Let Fortune Turn Her Wheel (2/3)

[mercaque]

“I am fine. I am fine!” A half a day later Chekov sits on a biobed, trapped in a small room on the eighth floor of Starfleet Medical. He’s spent the last hour rebuking doctors who insist on poking and prodding and muttering to each other about him, and who won’t let him put his shirt back on. “I was well enough to give you my report. I do not need any more tests!”

“Sir, at your age, we have to be absolutely sure-”

“At my age, I do not have time for this. Unless I am in mortal danger, let me go.”

He snarls it with such force that the doctor actually backs off, and Chekov snatches up his shirt from the far table, still buttoning it as he goes storming down the hallway.

The corridors of Starfleet Medical are cave-dark and tomb-quiet, qualities that do nothing to calm Chekov’s terror over Hikaru. Normally medical problems, even ones concerning Starfleet officers, are brought to smaller infirmaries throughout the city. If they were brought here, to Starfleet Medical itself, then it must either mean that some administrator was still impressed with his stature as a former member of the Enterprise, or that Sulu’s condition was more dire than Chekov dared to think.

“Sir. Sir!” comes a hiss behind him. “Professor Chekov!”

“What?” Chekov asks, turning around with open irritation. He stops in astonishment when he discovers Nima Parsi running up the hall after him. “You?”

“Yes, me,” Parsi says. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“They called me in because of what happened to you and Mr. Sulu, of course,” Parsi says. “How many other time travel cases do you think Starfleet Medical is dealing with?”

Chekov’s eyebrows rise. “With your track record?”

“Sir, I promise, my track record is usually better than this,” Parsi groans. “Anyway, I’m glad I’ve found you. Come on, I’m taking you to see Sulu.”

“You know where he is?” Chekov cries. “You have seen him? Is he all right?”

“He’s in good condition,” Dr. Parsi says, shepherding Chekov into a nearby turbolift. “Good enough condition to pester me to come get you, in fact. Although make no mistake - you two just had an incredibly close call.”

The turbolift whirs along for three more levels, to an upper floor. Parsi leads them through another quiet corridor, not walking fast enough for Chekov’s taste. Despite the reassurance that Sulu is all right, the occasional glimpse into open rooms makes Chekov’s anxiety bubble up again: he spies people with grave injuries, family members with somber faces. Why is Sulu being kept in such a section if he’s all right? Chekov’s very close to shouting at Dr. Parsi when they finally come to a stop in front of one of the rooms.

Chekov can’t hold back a long, shaking exhale of relief when the doors slide open. Sulu’s sitting up on the biobed, swinging his feet off the side. He’s still a few shades paler than he should be, his eyes and shoulders weighed down by exhaustion, and there are spots of dried blood on his shirt. But he’s recovered enough that he’s been permitted to put his civilian clothes back on, and that he brightens as soon as he sees Chekov hurrying toward him.

“Pavel,” Sulu cries, “you’re all right-”

He’s cut off when Chekov crushes him in a tight hug. Eyes squeezed shut, he strokes fingers through Sulu’s hair, runs the back of his hand against his cheek. Chekov knows he shouldn’t be doing this, it’s too forward, he’s giving himself away, he’s just ruined the whole timeline, and poor Dr. Parsi is hovering awkwardly in the doorway. But he doesn’t care, especially not when Sulu slings a warm arm around his waist in return.

“Are you okay?” Sulu mumbles against Chekov’s shirt. “They said you were hurt, too.”

Chekov shakes his head. “Fine, I am fine, oh, Hikaru-” he turns back to Dr. Parsi. “You can shut the doors, you know.”

Parsi steps in, letting the doors close behind him. “If, uh, you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about what happened,” he says.

“Yes, yes.” Chekov releases his grip on Sulu, clasping his hands behind his back. “Please, tell us.”

“Well. Mr. Sulu, it seems your friends, fifty-six years in the past, just made a rescue attempt,” Parsi says. “You see, when our experiment pulled you into the future, it left behind a residual temporal fissure - a hole in the fabric of space-time. The Enterprise crew tried to use the transporter beam to punch through the hole, so they could lock on and pull you back to their time. I have to say, it’s an utterly brilliant theory.” He appears genuinely impressed. “Unfortunately, their actual technique was… less refined. Instead of pulling you back in time, Mr. Sulu, it’s more like they almost pulled you apart.”

A shudder ripples through Sulu. “That’s what it felt like.”

“You were hemorrhaging severely when you were brought in,” Parsi says. “If they hadn’t ended the experiment when they did, you would have been killed. And you, Professor Chekov- you’re very lucky you only got the tail end of it.”

Chekov’s hand tightens on Sulu’s shoulder. “A biphasic transponder,” he said grimly. “We must place one on Hikaru as soon as possible. I think I know the method they are using. It will shield him if they try it again, which I am certain they will.”

Dr. Parsi nods. “I can get one right away, sir.”

“Good,” Chekov says, and for the first time smiles at this strange time travel doctor, almost feels something like appreciation for him. “Good, then we have found a solution. Hikaru, if you feel well enough to come home...”

“Sure, but-” Sulu hops down from the biobed, flicking a questioning look between Parsi and Chekov. “Is that it?”

“What else is there?” Chekov asks.

