One: When I was Young, Lying in the Grass

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Three people were at the mostly abandoned shuttle station on the outskirts of Moscow, Russia. The speaker was a tall woman with dark hair that brushed her chin and large, golden-green eyes. She was beautiful, even in her forties. Her words were spoken, obviously, in Russian. Her voice was clear as birdsong, yet at the same time thick with tears.

The second person, a man, shook his head. "Natalya, you're going to hold him back. Pasha is smart; he is strong; he will be fine." He was also tall, and fairly thin, but he had strangely wide shoulders and a proud expression on his face. He had golden hair that curled in random directions, spiraling off his head into the freezing air of Russia. "Won't you, Pasha?"

The third person was a boy, no older than thirteen. He had the angular, awkward look of someone who's grown a large amount in a short period of time, which was exaggerated by the fact he'd been small and skinny to begin with. He had his mother's beautiful gold-green eyes, and his father's unruly golden curls. "Yes, Papa." He said, though his face clearly showed his fear. "I will be fine."

His father looked at his son with a fierce pride that made Pasha's cheeks flush slightly. "I am very proud of you, my son." He said, and the boy realized the man's voice was now thick with tears as well. "We will miss you."

"You'll write? And you'll holo us?" Natalya said in a desperate voice, looking as though her world were about to shatter into pieces. Her eyes were swimming with tears, her hands shaking as she clutched her purse to pull out a handkerchief of some sort. She only did this when she was very upset, as she was now.

Her son noticed this and was quick to reassure her. "Of course, Mama. I'll write, I promise. I won't abandon you. If they let me, I'll come back for Christmas." He noticed his mother's face brighten, and he knew that he'd do anything to make sure he did, indeed, come home for Christmas. His mother had always been a bit delicate, and he didn't want her to fall apart.

"And your English? You're sure it's good enough?" His mother said, her eyes searching his desperately.

He smiled. "Mama, I am practically fluent. I will be okay, I promise."

His mother shook her head, and pressed her hand to his cheek. "But your accent… everyone says it's hard to understand… are you sure you don't want to wait a year or two? Get your English better, go to a good Russian school…"

"Mama…" He said sadly, staring at his mother with an odd expression. "I must."

A man walked up to the three. He was rather large, with a mustache and thinning hair. He hated to break up such a tearful good-bye, but he was the pilot, and had to take off in ten minutes, and all his passengers needed to be on board, even if it was only one passenger, like today. It only made it worse that he knew the family well. He and the boy's father were good friends, they used to work together, and now he had to take his son from him. "Pavel, I'm sorry, but you need to get on the shuttle."

"Already?" The boy said, his carefully controlled emotions beginning to rock unsteadily in his chest. He swallowed thickly, trying to stop the tears of anxiety burning in his eyes. If he cried, then his mother would be undone, and couldn't bear it if he made her cry.

"Vladislav, please." Begged Pavel's father.

The pilot shook his head sadly. "I am sorry, Andrei, I have no choice."

What little happiness there had been in such a tearful goodbye evaporated, and Natalya Chekov burst into tears. "We love you, Pasha. Remember that." She sobbed, before burying her head in Andrei's shoulder. Her husband began to console her as Pavel turned to walk with the pilot to the shuttle, where he'd leave behind everything he'd ever known in his short life to go to the Academy.

He turned back the moment before he walked on. "Goodbye." He said.

His mother was crying too hard to reply, but his father raised his hand in farewell, love for his son burning in his eyes. "Goodbye, Pasha. Goodbye, my son." The boy turned and walked onto the shuttle. The doors closed behind him, and Vladislav the pilot took off.

The moment the shuttle was out of sight, Natalya's tears began to subside. "He's only thirteen, Andrei." She wailed. "He's just a child, and they're all adults. He's going to be killed!"

"Shh, shh…" He soothed, stroking his wife's dark brown hair, and eventually he felt her relax as all the tears left her. "He will be okay. He'll come back for Christmas and be right as rain, you'll see."

