Pavel Andreievich Chekov

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.

Source: Roleplay (MarinaNova)
Time: Day 412


Pavel and Kitty are in bed together. The former is wide awake and way more tense than someone in his position probably should be, the latter is still asleep, and both are, mercifully, wearing pajamas. Small miracles. 

Kitty stirs, tilts her head to look at her bedmate, and offers him a sleepy, "Hi."

Pavel relaxes incrementally and even summons a smile. "Good morning."

"That would be my preference," she replies, still a bit drowsy, before leaning in slowly to give him a soft kiss. He returns it eagerly and quickly forgets all about being nervous. Her hand slides through his hair; he moves closer.

"I still love you," he says quietly, almost absently. 

Kitty smiles. "I love--" But then she catches herself. Her smile vanishes and she looks so, so apologetic and sad. "I, um... I'm going to wait."

Pavel has clear and immediate regrets and all of that tension returns full force. "I didn't mean--" He brings up a hand to cup her cheek. "I'm sorry, yes, you can wait. You can wait indefinitely if you like, I don't mind, you never need to say it back."

She wraps her arms around him and hides her face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Pasha."

He hugs her tightly. "It's okay. Everything is fine."

There's a long moment of silence before Kitty's hiding turns into nuzzling. "It was a good future."

"It was," he agrees quietly. "It was very good."

"Our tribble was cute."

"Yes, Pushistyy." The stupid name makes him smile, but it only lasts a moment. "The... ah, our arrangement was... interesting."

"Yeah... I never would have guessed that one. I guess that's how you know it's one of their games and not the actual future. It seemed more like something Jack would have worked out instead." Kitty glances over at the blue band on her wrist--an action that Pavel ascribes no immediate significance to.

He does, however, roll just far enough away to give her a curious and puzzled look. "You wouldn't want something like that if the bands were gone?"

"Pavel, I can't tell you what I might want twenty years from now, but right now I just want to be with you."

He nods, then closes the space between them once again. "I want that now, too. How we are, like this... I'm happy with you."

"I'm happy with you," Kitty echoes before dipping in for a quick kiss. "There is something you should know about yesterday though."

That tone elicits some concern. "What is it that I should know?"

She hesitates. "I was... I used the agreement that we had yesterday."

He gives her one of those long looks that always means he's thinking too hard about some new piece of information. "Ah. After we..." And back to thinking. "That was the purpose of the agreement, yes. It only makes sense that you would... er, take advantage of it."

"I really wish I hadn't." She threads her fingers with his. "These things are going to happen here sometimes. The mistletoe bots, the shared dreams, waking up with new memories... Maybe we should talk about how we want to handle it as a couple?"

"I understand." He looks down at their interlaced hands and gives hers a squeeze. "None of these things can be controlled and neither of us should feel responsible for them when they happen." Because, as they both know, that is exactly how emotions work. "What makes sense to you? You have had to navigate a relationship with these obstacles before."

"You mean the relationship that self-destructed?"

Pavel winces. "Yes, that one."

"I could say the opposite of whatever we did, but you're not Reid. So we should probably figure out what works for us." Kitty's voice softens. "I guess for me I'd want honest and clear, but not detailed. And reassurance. I just always want to be able to talk about things. What about you?"

"I can do that, and I would want the same--honesty and discussion, and to know that you still..." he pauses, trying to find the right phrasing, "find me important. And if you have doubts or if I upset you, I would want to know that also."

She hugs him. "You are very important to me. I want to be with you."

His arms circle her immediately. "You are with me, right now." 

"I am." Kitty has that sad and apologetic look again. "Do you want to know who it was?"

Pavel draws back just a bit. "Yes, please."

"It was Jack."
 
"Aha." A pause, then a slow nod. "You're close to him, I know that."

She takes his hand again. "Yeah..." A deep breath, and then: "He's a close friend, and there has been an attraction for awhile. Part of that is that everyone kind of does because of the future pheromones? And one time we spent a day convinced we were married." Kitty's getting nervous. She's hiding it well, but. "After that things were a little more confusing, but he wants to be with Ianto and I want to be with you."

Pavel frowns in that thinking-hard way. He certainly doesn't look surprised or disappointed, and the way he squeezes her hand seems promising. "This... eh, this was ongoing when you were with Reid? And he knew?"

"Reid and I were broken up when the marriage thing happened." She ducks her head. "My first thought the next morning was just feeling miserable that I'd cheated on him and afraid he'd be upset. Even though I couldn't cheat on him then. And then the whole thing just reminded me of how alone and unloved I felt." She swallows hard and moves along. "Before that when we were together there was some attraction, but outside of mistletoe kisses nothing ever happened. We'd dance together and sometimes he'd get a little jealous, but I always went home with him."

"I wont be jealous if you dance," Pavel replies, "as long as you always remember to dance with me too."

"Always." Kitty looks relieved. She leans in to kiss Pavel. "Thank you for being in my life. I know that wasn't entirely us yesterday, but you made that Kitty feel so happy and loved and free and confident and..." She trails off and just hugs him.

He hugs her back tightly. "I would like to make this Kitty feel the same way someday." 

