A/N: first time delving into the Star Trek fandom so thought I might as well give it a go. Trigger warning: contains cutting.

Pavel Chekov had always worn long sleeves, just like he had always drawn lines on the inside of his arms with his pointer fingers. Always had, always would, was the assumption that everyone had made. Be it summer or winter, desert or ice planet, San Francisco or Moscow, the long sleeved shirts were always there. It was just one of the Russian whiz-kid's little things, like Sulu and his plants, or McCoy and his whiskey.

Perhaps that was why Jim had never questioned it. Perhaps that was why no one had ever questioned it.

Not until he saw them.

And then he had had every damn question in the world.

"God dammit Jim! Why did you-"

"Doctor, I am fine. I did-"

"Oh like you knew any more than I did! Kid's a freakin-"

"Captain, I-"

"Ensign."

The sharpness of that sentence seemed to take everyone by surprise, the med bay suddenly going deathly silent. Chekov seemed to shrink where he was sitting on the bio-bed under the weight of Jim's glare and his eyes dropped to his lap despondently.

"You don't say a word until I'm finished talking with Dr. McCoy, do you understand me?"

"Oh come on Jim, he's-" "Yes Captain."

The hollowness of Chekov's reply nearly made Jim apologise, nearly. But he was angry right now, angry and also incredibly worried. And, to be fair, who wouldn't be? Who wouldn't be worried after having your chief navigator approach your chair, hand you a PADD, and then accidentally have his sleeve slip up to reveal dozens of cuts and scars? And it was worse when you discovered that those marks went up both arms from wrist to elbow, not to mention that some of them were very, very recent.

When Jim had seen the marks he'd frozen and it had taken a moment for Chekov to notice something was wrong and stop his hundred-mile-an-hour explanation. When he had realised exactly what the problem was, he'd made to hastily back away but Kirk had grabbed him by the wrist and all but yanked him forward, pushing both sleeves up before dragging him to the turbo lift, a "Spock, take the comm!" being thrown over his shoulder.

Which had led them to where they were now: Jim and McCoy staring down at a very frightened and miserable looking Chekov.

"Chekov." Jim sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kid, you know I can't hide this."

"No!" Chekov's eyes were wide with horror. "Captain, please! You do not need to report this! I am fine, I swear!"

"The hell you are," McCoy snapped before stepping forward and carefully lifting up one of Pavel's arms, inspecting it closely. When he next spoke, his voice was soft. "Jim only wants to help you, as do I. So you can tell us kid, you can tell us what's wrong."

For his part, the kid just shook his head. "Nothing is wrong. There is nothing wrong with me. I am-"

"Chekov." There was no kindness in the doctor's tone now. "Some of these are so deep it's a miracle you're even alive! So don't think you can get away with saying it's nothing."

Jim placed a hand on Chekov's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "Pavel, I just wanna know that my crew is okay. If they're not, I need to know why. So I can fix it."

If anything, Chekov seemed to wilt even more. "Everything is fine."

As Jim watched, the young Russian started up that little habit he'd always had, the one where he traced those lines on his arms. Now though, with his gold sleeves pushed up above his elbows, Jim could see that they weren't imaginary lines he was drawing. No, it was something far worse. The damn kid had memorised every one of his scars, could trace them without thought.

"Captain." The boy's voice was barely a whisper. "I…I did not do this."

"You gotta be kidding me," Jim groaned, eyes sinking shut. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I did not do this."

"If you didn't, then who did?"

Chekov's eyes flew to Bones, looking almost scared, bottom lip between his teeth. "…no one. It was just-"

"Don't you dare say just an accident." Jim's threat came hard and fast.

The boy's mouth snapped shut and though he stiffened, he made no protest when Jim sat himself in front of him and took hold of one of his arms. "Pavel," Jim whispered, tracing the lines for himself. "No matter what this is…no matter how crazy you think it is…you can tell Doctor McCoy and I."

"Jim."

"I promise we won't judge you."

"Jim."

"We're your friends Chekov and we want to-"

"Dammit Jim, stop!"

The order made him snap his head up to look at Bones but his friend was focused completely on their charge. Turning back round, Jim's breath caught when he saw Chekov staring at him hollowly, shoulders shaking and eyes glistening with tears. Their gazes connected for only a second before Chekov was on his feet and running.

"I'm sorry!" was the last thing Jim and Bones heard as the med bay door slid shut. Bones raised one eyebrow.

"Now what the hell was that all about?"

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!"

The words came out of his mouth on repeat as he hastily tried to staunch the bleeding. Risking a glance at the sink, Chekov felt light-headed when he saw the amount of blood there…although perhaps that was what was causing the light-headedness. Pulling the washcloth off his arm, the fifteen-year-old swore when he saw exactly how deep some of those cuts were, two in particular.

Knowing he had no choice, Pavel activated the lock on his washroom door before opening one of the drawers and pulling out a med-kit. Fossicking through, it was easy enough to locate his needle and thread, items he'd become familiar with over the past few months. Ignoring the blood that continually slicked up his hands, he managed to slip the thread through the hole on only his second attempt. Scrubbing his forearm with disinfectant – which hurt too, he might add! – he bit his lip before slipping the needle into his skin.

