Sulu winced painfully, shifting as Chekov readjusted the pillow behind his back.

"Better?"

The Helmsman nodded, letting the air seep out of his chest slowly. "I admit it, the cherry orchard looks like areas of Earth: but honestly, Pavel, my bed was more comfortable than this tree."

"It even smells like Russia," Chekov insisted eagerly.

"Washington, D.C. smells like Russia when the cherry trees are in blossom. So does Japan. "

"The trees aren't in blossom," the Navigator corrected. "See? The fruit's ripe."

"Chekov," Sulu warned as he let his eyes fall closed heavily. "This doesn't count as bringing me home.

"I can't get warm anymore," he added in a thin voice. "I'm so cold inside," he divulged. A now familiar shudder deep in his very cells wracked his body. "Nothing helps anymore."

After a moment, Sulu opened his eyes and glared at the Navigator. He couldn't say why he knew to do this. Perhaps as a pilot, he felt the minute difference in temperature and air pressure. More likely, as a friend he simply knew what to expect of the younger man.

Chastised by the glare, Chekov stopped and put down the hand he'd been reaching out toward his friend with.

"We're a fine pair of friends," Sulu said tiredly. "You can't resist grabbing everyone and hugging them and I can't stand touchy-feely people."

"Stop it," the younger man chided his friend. "You're babbling, Sulu."

"It's just that I'm so..."

"Japanese. I'm Russian, you're Japanese-American," Chekov asserted simplistically. "Your language has no word for kiss, mine has no word for privacy."

Dying may be well worth never having to hear that analogy again. "Even so..." Sulu reflected, but let the thought trail off into weary silence.

The Navigator made a sour face. "Sulu, you don't even want your girlfriends to show affection in public. I'm just your brother: you'd drop dead if I ever hugged you in front of the Captain!"

Sulu chuckled, despite himself. The involuntary movement that came with it caused him to wince. "I would," he admitted. "I'm forced to confess that I am obviously not the only one who's had to make adjustments in this friendship."

"We're different, that's what makes it work," Chekov observed.

"I suppose." The Helmsman was too weary to argue. "You'll have to find another brother now, Pavel."

The Navigator shrugged dismissibly. "I never had a real brother, but I can't imagine ever finding someone else who I can talk to about anything."

"Ear plugs," Sulu advised. "That's the secret: get him a good pair of earplugs." The Helmsman winced as another chuckle took over his body.

"Hikaru," Chekov said then, his eyes turning to liquid chocolate. "I found her. I found her, Hikaru."

"Again?" Sulu asked with amusement pulling at the corners of his parched lips. "Found the woman of your dreams again, have you?" The older man made a show of rolling his clouded eyes melodramatically. "Pavel Andrievich, you fall in love as easily as most people sneeze," he said tiredly. "If you'd just lighten up you could have a fling every so often like a normal person. It's much less exhausting."

"No..." Chekov started to protest, but Sulu stopped him with a hand.

The Helmsman's breathing was shallow and thready, but he managed a thick Slavic accent anyway: "This time it's different!"

The Navigator flushed, but continued. "Do you remember Zharpesta?"

"The Firebird?" Sulu asked. "Of course I remember her: it's your favorite story. You've even dragged me around Russia looking for her."

"Well, I found her. She's here."

The older man smiled weakly and pushed himself up further. "Zharpesta?" he asked incredulously. "You found the Firebird out here in the middle of nowhere? My impaired brain wonders about your grasp on reality, Pavel Andrieivich."

"Look," Chekov instructed, indicating with a glance the branches of the tree spread out above them.

The Helmsman made an incongruous noise of derision, wincing as he shifted position to crane his neck around and peer into the leafy canopy. A frown furrowed its way out from his eyes and they darted from the tree's branches to his friend and back again. "It's a bird," he pronounced wearily. "A big red and gold bird with a peacock's tail."

Sulu settled back against the tree again, sighing heavily. "Chekov, the fact that it's red and likes cherries does not make it the Firebird. We're not on the right planet: not even in the right sector of the galaxy. Spock would be sorely disappointed in the logic of your reasoning."

"Sulu, it is Zharpesta."

"You are a strange fellow, Pasha."

"Hikaru, I want you to do something for me."

