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The fires of the Enterprise were fading behind them, but their pace hadn’t faltered. Jim wasn’t sure exactly what his plan was, or the point of this long trek through the night- but he knew he couldn’t stop. If he was still, he would go crazy. He knew, theoretically, that the fate of his ship and crew was not wholly his fault, but that didn’t stop the crushing guilt and the thought that he should have figured it out sooner. He should have acted sooner. He could have saved everyone, and his ship too, if he had just been slightly quicker.

Stuck in his guilt spiral, he almost tripped over a protruding rock. He shook his head and tried to refocus, telling himself that he had to concentrate on what was here in front of him- and who.

“Chekov!” Jim’s sudden exclamation startled his companion, and the captain had to hold back a wince as Pavel almost lost his footing over the same damn rock. The younger man had kept up with Jim’s frantic pace for most of the day, but Chekov had slowly started to flag over the past ten minutes. Jim couldn’t blame him- how long had both of them gone without rest? And their escape from the broken ship hadn’t exactly been smooth.

“Yes, Keptin?” Chekov asked, struggling to walk faster and catch up to Jim. Kirk took pity on him and slowed down, pretending to not hear his sigh of relief. In the darkness, the captain could only perceive the vague outlines of the lieutenant. He had been quieter than usual, but it wasn’t a usual situation, after all. 

“How are you holding up?” Jim asked, trying to soften his tone.

“Ah,” Chekov paused for the briefest of moments, shivering a bit in the chilly air. “I am alright, sir. How- I mean, are you doing…alright?”

Jim couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m alright. At least, as much as I can be.”

They were silent for a couple minutes, and Kirk could feel the despair starting to creep back up when the lieutenant spoke up again. “Sir, when did you know?”

Kirk felt his shoulders tighten ever so slightly, the sigh slipping out. “Not soon enough.” Behind him, he felt Chekov stumble again. “Hey, why don’t we take a break?”

“I’m fine, sir.” Chekov may not have been seventeen anymore, but the stubbornness in his voice reminded Jim of a teenager. “I can keep going.”

“I know you can,” Jim laughed, trying to act like he wasn’t stopping for Pavel’s benefit. “But not all of us are imbued with the vigor of youth.” They sidetracked to a rock ledge that offered a little bit of shelter from the barren landscape, hunkering down next to the sheet of stone. Kirk found himself wishing for a fire, or at least some pocket warmers. He should have paid more attention in their survival techniques class.

“Keptin,” Chekov hissed as he eased down onto the ground, starting to lean back against the rock and then awkwardly settling forward with a wince. “I may be young, but you are not so old yourself either.”

“That’s because I dye my grays.” Kirk tried to joke. Based on Pavel's nonreaction, he was not successful. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

The lieutenant shrugged, and even that motion seemed to hurt. “It is not so bad. I think I hit something when we were sliding down the saucer. Or maybe right before. Is only a bruise.” 

“Still,” Jim moved closer, feeling his own muscles groan in pain. “Let me check on it, just in case. Where does it hurt?”

Chekov moved his hand to the left side of his back, then paused, a strange expression crossing his face. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

Chekov pulled his hand away, fingers shaking. In the dim light, Jim could just make out a dark shadow covering his entire hand. When the captain went to pull Pavel’s hand towards him, he realized it wasn’t shadow, but- “Oh.”

Even as he gasped, Chekov started to tilt to the side, eyes fluttering shut. Jim’s world slowed into fractured seconds even as his heartbeat frantically picked up.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He shouted, diving forwards to grab the lieutenant before he hit the ground. “Chekov!” 

The young man just groaned, eyes still closed. Kirk gently pushed him onto his side and removed half of his jacket, only to curse when he finally revealed the wound. It was not a bruise, not by any means, nor was it a phaser burn. It had all the cruelty and messiness of a gunshot wound on old Earth, and it was bleeding profusely.

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“Fuck, Chekov, what the fuck.” He muttered frantically under his breath. He hadn’t noticed Chekov being hit when they were escaping, but it seemed to be the only explanation. He frantically felt around his pockets for the miniature first aid kits their suits came with. Not that it would do much good, but it had to be better than nothing. Finally finding it, he scrambled to cut the lieutenant’s shirt and then stopped, finding himself at a sudden loss.

