No, no one ever mentioned the awful choices you might have to make. No one taught you how to handle the guilt. No one taught you how to handle the dreams, or what to do when you woke up at night with a scream in your throat. No one taught you how to face someone when you had to take everything from them.
"Not bad, thank goodness. Head wounds always bleed a lot," he grunted, marching with determination through the halls. "But they're a bitch to bandage on your own. So I need you to disinfect and bandage it for me." He needed to spare Anders the stress of healing right now, and Chekov would need a proper task.
Starfleet Academy really needs to step up its game. So many things its curriculum failed to address.
"I can do that," he confirmed as he followed, "although I think that you are asking me to do this more for my benefit than for yours." Not that Chekov minds. It will help him to have something concrete and useful to do, and it really is difficult to wrap up an injury that can't be seen without a mirror.
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but it doesn't change the fact I need help
bandaging my head," he shrugged. Chekov was right, of course, but
regardless it was the way he was going to do things. And he did actually
need help with his head wound. He had never handled them well, in all
honesty - getting dizzy easily from the blood loss.
They made the medic area and he went to sit on the table. He looked over to
Chekov, waiting for the other to begin his administrations.
Instead of offering further comment on whether or not his help is strictly needed, he washed his hands, located some gauze, and held it to the wound. Basic first aid: assess the situation, stop the bleeding, then worry about cleaning and bandaging. Don't worry about the amount of blood because heads bleed a lot. Do worry about dizziness, weakness, or disorientation.
If he ever gets home, Chekov will need to remember to shadow McCoy so he can learn more than just the basics.
He frowned, more because any conversation would undoubtedly be uncomfortable than out of confusion. "I don't know what you mean."
They all probably should - shadow McCoy that is. Though Kirk would be in the most danger. He could see the man turning at every opportunity and digging a hypo into his neck, the jerk. God, he missed that. He let his eyes close as Chekov tended to him, trusting the young man. There was a possibility he might need stitches, but they could cover that when they got there. Or, well, he could let Chekov cover it.
"Yes, you do." He said it firmly, no opening for questioning. "Like when you couldn't grab Spock's mother for the warp off Vulcan. You can't take it all on yourself."
"That's true, but responsibility can be equally shared as much as the consequence," he said, his tone gentler, but still firm. "And sometimes responsibility is less about an active choice, and more about the one we had to make. There are going to be times, especially as you move through the ranks, that you have the make the hard choice. Often, those choices are the ones that never rest easy with you, nor should they. You made one today, when you saved me, Chekov."
His eyes watched Chekov intently.
"You don't have to be okay with what happened, Chekov. I don't think you should be, not entirely. But you did the right thing, the hard thing."
"I know that it was what needed to be done." He wasn't going to call it the right thing. If he was more skilled, maybe he could have incapacitated the attacker without killing him. If he was a better diplomat, maybe it would have been possible to talk after all. As it was, killing had been necessary; it couldn't have been right.
"I also know that command officers are required to make difficult decisions." Chekov continued to keep his focus on the still sluggishly-bleeding head wound. "What I don't know is if I will be able to do that. I thought so, but..." But maybe not. If he couldn't even kill someone who was trying to murder his captain without feeling like he was going to break, then how could he make the truly hard choices and still live with himself?
Kirk was quiet for a moment, letting Chekov work. Slowly his arms came up, wrapping around the younger man and pulling him into a hug. He sighed, holding him there for a moment, his wound able to be ignored for just a little. He let out a quiet sigh, wishing he knew the better things to say here.
"I wish I knew what to tell you, to make it better," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that you are suffering, but in a way I am also glad. If that had been easy for you, I would be worried. But I do understand what you're feeling. I hope that brings you a little comfort at least."
Chekov stopped working and didn't return the hug so much as slump quietly into it. "I wish that people I care about would not hope that I find the fact that they understand my distress because they have also experienced it comforting." His tone is sadder than the words themselves are. "Suffering is something that I would prefer to do alone."
"Don't be ridiculous, Chekov," he huffed against the other's shirt. "We
aren't meant to shoulder all our burdens alone. I don't want you to
shoulder this one alone. Definitely not this one. And it's okay to not want
to, or to lean on someone." He realized what he said was a touch
hypocritical, but Chekov was not himself, nor did he want him to be.
"I'm much too Russian to lean too much on anyone," he replied with a strained smile. "We feel immensely unfulfilled if there is not enough suffering in our lives."
Just in case that wasn't redirection enough, he returned to Kirk's injury. "You may need stitches. I wish that there was a dermal regenerator in this universe."