The word that came out his mouth was not something Pavel was proud of and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent further outbursts.

After that there was silence in the washroom until finally, finally, he'd managed to sew up the worst of his cuts. Upon inspection he found the others to have stopped bleeding already and he nodded with satisfaction. Well, that was one good thing, if nothing else. Reaching back into the med-kit, Chekov pulled out a half-used roll of bandages. The sooner he had this arm patched up, the sooner he would be able to get to dinner!

"Chekov! Pavel, you in there man?"

The calling and its accompanied knocking forced Pavel out of sleep and he found himself in his quarters, no bandages around his arms, no blood ingrained into the skin of his fingers.

"Pavel!"

Hikaru.

"Coming!" Pavel called hastily, nearly tripping as he attempted to get out of bed. He fumbled for a pair of sweatpants, pulling them on before quickly slipping his standard black shirt over his head, tugging the sleeves over his wrists in what was an unconscious gesture.

He opened the door to his quarters and smiled at Hikaru. "Hey," he greeted easily. "I did not realise I had fallen asleep. It is time for dinner, yes?"

Hikaru gave a short laugh. "Dude, you missed dinner by…try, two hours."

Pavel's eyes widened and he glanced at his chrono in shock. He groaned upon seeing the time. "Oh, that is just not fair!"

"We can grab something now if you-"

"No, it is bad to eat so soon before we must go to sleep!"

Hikaru laughed at his logic before entering the room, seeing as how it was obvious they weren't intending to leave. Pavel shut the door after him, waiting to see where Hikaru would sit before taking a seat of his own. Ever since the Narada incident they had had adjacent quarters and it was quite common for one to be found in the others. They knew each other's rules – Pavel never touched Hikaru's plants, no matter how bright or intriguing, and Hikaru always made sure to return Pavel's books to exactly where he had found them – and they rarely argued at the other's presence, announced or otherwise.

"Pavel?"

Chekov blushed upon seeing Hikaru's eyes on his face. "Sorry," he said, "I was just thinking."

"What were you thinking about?"

His mouth was already open to answer when Chekov suddenly noticed the odd undertone in that question. A dropping sensation filled his guts and he sighed, picking at the arm of his chair absently.

"The Captain spoke to you." It wasn't a question, it was a fact. "He told you about…" he gestured at his arms weakly.

"Yeah," Hikaru answered, no shame or hesitance at all. "So-"

"I was not thinking suicidal thoughts."

It was as though the room had instantly frozen over. Hikaru had never heard such iciness in Pavel's voice and when their eyes met, the seventeen-year-old's were hard and unrelenting. He crossed his arms and glared at Hikaru angrily.

"You have come to ask if I am okay and I am." Pavel turned to stare at the wall. "I think you should leave now, Hikaru."

"You're kidding, right?" The pilot was blustering. Never had Pavel gotten angry at him, let alone kick him out of his room. "You're not being serious."

Pavel shrugged stiffly. "I thought you were my friend. I thought you trusted me. I told the Captain I did not do this and he did not believe me. And from your question, I know you do not either. So now I do not know if we are friends or not."

"Hey, that's not-"

"So," he repeated firmly, "I think you should leave, sir."

Hikaru sat there in shock, mouth hanging open. He hadn't known what to expect when Kirk had pulled him aside after their shift and explained the situation to him, but this hadn't been it. Like he'd told Kirk, he knew Pavel. They'd spent hours together between shifts, they went to the gym together, hell, Hikaru had even taken Pavel to meet his family last time they'd been on shore-leave in San Francisco. And like Sulu had told Kirk, Pavel wouldn't do this.

And according to Chekov, he hadn't done it either.

And yet there was evidence that he had.

Unless…

Feeling the cool Russian gaze that was still upon him, Hikaru reluctantly got to his feet. He went to make for the door before suddenly changing his mind, stepping towards Pavel instead. His friend eyed him defiantly but there was something underneath, something that nearly resembled desperation.

Licking his lips, knowing the question could potentially ruin everything, he plunged in. "Can I see them?"

Eyes sliding to the floor, Pavel pulled up his sleeve and held out his arm. His voice was leaden with resignation. "What is there to-"

"Other arm."

Pavel blinked twice. "What?"

"Other arm," Hikaru ordered, batting away the one being offered to him.

Chekov thoughtlessly did what he'd asked, seemingly too bewildered to object. Taking the right arm and studying it intently, Hikaru frowned before glancing at Pavel's left hand.

"You're not that ambidextrous."

And what that, he turned and left the room.

Pavel sprinted across the campus as fast as he could. Being a runner gave him many advantages, as did his young age but it did little when one of his assailants suddenly appeared in front of him. The sixteen-year-old didn't have time to so much as stop before the older cadet had a grip around his neck and slammed him into the ground. Pavel felt the air leave his lungs, eyes stinging at the pain that hammered through his chest.