“What else?” Sulu replies in disbelief. “Maybe the fact that I’m still fifty-six years in the future? Dr. Parsi, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask - you’re pretty close to sending me back to the past, right? Do you have any idea how much longer it’s going to be?”

Hurt, Chekov folds his arms and scowls. You don’t have to be so eager to go, he’s tempted to say, but he knows it’s selfish. After all, Sulu wouldn’t be Sulu if he weren’t still thinking about his parents and sisters and everyone else back in his own time.

“Oh!” Parsi exclaims. “Oh, goodness. I’m sorry, Mr. Sulu. Of course, I should have realized that would be on your mind. No, I’m afraid we’re not very close to a solution at all, and I apologize if anyone from my department has given you that impression. We’ve solved about fifty percent of the problem, which is to say, we know how to send you back. Unfortunately, we’re still not sure how to send you back to the correct moment in time. We’re hoping some of the data from the Enterprise’s rescue attempt will provide a clue. But for now, quite frankly, it’s going to be a lot easier for the Enterprise to lock onto you here in the future, than it will be for us to figure out how to send you back to the correct moment in the past.”

Sulu’s shoulders sink as he absorbs this, his eyes widening and darkening. He slides a hand down over his face.

“But... their experiments will kill him,” Chekov points out softly.

Sulu flashes a glare at him. “You told me they were close to a solution.”

“What?” Chekov says.

“The night you came to get me. You assured me - you promised me,” Sulu says, his voice rising.

“I,” Chekov fumbles. All he can remember of that night is the shock of seeing Hikaru again. “I thought they were.”

“But you didn’t actually know.”

“Not... not exactly.” Seeing Sulu’s betrayed look, Chekov adds: “I do not work in their department. Okay? I assumed that if they brought you here, they had a basic level of knowledge...”

“Then why didn’t you say that?” Sulu demands. “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“Hikaru, please,” Chekov says. “You are not an unrealistic person. You could not have expected these scientists to bend time and space in a matter of days.”

“Of course I didn’t expect that. I’m not stupid,” Sulu answers. “What I did expect was honesty. Pavel, that’s the entire reason I asked for you, why I begged and pleaded, why I wouldn’t talk to anyone else. I didn’t think I could trust anyone else. I told you that, almost word for word, and you still lied to me?”

Chekov turns away, badly stung. “You were so upset,” he says. “I only meant to make you feel better, not - to lie.”

Sulu hisses a sigh. “Okay,” he says, and turns to Dr. Parsi. “Can you tell me if you’re making progress, at least?”

“We’re doing our best,” Parsi insists. “We take our research very seriously, and we know we’ve impacted your life. We’re working as hard as we can.”

“I know,” Sulu answers, although he’s struggling to hold onto his patience. “I know you are, and I am sincerely grateful for your efforts. I just want to know how long it’s going to be, so I can - I don’t know, prepare myself.”

“Well,” Parsi says uncomfortably, “I can’t tell you that, exactly.”

“You can’t even narrow it down to a time frame?”

“Mr. Sulu, you know as well as I do that experimental science doesn’t really work on a time frame.”

“Then what can you tell me?” Sulu shouts, and then catches himself. “Dr. Parsi, I - I’m sorry. But I don’t know if you actually understand how you’ve impacted my life. What if I’m stuck here until I’m thirty-five? How can I go back to where I was and pick back up? And while I am here, I’m in this state of limbo. I’m not allowed to talk to anyone, and I’m not allowed to know anything. But it’s not like I can’t figure it out! I know my family is dead. I know it. Aren’t they?”

Parsi throws an anxious glance at Chekov, who can’t look either one of them in the eye. The awkward silence drags on and on.

“Oh, my God,” Sulu whispers. “My sisters, too?”

“Mr. Sulu,” Parsi says, “you can’t think about that right now.”

“How am I supposed to think about anything else?” he cries.

“We have a counselor you can talk to,” Parsi says. “He specializes in cases like this. And if worst comes to worst, we do have procedures for integrating chronological orphans into society at large.”

“Chronological orphans-?” he echoes. “No! I don’t want a counselor, and I don’t want to integrate.”

“Okay,” Parsi says, “it’s your decision-”

“And I’m not going to wear the transponder,” Sulu decides, his expression a little crazed.

“What?” Chekov looks up, horrified. “Have you forgotten you nearly died a few hours ago?”

He glares. “Of course not. But it’s the only chance I have.”

“It is not a real chance. It is only the illusion of a chance,” Chekov says. “Hikaru. You have lost a lot of blood, and you are very emotional right now. At least wear the device until you calm down, and then you can decide to take it off.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Sulu snaps. “Besides, what makes you think it’s a good idea to wear the transponder for even that amount of time? What if I wear it so long that I miss my chance? What if the Enterprise stops trying, and I’m trapped here?”

“Then Dr. Parsi will find a way.”

“You just heard him! No he won’t!”

“And neither will the Enterprise,” Chekov answers. “Will you try to think clearly, please! There is no point in being returned to your own time if you are dead when you get there!”

Defiant, Sulu crosses his arms. “Why should I believe you now?”

“You-” Chekov sputters. “How dare you! I have done nothing but care for you, and you accuse me of dishonesty?”

“Just want to be sure you’re not sparing my feelings again.”