Natalya, though done crying, was still incredibly upset. She did not pull away from her husband, simply allowed him to hold her in the time she needed him. "But, Andrei…" She said quietly. "What if he is there, what if he finds him? What if no one is there to protect him?"

Andrei Chekov was silent. He'd considered the possibility, of course, but every time he considered it, all the possible outcomes ended in his only child being horrifically wounded or killed. He knew that in order to make sure this didn't happen, he'd have to do something he'd promised himself he'd never do. "He won't get Pasha, Natalya." He said darkly. "I swear on my life, I will die before my son does."

For a moment, Natalya remained silent. She knew what he would do to protect Pavel, and she knew how dangerous that beast of a man was. "I don't want you to die, either, Andrei. You and Pasha… you are my world. If I lose you…"

"You will not lose me, Natalya." Andrei promised firmly. He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes, noting the fear and sorrow in them, and wishing he could make all that fear go away forever. She deserved a happy, peaceful life, not this uncertainty. "You will not lose either of us. This, I promise."

Hikaru Sulu stared at the PADD in front of him, trying to calm his roiling nerves. After years of waiting, anticipating, the time had come for him to make the journey from his home in small-town Indiana to San Francisco, where the Star Fleet Academy was located.

The pressure for him to do well was unbelievable. His grandmother was born and raised in Japan, and she had lectured him constantly about family honor. When he'd expressed interest in flying, she had latched onto the idea and made sure he did everything perfectly to achieve the goal she'd set for him; be the best pilot Star Fleet had ever seen.

That was all fine, and Hikaru did want to be the best pilot Star Fleet had ever seen, but his grandmother was threatening him with disownment if he failed. She'd never said it outright, but it was heavily implied. That sort of pressure was the kind he'd never done well with, and he was worried that he'd fail her.

Not to mention the fact that he was worried whether he and his roommate would get along. What would they be like? More importantly, what if they hated him? Hikaru wasn't the type to trust easily or quickly draw in friends. He had to work long and hard to get any, and even then they usually abandoned him at the first chance. He hoped that his roommate would need a friend, too, and that they could maybe have each other.

The shuttle he was on jolted slightly as it hit some turbulence, and the PADD fell out of his hands and onto the floor. It shattered. Hikaru groaned and let his head fall into his hands. He'd need to buy a new one with his meager supply of credits before the school year started. Without the higher-quality personal one that most students had, he'd be unable to holo his grandmother to update her on his progress. She wouldn't be amused by that, and he'd be disowned for sure.

Noticing a flight attendant nearby, he motioned for her to come over. "How long until we land?" He asked casually.

"Not for another hour, sir." She said apologetically.

He sighed. It was going to be a long flight. "Damn. Ah, well, I'll just take a nap, then." He said, trying not to express the worry he was feeling. He seemed to succeed, as the attendant chuckled rather than look at him pityingly.

"Good idea, sir." She said with a laugh.

He smiled wryly, and leaned his head back against the rest. He closed his eyes, trying to will sleep upon him. His head seemed to come up with thousands of other things he'd rather be doing, then thousands of things he could do wrong at the Academy. Eventually, however, his mind managed to relax enough to allow him to fall asleep.

The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake. "Sir, we've landed." It was the flight attendant. She looked slightly amused that the landing hadn't woken him. Honestly, Sulu was surprised. He hadn't realized how heavy of a sleeper he was.

Hikaru dragged himself out of the chair, and bent down to pick up the broken pieces of PADD. After collecting them, he straightened. The last of the passengers were leaving the shuttle, looking as though they'd just been woken from naps themselves. He bid a polite farewell to the woman and hurried after them, trying to look casual and not as though he'd almost missed getting off the shuttle.

