Disclaimer: If you think I own Star Trek, you're silly. I also don't know anything about this fandom, so forgive me if I goof!

Author's Note: I admit I was inspired by EstelRaca's "The People He Sees", mostly chapter four. I wondered what would happen if the tables were turned, so to speak. Of course, my plot is a bit different, but that was my inspiration. I won't give away anything else in that story or in mine, but please go read it. It's so excellent.

Also: This contains mention of homosexuality and homosexual relationships. If that bothers you, please leave. Thank you.

Pavel Chekov was having a good day. He'd made Mr. Sulu laugh four times at lunch.

"Mister Sulu, vhat is difference betveen English fairy tale and Russian one?" he'd asked.

Sulu shrugged.

"Russian ones end with 'and they lived happily ever after...with vodka?'" he suggested.

Chekov smiled.

"Ha ha. No. English fairy tales begin vif 'Once upon a time' and ours start, 'Someday zhere vill be!'" he said.

Sulu laughed for nearly a whole minute, the longest of all the regular crew members who were assembled at the table with him. Even Mr. Spock's lips twitched a little. Chekov still had the bright grin across his face as he walked down the hall now.

Yes, it was a good day indeed.

He whistled his favorite song as he walked to his room. There was a hint of peppermint dancing in the air. He was three steps away from the door when he felt a brief, stinging pain somewhere behind his eyes.

And then he fell.

--~~--~~--~~--

Chekov knew he was dreaming when he saw Lieutenant Uhura kissing the Captain.

What he didn't know was why he was sitting in the Captain's room, on a dark red leather couch, one arm around Mr. Sulu's waist and the other creeping up his right leg.

Mr. Sulu turned to him and smiled, a little worried look in his cheeks and eyes.

"In front of everyone? Are you sure?" he whispered.

Sure of what? Chekov didn't know. But his body responded by leaning in and swallowing Mr. Sulu's mouth with his own.

"All right, Chekov!" Dr. McCoy yelled. Scotty wolf-whistled.

Chekov was confused. And then the scene went black.

--~~--~~--~~--

Chekov woke to a slight headache jumping at his temples and auras dancing in front of his face. His room was a blur in front of his eyes - a kaleidoscope, prisms diluting his sky blue walls into crystal triangles. He couldn't see and yet he could.

It was really, really weird.

He blinked a few times to try to clear it. It got a little better. He shook his head a little and that made it a bit better. The prisms started to slide out of his vision enough so that he could see his bedside table: a thick black rectangle that had to be his bedraggled old wallet; three unchewed sticks of cinnamon gum still in their bright silver packaging; and a glass of water he guessed he hadn't finished before bed last night.

Chekov reached out for the water and came up with the wallet instead. He sat it down on his pink down comforter and tried again, this time grabbing the blurry glass of water and lifting it closer to himself. He dipped two fingers into it and rubbed them over his eyelids, around his eyes, even dropped a few drops tentatively into them. That seemed to do the trick - everything was back in its right place again.

He didn't remember what had happened to him to make him like this. In fact, he couldn't remember much of yesterday after his guard duty was over, so his first instinct was to go to the sick bay and find Dr. McCoy. But he didn't - Chekov didn't want to be a pest and he was fine now, so he wrote it off and got dressed as he realized, with a faint blush, that he was completely naked.

Once showered, dressed, and shaved, Chekov exited to begin his navigating shift.

"Chekov!" someone yelled.

Chekov turned around to see Mr. Sulu waving to him. Chekov walked over to him.

"Hello, Mr. Sulu. How are you?" he asked, polite as ever. Mr. Sulu grinned.

"You could just call me Sulu, you know. Or Hikaru. I wouldn't mind," he said.

"Oh, no," Chekov said, blushing a little, holding up his hands in objection, "Zhat vould not be proper conduct for Starfleet officer. I could not."

"All right," Mr. Sulu said after a quick, good-natured sigh. "But someday I'll get you to break conduct, I just know it..."