“Fine,” Chekov retorts, “then let me tell you so that there is no mistake. You nearly failed temporal mechanics, yes? So we both know you don’t really understand the theories the Enterprise is using. But even though you don’t comprehend the odds, you are arrogant enough to think you can cheat them anyway. You are letting your little fantasies of bravery run away with you, and when this experiment kills you, you will discover just how childish they are. Have I made this honest enough?”

By the time he’s finished, Sulu’s eyes glitter and his jaw has locked tight. “Yeah, you have.”

Chekov falters. “Hikaru, I-”

“No. Don’t,” Sulu says. “I’m grateful that you’ve decided to be honest about your real opinion of me. Maybe I should do you the favor of getting out of here as soon as possible.”

He bites back a scream. “I don’t want to get rid of you! I am trying to save you! That is the point!”

“Well I can’t wait to leave!” Sulu cries. “The faster I go, the faster I can forget what a miserable, bitter person you turn into! How the hell did you get like this, Chekov?”

“That is an unbelievable question coming from YOU!” Chekov roars, loudly enough to shake the walls, and to bring the room to full silence.

Parsi’s all but cowering against the wall, like a child witnessing his parents argue.

“Doctor, may we have a moment?” Sulu says.

“Um. Sure,” he answers, and scrambles toward the door.

Once the door has slid shut and they’re left alone, Sulu flicks a challenging glare to Chekov. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, Pavel?”

“What is really going on,” Chekov replies venomously, “is that you were always like this, right from the start, and I was a foolish little child not to see-”

“How long were we married?”

Chekov stops short, his mouth falling open. “What?” he blusters. “I have never said anything about marriage.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you before I blacked out.” All at once, Sulu’s certainty wavers. “You, um. You said you couldn’t lose me again. And - come on, Pavel, I’ve noticed the plants and the other stuff around your house - and the way you treat me-”

“Fine!” Chekov snarls. “Forty-four years. It was forty-four years, and it would have been fifty last month, but you wrecked everything!”

“Forty-four...” Sulu repeats, shock softening his voice.

“So go ahead, Hikaru.” Chekov draws himself up, eyes flashing. “Tell me you’re going to be fine. Tell me you know the risks. Tell me you can take care of yourself. Don’t think I haven’t heard these things a thousand times before. Did you even know you were lying to me? Or did you truly believe you could keep taunting death forever? Yes, since you have figured everything out, you must know that by now you are dead! You were killed on one of Kirk’s idiotic missions, and no I’m not ruining the timeline by telling you this, because he asked you on so many that it hardly matters which one was your last. You went along with him every time he asked, every single time, no matter how many times you got hurt, no matter how much you both knew I hated it, no matter how I begged you to stop! In all the forty-four years we were married, you never cared how it tore me apart when you went on those pointless missions, and you have no idea what it did to me when you didn’t come back! And now you want to do it to me AGAIN!” Chekov’s descended into a blind shriek. “It’s all your fault! You! You and Jim, you were both so obsessed with feeling like big brave men. But neither one of you big brave men would be alive if it weren’t for ME! I saved you! I pulled you out of the air! I should have let you both FALL if I had known what you would do to my life!”

“Stop it, Pavel, stop!” Sulu shouts, his hands raised as if to block out any more. “Please, just stop! I’m sorry!”

But Chekov’s trailed off into silence, except for his breath, which is coming faster and faster, until he presses hands over his face and muffles a hoarse wail.

“Oh Pavel,” Sulu cries.

And he hurries across the room to catch Chekov, who crumples against him with a howling sob, and another and another. Chekov’s crying so hard that he can barely breathe, barely hear himself filling the room with the anguished noise, barely feel when Sulu begins to stroke his hair and murmur that he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s so sorry. He lets Sulu support him as he sinks to the floor, where they both curl back against the wall, and where Sulu cradles him close. Eventually Chekov burrows against him, letting himself be warmed by Sulu’s body heat and soothed by his scent, until he’s exhausted his grief.

“It’s not fair,” Chekov finally chokes out, lifting a blotched face. “I miss you so much, and they said it would get better with time, but it hasn’t-”

Sulu kisses him, messily, and for the first time Chekov realizes his cheeks are tear-stained as well. “I’m sorry, Pavel,” he says, “I’m sorry, and - and I’ll wear the transponder, okay?”

“What?” Chekov sniffles, his voice still threatening to give way. “Because I screamed at you?”

“Because you’re right,” Sulu says. “It hasn’t been that long, just a few days. Just - please, I’m sorry, oh my God -”

Chekov takes a heavy breath. He’s won. For the first time in his life, he’s talked Sulu out of some ridiculous dangerous act, but it’s taken everything he has. All his fight, all his anger, all his energy, everything. He lets himself fall against Hikaru again, closing his eyes.

“No, I should apologize,” Chekov murmurs. “I should not have said those things to you. Any of them. If you let yourself believe those things, that you are - a liar, or not intelligent, or that I regret saving you, then I will never forgive myself. Because they aren’t true and I love you more than anything-”

Chekov breaks off, his eyes stinging again. Sulu locks a tighter grip around him.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh,” he whispers against Chekov’s ear. “Pavel, it’s all right. Forget about it.”

“How can you-?” Chekov says, wiping at his face. “You see? You’re the only one who is so patient with me.”

“Seems to me like you’ve more than returned that favor.” Sulu’s voice rumbles between them. “I love you, okay?”

