Both Ways

*I felt compelled to do this. I know everyone is writing their own tribute to Anton Yelchin so I decided to put in my own two cents. He was one of my favorite actors and will be so very, very missed. Every time I see him in one of the movies I unashamedly squeal like a fangirl and I know I'm not alone.

Please enjoy.*

"There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go."~Author Unknown

When Pavel Chekov opens his eyes, he sees that he's lying down in the middle of a hallway. He slowly stands up and looks around, trying to discern where he is. It almost looks like a hallway on the Enterprise, but the style looks a bit different.

"I never thought I'd see the Russian whiz-kid up here so soon. I always thought I'd see Jim first."

Chekov's head snaps in the direction of the voice and sees Captain (or was it Admiral?) Pike standing there.

"Keptain… er Admiral Pike?" The boy says warily. He's not sure if he's dreaming or hallucinating or this was an illusion of some kind.

The older man smiles gently, "Yes, it's me and don't worry about rank, it doesn't matter much here I suppose."

"And… vhere exactly is here?"

Pike's smile turns sad and falters a bit, "I'll let you figure that out. What's the last thing you remember?"

Chekov's brows knit together as he concentrates and tries to pinpoint what that memory was. "I remember… we vere on an away mission. It was me, the keptain, Mister Spock, and a few security people. We vere investigating a colony that had suddenly become deserted."

His throat started to get dry and his head felt light as the memories came back to him and his genius mind put the pieces together. "We vere heading to the town and then there was a panic. This… animal came out of nowhere… and attacked…"

Faintly he could hear Kirk yelling at Chekov to look out. Vaguely he could recall seeing Spock is trying to reach out and grab Chekov, before something else had grabbed the young man.

The rest of the memories were cloudy, but he could recall feeling white-hot pain lancing through his body. Seeing blood and wondering if it was his. He rested his hand on his chest and looked up at Pike, who was looking at him gently and regretfully.

"What else?" He softly asked.

Chekov licked his lips, "I remember seeing blood, a lot of blood… and then I was in sickbay, I could hear Dr. McCoy yelling and…"

"Don't you dare die on me, Ensign!"

Chekov stopped and looked at Pike with dawning horror. "I'm… dead, aren't I sir?"

Pike nodded, "I'm afraid so, Pavel."

Dead. He was dead and that meant he was in the afterlife. He was dead. Dead.

He was at peace. He had kicked the bucket. He was pushing up daisies. He was dead as a doornail, bit the dust, bought the farm, with his boots on, his hour had come and gone, shuffled off his mortal coil.

However it was put they all meant the same thing.

He, Pavel Andreievich Chekov, was dead.

The young man suddenly found it hard to breathe and tears welled up in his eyes. He shook his head in a vain attempt to shake off what he knew was true, "Nyet, I can't… I can't be…"

Pike looked at him remorsefully, "I'm so sorry, Pavel."

Chekov hiccupped and his shoulders hitched with each growing sob. Pike wrapped his arms around the boy and held him close as he grieved. The Russian buried his face in Pike's shoulder and cried. He cried for the friends that he would never see again and who would never see him again.

He cried for Kirk, a man whose charming and mischievous grin he'd never see again. A man who listened to everything Chekov had to say and took him seriously. A man who would ruffle his curls and snag him an extra dessert when no one was looking. A man who was more an older brother than a captain.

He cried for Spock, a man whose cool logic and occasional moments of human illogicality that shone through he'd never see again. A man who paid more attention to Chekov's skills and intelligence than to his age. A man who talked to Chekov about his mother while Chekov told him about his. A man who was more a watchful if slightly distant older brother than a commander.

He cried for Dr. McCoy, a man whose irate Southern voice and amusing metaphors he'd never hear again. A man who was always gentle and empathetic to Chekov whenever he was sick or hurt whether it was due to the boy's own fault or not. A man who would nudge him and mutter "Ya did good, kid" whenever he did such. A man who was more a father than a doctor.

He cried for Mr. Scott, a man whose enthusiasm for Engineering he'd never see again. A man who would let Chekov help repair anything that was wrong with the ship even when most people would balk at letting someone as young as him do so. A man who held as much pride in his home country as Chekov did for his. A man who was more an uncle than a chief engineer.

He cried for Uhura, a woman whose melodic, soothing voice he'd never hear again. A woman who could speak his mother tongue to him whenever he was homesick or wanted to have a private conversation with her. A woman who enjoyed dotting over him and despite his protests enjoyed it too. A woman who was more a sister than a communications officer.

He cried for Sulu, a man whose friendship and brotherly bond he'd never find again. A man who was Chekov's first true friend and the first to really look beyond his youth and see the brilliance that so many overlooked. A man who joked, played pranks, and laughed with Chekov. A man who was more a brother and a best friend than a pilot.

Pike gently rubbed Chekov's back and murmured, "I know son, I know. I'm certain they miss you too."

It felt like forever before the young Russian's sobs quieted and his tears slowly stopped falling. He stayed in Pike's embrace until he could breathe without feeling like he would start crying again.

Pike slowly released him and gently cupped the back of the lad's neck, "Grief works both ways, son."

Chekov sniffled, "Do you… do you think the others vill… be okay?"

A different voice spoke, one that sounded old and wise."It is said that time heals all wounds. It will take time, but they will be well just as you will."

Both males turned to see an aged and oh so familiar Vulcan striding up to them. The ensign had met the man only a handful of times, but he knew who he was and the story behind him.

Chekov swiped his cheeks, "Ambassador Spock."

The Vulcan dipped his head to the young man, "Mister Chekov. Grief and loss are just as painful in any universe and in any timeline. But just as in any universe and in any timeline those feelings fade with time, leaving only the memories."

Chekov looked out the window at the vast black space dotted with twinkling diamond stars. The weight and rawness of the grief in his heart pulsated with each beat that organ made. How could time possibly heal any of this? He remembered his friends, his family. Each smiling face and familiar voice echoed in his head.

Jim flashed him a reassuring grin, "Don't worry Pavel, we're going to be fine and so are you."

Spock's cool voice broke in next, "The bonds we have made Mister Chekov will not break so easily, it would be illogical to assume so."

McCoy, standing with his arms crossed saying gruffly, "Will see you before you know it, kid."

Scotty's accented voice came after, "Don't be sad that our time is over lad, be happy that we got to spend time together at all."

Uhura smiled beautifully at him, "We love you, sweetheart. You'll always be in our hearts."

Sulu, sitting in his seat that was always next to his, turn and grinned, "I'll never forget you, Pav. You're my best friend and we'll see each other again."

Chekov straightened up a little and looked at the stars he and his family loved so much. We'll see each other again someday everyone, I promise.

*Since everyone was doing bits about how the crew was reacting to his death I thought it'd be unique if I did it through Chekov's eyes instead. What do you think? I had trouble writing his accent, I hope it wasn't too bad.

Like Spock said, the pain will fade but the memories won't. Anton Yelchin will live on in his movies, the stories we write, and in our hearts. We miss you and we will never forget you.*