It's easy enough, just for now, to pretend that he's just asleep. Pavel's face looks peaceful, almost sweet, with his head resting against Hikaru's shoulder – not like the horribly contorted grimaces that Hikaru has seen on so many comrades when they've died.

Died.

No.

Without thinking about it, Hikaru gathers Pavel closer to his chest, rocking the silent, motionless body as he would a sleeping child.

It's not right. Not fair. Not Pavel – not now.

He's just a baby – he's seventeen, for God's sake. Too young even to be in space – much less to die there.

You were always able to take care of him at the Academy; you found a bakery in San Francisco that made cookies like his Grandma's to cheer him up when he got too homesick, and bugged him to stay on top of his laundry and clean his side of the dorm room every now and then.

Without him ever knowing it, you kept the other cadets off his ass – the ones who wanted to torment him because Pav was sixteen and already smarter than they'd ever hope to be.

You held him together after Vulcan, after the loss of Spock's mother...

Where the fuck were you when he needed you today?

You should have protected him; you should have saved him. You should have helped him fight, made him hang on.

You shouldn't have let him die.

He finds himself talking to Pavel as though he can hear him, clutching him closer still in shaking arms. "Won't leave you, Pav. Told you I wouldn't, and I won't. Not ever. Not ever."

Suddenly, then, everything is shaking around him – obviously an earthquake, though Hikaru feels the rattling tremors as though they are coming from the center of his own body. He leans over Pavel to shield him from the shower of rocks skittering down from the ceiling of their shelter – he knows in some part of his mind that this is a futile gesture, but doesn't care.

Something has fallen across the entrance of the cave. It's dark, now, and if such a thing could be possible, it's gotten even hotter.

Somehow, the darkness feels like a signal to Hikaru; time to let go. Maybe the crew of the Enterprise will find them at some point, maybe not – but for now, the pain that is splitting his head and wracking his body is just too much, and he simply doesn't want to keep fighting.

Especially if Pavel isn't there to fight alongside him. Shifting Pavel's body into a more comfortable position across his lap, he closes his eyes and leans back against the wall of the cave.

He feels himself shutting down, little by little – and it's almost a relief. Giving up is something Hikaru Sulu has never done in his life – not once – but this is different. This once, he thinks, it's probably okay – and after all, who's going to know, anyway?

Pavel wouldn't want him to give up – he knows that. Pavel would be pissed as hell if he knew, and would be chewing him out in some sort of fast, frantic mix of Standard and Russian that nobody but Hikaru had ever seemed to understand.

He pulls Pavel's body close again, a sob caught in his throat. "I'm sorry, buddy. So sorry..."

He's not really sure what he's apologizing for.

All of it, probably.

Then comes the shaking again – violent, horrible. The sharp, jerking tremors of the ground beneath him send fresh agony through Hikaru's body, and he hears himself trying to cry out in pain. His voice sounds harsh and strange to his own ears, as though it belongs to someone else.

Then there's a voice that definitely belongs to someone else, coming from somewhere nearby.