"Be your best man?" The older man smirked weakly. "We've talked about traditional Russian weddings before, Chekov. Why would you think there's a force in this universe that can make me give you a bath–for any reason?"

"I'm not marrying her," the Navigator retorted irritably.

"Good God, alert the Bishop. You'll be living in sin. Although, she's not human. Is there an addendum to the Orthodox Bible that addresses this?"

Chekov straightened perceptively, staring at his friend sullenly. "I'm never disrespectful to your culture and beliefs."

Sitting forward painfully, the older man pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. "No, you aren't: not seriously. I'm sorry." His dark eyes held his friend's gaze. Although prone to wild, instant crushes, Chekov somehow always resisted irrational behavior. Even when he was impulsive his actions were methodical. "Pavel, what the hell are you up to now?"

They knew each other too well, Chekov thought. Truthfully, it would have been easier if they were not such close friends. He could have been spared the explanation altogether. He could have just disappeared without telling anyone why. He could have been another just another mystery: a footnote in the history of spaceflight.

The Navigator knew he owed Sulu more than that, even if it was going to lead to a fight. The older man may have claimed that Chekov had the monopoly on stubborness, but it was only because Sulu had first hand knowledge of the blinding emotion himself. It wasn't going to be easy to get Sulu to back down.

Indeed, they were a fine pair of friends. "Do this for me, Hikaru," the Navigator asked as held out a whisper thin, leather-covered booklet to Sulu. "I need you to give this to my Village Council the next time you make planet-fall on Earth."

Sulu eyed the booklet without touching it, as though he would taint it. "Pavel, I know that if you want to change your passport, you need to go before the Council yourself and talk to them."

Silence between them was never painful. It was now.

"I'm not going back, Hikaru," Chekov finally said. "I'm staying here. I need you to explain this to them and make them understand. I hope you can return it to me someday with their approval."

The Helmsman blinked sharply, color filling his transparent cheeks. "This planet has affected your mind, Pavel Andrieivich," he rasped bluntly. "You know you have to keep that with you and I'm going back to Earth in a coffin. I won't be returning here."

Chekov did take hold of Sulu's hand then and squeezed it. "Hikaru," he insisted. "I didn't bring you down here to die. I brought you here to be healed: you're going to be fine."

Sulu drew a ragged breath in wearily and pulled his hand away uncomfortably. "We all know my body's been too decimated by the virus, even if McCoy found a cure."

"You do know the story of Zharpesta, don't you?" Chekov pressed.

"Yes, yes, yes, of course," the Helmsman said wearily as he leaned himself back against the tree. "The Firebird flies across Russia making everything she touches beautiful. Pavel, please don't bother me now with nonsense."

"Did you ever wonder how she makes things beautiful?"

Sulu's eyes closed. He was silent so long, the younger man almost spoke. "Can't say the question ever crossed my mind," he finally said.

"Zharpesta makes things beautiful by making them healthy," Chekov informed him.

"Downright accommodating of her."

"I'm being serious. She's going to heal you, Hikaru."

"Sorry," the older man commented. "I've checked my schedule and I simply haven't the time today."

"Will you stop treating me like a two year old?" the Navigator demanded. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying."

"I understand," Sulu retorted, opening his eyes to glare at his friend. He pushed himself upright, throwing himself into a fit of convulsive coughs. "Zharpesta is going to heal me and you're going to stay here in repayment."

"Yes," Chekov confirmed, a note of surprise in his tone at how quickly his friend sized up the situation.

"I won't let you do that," the Helmsman wheezed fiercely.

"You don't have a choice!"

"Oh, yes I do, Pavel Andrieivich. If you think I'm going to let you pine away here while I go about my business, your brains have been cooked from spending too much time in the oven!"

Chekov scowled formidably. "Stop trying to sound Russian!"

"After you stop trying to be so lofty and noble on my account. You've got yourself on a pedestal so high above the rest of us, I'm surprised you can breathe in the atmosphere up there. You're a human being: there aren't any knights on white horses and King Arthur wasn't real."

"There is archeological proof that a King named Arthur united the warring kingdoms of Briton during the iron age," the Navigator retorted indignantly.

The fact that Arthur wasn't credited with ruling Russia at some point in time spoke to how upset Chekov actually was. "But Mallory made up the Knights of the Round Table and the French threw in Lancelot for good measure," Sulu insisted artfully.

