Archive of Our Own ^beta

Having a Ceti eel forcibly inserted into his brain and controlling his every move was an experience that Pavel wasn’t likely to forget for a long time. Though he tried—oh, yes, he tried. He saw therapists, psychiatrists, and every kind of specialist under the various suns of the universe, but none were able to successfully help him.

During the day, the thoughts usually faded into the background—being around his friends and crewmates sent the memories to the furthest recesses of his mind—but the slightest mention of Khan brought it all flooding back. And then there were the nightmares, of course. The horrible, gripping, seizing nightmares of having his free will ripped away, and visions of the ones he cared about most dead at Pavel’s hand, and of Khan’s voice, resonating in his skull. Pavel knew he was dead. It didn’t help.

He woke up screaming, again. It was the seventh night in a row. Sulu’s blood had been coating his hands when he’d looked down—blank, lifeless eyes staring back at him, and chest a mangled, grotesque mess. He was fairly sure he’d pulled apart Sulu’s ribs with his bare hands. Pavel felt ill.

Sulu’s quarters weren’t far. It was the middle of artificial night and Pavel felt bad disturbing him, but he needed to see him. He knew his dream wasn’t real. It didn’t help. He needed to see Sulu, alive and well, before he even had a chance of sleeping soundly again. Pavel was only wearing half of his uniform, but he couldn’t care less. Anybody walking by would have heard the screaming. They would know exactly why he was half-dressed at this hour, standing outside Sulu’s door and gently pressing his thumb to the buzzer.

Pavel worried that he would have to buzz again. He didn’t.

The door slid open to reveal a tired- and concerned-looking helmsman, with his hair sticking up in odd places. “Chekov,” Sulu said quietly, as a greeting. “What is it?” His eyebrows pinched together and he continued. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Pavel answered simply. “May I come inside?”

Sulu stepped aside wordlessly and Pavel brushed past him into the room. Their temporary quarters on the starbase were small and bland, yet cosy. Sulu’s was nearly identical to his own. He hitched forward on his feet as he stopped, before turning to look at Sulu.

“I wanted to make sure you were… alive,” Pavel admitted slowly, torn between keeping his gaze shamefully on the floor and staring directly into Sulu’s eyes. He compromised on the crook of Sulu’s neck. “I had a dream. I had killed you, in it. I needed to see you.”

Sulu’s response was barely a whisper. “Oh, Chekov…”

“I want you to call me Pavel,” Pavel replied, sharper than he intended. “I do not want to be Chekov, crewman of the Enterprise, right now. I am not that man. Right now, I am Pavel.”

“Pavel,” Sulu repeated. “And I’m Hikaru.”

“Hikaru.” Sulu’s first name tasted unfamiliar, yet sweet, in Pavel’s mouth. “I am… so sorry for barging in.”

“Don’t be.” Hikaru shook his head. “I’ll replicate some tea and we can talk. Or just sit, if that’s what you want.” He went over to the replicator and did just that, and Pavel quietly watched him. His shirt was thin. Pavel could see the lines of his muscles through it. He liked that.

Suddenly, Pavel knew he had something to say that couldn’t wait any longer. “Hikaru—” he blurted, but then Hikaru returned and shushed him.

“Not yet,” Hikaru murmured. “Have some tea first. It’ll help you feel better.” There weren’t any chairs for them to sit in, or even a couch, so after Hikaru handed him his cup, Pavel was pointed towards the bed. They sat.

Pavel drank his tea. It was bitter, yet flavourful. The warm liquid soothed his tense muscles and relaxed him ever so slightly; Hikaru was right, he needed it. “I do not want to talk about the dream,” he started, when he thought they’d sat in sufficient silence. “Reliving it once is bad enough.”

Hikaru said the name that would haunt Pavel to his grave, quiet and tentative. “Khan?”

“Yes,” Pavel managed. “You have no idea what he did to me, Hikaru. You do not understand… how painful—”

“I don’t,” Hikaru agreed. “But I know you survived it. I know you’re okay, now, even with the nightmares. Khan has no power over you anymore.”