Get it together, he told himself. Chekov only had him. He had to do something.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to get moving again and pulled out the bandages and gauze. The patching wasn’t close to professional, but it would do until Jim could find him better help. Jim muttered a silent prayer and pressed a pain relief hypo to Chekov’s neck. The force of the medicine seemed to wake him up at last.

“Captain?” he asked groggily, trying to turn over.

“Easy, easy.” Jim whispered, shifting the lieutenant so he was hunched against Kirk, breath coming out in short pants. “I’ve got you.”

“Shto-what is happening?” he reached an unsteady hand towards the bandages, only for Kirk to gently knock his hand away.

“Hey, don’t touch it. You’ve been injured by something, I don’t know what. You’ll be okay, but I’m afraid we need to start walking again- we need to find Bones. Or, fuck, I don’t know- we need to find somebody.” He glanced around at their far too-empty surroundings, praying they would somehow run into someone from the medical bay and not, for example, Krall’s soldiers.

His words took a moment to process, but finally Chekov nodded with grave determination and began to push himself up. “Okay.”

“Slowly!” Kirk clambered to assist him to his feet, throwing Pavel’s right arm around his shoulders. “We can go as slowly as we need to.”

The next twenty minutes were spent carefully picking their way amongst the uneven ground. Each minute that went by seemed more tortuous, Chekov fighting for every step. He would falter, then rally in turns, gritting his teeth as the pain came in waves. Jim clung onto him for dear life, his heart aching for his friend and a miserable little part of him begging the lieutenant to not leave him alone in the middle of this strange new world. But with every corner they struggled around only to find more empty rocks, Kirk felt what little hope he had fading.

As they crested another ridge, Chekov’s knees buckled without warning and the lieutenant fell limply to the ground once again. Kirk did his best to slow the descent, desperately grabbing onto Chekov’s arm and narrowly stopping him from hitting his head on the protruding stones. Jim knelt down next to him, first firmly shaking the young man’s shoulders and then, when that elicited no response, gently slapping his face. The captain’s movements became more frenzied until Kirk finally had to admit defeat several long minutes later. He cursed, then stood as he realized he had no choice but to continue on and find someone to help Chekov. It left him with a grim despair choking his throat- dark thoughts rose unbidden, of Krall’s minions finding Chekov before Kirk could get back to him, of Kirk getting captured and killed before he could tell his crew where Chekov was, of his crew, this very moment, being killed or tortured for that sick bastard’s amusement-

He swallowed and forced himself back into the present. Kirk wasn’t used to this level of anxiety, not since his childhood. Sure, he was captain of a federation starship- he was constantly surrounded by danger. But he usually he had his crew at his back. His incredible, intelligent, innovative crew. And now Kirk, who used to pride himself on his independence, was finding himself at a complete loss without them.

He covered Chekov with his jacket, not knowing if it would help but unable to leave him as he was, crumbled in the dirt. Then Jim turned, squared his shoulders, and set off into the dim light of the dawn.

Only to immediately hear a click, a hiss, and then become enveloped in a strange, foggy trap. He tried to run, his fight or flight kicking in, only to find himself suspended in midair in a wall of solidified fog.

Kirk didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He settled for doing both.

It only took a few minutes for him to hear footsteps approaching. He tensed, wishing he could reach his phaser in his current position but completely unable to move. If it came down to it, he knew he would sacrifice himself to save Chekov, but he really didn’t want to die before knowing his crew was safe. He would have to strike as soon as he was released from the trap. Maybe he could jump on them, give himself the element of surprise, then pull his phaser. Two figures came into view, and he tightened his muscles, preparing to strike-

“Captain?!” Scotty’s cheerful shout nearly brought him to tears- joyful ones, at least.

“Scotty!” Jim gasped. “Get me down, quick. I need help. Chekov’s hurt.”

Scotty’s face darkened. With a few hurried words to his strange companion, Kirk felt the trap shattering into a million pieces around him. He fell towards the ground, barely managing to roll and catch himself. He accepted Scotty’s hand up, only to lurch forward and climb back over the rocks to where Chekov lay. Scotty followed after him, motioning to the female alien to follow them.