They hold each other in silence for several moments before Kitty seems to remember that she's a mess. "Are you sure? I wouldn't blame you if you wanted out."

Pavel smiles, not that Kitty can see from her current vantage point. "I am. How could I want out now?"

"Maybe because you were paying attention?" She strokes his hair gently and makes no move to leave his arms. "Pavel, I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want out either so I'm going to have to work on being a good girlfriend."

"You are being one now," he says sincerely. "You're telling me the truth."

She nods even if she doesn't seem that much more confident about what she needs to say. "I am keeping Jack and Reid, if he'll have me, in my life. Not like yesterday. But I can't cut either of them out."

"Kitty, Jack is your friend and Reid is... Reid. Yes, keep them, of course." For the first time in this entire conversation, a little bit of insecurity creeps into his voice. "But try to always come back to me?"

"I'm your boomerang." She hugs him tighter. After a moment... "That was kind of a ridiculous line, wasn't it?"

"No." Or. Well. He smiles and amends that with, "...Yes, a little, but the thought behind it was good."

"I try for at least that." She leans her head against his." Let's just be honest with each other and tell each other what we need and find ways to work it out if something isn't working itself out?"

"Okay. I can do that. I--" An uncertain pause. "Ah... maybe this doesn't matter, but you should know that I have never been with anyone for very long. Never longer than a year, and never with the thought that anything would last."

A smirk turns up the edges of Kitty's mouth. "Feels strange to hear you say that when part of me still feels like we were together for twenty years."

"It's strange to say when I have seen myself with you twenty years from now."

"Did you want anything to last before?"

"Lasting wasn't an option, not if I wanted to continue with Starfleet. Everything has been second to that, always." Pavel pauses the sort of pause that implies that he still has things to say, he just hasn't figured out how to say them. "I want this to last, Kitty, I know that, but I worry that I won't be good at it because I have never done it. Does that make sense?"

"I was with Piotr for years, but I wouldn't be with you now if any of mine had lasted either. And they were all pretty spectacularly heartbreaking by the end, so I'm probably going to have some issues from all of that." Kitty pauses, perhaps realizing that she's tried to scare him off enough for one day, and adds, "For what it's worth, I think you'd be a really great long-term boyfriend."

"I'm not afraid of your issues," he says, again with the deepest sincerity. "I'm afraid of disappointing you. But thank you. I want to try."

Kitty smiles. "You've never disappointed me."

"I'll do everything that I can to keep that true." He lets go of her and kisses her forehead.

Star Projection: Blue
Source: Roleplay (MarinaNova)
Time: Who even knows, like. Twenty-three? (or age fortyish because magic)

( She's his dreams and his future. )

Source: Roleplay (Polychromatic)
Time: ~Age eighteen


Somewhere in a darkened city full of running and jumping and slithering Things, Chekov is doing what he can to help others escape danger. Mostly, that involves shooting the Things with one of his homemade laser guns.

That's what he was doing, anyway. The gun has stopped working and Chekov, with his engineering knowledge temporarily traded away via Deity magic, can't get it running again. He's tried pushing buttons, removing and replacing parts, hitting the stupid thing, swearing at it in a variety of languages... and it's not responding. This would happen when he tries to be heroic.

"Derrmo... Pavel, you are an idiot. Trading away knowledge..."

There's a scraping sound. Chekov pauses. Behind him, a manhole cover lifts and is pushed aside by what might have been, in a previous life, a set of hands--gnarled, knuckle bones visible through a glistening coat of slime and rot.

Even as he turns to look, something whips out of the manhole and wraps itself around Chekov's legs. It drags him towards the hole and the grabbing hands. The young man yelps and reaches for the useless gun, but it's too far away. He twists and hits the thing around his legs with the only weapon at hand: a small communicator. It doesn't so much as faze the Thing and now he's halfway down the manhole, holding on to a crack in the cement above ground to prevent the creature from dragging him under. He slams his communicator on the ground and--

--disappears from view, a jagged, broken piece of plastic--a remnant of the network device--firmly in hand.

There's nothing for a minute.

Two minutes.

A bloodied hand grasps the rim of the manhole. Chekov hauls himself up onto the relative safety of the cement, filthy and bleeding but very much alive. He has the presence of mind to replace the manhole cover.

"Eto pizdets..."

Source: Canon(ish) (Into Darkness)
Time: 2260 (age nineteen)
CW: Death (not graphic)


It's the engineering room of a ship: a cavernous metal room full of ramps, catwalks, displays, and machinery. The scene is illuminated by red emergency lights and the occasional flash of something malfunctioning--or worse, exploding in a shower of sparks. A klaxon is blaring. Most alarmingly of all, gravity isn't working. Red-shirted men, women, and others, many of them injured and some of them shouting indistinctly, are trying to navigate the mechanical carnage. A few bodies float lifelessly through the chamber.

Pavel, floating several feet above the ground, frantic, and covered in dirt and oil, is digging inside of a sparking panel, one arm looped though the panel's handle so he doesn't drift away from it. The Russian's expression is equal parts concentration and panic.  