Chekov’s eyes widen. “But...” he says. “But we are not even together yet, where you come from.”

“I know, but-” He hesitates, taking a deep breath. “Didn’t my future self ever tell you? It was - it was when they told me what you’d done, how you ran to save me and Kirk. I know I saw you differently after that. I don’t know if I realized that I’d fallen in love with you, but I did. And if… if I’ve ever really done anything to make you regret that moment...” Sulu’s voice catches, and he clears his throat. “I want to go back to him so badly. My Chekov, I mean. I have the same feelings for you as I do for him, I think, but it just makes me miss him even more. And I know he’s you, but- oh, the longer I stay here, the more confusing it gets.” Sulu sighs his frustration. “This isn’t making any sense, is it?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Chekov answers. “It is how I felt when I saw you in the laboratory. I… I think I underestimated that you could feel the same.”

“Well, yeah, but you have forty-four years of history to consider. I don’t have that many weeks.” A hint of mirth creeps into his voice. “Do you even want to know how ridiculously mad I was when I got here and thought you were married to someone else?”

And now Chekov, as raw and teary as he is, can’t keep a hysterical laugh from escaping. “This must be more than you bargained for.”

“Yeah, a little.” Sulu kisses at his temple. “But more than I hoped for, too.”

Chekov wriggles closer. “They will not stop trying to get you back,” he whispers. “I will not stop trying. I know myself. You will not miss your chance to go home.”

“Okay.” Sulu’s embrace tightens. “Then I believe it.”

“And - and I can help them.” Chekov says it almost to himself. “I think I can modify the transponder, so that your pattern will remain stable when they try again.”

Sulu looks at him in quiet astonishment. “You would do that?”

“I have to, yes?” Chekov brushes a hand through Sulu’s hair, kisses his cheek. “Otherwise those forty-four years do not happen.”
***

Sulu guards the door until Chekov’s composed himself. And even after Chekov’s dried his face and gotten his voice back, it’s Sulu who takes the lead, as if he isn’t a chronological orphan. He works with Dr. Parsi to get them checked out of the medical facility, and arranges to put on the transponder, and finds the way back home with only a little bit of help from Chekov, who can’t help remarking that he doesn’t mind being the navigator.

As soon as they arrive home, Chekov mumbles something about beginning work on the new transponder, and receives a firm No.

“Not today,” Sulu orders, and all but forces an exhausted Chekov onto the couch.

Chekov feels more like an old man than he ever has before, ready to fall asleep as soon as he sinks back against the cushions. He manages to stay awake long enough for Sulu to bring replicated soup, which he consumes in dull, mindless spoonfuls. As soon as Sulu takes the bowl away, his head is drooping forward again, his eyelids heavy.

“C’mon, Pavel, c’mon,” comes a soothing whisper, and an arm around his shoulders, and Sulu’s nestling around Chekov and pulling him down. Their fingers interlace, and he can feel Hikaru’s heartbeat fluttering against his back, and Chekov smiles as sleep overtakes him.
***

When he awakens, Chekov feels clearer than he has in six years.

He sits up and gently disentangles himself from Sulu, who mumbles in his sleep. Dawn hasn’t broken yet, and the room is still dark: only the small metal transponder affixed to the side of Sulu’s neck gives a steady blink-blink-blink of orange light. Chekov regards him with a detached sort of affection, tempted to kiss but unwilling to wake him.

Despite the ache between his shoulders from sleeping in such a position, and the remnants of slumber heavy in his limbs, Chekov thinks he might actually feel something like peace.

No, it’s not quite peace. It’s a feeling Chekov hasn’t known for more than a decade, not since the year his mother had come to this house to live with them. By that time, Yekaterina Chekova had grown so old and frail that even the Federation’s most advanced medical science could not reverse it. After months of watching her shrink and wither, Chekov can still clearly remember the stillness that had come over him when she finally did pass. Of course he had grieved for her terribly, and still misses her to this day; but this was at least buttressed by a sense of inevitability, by a perverse sort of relief that her pain had ended.

Hikaru’s death had not been inevitable. It had been random, and meaningless, and violent. The news of it had flayed Chekov alive, a sensation that recurred fresh every time he thought about it, even now, six years later. Except - it’s dulled a little, as he watches this younger Hikaru sleep. It occurs to Chekov that he’s at last being allowed to let him go the way it should have been the first time, even if it’s still too soon. With a prick of guilt Chekov recalls his open scorn for Dr. Parsi. Whatever errors or mistakes or miscalculations the young doctor may have made, he’s performed an unwitting act of mercy.

He rises, leaving Sulu to sleep. Fetching the second transponder, the one he’s going to modify, he heads into his study.

The shadows in the room shrink and shift as Chekov works; he’s so intent upon the transponder that he hardly notices the sun rising. For all that he doesn’t want to think about actually letting Hikaru go, Chekov starts to enjoy himself. He hasn’t had a true scientific challenge in ages.
***

It’s mid-morning when Chekov glances up, and finds Sulu watching him from the doorway. He jumps back in his seat.

“Sorry,” Sulu says. He’s freshly showered, clean and handsome in dark clothes. “I haven’t been watching long.”

Chekov lifts an eyebrow. “But you have been watching?”