The Navigator blinked quickly in surprise.

"I do sometimes listen to your babbling," the older man admitted. "Even I get that bored at times."

Chekov let himself sit back, subdued. Sometimes Sulu's words to the Navigator were more effective than a slap across the face.

The Helmsman continued. "The point is that even Kirk knows principles are only there as a guide. Ease up on yourself: the knights weren't real because no one could live up to that code."

"Zharpesta's going to heal you and I'm going to stay," Chekov insisted fiercely without room for debate in his tone.

Sulu sat staring at his friend, each breath drawn into his lungs rattling his chest and shuddering through his body. He knew from experience that trying to convince Chekov that other motivators beside nobility were to be considered would only reinforce the younger man's belief that they were not. Sulu tried another tack. "This will kill your father, Pavel Andrieivich," he pronounced.

"It's not as though he can't visit," Chekov said in a pinched voice, stumbling to his feet and averting his eyes.

"Halfway across the galaxy? Pavel, he gets space sick going to the moon!"

"That's just one of his stories," the Navigator retorted, glancing sharply back at the Helmsman. "He's never even been out of Earth's atmosphere.

"I want to do this, Hikaru."

"You don't get everything you want in life, Pavel. Besides, if you actually wanted to live like a peasant, you would have stayed on Earth. I'm not letting you give up your career, your family–your life–for me."

Chekov stood, arms clenched across his chest as he sullenly listened to the Helmsman speak. When the man finished, he remained staring into the non-distinct distance. "I'm not giving up anything, Koshka," the Navigator finally said quietly, using the most familiar nickname he could find for his friend. He turned soulful, and depthless, dark eyes on his friend. "I'm just carrying the sled."

The Helmsman sighed heavily and eyed the younger man suspiciously. "What?"

"In Russia, it is said that if you wish to go sledding, you'd best be prepared to carry the sled."

Sulu growled low in his throat. "Another damn Russian proverb."

"Earth's proverbs contain the truths of the universe," Chekov maintained. "If you want friendship, you better be prepared to be a friend."

"No one could claim that you're not a good person, a good friend, Malyenki. What kind of friend would I be if I let you imprison yourself for me? I'm not going to let you do this."

Chekov shook his head, arms still clasped against his chest. "It's not your choice," he insisted. "It's mine and she is going to heal you."

"I won't let her," Sulu retorted with a strength in his voice that he didn't feel. A brilliant crimson feather floated down in front of him as he said it, the edges dripping with molten gold, and he caught it instinctively.

Sulu gasped in pain, his fingers clutching the feather reflexively as his body seized up and folded in on itself.

"Oh, God!" he gasped. "Oh, God..."

Chekov was on the ground next to him instantly, clutching the convulsing man in an effort to support his flailing body. "Koshka!"

"Don't call me that!" The Helmsman managed to rasp angrily. His dark eyes filled with fear as his body shuddered violently.

"You didn't say it would hurt!" The Navigator snarled, glaring up into leaves of the tree, but found them empty.

"You didn't ask."

"You bitch!" Chekov shot back at the woman now standing behind him.

"Much of his body needed repair at the cellular level," her soft, cooing voice attempted to soothe him from behind. "The pain will pass."

Sulu let out a last, shuddering breath as his body stilled.

"Koshka?"

The Helmsman sat silently for a moment, eyes closed, as he waited for his rapid breathing and pulse to quiet. "Pavel Andrieivich," he finally said breathlessly. "You call me that again and I'll rip you limb from limb."

"You're better!" Chekov declared, jerking back and grinning wildly. "You're better, Sulu!"

"Yes," the older man agreed, nodding. His face was fleshed out and washed in color that it had long been lacking. "I feel like I am. Now let go of me," Sulu added, scowling and peeling away his friend's arms distastefully.

"I won't be recommending we stop looking for an alternate cure," the Helmsman observed as he climbed stiffly to his feet. He wobbled a moment. It had been a long time since he had been vertical.

He blindly swatted away Chekov's immediate attempt to steady him. "I'm fine."

The strange words the Helmsman said made Chekov straighten and their dark eyes met.

"Now," the older man elucidated with a weak smile. "I'm fine now."

Chekov nodded, clasping his hands behind his back sedately. "I told you that Zharpesta would heal you," he said triumphantly.