There's a sudden, alarming lurch and a distant roar. Bright white lights turn on and the alarms fall silent; gravity reasserts itself. Pavel's downward descent is halted by the handle, but not everyone in engineering is so lucky. Screams are cut short as bodies collide with ramps and railings and the cold metal floor.

Pavel lets go of the handle and drops somewhat gracelessly to the deck. For a moment, he stares blankly at the still body of a young woman in a red uniform. Her blonde updo is matted with blood and her blue eyes are wide open. She's older than him, but still so young. 

(There's a flash of a memory within the memory: Pavel behind a console, looking at a transporter pad where a Vulcan is reaching out to nothing.)

The engineering section spins back into focus. Are there more alarms going off than there were before? Is that even possible?

The Russian's communicator, miraculously intact, crackles to life and Kirk's voice summons him to the bridge. Pavel answers (yes sir, I will be there immediately), squares his shoulders, and heads for a set of grated stairs on unsteady legs. 

Star Projection: Yellow
Source: Canon (from Beyond)
Time: 2263 (age twenty-two)

( Presented without context. )

Source: Roleplay (Polychromatic)
Time: Year 2 (age ~nineteen)
CW: Threatening of small Russians


The setting of the next scene is dark. The landing could be in a stairwell in any seedy establishment with its grubby walls and poor lighting. Pavel, nineteen now, is being thrown against one of those walls by a man who can't be more than a decade older than him. A dark-haired woman who looks about Pavel's age is receiving similar treatment next to him.

"It was my idea," Pavel is saying, afraid for both of them but doing his level best not to show it. "You can let Korra go."

The man doesn't say anything for a long while--it's not a particularly reassuring silence--and then, with a quiet zzt and a spark of electricity from the man's hand, the young woman falls to the ground unconscious. "And here I thought chivalry was dead." He wraps his hand around Pavel's throat and, with more strength than he looks like he should have, hauls the Russian up a flight of stairs. Pavel claws at the man's gloved hand even though he knows that fighting is futile. "I should flaunt you to the whole City. An example for young men."

Pavel stops struggling and focuses on keeping his feet under him. The hand around his throat loosens enough for him to ask, "What are you doing?" It's an honest question. This man used to be his friend. That was a long time ago--or it seems like it--and Chekov now knows better than to trust him, but there's still a sting of betrayal. A glimmer of hope.

The man's only answer is to tighten his grip. Even if Pavel could ask again, he doesn't want to risk worsening the situation by doing so.

They reach a door and the man kicks it open, revealing a roof. It's a chilly night without any stars.

He hauls Pavel to the edge of the roof and looks down contemplatively. "This will do."

A cold panic grips {a and, aware that he can't fight, he resorts to begging. He hates himself for it and he's too proud to beg for his own sake, but he's not going to be able to help his unconscious friend if he's dead. "I'm sorry. I promise that I will find a way to undo everything if you let Korra and I go, please."

The man's response is to push Pavel to the very edge of the roof, his grip on the Russian's shirtfront the only thing preventing him from falling.

Pavel makes the mistake of glancing down and concludes that the ground is a lot farther away than he would like it to be. All cadets at the Academy are taught how to fall in order to minimize the chances of serious injury or death, but he doesn't want to test that training. Maybe if he's just quiet enough, compliant enough, this will be okay. They were friends. That has to count for something.

The man pulls him forward a foot or two and lets go, letting a surprised Pavel fall to the rooftop. Before relief can set in, the man grasps Pavel's head with both hands. There's another zzt, another arc of electricity, and the memory ends abruptly.

Trigger Item: Black lacquer box (with Earth on the lid)
Source: Headcanon
Time: 2252 (age eleven)

( That's a lot of introspection. )

Source: Headcanon
Time: 2251 (age ten)


The scene: Saint Petersburg--or, more accurately, Pavel's memory of the city.

Pavel, all big eyes and curly hair, can't be much older than ten. He's running on the sidewalk in a residential area composed primarily of cinderblock buildings (old, if you have an eye for that sort of thing--nearly three centuries old), breath fogging in the cold air and a smile on his face. The city is covered in several inches of snow, but the pavement is clear and the boy doesn't seem mind in the least. 

The older buildings give way to sleek, metallic high rises and business buildings. The roads widen into a massive thoroughfare and the sidewalks broaden. Traffic, pedestrian and streamlined personal vehicle alike, increases and a wide river appears on Pavel's right as he turns a corner. The river is largely frozen over, but dark blue water can still be seen through occasional cracks in the snow-dusted ice. More vehicles fly above the river at various altitudes, weaving here and there to avoid bridges.

Pavel keeps running along the river. Blocks of modern-looking restaurants, bars, and cafes, their reflective walls shining dully in the wane winter light, are punctuated by stretches of carefully cultivated parks. The iconic onion-shaped domes of the Church of Spilled Blood--Tserkov na Krovi--rise above not-so-distant roofs.

It's busy. It's cold.

It's home.

Star Projection: Yellow
Source: Canon (from Beyond)
Time: 2263 (age twenty-two)

( We are basically standing on a wery large bomb! )