“Stop it,” Pavel hissed sharply, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stop saying his name, Hikaru. I can still… I can still hear him, sometimes, echoing in my brain, trying to control me, and you know what they say about naming the Devil—”

“A Russian superstition?” Hikaru questioned lightheartedly.

Pavel’s eyes fluttered open, finding the soft smile on Hikaru’s face. He returned it, though it was forced. “A silly one. But I would not like to take my chances.”

Hikaru took another sip of tea. “Understandable.”

“Anyway.” Pavel discarded his empty cup to Hikaru’s bedside table. “I did not want to talk about the dream. I just needed to see you.”

“You haven’t gone ‘barging’ into anybody else’s room,” Hikaru pointed out, almost teasing, and Pavel could tell he was trying to make him feel better with the humour. “Why am I special?”

Pavel hadn’t slept properly in two months, and that was what he blamed when he blurted, “Because I love you.”

Hikaru blinked. His mouth opened once to speak, then closed again. He said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Pavel hurried on. “After everything, especially with Captain Spock… I do not think I could bear keeping it hidden any longer. I do not want to lose you and have you never know. Or the other way around. I’m sorr—”

“Pavel,” Hikaru interrupted quietly. “If you say that you’re sorry again, I’ll change my mind about wanting to kiss you.”

It was Pavel’s turn to be shocked, blinking rapidly as Hikaru’s words slowly filtered through his sluggish brain. “You… want to kiss me?”

“If you’re okay with it. If it would make things better. If you want it, too,” Hikaru said, eyes averted to the empty spot of bedspread between them. “You almost died. I almost watched you die. That tends to force a man to come to terms with some of his feelings.”

“I would have rather died than hurt any of you,” Pavel replied, with some difficulty. “I was not prepared to die. But I was willing.”

Hikaru reached across the gap to cup the side of Pavel’s neck with his hand. “I know,” he murmured. “You were so strong. And I realised that I… when I heard the transmission, I just knew—and I thought you might die down there, without me.”

“I almost did.”

“It’s a miracle we all made it out alive,” Hikaru said. Then he swallowed. “Mostly.”

Tears burned at the corners of Pavel’s eyes. “Can we not talk about that in the middle of our love confession?” he asked, desperation piercing his words. “I need you. I just need to be here with you, and I don’t want to think about—about any of it, Hikaru. Just you and me. Nothing else. No—no Khan, no Spock—”

“Just us,” Hikaru breathed.

Pavel nodded. “Just us.”

Hikaru opened his arms and gestured for Pavel to move closer. “Come here.”

Pavel did, letting Hikaru embrace him gently. “I love you,” he said again. “I love you, I love you, I love you, Hikaru.”

“Making up for all the times you never said it?”

Pavel nodded. “And I am going to keep saying it, as long as I live. Which I hope to be for a very long time.”

Hikaru leaned down, his lips brushing over the arc of Pavel’s forehead. Pavel shuddered. “I love you, too, Pavel,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I never said it, either.”

“It’s okay,” Pavel replied. He tilted his head up, meeting Hikaru’s oak-brown eyes. “I would like to kiss you now. If the offer still stands.”

Hikaru’s expression shifted. “Of course it still stands.”

And their lips met, tentatively, hesitantly, searching for reassurance from each other and just barely making contact. Then Pavel pressed harder and Hikaru’s head shifted, and Hikaru’s hand slid up the back of Pavel’s neck. They embraced for a long moment, before slowly pulling away. Pavel gazed longingly at Hikaru.

“Stay here tonight,” Hikaru offered. “The bed has space for two. I don’t know if it’ll help, but it’s worth a shot.”

“And if I dream about you again…”

“I’ll be right here.” Hikaru smiled. “Come on. Frankly, I’m exhausted.” He tugged at Pavel’s hand.

Pavel let out a weak laugh. “Me, too.”

And Pavel joined Hikaru in his bed, curled up gently in Hikaru’s arms. It was warm. Comforting.

He didn’t dream.