The BLTS Archive - Decisions Made
by MizzMarcee (MizzMarcee@yahoo.com)

---

Warning: This story contains adult themes and m/m sex. If you are not
interested in such things or under eighteen years of age, please head
elsewhere.

Disclaimer: Copyright July 2000 by Marcee Evans. This is an original
work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek, which is owned by TPTB
(i.e., The Powers That Be: Paramount, Viacom, and all its entities). I
have absolutely no intention of infringing on the intellectual
property rights of TPTB. My copyright extends only to the original
material in this work.

The symbol ~~ denotes the beginning and ending of an internal thought.
The symbol ****////**** indicates the beginning and ending of a
flashback.

Archive: Okay to archive at ASCEML/ASC*, ASCEM-S, BLTS, and the
COCO_SSD web site provided that all header information is included.
Please archive complete text only. All others, please ask first by
contacting me. Thanks.

Comments: I welcome comments, either on the newsgroups or via e-mail.

Thank you: A BIG thank you to T'Thrill. "Decisions Made" was inspired
by Terry's most excellent story--"The Power of a Wish." Thanks also to
Jane (skazki) for our conversations on the main topic of this story,
and her suggestions for how to improve the first version of this story
that was distributed to the COCO group last April. FYI--This story did
not go through a beta review, so all errors are mine! (grin)

Dedication: Here's a belated Happy Birthday to Karmen!

Now, on to the real reason you're here--

---

James Kirk looked at the chronometer again and swore under his breath.

He paced restlessly--back and forth, back and forth. Finally, with a
loud sigh, he stopped next to the window.

Pressing his palms down on the windowsill, the captain peered in
hopefully. McCoy's face was intense in concentration. Kirk studied his
friend's face, trying to glean any emotion, any information about
their progress.

Kirk pressed his forehead against the cool glass. Closing his eyes, he
mouthed a silent plea. ~~Don't take him. Please, not now.~~

"Captain?"

Kirk turned to the deep voice.

"Have you received an update?"

Kirk shook his head impatiently. "No, not yet. McCoy's still working
on him."

"He is young and strong," the Vulcan noted levelly. "I have the utmost
confidence that the doctor will pull him through."

Kirk tried to grin. In his own way, Spock was trying to reassure him.
But he wasn't in the mood for reassurances right now unless they came
from Dr. McCoy.

"He saved my life, Spock."

"Mr. Chekov knew the risks involved in this mission. We all did."

"I know. But I should have anticipated the Ktyeren's attack in the
Shrine. I should have been able to stop this from happening. I can't
lose him this way."

"Jim--"

Kirk looked away from his First Officer, effectively cutting off any
further conversation. He started pacing again.

"Jim--"

Kirk stopped pacing and turned back.

"I will remain here with you, if you so choose."

He sighed. Kirk knew he didn't have to worry about offending the
Vulcan if he said no. If the truth be told, he really didn't want
conversation right now. He wanted--no, he needed to touch Pavel, to
reassure himself that his lover would live. His whole body ached to
hold the young man, to smell his scent, to feel the warm, lithe body
fitting against him.

Kirk gave his Vulcan friend a wan smile. "Thank you, Spock, but that's
not necessary. I need you to take over for Scotty on the bridge. Is
the Ambassador settled in her quarters?"

"Yes, Jim. She is most grateful for our assistance today."

Kirk nodded his head slowly. It had been a bloody exchange. They made
it through with fewer casualties than he privately had anticipated,
but they still paid a heavy price. Hundreds of the local militia who
guarded the Consulate and Shrine had been killed during the initial
uprising. Over fifty more died as they began their rescue attempt. The
medical officer assisting Spock's landing party was killed. Four of
the Ambassador's assistants were captured and murdered. Five security
guards were killed, and three were badly injured.

Then there was Chekov.

"I'm glad the Ambassador is recovering from her close call." He looked
up at his Vulcan friend. "Is that all, Spock?"

The Vulcan slowly nodded his head. "I was about to take my leave and
return to the bridge." He paused, then added, "Unless, of course, you
desire me to stay."

Kirk smiled. "That's not necessary, Spock, but I appreciate your
offer."