When he looked around, he saw they'd landed at a massive shuttle station, with dozens of shuttles carrying new recruits were landing. New Cadets were everywhere, making the walk to the Academy itself, where they'd be given a formal welcome and their room assignments. As he passed each shuttle, he noticed the writing on the landing pad that told where it came from. Most came from this country, but some were from all around the world.

He passed one labeled "Riverside, Iowa." He smirked. Iowa. What good came from Iowa?

Two men walked out from the shuttle. One looked to be in his early thirties, and rather ill. The other was young, with a busted lip, and appeared to be covered in poorly-cleaned up vomit.

"I mean, when you said you'd throw up on me, I thought you were joking!" The young blonde one complained, staring ruefully at his shirt. He looked like the type who'd been born and raised in the town and had only joined after some careful words by the recruitment officer.

The older one scowled. "Well, it's not my fault ya didn't listen." Sulu blinked in mild surprise. He was Southern, with a strong twangy accent that was definitely not something you'd normally find in Iowa. Vaguely he wondered why this man had been in Iowa of all places.

"Jesus, Bones, you need to get over this if you're going to surive Star Fleet." The young man complained.

"I'm a doctor, dammit! We don't belong in space!" He paused. "Bones?"

"Your new nickname." Explained the young man.

'Bones' glared daggers at his companion, looking like he was regretting something. "No. Absolutely not, you're not calling me Bones."

The man chuckled, and slapped 'Bones' on the back. "Ah, you'll warm up to it eventually."

The two continued bickering, but Hikaru tuned them out. He was focusing on one of the shuttles a ways ahead of them. It read "Moscow, Russia." Moscow? That was incredibly unusual. Russia sent precious few Cadets, for some reason none of them quite understood. Some claimed it was old relations remaining, but Hikaru doubted it. He'd always wondered if the Russians had some place of their own for those interested to go to.

The doors opened, and two people walked out. One was a man with a large mustache and thinning hair. He was clearly a pilot, judging by his age and his uniform. That in itself was unusual, the pilots didn't usually leave the shuttle. Then he noticed the second person. It was a boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, with curly golden hair and big green eyes.

The two were talking in Russian, and seemed to be saying goodbye to each other. The pilot hugged the boy tightly, and when he pulled away he ruffled the boy's hair and gently shoved him into the crowd of Cadets. He walked stiffly, as if every step he expected some sort of opposition, some sort of retribution.

Hikaru could tell that this boy was a genius, quite probably smarter than all of them, and he had a feeling that this young boy was destined to do great things. Looking closer at the boy's back, he noted the tension in his shoulders, and the way he looked at his feet, and realized that he was terrified. Sure, Sulu was frightened, but this boy was petrified at what the world had in store for him. He felt bad for the kid. He didn't seem to realize the great things that would certainly happen because of him.

Suddenly Hikaru realized that he'd unconsciously sped up and ran into the poor kid. He winced and slowed down. "Jesus, sorry, kid." He said as the boy turned to face him. He really was so young, he realized. He didn't deserve what bad things he was bound to go through. "Sorry." He repeated stupidly.

The kid smirked a little at his embarrassment. "Ees alright." His accent was thick, and honestly adorable to hear from such a small boy.

Hikaru realized next that they were almost to the building where someone would give them the welcome speech. Then they were filing into the room, sitting on the seats. To his left was the kid, to his right the Southern man, Bones, and his friend (maybe his friend; they'd argued the entire way there).

"Welcome, new Cadets, to Star Fleet Academy." Boomed the voice from the front of the room. He was middle-aged, with greying hair and a generally kind face. Sulu liked him instantly; he'd always been good at reading people, and he could tell this was a great man. "I am Captain Christopher Pike, and I'm also the current head of recruitment for Star Fleet. I'm here to welcome you all." He paused. "This group is full of Cadets of all races of humans, and many other species from around the Federation. You are of all sizes, and of all ages." He glanced over to where Hikaru was sitting, and realized Pike was looking at the Russian kid. "You all have the potential to be someone who changes the world. I suggest you embrace that potential."