“Only because you looked so intense,” Sulu says, with a little smile playing at his mouth. “I didn’t want to interrupt. But now that I have, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Hikaru, really, you don’t have to always feed me,” Chekov says.

He shrugs. “Well, I like to.” He doesn’t add, and I have nothing else to do.

Chekov works for another twenty minutes while Sulu cooks, and then sets down his tools and wanders out to the dining room. There he finds a plate full of eggs and bacon and fried potatoes and fruit, and steaming coffee beside it.

“You are spoiling me, you know this?” he remarks, after they’ve spent a good five minutes eating. “It is delicious.”

Sulu offers a limp chuckle. “Glad you like it.”

Chekov stops eating and peers over at him. “There is something wrong?”

“I’ve, ah-” Sulu’s fingers twist anxiously around the fork. “I’ve been thinking about what
you said to me yesterday.”

Chekov winces. “You mean what I yelled at you?”

This gets a mild laugh out of Sulu. “Yeah, that.”

“Please, you must not take any of that seriously,” Chekov says. “I was - emotional.”

“That doesn’t mean you were wrong. No, it’s okay - I’m not angry, or hurt, or anything,” Sulu insists, although he’s lying, because Chekov easily detects the unhappiness shadowing his face. “But there is something I have to tell you. And I’m sorry if my future self has already said this, but you have to know. The thing with Kirk. It’s not ego.”

Sulu’s abandoned his fork and knife entirely, his left hand knotting and unknotting and his shoulders drawn up tight.

“Hikaru,” Chekov says gently, placing a hand over Sulu’s. “It’s all right. Just tell me.”

“It was that moment,” Sulu says. “You know, on the drill. When I lost my balance, and I thought it would be like every other time you lose your balance. Eventually you always catch yourself. And then the moment came, and - I didn’t. I can’t describe it any better than that. Hell, I still don’t like to think about it. All I know is that it changed - well, everything.” He shivers. “And then someone grabbed me. And I realized it was Jim, and he hadn’t lost his balance, he’d actually jumped, for me. And it was like everything changed again.” Sulu stares down at the table, his eyes wild. “Don’t get me wrong, Pavel. It’s not like I’m carrying a torch for him, or anything like that. But... it goes against everything I am not to repay that. Do you understand?”

Chekov absorbs this with a slow twist of his lips, turning it over and over while he pokes at the remnants of his breakfast.

“My Hikaru did not explain it to me like that, not exactly,” he says, subdued. “But then, we were always so emotional whenever it came up, that maybe - well. Even so, I know it was not your ego. I know that. I should not have said it. In fact, I should not have mentioned the drill at all.”

Sulu shrugs. “It’s fair game.”

“But I knew it would hurt you.” Chekov winces. “We - we had a good marriage, you and I, but we were not free from difficulties. I am not proud to say this - and I did not do this often, but I am ashamed I did it at all - but if I ever wanted to really get to you, the drill is what I would bring up. It always worked.”

He absorbs this with a troubled stare. “...Oh.”

“I have no excuse,” Chekov says. “It was wrong.”

“Oh, Pavel, don’t-” Sulu answers. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“You are so forgiving,” Chekov remarks.

“You’re easy to forgive.” Sulu laughs and rolls his eyes at himself, like he knows he’s said something incredibly cloying. After a moment, he grows serious again. “Besides, I have no excuse either.”

“No excuse?” Chekov draws back, bewildered. “For what?”

“For hurting you.” Sulu goes quiet, seeming to search for the words. “I know it can’t be easy for you to work on the transponder. To send me home.” He swallows. “And it’s not going to be easy for me to go home now, because I hate knowing I’m going to leave you here by yourself.”

“Oh, Hikaru. I know I am old, but I don’t need my drool wiped away just yet.”

Sulu flinches at the joke like it’s an insult. “But you are alone,” he presses. “And that’s my fault. I know that I haven’t done it yet. It’s my future self. But to the degree that I have any control over what happens after I go back to my own time, I have a responsibility to think about you.”

Chekov gawks. How... how utterly Sulu, to obsess over his responsibilities under even such absurd circumstances.

“I think perhaps you are babying me again,” he says lightly.

“Dammit, I’m serious!” Sulu cries. “The way things are now, it - it can’t end this way! How am I supposed to go back and act like everything is normal, when I know what’s coming for you?”

“What are you suggesting?” Chekov asks.

Sulu takes a deep breath. “I’m suggesting that when I go back, I request a transfer off the Enterprise. I mean, I love you, Pavel. More than anything. But that’s exactly why I should stay away from you, because I can’t-”

“What are you suggesting?” he repeats shrilly.

“I know you’re not happy now,” he says, and raises a hand to cut off Chekov’s protest. “I know it. And I... I don’t think I can live with myself, knowing I’m a part of that. The cause of it. I’ve been thinking that it’s selfish of me to want to be with you if it ends this way. I think you should be with someone who can take care of you longer than I did. Who isn’t going to, um.” Sulu’s eyes are on the table. “Fail you.”

Chekov can only stare at him, a painful breath caught in his chest.

“I mean, that’s why I wanted to ask,” Sulu goes on. “I wanted to be sure - knowing how it ends, you and me, do you think we should still do it?”

Chekov’s begun to tremble, whitened fingers gripping his fork. “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, Hikaru, yes, my God, have you gone insane?”
***

When the last piece of the new transponder clicks into place, Chekov sits back in faint disbelief.