Spock gazed at him for a moment, then raised an eyebrow.

Recognizing the familiar expression, Kirk found his grin. "Go on,
Spock. I'll be fine. I'll let you know as soon as I get the word from
Bones."

Spock nodded his head and turned to leave.

"--And, Spock?"

The Vulcan looked back from the doorway.

"Thanks again for your concern."

Spock nodded again, then exited the room.

Kirk looked back through the window to the surgical suite. Leaning his
forehead against the glass, he let out a soft sigh that turned into a
low sob at the end.

His whole life was wrapped up in the adjoining room--just hanging on
by a thread.

He had to admit that the strength of his feelings for the young
Russian never ceased to surprise him. He was not one to settle down in
a relationship with just one person. He had tried that years before,
with disastrous results. But now, at this moment, he feared he was
about to lose his very soul. There were so many wishes unfulfilled. In
an instant it could all just disappear, and he knew if that happened
it would leave a huge hole in his heart. A hole that, he felt, no one
else could fill.

~~It can't end like this. Please, not like this.~~

A great weariness slowly crept into his bones, weighing him down like
a wet, cold blanket over his shoulders. He shivered, fear stabbing
inside his chest.

Taking refuge in one of the chairs in the waiting area, Kirk propped
his elbows on top of his knees. He leaned forward and buried his face
in his upturned hands.

As captain, he had to make decisions every day that could potentially
get a member of his crew killed. He accepted that. And,
intellectually, he knew that he could someday give the order that
would get Pavel killed.

Kirk slowly rubbed his fingertips against his temples. Having the
knowledge that he could, at any time, lose Chekov was a lot different
than actually living through it.

He couldn't protect Pavel. Landing parties were a part of his
training. When duty called, the Russian had to take his chances like
all of the other crewmen aboard the Enterprise.

For his part, Pavel accepted it with something akin to gallows humor.
But it was much harder for Kirk to laugh it off. It was a fear that
gnawed in his gut every time he made landing party assignments, or put
his ship and crew at risk for the greater good.

He and Pavel talked about it only on rare occasions--like last night,
when he agonized over the assignments for this mission. Little did he
know he'd be sitting outside of surgery now, waiting for McCoy to
perform a miracle.

---

Kirk glanced up at the chronometer as he finished the last of his
paperwork. After setting the stylus down, he propped his elbows on the
desk and scrubbed at his closed eyelids.

~~Damn.~~

The more information he received about their mission to Ktyera, the
more anxiety he felt. It was sounding more and more like a damn
suicide mission to him.

He and Spock had already formed a strategy for getting the Ambassador
and her staff out safely. There would be two teams. Spock would lead
one team into the Consulate where about a dozen of the Ambassador's
aides were being held, while Kirk would take his own team into the
Shrine to free the Ambassador. They selected the personnel to include
on each team, weighed each team member against the mission objectives,
and then agreed to their final lists.

Kirk ran down his list one last time, evaluating each name he selected
for his team.

He stared at the last name and a chill coursed through his veins. He
had a bad feeling about this mission, and his gut was telling him to
strike the last name from the list. But--dammit--Pavel Chekov was the
best man to fill the last vital position. He needed someone he knew
and trusted, someone who could keep his wits about him when there was
trouble. And Kirk knew there would be trouble. He just wasn't sure how
or where or when they would find it.

He continued staring at Pavel's name. As much as he wanted to protect
his lover from this particular assignment, Kirk knew if he took the
Russian off an assignment that was rightfully his, he'd have a fight
on his hands. Pavel was good at judging whether an action or decision
would be perceived as favoritism and he wasn't shy to say so in
private. Kirk trusted his lover's insight. Besides, Kirk wanted Pavel
on this assignment for the simple fact that they made a good team.

Kirk looked at the chronometer again, then over to the open door to
his sleeping quarters.

It was late.

Very late.

He had long since sent Pavel away to sleep in his own cabin, leaving
him to attend to his unfinished paperwork. He now regretted the
decision. The only thing he wanted to do at that particular moment was
to slip into bed with the Russian, feel his warm body pressed against
him, spend the night in his arms.