Sulu glanced at where 'Bones' and the blonde-haired young man were sitting. The young man looked rather uncomfortable, like he thought the words were directed at him. "Well, I'm not going to keep you here all day. I just have one word of warning." Pike glanced around at the Cadets as though he were trying to figure out their hearts. "You have the ability to be great. Don't forget that you can't do it alone. Greatness is acheived when we all work together. If we are all apart, the only thing that can be achieved is death." He paused again. The room was hanging on his every word. "Alright, that's it for me. Make your way to the front of the room, and you'll get your room assignments."

Pike walked out of the room. For a long moment, there was silence. Then the murmer of voices sounded again as everyone began to discuss what he'd said. Next to him, the young man who'd been vomited on was speaking. "I mean, it's bad enough he used my father to guilt trip me into enlisting, but now he's sending me a message in the damn welcome speech?"

Bones shook his head. "I don't think he was talking just to you, Jim."

The young man— Jim— scowled. "If he is, I'm going to be pissed."

After what seemed like hours, Hikaru had finally made his way to the front of the room. The Russian kid had vanished into the crowd, using his small stature to get to the front quickly. He walked up to the harsh-looking woman before him. "Name?" She said, not bothering to look up from her list.

"Hikaru Sulu." He replied, trying to sound as though he wasn't scared out of his mind and actually knew what the hell he was doing.

The woman smirked into her list as though she knew exactly what he was trying to do, and scanned for his name. "Command Center, third floor, room 323. Roomate is a Pavel Chekov." She said, handed him a key, and then shouted "Next!"

As Hikaru left he could hear the young blonde man from before saying "Um, James T. Kirk." Briefly Sulu realized that Kirk must mean he was the son of the famous George who saved hundreds of people at the cost of his own life in the Kelvin Incident years before. Then he decided that he honestly didn't want to be the person to walk up to him and tell him he should be as good as his father, so instead he grabbed the map the woman had offered him and went off to find Command Center.

After receiving his room assignment in Command Center, Pavel Chekov found his way fairly quickly. He found himself wondering about his roommate— Hikaru Sulu. Who was he? What was he like? He hoped that the man would be friendly, wouldn't treat him as though he were stupid just because he was so young.

He reached room 323 a few minutes later. Like all the other doors, it was made of plain wood painted black, with the numbers painted on over the black in peeling gold paint. He stuck the key in the keyhole and opened the door.

The room was simple. White painted walls bare of accessory, two beds (both twin sized), two small desks (he was relieved he wouldn't have to share), two small dressers and one side table in-between the beds. They had a walk-in bathroom, which Pavel was pleased about. He didn't want to use a communal bathroom at thirteen years of age with a few dozen adults.

He sat down on the bed nearest the door. He wanted to avoid the window if possible. Maybe if he didn't look outside he could forget the horrid California heat worse than anything he'd ever experienced, forget the lack of snow and ice all year round, forget that he wasn't home in Russia. Of course, he knew that not looking outside would make absolutely no difference, but it gave him the feeling he could still do something, and it calmed him down slightly.

Pavel was jolted from his thoughts by someone knocking on the door as they opened it. He looked around, and realized that it was the young man who'd run into him earlier and had apologized twice. He'd ended up sitting next to him during the short welcome speech, too. He felt himself relax. When he'd first seen him, his first impression was that this was a man who could be trusted.

The man, Hikaru Sulu, was of Japanese descent, and had handsome dark eyes and neat black hair. He looked surprised, and then he smiled. It was a genuine smile that filled up his face, and Pavel felt another surge of liking toward this man.

"Hikaru Sulu." He said, holding out his hand. "You must be Pavel."

Pavel nodded and shook it, a lump in his throat. At his silence, his roommate raised an eyebrow, and for a moment he panicked. "Da. I mean, yez, I em Pavel."

The man nodded good-naturedly and plopped down on the open bed beside him. "Nice to meet you, kid."