Sulu inclined his own head just enough to show agreement, but his dark eyes were on the woman standing in the orchard some distance behind Chekov. He made a significant gesture of touching his fingertips to the soft edges of the feather still in his hand.

"I know the stories about you," he said, loud enough for her to hear. "I can now make you show up just by waving this feather. "

"Sulu!" Chekov warned, horror in his voice.

The Helmsman glanced at his friend only long enough to acknowledge him. He moved past the younger man dismissively. "Zharpesta, I can technically keep you running back and forth constantly. Let's just cut to the chase: you leave Chekov where he is and I won't bother you."

"You can't force me to appear."

"You have to come when I call you with the feather," he charged.

Curiosity and amusement danced across her ebony eyes. "I have to do nothing. That was simply an agreement I had with Ivan."

"Changing the story, aren't you?" Sulu challenged.

She smiled condescendingly in return. "Those are human stories. I see no reason to adapt my life to the creations of your imaginations."

"Sulu!" Chekov protested in horror again. "Stop it! Don't argue with her!"

"Why?" Sulu demanded, glancing back at him. "What's she going to do, make me sick again?

"You can't do that, can you?" he taunted as he paced up to her threateningly. "You can't go backwards. I'm healed and there's nothing you can do about it. You can't even make Chekov stay."

The Navigator, who had been scrambling up beside his friend, froze in his tracks. "Mr. Sulu!" he protested formally. "I have told her I would. I gave her my word."

"So break your word," Sulu shrugged simply, turning eyes dancing devilishly back toward her. "If she has a taste for martyrs, I'm sure she can find another somewhere else. Maybe she could even find a willing one next time.

"Hell," Sulu continued unkindly. "Just take out an ad in Russia: you'll have lines of men. Chekov's got better things to do. His Village Council will never think this is the best use of his talents.

"And they'll come after him: I'd rather deal with Starfleet."

She moved toward him slowly, intrigued. "Ivan's horse never was white," the Firebird observed cryptically.

"What does that mean?" Chekov demanded, irritation lacing his words and shining in his eyes.

Sulu smiled at her and she tipped her head at him.

"What does that mean?" the Navigator repeated.

"Your friend is right. Ivan got what he was looking for by staying with me: he gave up nothing. I've no taste for looking into the eyes of a martyr for an eternity."

"You...don't want me to stay anymore?" Chekov asked tentatively.

She shook out her hair, trilling in response. "No."

"Now say thank-you and shut up!" Sulu ordered, grabbing the younger man's arm forcefully. He backed away and pulled the Navigator with him.

"Hikaru."

He stopped, his fingers tightening and biting into the flesh of his friend's arm. "What?" he asked uneasily.

"Why does Pavel Andrieivich call you 'Koshka'?"

The Helmsman straightened, shifting his jaw as he regarded her thoughtfully. "You don't leave here, do you? Don't go back there?"

Lashes fluttering over her ebony eyes again, amusement spread over her lips. "I'm not seen there," she answered lightly.

Chekov stepped up beside him, eyes widening, but Sulu pushed him back before he could say anything.

"Chekov's father told Pavel he couldn't bring home a kitten. When he met me, Andrie said he didn't realize that Pavel would drag home stray people instead. So now.." he hesitated, shuddering and casting a glare at the Navigator. "Everyone in the family calls me 'Koshka'."

Her musical laughter filled the air as her form wavering and she took to the sky.

"You said if I ever told anyone that people call you 'Kitten' you'd kill me!" Chekov protested: his eyes wild with indignation.

"You didn't just save my life."

"Yes, I did!"

"She didn't have to."

"Neither did I," Chekov insisted hotly.

The Helmsman grinned. "Yes, you did. What would you do without me?

"I'd get to eat some of the chocolate my mother sends me," the younger man pronounced sullenly.

Sulu threw his hands up, striding off toward the village. "Then you'd get fat and what would McCoy do for entertainment? It's all a terrible mess, Chekov."

"Give me the feather!" the younger man demanded suddenly.

Slowing, the Helmsman held it out to him, then jerked it away when Chekov grabbed for it. He stumbled and fell face-first into the black earth of Mother Russia as Sulu ran away, laughing.

"I'm telling Uhura!" Chekov declared, scrambling to his feet and running to catch up with the Helmsman.

"Than I will kill you. More chocolate for me."