They had been together for two months now, long enough to settle into
an easy, albeit, discrete relationship within the privacy of Kirk's
quarters. Pavel gave him the space he needed to be the captain. And
when Kirk's duties were done for the day, it was a rare evening that
found him sleeping apart from the young Russian. Behind closed doors,
they were equals, friends, and most of all--passionate lovers.

Maybe it was the age difference, but Pavel had a way of making him
feel young and alive. He hadn't felt that spark of life for years, not
until now.

Sure, Spock and McCoy were aware of the relationship. Spock seemed to
accept it readily, even privately commenting from time to time on
Kirk's apparent contentment.

McCoy was careful to save his remarks until they were in private, and
then he'd let Kirk have it. Bones wasn't quite as accepting as Spock.
He constantly pointed out the difference in age--not to mention
rank--between the two lovers. Kirk figured the doctor did that only
out of concern, maybe not so much for Kirk himself, but for Chekov.
McCoy knew Kirk's history, and didn't let the captain forget that
James T. Kirk was a bad risk for anyone who would be foolish enough to
fall in love with him.

Kirk acknowledged his reputation. Despite that fact, it didn't mean he
never wanted to try again. Chekov knew he didn't have a good track
record when it came to relationships. Yet the Russian remained. And so
far, both of them had found happiness in the other.

He thought Uhura had figured it out on her own. About a month ago, she
had started giving him a warm, knowing smile at the end of their shift
as he bid the bridge crew a good evening. It was as if she knew
exactly what he had planned for that night. She then made sure to wish
Chekov a good evening, giving him the same soft smile that she favored
her captain.

Uhura knew. Kirk was certain of it. But so far it seemed they'd been
successful in keeping the truth from everyone else aboard ship.

It wasn't against Fleet regulations, per se, but Kirk was certain both
of them would catch a lot of flack if their relationship became common
knowledge in the Fleet. It was more for Pavel's benefit that they kept
silent. Kirk could take the heat, but an officer with no stripes, an
ensign, would have a tough go of it. The captain's lover. It could be
damaging to Pavel's career if some 'less than enlightened' people in
Starfleet used that to turn him down for future promotions. He didn't
want to put Pavel through that. Chekov was a fine officer, and he
didn't deserve to be treated like that.

Kirk made one final check on the personnel list for the Ktyera
mission, then posted it so the appropriate people would be notified of
their briefing at 0800 the following morning. With a loud sigh, he
logged off and turned down the lighting in the office.

Padding in his bare feet, he entered the bathroom and readied himself
for bed. Kirk slipped off his robe and hung it next to Pavel's. Damn,
but he was dead tired. He looked longingly at the entrance to the
shower. He really didn't want to take the extra time, but finally gave
in. Taking a shower before bed usually relaxed him.

Standing under the shower stream, he couldn't keep thoughts of the
mission from entering his mind. Afterwards, while toweling himself
off, he realized he was as keyed up as ever. Kirk sighed softly. It
was going to be a long, sleepless night.

Kirk exited the bathroom, his naked body shivering in the coolness of
the room. He entered the sleeping chamber and made his way to the bed.

Slipping under the covers, he again regretted sending the Russian away
for the evening. Kirk fluffed up the pillows and snuggled into the
soft bedding. He curled up in the middle of the double bed and tried
to clear his mind, relax his body. After a few, silent moments, he
sighed and sat up in bed.

~~This isn't working.~~

He ventured into the bathroom again to retrieve his robe. Pulling it
on and securing the belt around his waist, he exited his quarters.

A little walk would do him good. It sometimes helped his occasional
insomnia. And if he was really hard up, he could always stop by
Sickbay for a sleep inducer. Heaven knew he needed to be sharp and
alert for tomorrow's mission.

As he roamed the corridors, his thoughts strayed from Pavel, to the
mission, and back again.

He didn't know how long he had wandered, but suddenly Kirk found
himself standing in front of Pavel's cabin. Looking around, he
reassured himself that he was quite alone in the corridor. Without
giving it a second thought, he entered the code that Pavel had given
him. The door silently slid open and he stepped inside.