He felt his face twist into a scowl. "Not keed. I em not a keed."

Once again, the eyebrow raised. "Really."

"No." He insisted, his cheeks flushed. "I em zhirteen, I em a teenager now, I cen take care ov myself. I em not a child."

Hikaru shrugged, looking a little amused. "Whatever you want. You're thirteen, then? Jesus. I'm nineteen." He offered.

Pavel looked at his feet, feeling incredibly young. He missed Russia terribly, and wanted his parents back. He had a feeling that it would be a lot longer than Christmas before he saw them again, though he couldn't say why. There was no reason that he wouldn't. His mother worked at home, his father was a businessman who often went on dry business trips to obscure parts of Russia, and he was a Star Fleet Cadet. And yet, that hint of uncertainty was there.

"You okay, ki— Pavel?" Asked Hikaru. He'd remembered not to call him kid. Pavel flushed with embarassment at having spaced off, but then smiled at the use of his name. Maybe the Academy wouldn't be so bad after all.

He was getting lost in thought again. He cleared his throat. "Da. Yes, I mean. I theenk I vill be fine."

The young man looked at him with an expression that was a mix of understanding and sympathy. He looked as though he were unsure what to say, and honestly, Pavel didn't blame him. He was a thirteen year old in a world of adults. He didn't belong at all here, no matter hard he was going to try. "If you ever need someone to talk to, when you're… not okay, you can talk to me, okay? It's gotta be hard, being so different from everyone else."

He didn't say 'being so smart,' and for that Pavel was infinitely grateful. Everyone always asked him if it was hard being so smart. He always felt they were taking him at face value. There was a difference between being 'smart' and being so overwhelmingly good at learning and understanding that you could figure out solutions to math problems most had called impossible. He wasn't smart. He was different, he was an alien among other humans, and while he'd gotten used to it, it didn't make things less difficult.

The fact that this man who he'd just met seemed to understand him better than anyone else ever had in his entire life, excluding his parents, was incredibly encouraging. He had someone he could confide in, someone he could eventually place his trust in. That realization, that he wouldn't be completely alone, was overwhelming to Pavel, who'd already begun to resign himself to the bullying that he was sure would happen.

"Thank you, Hikaru. I appreciate zhat wery much." He said, trying not to sound stiff, trying to sound like a little boy who wanted a friend. At the same time, he felt a glimmer of worry that if he was too much like a kid Hikaru Sulu would abandon him, just like everyone else.

Somehow, Sulu seemed to sense his inner struggle. "You don't need to act like an adult." He said in a soft, reassuring voice. "You're thirteen, for God's sakes. You don't need to act the age people expect you to be. That's not your job, Pavel. You can be whoever you want. You don't have to be bound by their expectations."

Pavel noticed something odd in the man's tone as he spoke. The words he was saying weren't only for him. They were being spoken to Sulu himself, telling him that he didn't have to be what they wanted him to be. "Who ees eet?" He asked.

Hikaru looked up, shocked. "What?"

"Who ees eet zhat ees making you feel trapped?"

Sulu's face twisted into one of respect for the boy before him. He paused, searching for the words. "My grandmother." He looked down at his hands, almost embarrassed. "She's from Japan, and she's told me all the time that I have to be the best. No matter what, I have to be better than anyone else around. I could never do it, and she was always so disappointed. Then I told her I wanted to go to Star Fleet, and now I need to be the best pilot Star Fleet's ever seen, or I'm getting disowned."

Pavel blinked. The pressure to be the best was something he was familiar with, but not one he'd expected Hikaru to bear. He had seemed so… light, so unburdened. And yet he had a burden nearly as great as Pavel's. "I em sorry." He said truthfully. "I understand vhat you are going through."

"What's up in your life?" Sulu asked, and he sounded genuinely interested. No one but his parents was ever genuinely interested in everything he had to say. If it wasn't something revolutionary, they didn't want to hear it.

