop screaming. He doesn't know if Checkov will be alright. He doesn't know if he will be alright.
Spock had consented to Bones' ministrations hours before, letting the doctor apply new bandages and exclaim over his bruises. In the end, McCoy could do little for the Vulcan, who needed the medbay desperately. When Spock quietly slipped into a healing coma, Bones informed Kirk that if they didn't get back to the Enterprise, there was every possibility Spock would never wake up.
Kirk stared at his old friend, then sighed so heavily and so sadly that McCoy stopped berating him and fell silent long enough to hear…nothing.
"No." Sulu whispered, getting to his feet. "No, Pavel!" The screams had stopped. Did that mean that they were no longer hurting Checkov, or did it mean he was unconscious or…?
Two aliens hauled Checkov into the cell and threw him at Kirk, making the captain stagger under his weight, though he was able to keep them both upright. "Checkov!"
Sulu was already prying his friend off the captain, using one hand to push the blood away. There was so much of it. "Pavel? Pasha, can you hear me? You're going to be alright, Pasha."
Bones put an ear to Checkov's chest. "No pulse." He said, his own pulse quickening. Wordlessly, he started CPR, with Sulu holding Checkov's hand in a vice-like grip.
"C'mon, kid, breathe!" Bones demanded, pressing down on Checkov's chest with all his weight. Sulu felt hot tears run down his cheeks, born of exhaustion, of frustration, of sadness, loss, grief. "Breathe!"
And with a gasp of pain Checkov did just that, the gasp morphing into a cry of pain so heart wrenching it made the captain look away. When he stated trying to fight off Sulu and McCoy, thinking they were his captors come back to haunt them, Kirk turned back, and gently held Checkov down, whispering meaningless words to him as the doctor went about assessing the damage.
"How bad is it, Bones?" Kirk whispered, watching as Sulu hugged a shivering Pavel to his chest, not unlike the way he was holding Spock hours before.
McCoy didn't reply for a while, then looked up at Kirk and said, simply, "Jim, we need the Enterprise."
That night, with Spock in a self-induced coma and Checkov hovering on the brink of death, it was McCoy who passed out from sheer exhaustion after hovering between his two patients, trying and failing to help their injuries or at least ease their pain. Kirk had shouted obscenities at their captors for a while before he conceded defeat and stretched out next to Spock, telling himself the Vulcan would be warmer lying next to him but really just needing to touch Spock, to assure himself that was still alive.
And Sulu stroked Checkov's hair as the younger man gasped and twisted in pain. He hadn't said anything intelligible in hours, just kept babbling in Russian, making Sulu wish he understood that language. They fell to sleep like that, Sulu bent over Checkov, trying uselessly to protect him from hurt, from pain, from death.
A/N: Band season's over. Hopefully the next chapters will come out faster. To all those still reading: Thanks a bunch. It really means a lot to us to see reviews (hint).