He can’t quite believe it’s over already. It’s only taken half a day to modify the device: the sky outside is dark and flecked with stars, but there’s still a little bit of daylight clinging to the horizon. Chekov rubs at his eyes and tries to stretch the knots out of his spine, while he mentally runs over and over everything he’d done, trying to think of anything he could have forgotten. Eventually, he fetches his tricorder from across the room, and scans the device three times. Three different types of scans, and all of his calculations add up perfectly.

Chekov swallows, and although his mother would kill him for it if she knew, mumbles a little prayer. Sulu’s life depends on his handiwork, after all.

With a sigh, Chekov picks up the transponder and heads to his living room, where he finds Sulu moping over a half-finished chess game. He glances up, frowning when he sees Chekov in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chekov answers, approaching his computer. “But I have finished. I believe I should call Dr. Parsi.”

“Already?” Sulu sits up, his chess game forgotten, and watches Chekov settle in and flip buttons. “That was fast. But why are you calling Parsi?”

“Because... because I think he should know.” Chekov turns a fond smile to the viewscreen. “This was his experiment, after all.”

Sulu shrugs, and turns back to his chess game. “Fair enough.”

A few moments later, the screen blinks on to reveal a curious-looking Dr. Parsi. “Professor!” he says. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Hello, Doctor,” Chekov greets him. “No, but thank you. I wish to tell you that I’ve finished the new transponder. Hikaru will be able to return to his time safely, I think.”

“Oh,” Parsi says, growing alarmed. “Oh! I wasn’t expecting it so fast! Professor, wait, you haven’t put it on him yet, have you?”

“No,” Chekov says. “What’s the matter?”

“Um - nothing. But we would appreciate it if you brought Mr. Sulu to our laboratory before you did. The temporal authority is going to insist on checking him over one last time, just to be sure it’s safe to send him back.”

Chekov darkens. “What will you do to him?”

“Professor, I promise, it’s a routine and completely non-invasive check.” Parsi holds up his hands. “We’ll arrange to see him right now if you’d like. I know he’s eager to go home.”

“Actually, doctor,” Sulu interjects, rising from the couch and coming into view. “How does tomorrow morning sound?”

Chekov peers up at him and murmurs, “It is all right if you wish to leave sooner.”

“But I don’t,” Sulu answers, and turns his attention to Parsi. “Do you think that’s all right?”

“I guess so,” Parsi says. “But please. Don’t put the new transponder on yet. It could compromise the timeline if you go back before you’ve been checked out.”

“Don’t worry,” Sulu says. “I won’t.”

The screen goes dark, and Chekov frowns up at Sulu in confusion.

“What was that?” he asks, rising from the chair. “About tomorrow morning? You have been desperate to go home. You were willing to risk your life for it.”

“Yes, but.” Sulu looks at his hands, abashed. “Well, tomorrow will be here soon enough, won’t it?”

Chekov tilts his head. “Hikaru?”

“I’m, uh,” Sulu says, “going to miss you.”

“I think you will see me soon enough, yes?”

“But I’m going to miss you.” Sulu bites his lip. “I had this - this nice dream of how everything was supposed to work out, you know? It’s sort of killing me that I’m not going to grow old with you.”

“You were kind of old when you died, if that helps,” Chekov says. “Hikaru, you should know that I have always loved your idealism, but you must-”

Chekov falls quiet, his eyes flying wide, as Sulu leans down and kisses him. And it’s a real kiss; firmly on the mouth, as swift and sure as Chekov’s always known him to be, and he can’t help lifting his hand to rest at the back of Sulu’s neck.

“…should my seventeen-year-old self be worried about your affinity for older men?” Chekov asks, and he can feel Sulu shaking with laughter against his shoulder.

“It’s not an affinity for older men,” Sulu murmurs against his cheek. “Just you.”

It’s never been like this. In their many years together, they’d gone through a lot of sexual phases and changes and a few downright embarrassing experiments. But now - now they stumble into the guest bedroom together, and Sulu draws his bare legs up for him, and for all his youth and masculinity and the meaty throb of his cock, he’s almost virginally unsure of himself. Or maybe he only seems that way to Chekov, who after all, had grown accustomed to a Hikaru who knew him like a second skin, who had mapped and traced and carved out every erogenous zone on Pavel’s body.

And so now it’s Chekov who begins to map and trace, remembering the spot on Hikaru’s belly, on his neck, that always make him shudder: and this young Sulu barely knows what’s hit him, jerking and moaning at every touch like he’s never known such sensations to be possible. And it’s Chekov who stretches and prepares him, and the breath goes out of both of them at how fucking tight Sulu is, but eventually they find that sweet, familiar rhythm. By the time Sulu clutches the bedsheet and stutters out “P-Pavel - I think I’m going to-” he’s already clenching around Chekov, and the sight of him sweating and bucking is enough to pull Chekov into his own climax. He shuts his eyes and comes with deep, muscular thrusts he’d forgotten he was capable of, and the way he cries out I love you, I love you, it could easily be mistaken for some desperate Russian prayer.
***

The following morning they walk hand-in-hand to the temporal mechanics building. It’s as fortresslike as it had seemed when Chekov first arrived five days ago, an ink-black monument rising into the fog. Parsi, waiting for them outside, looks like a molecule in a labcoat by comparison.

