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Entry tags:
Memory: Kirk
Source: Roleplay (Polychromatic)
Time: Year 2 (age ~nineteen)
It's the interior of a house--cozy, with mismatched furniture and an antique charm. Small mechanical devices in various states of disassembly and whiteboards covered in equations, meticulously-drawn diagrams, and Cyrillic shorthand cover most available surfaces. Kirk and Pavel, both a few years younger than they are in Drift Fleet (or at home) and dressed in civilian clothes, sit opposite each other in armchairs. Kirk is leaning forwards, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Pavel looks like he doesn't particularly want to be here.
"I'm supposed to tell you not to make any connections to the people here," Kirk's saying. "That your roots aren't to sink in no matter if you've been here ten or twenty years. But I'm not going to do that. Firstly, because I don't doubt you know where you really belong and, secondly, if you can manage to be best friends with the person who killed you, then I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on judging who they ordinarily are." The captain smiles crookedly. "Just don't fall in love, okay? Then I'd really have to be the bad guy."
The navigator frowns thoughtfully, obviously trying to come up with a response that's both desirable and truthful.
"Chekov." Kirk raises his eyebrows. "Please tell me you didn't."
"I can't tell you that, sir, but she left days before you and Dr. McCoy appeared."
"I'm sorry that you had to go through that." Even though Kirk's expression softens, he looks very much like he's on the verge of a headache. "I fell in love a few times when I was your age, if you ever want to talk about it."
Pavel smiles in that polite way that means he's grateful for the offer and has no intention of accepting it. "Thank you, Captain."
They sit in silence for a few moments. Kirk leans back in his chair while Pavel fidgets.
"Look, Chekov," the captain says, all seriousness, "I'm sorry you've been stuck here so long. If I'd've known, I would've done everything I could to get you back."
"I know." His tone is sincere and reassuring. "It was nothing you could know about."
The guilt is clear in Kirk's expression. "Still..."
"There is no need to feel badly about it."
"I'm the captain. Feeling bad about this stuff is what I do." Kirk grins ruefully. "But I'm here now, and I promise I'm not going anywhere without you."
Pavel's smile falters. "That isn't something that you can promise."
"I just did." Kirk reaches over to pat Pavel's knee. "No one's getting left behind on my watch, you got it?"
"Yes sir," he replies.
"I mean it."
"I believe you." And his expression makes it clear that he does.
Time: Year 2 (age ~nineteen)
It's the interior of a house--cozy, with mismatched furniture and an antique charm. Small mechanical devices in various states of disassembly and whiteboards covered in equations, meticulously-drawn diagrams, and Cyrillic shorthand cover most available surfaces. Kirk and Pavel, both a few years younger than they are in Drift Fleet (or at home) and dressed in civilian clothes, sit opposite each other in armchairs. Kirk is leaning forwards, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Pavel looks like he doesn't particularly want to be here.
"I'm supposed to tell you not to make any connections to the people here," Kirk's saying. "That your roots aren't to sink in no matter if you've been here ten or twenty years. But I'm not going to do that. Firstly, because I don't doubt you know where you really belong and, secondly, if you can manage to be best friends with the person who killed you, then I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on judging who they ordinarily are." The captain smiles crookedly. "Just don't fall in love, okay? Then I'd really have to be the bad guy."
The navigator frowns thoughtfully, obviously trying to come up with a response that's both desirable and truthful.
"Chekov." Kirk raises his eyebrows. "Please tell me you didn't."
"I can't tell you that, sir, but she left days before you and Dr. McCoy appeared."
"I'm sorry that you had to go through that." Even though Kirk's expression softens, he looks very much like he's on the verge of a headache. "I fell in love a few times when I was your age, if you ever want to talk about it."
Pavel smiles in that polite way that means he's grateful for the offer and has no intention of accepting it. "Thank you, Captain."
They sit in silence for a few moments. Kirk leans back in his chair while Pavel fidgets.
"Look, Chekov," the captain says, all seriousness, "I'm sorry you've been stuck here so long. If I'd've known, I would've done everything I could to get you back."
"I know." His tone is sincere and reassuring. "It was nothing you could know about."
The guilt is clear in Kirk's expression. "Still..."
"There is no need to feel badly about it."
"I'm the captain. Feeling bad about this stuff is what I do." Kirk grins ruefully. "But I'm here now, and I promise I'm not going anywhere without you."
Pavel's smile falters. "That isn't something that you can promise."
"I just did." Kirk reaches over to pat Pavel's knee. "No one's getting left behind on my watch, you got it?"
"Yes sir," he replies.
"I mean it."
"I believe you." And his expression makes it clear that he does.