Chekov hadn’t moved from where Jim left him, eyes closed and paler than the captain had ever seen him. In a flash of panic, Kirk’s eyes locked on the lieutenant’s chest, unsure if it was rising at all. He collapsed onto the ground and pressed shaking fingers against Pavel’s wrist. His pulse was still there, if fainter than Kirk preferred. He released a breath and, removing his jacket, rolled the kid over so that Scotty and his companion could see the bloodied bandages covering the injury.

“Dear God, laddie,” Scotty whispered. “Well, he cannae do anything halfway, now can he?”

Kirk felt a hysterical chuckle escape. “I suppose not. Please tell me you’ve found others. Or, better yet, a fully functioning medbay?”

Scotty remorsefully shook his head. “No, I have not, Captain. But-” he turned to the alien woman, who nodded for him to continue. “It turns out Jaylah here’s home is an old federation ship, the USS Franklin. We may be able to find something there to treat him.”

“Jaylah,” Kirk turned to her guiltily, realizing he had barely looked her in the eyes since she arrived. If what Scotty said was true, she may be the key to saving his crew, and he hadn’t even said hello. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m James T. Kirk, captain of the USS Enterprise.”

She eyed him warily, but nodded. “If you are truly Montgomery Scotty’s friends, then I will help you.” She glanced around, still on high alert. “We need to go. You carry him. I will guard us.”

By the time they finally arrived at the USS Franklin, Kirk’s shoulders ached from Chekov’s weight. They placed him on his side on a cot in one of Jaylah’s main rooms, unable to get him all the way down to the ruined sickbay. When Jaylah produced the first aid kids she had scrounged, Jim had the strong urge to pull out all his hair. While the kits were still equipped, the technology was old. With all their limited medical knowledge, none among the trio could figure out how to work the scanners or regenerators. The best they could manage was a hypospray against infection and fresh bandages.

“I’m grateful for your help,” Kirk told Jaylah, “But we need to locate the rest of my crew, and quickly. Do the scanners on this ship still work?”

Jaylah and Scotty turned to each other, considering. “I have done what I can,” Jaylah informed them, “but I may need your help to make them light up.”

“Well then, lass, we’ll do it together.” Scotty glanced at the too-still form of Chekov, his eyes softening. “For Chekov, and for the crew.”

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Chekov had never felt more relieved in his life than when Sulu appeared among the crowd of crew members on the transporter pad, a little bruised but otherwise unharmed. He jumped up immediately, ignoring the resulting jolt of pain and darting for his lover. He made it halfway before his knees gave out and he crashed down, only for Sulu to fall to his knees and meet him there with a broken sob. “God, Hikaru.” He choked out. “God, I thought-”

“Are you okay?” Sulu asked frantically, hands searching the other man’s body even as he leaned his forehead against Chekov’s. The navigator tried to answer but couldn’t get out the words as he reassured himself that Hikaru was there, whole, in front of him. “Pavel, answer me, are you-”

Chekov cried out as Sulu’s hand hit the bandages on his back, slumping forward in pain. The adrenaline had dulled the agony, but now it burned, bright hot and impossible to ignore. Hikaru caught him before he could completely lose his balance, but darkness threatened his vision, and he felt himself go slack. Sulu was whispering to him frantically, trying to figure out how to hold him without hurting him even more. A new set of hands appeared, and Bone’s voice broke through the haze that threatened to overtake him.

“Help me. Get him up over to the couch. Shit, kid, I thought I told you to be careful!”

“What happened?” Sulu demanded, and Chekov felt the ground disappear from under him as they both lifted. In the background, he heard Scotty yell something over the communicator- something about Kirk’s beacon. Something was wrong.

“No, stop,” Chekov finally managed. “No, I have to help Scotty.” His vision warped, then returned. He began pushing against the hands helping him.

“Kid-” McCoy snapped incredulously.

But Chekov was regaining his strength. “Help me to the controls,” he snarled, “or I will do it myself.”