Kirk let the door shut behind him, throwing the alcove portion of the
cabin back into near-darkness. A dim light illuminated the door to
Pavel's sleeping chamber.

Peering around the corner of the doorway, Kirk stopped and just had to
grin to himself.

Pavel had left the reading light on at low setting by his bunk. The
young man was curled on his right side, facing the doorway. His dark
head was propped up on a couple of pillows, a leather-bound book open
in his still hands.

The captain heard the slow, even breathing of his lover and smiled. He
silently crept over to Chekov's side and knelt down. Plucking the
antique book carefully from the sleeping man's hands, he recognized it
as the leather-bound volume he had given Pavel a few weeks earlier--a
collection of Tolstoy short stories. He noticed the header at the top
of the page where Chekov left off and chuckled softly.

~~Ivan Ilych? Doing a little light reading before bed, Pasha?~~

He closed the book and placed it on top of the Russian's nightstand.

Kirk sat back on his heels next to the bed, studying Pavel's peaceful
features. He had memorized every inch of that boyish face a thousand
times over. There were the expressive, dark eyebrows that could
communicate nearly as much as Spock's. Then there were the long
eyelashes, and the nicely chiseled nose. Lower down were the full lips
that he so loved to taste. And then there were the high cheekbones. He
smiled to himself, thinking how charming it was to watch Pavel's pale
cheeks flush at just the right moment as they made love.

He gently brushed a few stray locks of hair away from the Russian's
face, then leaned over and kissed him lightly on the temple.

Kirk rose and untied the belt to his robe. He pulled the fabric from
his shoulders, letting the garment drop to the floor.

He then turned off the reading lamp above Pavel's bunk, plunging the
room into darkness. All that illuminated the room now was the dim
safety strips near the floor of the room.

Kirk stood over his lover, allowing his eyes to adjust to the
darkness, listening to his lover's soft breathing for a long time.
Pavel moaned softly, then rolled over onto his stomach, moving his
head to face towards the wall. Kirk listened for awhile longer, but
was convinced the Russian hadn't awakened.

Chekov didn't seem to be plagued by insomnia as was his captain. That
made things easy for Pavel, but frustrating for Kirk whenever he
couldn't sleep and his body was in the mood for sex. Chekov usually
was grumpy if he was awakened during the middle of the night, but Kirk
always found a way to make up for disrupting his sleep.

He silently pulled out the extender to the bunk, adding just enough
space for him to curl next to the Russian on his left side. For a
moment, he didn't touch the slumbering man, just listened to his soft
breathing. Then he gently ran his right hand over his lover's
shoulders and down his back, enjoying the feel of the silk pajama top
and the compact, muscular body beneath the smooth fabric.

They had settled into a nighttime routine whenever Pavel spent the
night in the captain's cabin. Kirk usually slept in the nude, so he
made no adjustments to his normal routine. However, Chekov apparently
sensed how much the captain enjoyed undressing him, so the younger man
started wearing pajamas to bed--the silk garments being Kirk's
personal favorites.

Kirk pressed himself up against the body, gently rolling his lover
onto his left side and spooning the Russian's back against his chest.
He grasped Chekov's slim hips and gently pulled back, fitting the
young man's buttocks against his groin. Wrapping his arms around the
sleeping body, he pressed gentle kisses along the back of his lover's
neck.

He knew he should let Chekov sleep. Hell, he needed sleep himself.
Morning would come early enough for them both. But he couldn't help
himself from holding his lover close, enjoying the feel of Pavel's
soft breaths against his forearm as he hugged the Russian tight.

He heard Chekov moan softly, then felt the young man snuggle back
against him.

"Mmmmmm?"

"It's just me, love."

"Mmmmmm--Jim?"

"Yes, Pasha."

Kirk's hands roamed down to the waistband of the Russian's pajama
bottoms. He slipped both hands inside. Finding Chekov's cock, he began
stroking it gently in one hand as he cupped the young man's balls with
the other.

The response was immediate.

"Cold!"

"What?"

Chekov struggled from Kirk's embrace. "Cold hands," the Russian
grumbled, his voice slurring.

"I'm sorry, love," Kirk murmured. "But I know a way to warm them up,
hmmmm?"

