poly_chromatic

[Chekov has been maintaining radio silence since the fifteenth. The rampant alcohol-induced misery in the City, however, prompts a network post.]

Celebrations yesterday, vomiting in the streets today. It feels like the first of January.

My father has told me many ways to cure a hangover--some of the ways are ridiculous--so I will share his better suggestions. Drink pickle brine; the potassium, magnesium, and electrolytes will help. Mineral water is good, too, as is kvass, but I don't know there to find that in the City. If these don't help, jump into a very cold body of water. The cold should be enough of a distraction to make you forget your other miseries.

[There's an uncertain pause.]

Also, I have a question.

I realize that, normally, actions taken during curses are to be forgiven. What if a cursed action is encouraged or preceded by uncursed actions? Say--and this is only an example--two friends have an argument, and that becomes a fight. Maybe the fight is somewhat violent, but not so bad until the curse takes hold and one of the participants does something extreme. When uncursed and cursed are close like that, how do you know where one turns into the other? Is there a time when a cursed action is not forgivable?

[He clears his throat. It's a troubling topic, which is why he feels a need to end on an entirely different note.]

Pickle brine for hangovers. Remember that. You heard it from a Russian, and a Russian never lies about these things.

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[Uhura sits in the kitchen, nursing a cup of cranberry juice. The idea of getting a drink is tempting, but she doesn't want to fall into the habit of drinking every time something terrible happens.

She looks up when she hears Chekov moving.]

Where are you going?

[He looks up from his shoelaces (half-tied) and smiles. Smiling is good. Chekov has been doing a lot of smiling to ensure everyone that he is, indeed, okay. He knows Uhura's worried, but he worries about her, too.]

To Lucy's apartment. I need to make her feel better by eating her food.

[She smiles back, but she doesn't buy his smile for one minute.]

Be careful, okay?

[Left unsaid is Don't stop to see Korra.]

[He sighs dismissively, but the drama seems forced.]

I can walk to Lucy's apartment without getting in trouble. See, I'm even wearing my shoes for you so my feet are safe.

[Old habits die hard. Besides, Lucy doesn't mind if he doesn't wear shoes.]

Good. The last thing we need is for you to go back to the hospital again.

[Twice in seven months, Chekov. Twice!]

Do you think I go there intentionally?

[There's a hint of accusation there.]

[There's a hint of an expression on her face that says "Kind of, yes."]

You have a knack for trouble.

It finds me. I didn't ask to die.

[He's on his way out.]

I may spend the night with Lucy.

[Uhura lets out a frustrated sigh and reaches to grab Chekov's arm. She doesn't want him leaving angry at her.]

Of course you didn't. That's not what I meant.

[She hesitates, searching for the right words.]

I'm just scared. This was the second time you've been in the hospital for major injuries.

[Any indignation at being stopped is erased by her admission of fear.]

I'm sorry. [He shrugs her arm off to hug her (and doesn't tell her that it was actually his third. What she doesn't know...)] Nyota, I'll be more careful.

[Uhura holds him tightly.]

You shouldn't have to be careful around your friends.

[It's not entirely a diss on Korra. It's a diss against this entire City, which can curse friends to hurt one another so badly. There are times she's pretty sure she hates it here.]

Maybe not, but I will be.

[The City is terrible in a lot of ways. Making it so no one can be trusted--

But Chekov is partially to blame for what happened. He pushed Korra. The curse wouldn't have had a chance to take hold if he had left.]

Edited 2013-03-27 02:16 (UTC)

[Uhura would smack him if she knew he was thinking like that. Or...would think about smacking him. Would give him a glare that would feel like a smack. The idea of him blaming himself would be disgusting to her. Having to be careful around people he should be able to trust unconditionally is bad enough.

She doesn't say any of this, just gently releases him and resists the urge to have him call her when he gets there.]

Have a good time.

[Maybe he deserves to be smacked... or maybe he should have left when he was told to.]

I will, and I'll call if I'm asked to stay the night.

Thank you.

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