Once they’re inside, Parsi leads them through a cavernous main hall and into a turbolift, which shuttles them several floors below ground level. After exiting the lift, Chekov and Sulu trail after Parsi through a maze of smaller, tighter corridors. Chekov doesn’t remember it being so labyrinthine, but then, last time he’d been too caught up in the prospect of seeing Hikaru again to pay much attention.

He glances over now, and finds Sulu’s face as somber as a pallbearer’s.

“You are ready, yes?” Chekov whispers.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” Sulu’s attempt at a smile is somehow even sadder. He squeezes Chekov’s hand. “I’ll try to do it right this time.”

He frowns. “Do it right?”

“When I go back.”

Chekov’s eyes widen. “But you can’t-”

“All right. This is my department,” Parsi interrupts. If he’s overheard their whispered conversation, he gives no sign of it as he guides Chekov and Sulu into a surgical-white room, broad and flat, with low ceilings. At the far wall is a door and a big rectangular window, and peering more closely, Chekov can see they both open into a medical exam room.

Two women, seated at a meeting table in the corner, rise to meet them. They wear identical Starfleet blue medical uniforms, but are otherwise almost comically opposite in appearance: one is a young, moon-faced human with bright brown eyes and skin like smooth ebony; and the other, a severe-looking Vulcan, lantern-jawed and chalk-pale.

“I’d like you to meet my colleagues, Dr. Helene Yates and Dr. T’Pronn,” Parsi says, gesturing to the human and the Vulcan, respectively. “They’ve both got more medical expertise than I do, Mr. Sulu, and they’ll be examining you for any health anomalies before you go back. Since it’s such a risky experiment, and since we’ve already caused you enough problems, we feel that ensuring you’re in the best of health is the least we can do.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Sulu’s shoulders pivot in a stiff shrug. “I appreciate it.”

Chekov winces. Hikaru’s tone isn’t agreement. It’s defeat.

“It shouldn’t be long before you go home,” Parsi reassures him. “Now, if you’ll allow Dr. Yates to examine you...”

Yates smiles at Sulu, as if she’s inviting him to have tea, and leads him into the medical exam room. Chekov drifts after them, stopping at the window to watch. He can’t hear, but he can see her mouthing kind words at Sulu as she hands him his old pajamas - the ones he’d been wearing when he first arrived - and gestures for him to change behind a screen in the corner.

Once Sulu has put his old clothes back on, Chekov and Parsi stand at the one-way window, watching the exam. It seems like it might be an invasion of privacy, Chekov thinks, but really it isn’t: Yates’ exam is casual, and she’s more interested in placating Sulu with conversation than with whatever is scrolling up on her tricorder. And she occasionally throws a look back at the window, as if expecting something from Parsi.

It doesn’t make sense.

“What is your real purpose in bringing him here?” Chekov murmurs.

Parsi sags, resigned. “Actually, I wanted both of you here. Sir, I thought you deserved to know as well.”

Chekov turns a blistering glare toward him. “And what is it that I deserve to know?”

“My colleague, Dr. T’Pronn,” he says, nodding at the Vulcan. “We only call her in when a subject has been severely contaminated.”

“Contaminated.” Chekov grimaces. “You mean, exposed to the future.”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Chekov asks, a territorial anger flaring in his chest. He will kill them if they are lying about the routine and non-invasive nature of the exam, if they want to hurt Hikaru after all-

“We have to wipe Mr. Sulu’s memory of the last few days,” Parsi answers. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

Chekov expels a sharp breath, a hand at his face.

“Oh,” he says.

He can’t argue. Deep down, Chekov’s even expected something like this, especially with Sulu having grown so determined to change things. But he can’t pretend to like it, and he can’t pretend he isn’t heartbroken that these five days will be his and his alone.

“Professor?” Parsi asks. “Are you all right?”

“What does it matter?” Chekov snaps. “Why are you even asking? You had to know this would happen when you called me. How could you expect that we wouldn’t talk about his future?”

“Of course I expected that, sir.”

Chekov turns, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Come on, Professor. I know I haven’t done much to impress you with my intelligence lately, but I’m not completely incompetent. Any five-year-old can cross-reference two names. Do you think I didn’t do that the minute Sulu started asking for you?” Parsi replies. “I know you were helm partners. I know you got married, and how long you stayed married.”

“Then why did you act like it was a mystery when you first called me?” Chekov splutters. “You are playing a game with me, aren’t you?”

“No. No, sir, not a game,” Parsi insists. He looks out into the exam room, his face softening. “Sulu really did demand to see you. All I could think was, if my wife were somewhere, asking for me, and no one let us see each other - it would be cruel, wouldn’t it?”

Chekov goggles. “So this was supposed to be, what? Some kind of romantic act?”

Parsi shrugs. “Well, Helene calls me a huge busybody, but we can go with that.”

Chekov pushes a hand through his hair, trying to absorb this.

“Professor Chekov, you should also know...” Parsi says. “Okay. It was a genuine, one hundred percent freak accident that we brought Sulu to the future. It could have been anyone; we still don’t know why it was him. But you should also know that standard procedure is to keep such chronological orphans in total isolation, mainly so that nothing happens to them in the outside world that would prevent us from sending them back. Letting him see you went against every protocol we have. That’s why I played dumb with you at first. I wanted to cover my ass, just in case you said no. And since I had no idea how you’d react on a personal level...” Parsi shrugs. “Anyway, because we’ve broken so many regulations, I’d appreciate it if you kept this whole incident to yourself.”