Chekov settled back against him with a long, sleepy sigh. Apparently
Kirk's hands had reached the right temperature. Besides, the friction
he was creating was having an arousing effect on the young man's
organ. Kirk tracked soft kisses down the back of his lover's neck as
he continued to stroke and squeeze Chekov's erection.

"Mmmmm. Wha--what time is it?"

"It's late. Very late."

The Russian moaned as Kirk moved his hands up to Chekov's waistband
and slid the pajama bottoms down. His fingers moved to the soft mounds
of flesh, kneading them, allowing his index finger to stray to the
cleft.

"Where's your lube?"

Chekov shivered under Kirk's caresses as the captain moved his free
hand to stroke the young man's erection once again.

The Russian reached up to the recessed cabinet just above his head,
opened it and reached inside. He withdrew a small vial just as the
captain pressed his erection between the young man's thighs. Chekov
moaned again, his body shuddering, and Kirk rubbed himself against his
lover's body.

Kirk palmed the vial open one-handed. He squirted the body oil over
the hand that was pumping the Russian's cock. Then he poured a long
line of oil down his lover's cleft. He worked the oil along his
fingers and then his cock until they were coated completely with the
musky-scented potion.

The captain teased the opening to Chekov's body, stroking and relaxing
the muscles around it until the Russian began to thrust his hips
backwards to make contact.

"What's the hurry," Kirk chuckled wickedly.

"You--started this--Jim," Chekov replied between gasps of breath.

Kirk smiled. "I did, didn't I. Do you want me to stop?"

"No--!"

Kirk chuckled. Deciding not to tease the Russian any longer, he
inserted one finger and stretched the tight opening. Chekov shifted
his hips backwards with each probe of Kirk's fingers, impaling himself
deeper.

He added a second finger, and soon a third. As he prepared his lover,
Kirk continued stroking the Russian's erection, slowing his
ministrations when he was thought Pavel was close to climaxing in his
hand, priming him for the next step.

With a wide grin, Kirk got up on his knees and rolled the Russian onto
his back. He knelt between Chekov's legs. The Russian spread his knees
wider apart and pulled them up, all the while stroking and teasing the
captain's erection, bringing him back to full arousal.

Kirk leaned over the body of his prone lover, taking his time in
unbuttoning the silk shirt, spreading kisses on the newly exposed
skin. His lips discovered a responsive nub, and he lingering there
until it became hard as a pebble. Then his lips tracked to the other
nub, loitering there until he received a similar response.

After pulling the silk shirt off of Chekov's torso, he tracked wet
kisses down the muscular chest to the belly button. His tongue invaded
the indented flesh, sucking and teasing until he elicited a soft moan
from his lover.

Chekov's fingers raked through Kirk's hair, squeezing his shoulder in
a signal to move faster. But Kirk enjoyed taking his time, tasting his
lover's skin, teasing him until he felt the lithe body shudder beneath
his hands.

He pulled the pajama bottoms completely off of the Russian's body and
tossed them to the floor. Chekov was now completely naked, his pale
cheeks flushed with desire, dark eyes looking up at him expectantly.
He was beautiful.

Kirk reached again for the vial of lube, spreading the oil over
Chekov's torso, down the inside of his thighs, up the back of his
legs. Then his fingers returned to the target of his desire. Despite
the late hour, he wanted to make this night last a long time, enjoying
the feel of the warm flesh under his hands and the wonderful sounds
elicited from his lover.

Pavel's hand found his arousal and Kirk moaned deep in his throat as
the Russian pumped him. By the time he pulsed all three fingers inside
Chekov's body once again, he was so hard himself that he was about to
come.

He took in a couple of steadying breaths to slow his body down, then
hooked Chekov's legs over his shoulders. Rolling his lover forward, he
positioned his cock then gently popped the head in. He smiled down at
the Russian lovingly, then smoothly slid all the way in.

Their bodies soon writhed against each other with passionate abandon,
partners in a dance that Kirk wished to spend a lifetime perfecting.
The captain came first, his body shuddering in a powerful climax that
moved him to his very core. Pavel came almost immediately after Kirk,
spreading his warm fluid between them, his lungs panting with
exertion.