Bones continued protesting, but Sulu just sighed and helped Pavel over to his former seat. No matter how much he hated it, he knew better than to fight against his lover once the younger man had his mind fixed on something. Better to help him and try to minimize the damage in the process. Nevertheless, Sulu felt his heart sink when Chekov sunk down into the chair and fresh blood was visible on the once pristine bandages.

Chekov did not waste any time, immediately assessing Kirk and Jaylah’s position relative to the beacon. He knew it would be very, very close. They would have to time it perfectly, or they wouldn’t be coming back.

“Get ready,” he muttered to Scotty, ignoring the dubious look the engineer was giving him. “I’m tracking the captain’s trajectory and his elevation.”

“Aye.”

“3, 2, 1, energize!” They moved in concert, powering up the transporter at the last second, even as the beacon plummeted. The answering thuds on the transporter pad brought a smile to Pavel’s face. He let himself give into the exhaustion for a brief second, pushing away the flashes of a falling transporter signal and a hand reaching into the empty air, the images that still haunted him years later.

He felt Hikaru approach, his warm presence making Pavel’s breath come a little easier even as the pain intruded once again. “Come on, Pasha.” He prompted. “Let the doctor take a look at you. Please, for me.”

“Okay,” Chekov agreed, and let his partner help him to his feet. They half-dragged him to the nearest flat space, Bones waving various instruments around before he fully hit the ground. Pavel wanted so badly to let the fatigue take over, but he couldn’t. Not when the fate of the crew, and Yorktown, still hung in the balance. Sulu had already forced himself back into the role of responsible officer and was telling Kirk what they had discovered of Krall’s plans, the whole senior staff hovering around him to strategize. He could hear the weight of worry in Hikaru’s voice- worry for him, sure, but also for Demora and his ex-husband, stuck on Yorktown with no idea what was coming. Someone began fondly stroking his hair, and Pavel recognized Nyota’s touch without opening his eyes. He smiled and grasped her hand, trying to convey how happy he was that she was okay without interrupting. From the answering squeeze, he knew she understood. He drifted, catching bits and pieces of the conversation. The ship. They had to get the old ship off the planet and into space, no matter how impossible it seemed. They were the only hope for Yorktown.

When the rest of the crew began to prepare, Pavel pushed himself up wordlessly. Bones protested halfheartedly, but he knew just as well as the rest of them that they would need Chekov’s skill at the helm. After a moment of stubborn hesitation, the doctor administered a final hypo and supported him to the bridge. Every step sent a new dagger of pain into his back, but the pain medication began to take hold, dulling the world and softening the flares. A few more minutes, he told himself. Just another hour or two, and then he could rest. He tried not to think about all the moments an hour could contain.

Once they were sitting, Sulu spared a second to rest his hand on Pavel’s on top of the helm, voice low but comforting. “I’ll be right here the whole time,” he reassured. “Just please be easy on yourself. This is going to be bumpy.”

Chekov flipped his hand over so that their fingers could twine together. “I tell you the way, you get us there. This is the way it has always been. We are good partners. I am not worried, Hikaru. I trust us. Just… try to miss the potholes, yes?”

Sulu rolled his eyes but nodded. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. I trust us too.”

They separated, and as they had a million times before, pushed their emotions away and dropped into the mask of professionalism the academy had perfected. Around them, the bridge began to hum, nervous energy sinking into the background behind the anticipation of flight. Pavel felt his back throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

He studied the landscape before them, trying not to let any doubt creep in. He had told Hikaru he trusted him, and he meant it. Even so, Chekov couldn’t help but let a question slip out. “Mr. Sulu, we have to achieve terminal velocity in order for the stabilizers to provide lift. Are you sure this drop is high enough to do that?”

Sulu rested a hand on Pavel’s leg under the console, seemingly unable to stop touching his partner for more than a moment. Pavel didn’t mind. He knew Hikaru needed the reassurance that he was still there. Sulu’s voice was steady, eyes clear and smiling despite the anxiety. “We'll find out.”

Kirk settled into the captain’s chair, tense but as confident on the outside as always. “Call it, Mr. Sulu.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” Hikaru placed both his hands back on the helm, taking one last deep breath. “Mr. Chekov, be ready to hit the forward stabilizers full on my mark. One quarter impulse.”