Pavel paused, thinking of his childhood. "By zhe age of two, I could speak een complete sentences vithout grammatical meestakes. By the age of four I vas reading fiwe hundred page nowels. I vent through all of primary school een a year. After zhat people realized zhat I vas deeferent. I could remember eweryzhing. I vas a genius, zhey said. I moowed up faster end faster, and zhe next thing I knev, I vas graduating high school at tvelve."

"Jesus." Said Hikaru in shock.

He smiled ruefully. "Once my parents realized hov smart I vas, zhey pushed me. Harder end harder, end failure vas not en option. Zhen my tutors end teachers pushed too. Alvays harder, harder harder. Be zhe best, Pavel! Do better zhan zhe possible, Pavel! You must succeed, Pavel." His heart felt both heavy and light. "End zhen I had to enleest. You vill bring honor to Russia, Pavel. But I do not zhink I cen."

The two sat in silence. Pavel felt embarrassed at the things he'd said, and figured sadly that he'd ruined his chances. There was no way Hikaru would be his friend now. Before he could think of something to do, however, the man spoke. "You know, you don't have to be the best."

"Vhat?" He was confused. Didn't he hate him now?

The dark-haired man smiled encouragingly. "You just have to be your best. And I have a feeling your best is pretty damn good." Then he stood up, ruffled the boy's hair in a show of affection, and prepared to leave. "Do you want to go get dinner? It's getting late, and you're still growing."

At that precise moment Pavel realized he was starving. He hadn't eaten at all on the long flight to San Francisco, except for a small sandwich his mother had packed him. That had done little to satisfy his hunger, so he was ravenous. "I vould lof to. Vhat shall ve get?"

Hikaru shook his head. "Food's on me tonight. Think of it as a welcome gift."

"Nyet, Hikaru, I hawe money, I cennot let you—"

He was interrupted by the man placing his hands on his shoulders. Hikaru was a fair bit taller than him, and as he looked up into the dark eyes he was painfully reminded of his Papa in Russia, comforting his weeping wife. "Pavel, let me do this just this once, as a friend."

And suddenly Pavel realized that both of them were desperate for a friend, for someone to make them feel connected and a tiny bit less alone. Hikaru's words (as a friend, as a friend) whispered on repeat through him, and he felt his face splitting into a very wide, very childish grin. "Okay."

"How does Chinese sound?" Hikaru said, his face splitting into an equally wide grin. "I heard that there's a really good place nearby; maybe we could explore a bit until we find it."

Pavel laughed. "Nozhing like an adwenture."

"I fully agree." Sulu laughed, his eyes twinkling.

The two new friends exited room 323 with smiles on their faces. Neither wore a coat, for it was early fall and the cold hadn't yet come, and besides, cold didn't bother Pavel after his childhood in icy Russia. If someone were to see them, they would see the almost palpable bond that had already begun to form between them. They would whisper about the oddity of a man befriending a child so much younger than him. Then they would notice the way the two held themselves, the way they stood as though standing so tall was unusual for them, and they would decide that perhaps it wasn't so odd after all. As it was, there was only one person watching them as they left room 323, and he did not think any of those thoughts. He was thinking something very different, something much darker and more dangerous.

Of course, to the two young men life was just beginning to turn out right. Sunlight seemed to be shining all around them, and it seemed impossible that things could go wrong now. There was no way sunlight could fade so quickly after it appeared. But they hadn't noticed the dark clouds on the horizon already approaching, preparing to steal away everything.

Hey, Author here!

So I'm obviously writing a new Trek fic. I'm hoping to finish it before the end of May, because after that I lose my computer and any updates would have to be put off until August. I'm already at 74 pages, so that shouldn't be too hard.

This is also in a different universe than Bourbon and Vodka. Jo does exist, but she does not know Chekov. This will also not be a slash fic. Sorry for you Chulu shippers, but I'm not one of them.

I hope you like it, so let me know what you think!

Trellya