---

After regaining his breath, Kirk withdrew from the Russian's body. He
retreated to the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp towel.

He sat down on the bunk and sponged the sweat and semen off of his
lover's body. Dropping the towel to the floor, Kirk curled up next to
Chekov, kissing his brow, his closed eyelids, and down to his parted
lips.

The Russian took in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then rolled over to
his right side so he was facing Kirk. The younger man pressed his face
against Kirk's left shoulder, enfolding the captain in a tight bear
hug around the waist.

They lay silently in each other's arms. Kirk massaged the Russian's
shoulders and back, enjoying just holding his lover's body close to
him. Chekov rubbed his fingertips into Kirk's lower back, eliciting a
soft moan from him in return.

Since becoming lovers, this was Kirk's favorite time of the night.
Sure, an intense round of lovemaking usually preceded it, but he also
enjoyed the time afterwards, when they held each other close, falling
asleep in each other's arms. In the past, he was never one who liked
to cuddle after lovemaking, but during the last two months he had come
to enjoy it immensely.

He'd miss moments like this if something happened to Pavel--

Kirk felt his back muscles tense involuntarily at the stray thought.
He felt Chekov's fingertips rub hard into an especially tense spot in
his lower back and he grunted in reply.

"What's wrong?"

The direct question made Kirk blink his eyes open and look down at his
lover. He found Chekov's upturned face, dark eyes studying him
intently.

"Up too late working, I guess."

Chekov continued pressing his fingertips into Kirk's lower back and
hit another tender spot. "Why is your back so tense?" Kirk found
Chekov's dark eyes looking up at him again, waiting for an answer.
When one didn't come, the Russian continued, "You'll never get to
sleep this way. Here, roll over and I'll give you a back rub."

Kirk grunted, then accepted his lover's offer. After rolling onto his
stomach, he felt the Russian spread some body oil on his skin, then
work his fingers into the muscles of his lower back. He had to admit
Chekov gave great massages. He felt himself starting to relax.

"So--do you want to talk about it? Or is it classified?"

Kirk let out a deep breath. He hesitated for a long moment, then said,
"You'll learn soon enough. I finalized the assignments for the Ktyera
mission."

He felt Chekov's hands pause, then move up Kirk's spine, working the
other muscle groups along his back.

"--And?"

"I'm sorry, Pavel. I need you on the team."

"There is nothing to be sorry about, Jim. It's my duty to go."

Kirk felt Chekov's fingertips work up to his shoulders and neck. The
Russian took extra time in that region, apparently sensing the tension
that Kirk knew he had bottled up in that part of his anatomy.

"I know it's your duty, Pasha. But this mission--I just have a very
bad feeling about it. If things don't go exactly as planned, it could
very well be a suicide mission."

He felt the Russian kiss him gently on the back of the neck, then
along his right shoulder. It was his signal that the massage was done,
and he was ready for other things.

Kirk sat up and pulled Chekov onto his lap. He cupped the Russian's
face in both hands, then whispered, "I don't want to lose you."

Chekov gave him a wan smile. "Jim. It's my duty to go. If I die, then
I die."

"How can you be so cavalier about it? I've told you enough about this
mission to know how dangerous it will be."

The Russian grinned, then leaned over to kiss him gently on the lips.
"I don't see you being so indestructible yourself. Remember, I could
lose YOU just as easily."

He chuckled. "Point taken."

Kirk looked into his lover's dark eyes, witnessing the pure love
reflected back at him. For a moment, Kirk wondered if he deserved such
deep devotion. He was about to send Pavel on a mission where there was
a good chance he might die.

Chekov wrapped his arms around Kirk's neck and pulled him into a deep,
passionate kiss. When they finally came up for air, the Russian
whispered, "Tell me, truthfully. If I wasn't your lover, if you had
absolutely no feelings for me, who would you select for your team?"

Kirk looked into the young man's eyes and grinned. "I would still
choose you, Pavel."

The Russian nodded his head, then settled back on the bed. Kirk felt
himself pulled down on top of his lover's body, supple legs wrapping
around his waist, strong hands caressing his back.

"Then it's settled. We will face this together."