“Aye.”

A second later, muscles clenching, breath coming faster- “One half impulse, Mr. Chekov.”

“Aye.”

The moment the ship finally crested the ridge and dove into a free fall, something tore painfully in Pavel’s back. He ignored it, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t survive the fall in the first place. With every small collision, the pain sparked anew, until his fists were clenched around the instruments and his vision was blurry. Chekov could sense Sulu’s overwhelming desire to check on him, and the willpower it took to keep facing forward. He knew he would have struggled the same way, had their positions been reversed. But they had agreed long ago that the ship- rather, the crew- came first.

At the last possible second, they hit terminal velocity and threw all their power forward, coasting upwards with an indescribable relief. There was little time for celebration. For the short journey to Yorktown, Chekov blocked everything else out, ignoring Sulu’s less-than-subtle glances and the agony that threatened to flatten him. All that mattered was making it in time, and figuring out a way to stop Krall.

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Chekov didn’t return to his body until Yorktown loomed on the viewscreen, Uhura’s voice edged with anxiety. “I'm picking up distress signals from every frequency coming from Yorktown. Krall's already started his attack.”

He felt like he had just jolted back into consciousness, even though his hands had been performing standard checks on their heading for the past ten minutes, moving robotically. It took great effort to suppress the groan building inside his throat. Now that he was no longer disassociating, the pain was ever-present and white-hot. Pavel bit his lip to anchor himself, hardly daring to breathe.

Kirk’s commanding voice was a welcome distraction. “Mr. Scott, what kind of weapons do we have?”

Scotty was strangely distorted on the old, damaged equipment. “We have pulsed phase cannons and spatial torpedoes.”

The captain’s confidence was reassuring, if misplaced. “Great. Lock and load.” 

Chekov started to shake his head before Jaylah even spoke, but the resulting dizziness stopped him. It wouldn’t-couldn’t-be that easy. “It does not matter. You cannot defeat the bees.”

Kirk only faltered briefly. “Maybe... maybe we lure them away. How do we get Yorktown time to get people to safety?”

Sulu’s hand brushed Pavel’s leg under the station, even as he turned to respond. His voice was tight, worried. Pavel couldn’t imagine how he was holding it together with Demora and Ben on the station. “We are a horse and buggy compared to those things. We're barely holding together as it is, Captain.”

There were dark lights dancing in the corners of Chekov’s vision, but he forced himself to focus on Spock’s voice. “Captain, the flight patterns of bees are determined by individual decisions. Krall's swarm formations are too complex not to rely on some form of unified cyberpathic coordination. I surmise that if we...” The rest of the conversation was lost to the static invading Pavel’s hearing. He let himself drift, floating in a liminal space where the pain couldn’t fully penetrate, until he was needed again. It came with a gentle tap on his leg; Sulu was peering at him with concern. Chekov tried to give him a reassuring smile- a failed attempt, based on Sulu’s sigh- and tuned back in. They were discussing the methods of communication between the bees, and how to break them. 

“Disrupt their network.” Scotty suggested.

Spock, from his newly acquired needleship, responded. “The focus might be too specific. If we could plant some sort of disruptive communication signal inside the swarm, it might adversely affect their capacity to coordinate.”

Pavel’s mind was whirring, even as he lost the ability to feel his toes and fingers. He was a tactical officer for a reason- he couldn’t let his personal circumstances get in the way. Not when Yorktown- and Sulu’s daughter- was at risk. It took a couple tries to get his mouth working again. “It would have to be at a frequency they will not anticipate.”

Sulu glanced sidelong at him, but nodded. “We could cause a chain reaction that would wipe out the whole swarm.”

The next few minutes of frantic activity revived Pavel, if only through the sheer power of his adrenaline. There were adjustments to be made, calculations to perfect. When Jaylah informed them over the communication channel that they were ready, Chekov felt a small thrill of anticipation. They had one shot to get it right. His mind sharpened, reviewing the data over and over again.

“We’ll have to get closer.” Uhura warned them. 

“How close?”

“Very,” was the wry response to Kirk. Pavel and Hikaru exchanged a nod, already preparing before Kirk even gave the order. In times like these, Chekov could almost see an invisible link connecting the two of them, the way they slotted together and thoughts entwined like something totally natural and yet a little bit magic. 