“I will,” Chekov says in faint shock. “You... you did this for me anyway?”

“Isolating people like that is my least favorite part of the job,” Parsi admits. “And besides, my wife likes you. She took your class. That’s how she ended up in my department, in fact, and how we... well, you know.”

“I do not hear many positive memories from my students,” he admits flatly.

“She was your student before... um, you know. He died.”

“Oh.”

They fall silent, and Chekov watches Sulu through the glass, how he lifts his arms when the doctor asks, lets her scan him and forces himself to make small talk. Chekov hates that Sulu has no idea the medical exam is fake, and has no idea what’s really about to happen to him.

But Chekov also can’t help noticing how the smile he directs at Yates doesn’t reach his eyes, and how fast it drops away when he thinks no one is watching. I had this nice dream of how everything was supposed to work out, you know? echoes in Chekov’s mind, and it pierces him to think he won’t be sending back the confident older boy he’d fallen in love with. Instead it will be a guilt-ridden Sulu who greets Chekov’s past self, one who’s convinced he’s a failure before he’s begun.

“I approve of this,” Chekov declares.

Parsi turns to him in confusion. “Sir?”

“Taking his memories,” Chekov says, almost to himself. “This is a good thing.”

“Well, ah…” Parsi blinks. “I’m glad you understand, sir.”

“However,” he says. “I know Hikaru. He will not agree to this. He will resist you. Please -” His voice knots. “Do not make it difficult for him.”

Parsi nods. “We won’t,” he reassures Chekov. “We usually sedate our subjects before the procedure. If you think Mr. Sulu would respond best to that...”

“Yes.” Chekov’s heart twists; he has no right to be making these decisions. But he cannot, will not have this end with Hikaru struggling and pleading against the doctors. “In that case, may I - may I be the one to do it? To sedate him, I mean.”

“Sir, are you sure?” Parsi asks.

“Yes,” Chekov says. “And I would like to say goodbye.”

Parsi lets out a heavy breath, weighing the decision, and then nods. “All right.”

A few moments later, Parsi knocks at the window. Yates looks up in surprise, then snaps the tricorder shut. She offers Sulu a few friendly last words before heading to the door. Chekov holds it open, then maneuvers past her to enter the exam room himself. A queasy guilt turns over and over in his stomach as he approaches Sulu.

“So,” Sulu says, beckoning Chekov closer. “I guess this is it.”

“Yes.” The biobed is low enough to the ground that Chekov’s hands easily land on Sulu’s shoulders, kneading affectionately, before he steps closer for a full embrace. His head comes to rest on Sulu’s shoulder, his fingers drifting up and down his back. “You are healthy?”

Sulu snorts. “In prime condition, apparently.” He draws back, flicking a curious glance at Chekov. “Is something going on?”

You will not get your chance to change things, Chekov thinks, and he aches as he clasps Sulu’s cheek. But out loud he says, “No, no. It is only that I will miss you more than I can say.”

Sulu absorbs this with a quiet shake of his head. “You’re the one who took care of me. You... you came for me when I didn’t think I had anyone.” His hand runs up and down Chekov’s back; and then he kisses him, a light one on the cheek, a fiercer one at Chekov’s mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Chekov answers, the words hitching in his throat, and the hypospray slides out of his sleeve.

He’s proud of himself for how fast he applies it. Sulu doesn’t even have time to register surprise before his eyes roll up and his body goes limp, and Chekov finds himself with an armful of dead weight faster than he’d anticipated. He does his best to arrange Sulu, cradling his head so that it does not come down too roughly. After Sulu is settled, Chekov finds he cannot pull away - caught staring at the flat, still strokes of his eyebrows, the more delicate lines where his eyelids meet his cheeks, and unmoving hang of his lips. He presses a last, gentle kiss to Hikaru’s mouth.

He looks up to find T’Pronn watching. “You are finished?” she asks briskly.

“Ah.” Chekov runs a hand over his hair. “Yes.”

He steps back, allowing the Vulcan to lean over and splay her fingertips along Sulu’s face. Her eyes close in deep trance, and she begins murmuring to herself. Some irrational part of Chekov wants to wrench her hand away, shout at her to stop touching him, particularly when Sulu’s brow knits in faint resistance. But it’s over after a minute, and Chekov’s glad she’s a Vulcan, because he can’t muster anything cordial as she departs.

They keep Sulu sedated after the memory wipe, in order to avoid any chance of further contamination. Sulu therefore does not stir when Chekov plucks the old transponder from his neck and tucks the new one securely under his collar. His expression remains clear and still as Chekov settles back in the chair by the bed, clasping his own fingers together to keep himself from caressing Sulu’s forehead or holding his hand, lest he have the disastrous luck to be touching Sulu when the Enterprise initiates transport. Nor does Sulu register any reaction when Chekov begins to chatter at him affectionately in Russian, the best he can manage if he’s not allowed physical contact.

Hikaru is still fast asleep when the transporter beam takes him a few hours later. And then Chekov is left alone in the room, and it takes several moments of staring at the empty bed before his eyes finally prick.

Part 3