Kirk propped himself up on his elbows and looked down into Pavel's
trusting face. The love and affection he felt for this man filled him
to the point of breaking. He felt his chest constrict, and he took in
a shuddering breath. "I don't deserve you, Pavel," he whispered, his
voice choked.

Chekov grinned up at him, "No, I suppose you don't."

Kirk started to chuckle at the remark, but then he noticed his lover's
eyes suddenly taking on a very glassy sheen.

Pavel blinked a couple times, then whispered, "So, if one of us is to
die tomorrow, there's only one thing left to do."

"What's that?"

"Make the most of the time we have remaining."

He laughed, the first good laugh he'd enjoyed since learning about
this mission. Kirk leaned down and captured the Russian's mouth in a
deep, probing kiss.

After breaking the kiss, he ran his lips across Chekov's cheek and
over to a delicate ear.

"So, what did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I think we can come up with something."

---

Kirk felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Jim?"

He snapped his head up in a startled jolt, suddenly back in the here
and now.

"Bones?" Kirk reached for the doctor's forearm and squeezed. "Oh god.
How is he?"

A smile formed on Dr. McCoy's craggy face. "Well, it was really touch
and go there for awhile, but he's stabilized now. He'll be in sickbay
for awhile, but he's going to be fine."

Kirk got to his feet, looking past McCoy to the surgical suite beyond
the window. "Can I go in and see him?"

The doctor turned his head back, then met Kirk's gaze with his steel
blue eyes. "They're moving him into recovery right now. I'll take you
to him."

They walked down the corridor to the entrance to a private recovery
room. Nurse Chapel was just finishing another check of Chekov's vitals
when they walked in.

"He'll be out for awhile yet," McCoy stated as Chapel nodded at him
and walked to the back of the room.

Kirk didn't ask for permission, but walked right up to Chekov's bed.
Leaning over, he studied Pavel's peaceful face, then stroked his
fingers across the Russian's smooth cheek.

"I was so afraid I would lose him."

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "I know," McCoy's voice said
softly, "I'm glad we were able to pull him through. He's one tough
kid."

Kirk nodded his head, then looked back. Nurse Chapel was draping a
blanket over a cot in the corner of the room.

He looked back into McCoy's face.

"Christine knows, Jim."

Kirk looked at Nurse Chapel, unable to keep the surprise from his
face.

"We figured you'd want to stay here tonight." McCoy pointed to a
partially open door. "You can use the bathroom to shower and freshen
up before going to bed."

He grinned at Nurse Chapel, who gave the captain her most brilliant
smile. She then exited the room.

Looking back at McCoy, he said, "Thanks, Bones. Thanks for
everything."

"Don't worry about it, Jim. You'll get my bill in the morning."

McCoy double-checked the readings above Chekov's head, then nodded.
"Everything looks good. We've got him monitored. Christine will keep
an eye on his readings through the night. Now why don't you get some
rest yourself."

"Thanks, Bones. I will. Good night."

"Night, Jim."

After taking a quick shower, Kirk padded barefoot into the small
recovery room. He was dead tired--the mission and worrying about Pavel
draining him. He wished he could sleep in the nude, but decided he
better pull on some pajama bottoms. He didn't want to startle Nurse
Chapel or any of McCoy's medical team if they had to check on Pavel
during the night.

He stood next to Chekov's bed, noting the Russian was still
unconscious. He leaned over the bed and let out a deep sigh, feeling
his body relax. He could let go of the fear at last--he could let it
go until the next time, anyway.

The room was silent now except for the slow, even breathing of his
lover. He stroked Pavel's cheek, then brushed aside some dark locks of
hair from his face. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across the
Russian's brow, then kissed him gently on the lips.

"Good night, love."

Kirk kissed him one last time, then made his way to the cot. After
lowering the lights, he settled down atop the small bed, curling on
his side.

After a few moments, he sat upright and rolled out of bed.

~~This won't do at all.~~

He pulled off his pajama bottoms and dropped them to the floor by the
cot. He settled back down on the bed, leaving the covers off.

Slowly, he drifted off to sleep, aware of the fact that they had
tempted fate one more time--and won.

---

The End