“Intercept course, Mr. Sulu. Put us right in the middle of that thing.”

“Yes, sir.” One eye on the viewscreen and one on their console, they moved forward. It didn’t take long for a response to appear.

“The swarm ships are doubling back! They are forming an attack wave, sir.” Chekov alerted. As Kirk gave the order to brace, he tried to focus on the flashing lights on the console and block out memories of the first devastating attack, the shock and flame and smoke and screams. 

The music blasted on, drowning out the deja vu. Explosions appeared once again, but this time it was the swarm ships disintegrating, not the starship. Relieved laughter rose up from the bridge, and Sulu and Chekov shared a smile. Once Uhura shared the frequency with Yorktown, the path of destruction doubled. Pavel felt himself release a breathe- maybe, just maybe, this was almost finally over.

But of course, it was too soon to think of victory.

Spock’s voice filtered through the communication channel, stoic in typical Vulcan fashion but with an undertone of-frustration? Panic? Chekov couldn’t identify it. “There are still three ships heading into Yorktown.” 

Kirk swore under his breath. “That’s got to be Krall. Keep on him, Spock. Do whatever it takes to stop him from using that weapon.”

They followed the smaller ships into spacedock, Chekov and Sulu struggling to hold a steady course. The Franklin wasn’t made for this kind of flying, and it had started to become abundantly clear that it was taking a toll. It felt like being stuck on a ship in an angry stormy sea, tossing in multiple directions without time to get their bearings. Pavel bit back a moan as he leaned closer over the console, fighting for control. He could hear alarms chiming one after another, signaling the loss of hull integrity. There was no time to silence them. The Franklin veered down the docking conduit after Krall, barely holding together. If they could just last for a few more seconds-

There were shouts coming from their link with Bones and Spock, but Pavel couldn’t parse through and keep them alive at the same time. He didn’t tune in until Kirk’s voice rang out, ordering them to pull up a schematic of Yorktown.

Sulu couldn’t turn to look at him, still trying to keep the ship together with white knuckles. “Mr. Chekov, can you do a bioscan of Central Plaza?”

“Aye.” Pavel moved quickly, throwing the scan onto the screen. “They are clearing civilians.”

Kirk instructed Bones and Spock to head for the same plaza as the Franklin, racing to keep up with Krall. It didn’t take long for them to reach the city center, and then there was one last desperate maneuver to execute. 

The Franklin erupted from the lake like a monster out of legend, bright arcs of water drops framing its entrance. Just as suddenly, the ship crashed back to the ground with a heavy thud, tossing everyone who wasn’t secured. Pavel slammed forward against the console despite Sulu throwing out his arm like he could somehow prevent impact. He hissed, mind going dark for a moment before returning to consciousness. They all gasped for breath, but there was no time for recovery. Chekov squinted at the flashing warning lights in front of him, forcing himself to make sense of all the warring inputs. “Captain, I have three hull breaches from the impact. Deck 3, the cargo bay, and the engine room.”

Kirk was already moving. “All right, Sulu and Chekov-“ he glanced at them, then winced. “Nevermind. Uhura, with me. Sanchez and Boku, check the cargo bay and Deck 3.” He continued giving orders, but cast one last look at the helmsmen as he was about to leave. “Sulu, get Chekov to medical care. We’ll take care of this.” 

Kirk needn’t have worried. Sulu was on his feet before he finished speaking, hands on Pavel’s shoulders. Pavel belatedly noticed that his ears were ringing and his fingers were numb, cold spreading throughout his body like frost stuck in his veins. Hikaru was trying to catch his eye, grip firm even though his hands were shaking. Was it adrenaline from the flight, or fear for Chekov? Pavel couldn’t decide- his mind had become as slow and murky as molasses. 

“Pasha, are you okay? Can you stand?” Sulu was asking, though his voice echoed strangely.

“I am cold.” Chekov managed. He dared not answer the second question.

“Okay, okay. Just hold on, love. I’m going to call Yorktown Central for help, and then we’re going to have to get off this ship.”