"Hopefully the next time Bones pops in he will have one on him," Kirk
murmured, accepting the redirection for what it was, though he noted to
himself to check in with Chekov later.
If there was a later. He couldn't force him to feel a certain way or to
come to terms with this, he needed to do that on his own, but he just
wanted him to know that he wasn't alone and could talk if he wanted to. If
he needed to. The last thing Kirk wanted was for Chekov to feel isolated
and alone. He knew the pain of that, and did not wish it on the young man
he saw as a brother.
"Maybe he will be able to fix whatever damage I do to you today." He smiled weakly, grateful to at least delay further conversation.
Chekov knew that he wasn't alone here. He had Kirk and shipmates and Kitty and a number of other friends. But Kirk had forgotten him before, Kitty fell in love with someone else, the friends he had made in other universes had left, and at some point Chekov had accepted that the only person who would never leave or forget him was himself. A sense of isolation had been inevitable after nearly four years of being left behind.
But he would try. Not now, but after they were off of this planet, he would try to accept the help that was being offered.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
universal_charm) wrote2024-04-11 06:26 pm
no subject
"Not bad, thank goodness. Head wounds always bleed a lot," he grunted, marching with determination through the halls. "But they're a bitch to bandage on your own. So I need you to disinfect and bandage it for me." He needed to spare Anders the stress of healing right now, and Chekov would need a proper task.
no subject
"I can do that," he confirmed as he followed, "although I think that you are asking me to do this more for my benefit than for yours." Not that Chekov minds. It will help him to have something concrete and useful to do, and it really is difficult to wrap up an injury that can't be seen without a mirror.
no subject
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but it doesn't change the fact I need help bandaging my head," he shrugged. Chekov was right, of course, but regardless it was the way he was going to do things. And he did actually need help with his head wound. He had never handled them well, in all honesty - getting dizzy easily from the blood loss.
They made the medic area and he went to sit on the table. He looked over to Chekov, waiting for the other to begin his administrations.
"Don't take it all on yourself."
no subject
If he ever gets home, Chekov will need to remember to shadow McCoy so he can learn more than just the basics.
He frowned, more because any conversation would undoubtedly be uncomfortable than out of confusion. "I don't know what you mean."
no subject
"Yes, you do." He said it firmly, no opening for questioning. "Like when you couldn't grab Spock's mother for the warp off Vulcan. You can't take it all on yourself."
no subject
"Yes I can," he replied quietly, his attention firmly focused on Kirk's injury. "We are all fully responsible for our actions and their consequences."
no subject
His eyes watched Chekov intently.
"You don't have to be okay with what happened, Chekov. I don't think you should be, not entirely. But you did the right thing, the hard thing."
no subject
"I also know that command officers are required to make difficult decisions." Chekov continued to keep his focus on the still sluggishly-bleeding head wound. "What I don't know is if I will be able to do that. I thought so, but..." But maybe not. If he couldn't even kill someone who was trying to murder his captain without feeling like he was going to break, then how could he make the truly hard choices and still live with himself?
no subject
"I wish I knew what to tell you, to make it better," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that you are suffering, but in a way I am also glad. If that had been easy for you, I would be worried. But I do understand what you're feeling. I hope that brings you a little comfort at least."
no subject
no subject
"Don't be ridiculous, Chekov," he huffed against the other's shirt. "We aren't meant to shoulder all our burdens alone. I don't want you to shoulder this one alone. Definitely not this one. And it's okay to not want to, or to lean on someone." He realized what he said was a touch hypocritical, but Chekov was not himself, nor did he want him to be.
no subject
Just in case that wasn't redirection enough, he returned to Kirk's injury. "You may need stitches. I wish that there was a dermal regenerator in this universe."
no subject
"Hopefully the next time Bones pops in he will have one on him," Kirk murmured, accepting the redirection for what it was, though he noted to himself to check in with Chekov later.
If there was a later. He couldn't force him to feel a certain way or to come to terms with this, he needed to do that on his own, but he just wanted him to know that he wasn't alone and could talk if he wanted to. If he needed to. The last thing Kirk wanted was for Chekov to feel isolated and alone. He knew the pain of that, and did not wish it on the young man he saw as a brother.
no subject
Chekov knew that he wasn't alone here. He had Kirk and shipmates and Kitty and a number of other friends. But Kirk had forgotten him before, Kitty fell in love with someone else, the friends he had made in other universes had left, and at some point Chekov had accepted that the only person who would never leave or forget him was himself. A sense of isolation had been inevitable after nearly four years of being left behind.
But he would try. Not now, but after they were off of this planet, he would try to accept the help that was being offered.