"Ve shall see!" Chekov replied, grinning widely. Mr. Sulu clapped an arm around his shoulders and they walked to the command center together, joking and laughing.

--~~--~~--~~--

He had just been relieved of his position in the command center for the night and was in the process of relieving himself in the lavatory when it happened again. There was a stabbing, long sting behind his eyes and his vision blurred. But he didn't fall this time - instead, he stumbled over to the mirror, pants around his ankles, and glanced in the mirror.

The prisms multiplied so that it seemed like he was looking into a hundred broken images of himself, each of them grinning a wicked, cocky grin that just barely showed his teeth. Peppermint flooded his senses.

Just before he fell, he heard the mirror image say something in a husky voice that was unmistakably, frighteningly his:

"Vait until next time."

--~~--~~--~~--

Chekov blinked awake. Everything was blurry again but as he sat there and blinked, blinked, blinked the world came into focus. He was in the hall this time and noticed the vague features of a door sliding into place. It was not his door. In fact, it looked a little like Mr. Sulu's.

"I vonder vhy I am here," he asked himself. His head didn't hurt this time, though. That was good. But he still couldn't remember anything but that bathroom mirror and that voice...

"Mr. Chekov? Why are you on the floor?" someone asked.

Chekov looked up to see Mr. Spock walking over, holding out a hand to help him up.

"Oh...just inwestigating ze amount of lint ve accumulate on ze floor during a normal day. You vould be surprised at how much zhere is, Mr. Spock," Chekov rattled off, taking Spock's hand and pushing himself to his feet. They began to walk together.

"Are you conducting a study?" Mr. Spock asked.

"Oh, da," Chekov said.

They reached a fork. Both of them stopped.

"I would be highly interested in viewing the results when you're finished. I think it's a very intriguing concept," Mr. Spock said, nodding.

"Oh. Of course, Mr. Spock. It vill be a vhile, of course, you understand," Chekov explained.

"Of course, Mr. Chekov," Mr. Spock said, taking the left fork. Chekov wandered down the right. Why was he lying? What in Russia was going on?

"Mr. Chekov?" Mr. Spock called again. Chekov turned around.

"I recommend you get some more sleep. You appear sleep deprived," Mr. Spock advised.

"I...I vill try," Chekov promised, grinning sheepishly. Mr. Spock nodded and continued on his way.

Chekov leaned up against the wall once Mr. Spock was out of sight. He wasn't very tired at all. In fact, he felt rather refreshed, albeit a little odd considering he couldn't remember anything that had happened yesterday and was fabricating silly stories for no good reason.

He decided to go see Dr. McCoy. He would set things right.

Chekov managed three steps before the sting flung behind his eyes again, quick and sharp. And there was the peppermint again, overwhelming, almost attacking. The pain was like a sinus headache, he realized before his vision blurred into the prisms.

He stumbled down the hall for a few steps, then investigated the carpet as he fell.

--~~--~~--~~--

"Wake up, buddy," someone said. The voice was familiar.

Too familiar.

Chekov opened his eyes and saw himself standing over him, head cocked like Mr. Spock enjoyed doing to Captain Kirk, usually just to make him mad. Chekov scrambled back instinctively at the surprising sight.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. This is a dream, after all, you nitwit. I couldn't hurt you if I tried," his double said.

Chekov blinked.

"And you...you are me?" he asked.

His double nodded.

"Just a figment of your imagination," his double said.

"So...vhere is my accent?" Chekov asked.

"That's nothing to worry about. What we need to talk about is what I've got to tell you," his double explained.

"And zhat is...?" Chekov pressed.

"I already told you. There's nothing to worry about," his double replied, rolling his eyes.

"Vorry? About vhat?" Chekov asked.

"Precisely," his double said with a bright grin. He reached over and ruffled Chekov's hair. "Now take a nap, will you?"

And, completely confused, Chekov watched as the scene went dark, his double's grin winking out last.