He nodded, or at least tried to, but it was hard to lift his head back up. The  world blurred around him, time stretching and snapping until Hikaru was suddenly back in front of him. He lifted Chekov from the elbows and Pavel immediately stumbled forward into him. Sulu caught him, swiftly pulling one arm over his shoulder and dragging him towards the nearest exit.

Pavel attempted to pick up his feet, he really did. But he had used the last of his energy, and then some more, and then more. Now, there was truly nothing left. He was mostly a dead weight against Sulu. The halls of the ship warped around him, the floor pitching beneath his feet.

They emerged into dazzling light. There were screams and shouts on the periphery, but the plaza was startlingly empty. Hikaru was mumbling encouraging words in his ear, and Pavel distantly thought he must be exhausted, but Sulu would not let him go. They only made it a few more steps before Chekov once again felt his legs give out from under him. Hikaru cushioned his fall, pulling his head carefully into his lap, even as Pavel struggled to keep his eyes open. 

“Hold on, baby.” Hikaru panted, his eyes scanning their surroundings desperately. “Medic! We need a medic over here!” He pulled Chekov’s jacket aside, then swore. “God, fuck, oh my God, you’re bleeding so much. I’m so sorry Pasha, this is going to hurt.” 

That was an understatement, Pavel decided, as lightning shot up his back anew. Sulu was pressing down on the wound as hard as possible, struggling to slow the flow of blood. He couldn’t help it- instinctually, Chekov pulled away, fighting to get away from the agony.

“No baby, please.” Sulu begged, tears making his voice thick. “Please, I know it hurts, but you have to let me do this. Medic!”

The pain dissipated, until the only thing left was all-consuming cold. Pavel slumped back, eyes sliding closed. He felt like he was floating, barely tethered to the earth.

“Pasha, hey!” Hikaru shook him gently, one hand still pressed to his back. “Come on love, you have to stay with me. Help is coming, I promise. Fuck, why are they taking so long?”

“I don’t…” Pavel slurred, only to realize he was speaking in Russian. He struggled to breath in. He knew there was not much time left. Whatever he wanted to say, he had to say it now. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Hikaru leaned closer to hear him better, voice shaky. “What do you mean? What are you sorry for?”

“Not your fault.” Chekov managed, trying to grab Sulu’s hand. Their fingers entwined, and he relaxed slightly. “Or Kirk’s, or- or anyone’s. I love you. I love you so much.” The last part definitely came out in Russian, but he knew Hikaru would understand. 

“Baby, don’t say that. Hold on, please. I love you too. I need you, please.” Hikaru’s voice broke, but it didn’t matter. Chekov could no longer listen. He was unmoored and lost in the darkness. 

Pavel awoke to soft beeps and a sweaty hand. It took him a few minutes to gather himself enough to investigate either of these things with such unusually heavy eyelids. There was sterile white light, and a lot of it, when he finally managed to crack an eye open. It made his head spike with pain- which alerted him to the fact that he was, actually, in quite a lot of pain. He moaned and forced the other eye open as well, determined to figure out what was making him so miserable.

The reason for his sweaty palm immediately became clear. Hikaru was splayed awkwardly in a hospital chair, his fingers curled around Pavel’s even in sleep. Chekov managed a small smile and squeezed his hand, no longer minding the discomfort. The rest of the pain was concentrated in his back and his temples, rather bothersome now that he was no longer unconscious. He shifted awkwardly, wondering if it would be cruel to wake Hikaru up.

He didn’t get the chance. There were footsteps and two voices kept low in conversation rapidly approaching his room. Pavel turned as the door opened, just in time to see the shock and pleasure on McCoy and Kirk’s faces. They all but sprinted over, ridiculously eager for two grown men. Bones went straight to the chart displaying his vitals, fingers dashing over the screen with an expert air. “Hey, kid,” he spoke, voice still quiet. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad.” Chekov deadpanned, earning a snort from Kirk. “Is there something you can do to fix that?”

“We’ll get you high as a kite, don’t worry. You’ve earned it.” The doctor patted his shoulder gently even as he pressed a button that made Pavel nice and numb. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Chekov furrowed his brow, trying to think back through the fog and headache. “Landing the Franklin in Yorktown, I think.”

“You didn’t miss too much, then.” Bones stepped away from the chart, relaxing. “From what Sulu told us, once we- well, landed, as you so kindly put it- he had to drag your bleeding ass into the square. You passed out right before the medics got there and were rushed into surgery. It was a close thing, kid. You scared us.”

“Ah.” Pavel tried not to think about that too much. There would be time for processing the near-death experience later, when he was not on so much nice pain medication. “How long have I been… asleep?”

“Two days.” McCoy frowned. “There’s a limit to how much doctors can do, even these days. Please do not test it again, Pavel.” 

He nodded, still barely able to understand what he was hearing. “Keptin?”

Jim, who was seemingly lost in his thoughts, jerked to attention. “Yes, Pavel?”

Chekov cocked his head. “You are being very quiet. It is weird.” 

It was McCoy’s turn to snort, but Kirk’s smile was half-hearted at best. “Sorry, I’m just- tired, I guess. You all ran me ragged, having to be the big hero and save your asses- again.”

“Oh, and I did nothing, I suppose.” Bones mumbled, rolling his eyes. But Chekov didn’t say anything, eyes locked on the captain.

After a moment of pregnant silence, Jim sighed. “I just- I want to say I’m sorry, Pavel. I wish I could have done more for you. You almost died, and I let it happen. I didn’t stop you from running yourself into the grave.” His voice wavered as he scrubbed a trembling hand over bloodshot eyes.

All Pavel could do was shake his head. “I do not understand, Keptin. It was not your fault at all. You were doing your job, and I did mine.”

Jim laughed humorlessly. “It’s my job to keep you all safe.”

“No,” Pavel corrected. “It is your job to do your best. Your best to keep the crew safe, yes, and to follow our mission. You did that, and have always done that, at the expense of your own life. I am a small part, so are the others. You cannot save us all, and we do not blame you for that. You saved most, and that is enough.”

Kirk took a shuddering breath. “Okay, I- okay. Thank you. I will try to believe that.”

Chekov twisted to look at McCoy, who was watching Jim with a mix of grief and familial love. “And you too, Doctor. Thank you for always saving our ‘asses,’ and I would not have blamed you if you couldn’t save me. I would have haunted you all, sure. But just for fun.” 

Bones smacked the back of his head- gently. “Alright, that’s enough. You’re too doped up to be talking about this shit.”

Pavel nodded towards Hikaru. “How long has he been here? He is not usually such a deep sleeper.”

The doctor rolled his eyes once again. “The entire time, and awake until about five hours ago. He’s as terrible as you are.” McCoy took the opportunity to kick Sulu’s leg, jolting him awake. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Your prince is up and talking.”

Pavel frowned. “This metaphor does not make sense.” But before he could finish, Hikaru was wrapped around him, sobbing. He returned the gesture as much as his weak arms would allow. 

“Fuck you Pasha, never do that to me again.” Hikaru was saying through the tears, peppering his face with salty kisses.

“I almost died, and you are bullying me.” Chekov tried to joke, but at the word “died,” Sulu erupted into fresh sobs. “Okay, sorry, dumb thing to say. I am okay, love. I am sorry, I will not do this again. It hurt too much anyways.” 

Bones paused at the doorway to wave, already shoving Kirk out of the room. “We’ll leave you two alone. Ben has Demora in the waiting room, whenever you’re ready to say hi. But for God’s sake, both of you, get some rest. The Enterprise has to be rebuilt; you have plenty of time to recover.” He glared at Sulu. “If you do not rest, I will not hesitate to drug your tea again.” 

When the two of them were alone, Pavel pulled Sulu onto the bed, melting into his embrace. “I am sorry, truly. I did not mean to scare you.”

Hikaru held him like a fragile thing- Chekov guessed he was, for the moment. “I know. I’m sorry too, I was just so scared. I know it’s a stupid cliche, but you’re the love of my life. I wouldn’t know what to do or where to go without you.”

Pavel kissed him, long and slow, and rested their foreheads together. “I will not let you do this life alone. I promise.” He breathed in Hikaru's comforting scent, then yawned. "But can we take a nap first, please?"