--~~--~~--~~--

Chekov awoke and this time, his vision was almost completely clear. There was a bit of blurriness, a bit like a crystal right at the edges, but he blinked once and it flew away like a canary. And then he was on his feet, in the same hall he remembered walking down earlier. Now he was walking, walking steadily back to the fork, down the hall again to where he'd been the last time. There was a minty smell in the air and it only got stronger as he found his destination.

He reached Mr. Sulu's door. He pushed for the intercom.

"Mr. Sulu?" he asked. His voice was a purr, low and familiar.

It was the same voice that had came to him in the bathroom...and somewhere else, too, if he could only remember...

"Chekov? Is that you?" Mr. Sulu's voice asked.

"Da. May I come in?" Chekov's voice purred again. Chekov shivered. What was going on? He tried to move an arm, but it didn't work.

The door slid open to reveal Mr. Sulu, smiling, somewhat confused.

"Of course. What d'you need, Chekov?" he asked, moving aside to let him in. Chekov's body moved inside slowly, silkily. Chekov tried to push himself out of there, tried to move, tried to do anything else because he was starting to panic, starting to get afraid that Mr. Sulu was going to get hurt. He just had a feeling. A terrible feeling.

"You," Chekov whispered as the door slid shut. He felt himself grin that wicked grin again, the same grin as the one in the mirror. Mr. Sulu seemed even more shocked than before when Chekov felt his hands snatch at Mr. Sulu's waist and pull him in, the right hand reaching behind his neck to stabilize and then he was close, very close, and his lips were inches from Mr. Sulu's.

And Mr. Sulu had his eyes shut, his lips pursed into a slight smile. He looked like he was waiting.

Chekov's lips landed and although all of Chekov had been screaming, pushing to try to get away before Mr. Sulu got hurt, the kiss overrode it all. It felt very...nice, this first kiss. It tasted like peppermint.

And then Mr. Sulu's hips bucked a little and a moan fell into Chekov's mouth and Chekov felt his body smash and push Mr. Sulu's up against the wall, a hand flying into his hair, one lifting up his sweater, snaking across a taut and hairless stomach and the kiss was still going wasn't it?

"Mmm," Mr. Sulu said as he broke the kiss. "I didn't think you would be so...aggressive."

"Vait until next time," Chekov whispered into Mr. Sulu's ear, licking the lobe lightly, nipping. Mr. Sulu moaned and bucked again, reaching for Chekov's belt, tugging him over to the bed. Chekov followed, licking at Mr. Sulu's neck, lifting him up under the arms and tossing him onto the bed as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.

Was he that strong? That reckless? That horny?

"You are so hot," Mr. Sulu whispered.

No, he wasn't!

And with that, the fuzziness - the sexual haze - began to clear and he began to fight again, fight against a body that was doing things he would never let it do normally. And Mr. Sulu was definitely not helping, looking absolutely gorgeous staring at him, waiting for him to come down.

Chekov felt his body descend slowly, leaning over, getting ready to fall onto Mr. Sulu like a tipping tree. Chekov fought, fought hard against this, but it was getting harder. He kind of wanted to do this, wanted to see where it might go, thought he might like this...

He came closer, closer, closer...and just about three inches from Mr. Sulu's belt buckle he stopped.

"Don't tease me, Chekov," Mr. Sulu whispered.

"I...I am sorry. I cannot do zhis," Chekov whispered, his own voice breaking through at last, that quiet tenor broken of the confidence he always had. He straightened jerkily, stumbled back a little bit, and like a zombie fled from the room, Mr. Sulu's stricken face sitting like a rock in his mind.

He managed to get to the shut door, but no more. He slumped against it and fell.

--~~--~~--~~--

When Chekov awoke, his vision was blurry again. The light was bright and he groaned.

"You're awake," Mr. Sulu's voice came from his left.

Chekov jumped.

"Mr. Sulu! I am so sorry! Please, let me explain!" he rambled. The blurry figure of Mr. Sulu seemed to smile and then something came at him. Chekov shut his mouth and shut his eyes, waiting for the impact, waiting for the fist to smash into his face.

But it was only a finger laid gently across his lips.

"Shh," Mr. Sulu said. "Lie down. I'll tell you what the Doc said happened."

Chekov leaned back against the pillows. Mr. Sulu's finger jerked away from his lips as if it had touched a hot iron, and Mr. Sulu didn't seem to be smiling anymore, just a little sad. Chekov's lips felt oddly cold.

"Doc McCoy said there was a polyp in your frontal sinuses that went undetected for years. Something caused it to flare up and when it did, it interrupted the electron flow to your limbic system. Essentially, it made you unable to control yourself," Mr. Sulu explained.

That made sense. The limbic system controlled a great deal of the brain's memory, affected one's sense of smell, sexual arousal...

"It's been extracted. And they want you to wear glasses so you don't aggravate your eyes, just in case," Mr. Sulu continued.

There was something in his tone that was just so, so sad. Chekov frowned and opened his mouth.

"Please...just please don't," Mr. Sulu interrupted. "I said I'd get the Doc when you were awake. I...I'd better go," Mr. Sulu said, nearly running up out of his chair and out of the room.

Chekov sat back against the pillows and began to think, the briefest hint of peppermint dotted on his cold lips.

--~~--~~--~~--

He was dreaming again. He knew that because he was sitting inside a very hot conventional oven, and those had gone out of style years and years ago. Besides, he knew better than to hide in an oven.

"You'd be surprised what stupid things guys do when they're scared," a voice said.

"You again?" Chekov groaned, suddenly staring into his duplicate's eyes once more.

"Right in one, Chekov. I knew we were smart for a reason," he teased.

"Vhat do you vant?" Chekov asked, heaving a sigh.

"I think the real question is: What do you want?" his double asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chekov slammed his head back against the oven wall. Twice. He thought it was very rude of the wall for it not to have hurt him.

"Vhat I vant is to stop zhis ridiculous behawior. I do not vant to dream of myself or Mister Sulu or anyzhing out of ordinary. I vant to dream of Russia and Mama and happy zhings, like I used to!" Chekov yelled.

His double smiled.

"You will, don't worry. You're just going to dream about some other stuff now, too. You're growing up. It's normal," his double said.

"Maybe I do not vant to grow up. Maybe I am tired of hawing to be mature to fit in because I am not zheir age," Chekov murmured, huddling his arms around his knees.

"I'm sorry," his double whispered, patting him on the shoulder. "Sometimes...sometimes life just sucks."

Chekov looked up, tears threatening to brim. Then he laughed.

"I suppose zhat is true," he managed between laughs.

"Of course it is. Now get some sleep. If you need me again, I'll budge in again on you," his double promised.

"Budge in? Vhat does zhat mean?" Chekov asked.

But all he got was the scene going black slowly again and his double's kind, gentle smile.

--~~--~~--~~--

Everything was normal when he woke up in his room the next morning. Chekov got up, dressed, showered, and shaved just like usual. He remembered to grab his new glasses - thick, squarish brown frames, and they kept slipping down his nose so he had to push them up all the time - before he went out the door.

And there was Mr. Sulu down the hall, staring off into space.

Chekov took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

"Hikaru!" he called.

Hikaru jumped and turned around to face Chekov. He smiled a little as Chekov came closer.

"The glasses look good on you, Mr. Chekov," he said.

"Call me Pavel. Please," Pavel insisted, blushing, smiling a little.

Hikaru smiled back.

"Pavel, then," he said.

"Come on. Ze Keptain vaits for no man," Pavel joked.

Hikaru stared for a moment, then broke down into a smiling, happy laugh.

This time, Pavel swept his arm around Hikaru's shoulders and led him down the hall, Russian jokes flying to his lips and the vague smell of peppermint winding into his nostrils.

Author's Note: Please review! Thank you for reading.