"Please," he panted, desperately trying to get his breath back. "Please, don't…I…please…"

"You got him Simpson?"

The voice came from behind them and the man above Pavel smiled. "I got him Fraser. He's not going anywhere."

Chekov would have attempted to prove him wrong, but he was finding it difficult enough to breathe, let alone move. Cadet Fraser laughed as he joined them, smiling down at Pavel with that smile that made his heart stop. Seeing the fear in his eyes, the older cadet laughed again.

"You know what I'm going to do, don't you? And you know exactly why we're doing it."

"No!" Pavel managed to gasp. "I do not know why! I did…only pass test!"

Fraser's eyes darkened and then he was dropping to his knees, Pavel crying out when one of those knees pinned his arm to the ground at an awkward angle. His sleeve was yanked up and his eyes slunk shut, trying to hide tears, when he felt that cold metal against his skin.

"You broke the curve. Again!"

The snarl was accompanied by a slash of the knife and Chekov muffled a cry. He could already feel the blood sliding down his arm, whimpering when two more cuts followed the first one.

"Please," he begged. "Please! Do not to this! I am sorry!"

He felt the knife dig in deeper this time, a hand clamping over his mouth to keep him quiet and then all the pressure was gone. Simpson's hand mercifully removed itself from his neck, grabbing his collar instead and yanking him into a sitting position. Dark eyes bored into his, the firmest warning there.

"You keep being sorry," Simpson advised, "You keep being sorry and you keep it to yourself." He pushed up Pavel's sleeve to admire their handiwork on his other arm. "After all, Starfleet may love a little genius, but a mentally unstable one…well…"

With that, Simpson got to his feet, shoving Chekov's head down roughly as he did so. He and his friends walked off and Chekov carefully refused to move until he could no longer see them from where he was watching from underneath his dark lashes. When they were gone, and he'd waited a few more minutes for good measure, Chekov mustered his courage and looked down at his left arm fearfully. He sighed in relief when he saw the cuts. Deep, but not life-threateningly so. Finally, a good day.

Apparently, according to Terran science, sleeping on problems made them easier to solve in the morning. Well, Pavel Chekov would like to have had a word to those scientists because he had woken up, if anything, even more confused. He did not know what he should say to Captain Kirk. "Oh yes, I am letting myself be picked on and never thought to stand up for myself"? Yes, that was a good one. That would be why he got to wear the special Command yellow, right? No, he could not say that, but he could say he had done it either because that was a lie, not to mention a one way trip to the psychiatrist.

And then there was Sulu.

He still had not managed to crack what Hikaru had meant but he had a suspicion and he desperately hoped it was wrong. But he doubted that he was. Hikaru was smart. If he thought something was true, it generally was. And Pavel was terrified of what Hikaru thought about him and his…situation.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Pavel ceased his endless jogging of the lower Enterprise decks. It would soon be time for the Alpha shift team to be waking up and, having skipped dinner the night before, he was very much looking to eating with Sulu…

He grimaced. If Hikaru would eat with him after last night, that was.

Deciding he'd cross that bridge when he'd come to it – an interesting metaphor he'd overheard from Dr McCoy once – Chekov headed for the turbolift. He didn't even get a chance to hit the button to call the lift before a hand was clamping down on his shoulder, wrenching him around. He paled at who he saw behind him. The grip on his shoulder tightened excruciatingly.

"So whiz-kid, wanna tell me what happened in the med-bay yesterday?"

Sulu toyed with his breakfast aimlessly. His fork picked at his food but it never came anywhere near his mouth. Hikaru's despondent gaze kept moving between his plate – which had never looked so uninviting in his life – and the door to the food hall. Officer after officer, ensign after lieutenant, blue and red and yellow, all drifted in and out, but never once was the one he was looking for there.

He'd gone to ask Pavel to join him for breakfast first thing but he'd found the ensign's room empty – they'd exchanged door codes long ago. Hikaru had been comforted by the fact that Pavel's running shoes were missing from their customary spot by the door though, and had assumed that his friend would come to eat when he had finished his morning exercise routine. But, Hikaru thought, frowning as he read the time, he should have been here by now. Time to the start of Alpha shift was growing ever shorter and, seriously, where the hell was Pavel?

Abandoning his meal, Hikaru left the hall, heading back to his quarters to grab his yellow shirt and to check Pavel's once more. He had only gotten halfway there though when an odd feeling of dread filled him. He didn't know where the feeling came from and he so very nearly ignored it but he just, he couldn't.

"Dammit."

Stomping back to the console behind him, Hikaru gazed at the screen before saying, "Locate Ensign Chekov."

There was a beat before, "Ensign Chekov is on Deck 14."

Hikaru froze for a single second before tearing off down the hallway, startling several other crew-members. He and Chekov never went down that deep to jog. It was Deck 9, always Deck 9. There was absolutely no reason at all that Chekov should be on Deck 14…And that scared him to hell.

He couldn't even remember hopping in the turbolift, let alone keying in which floor he wanted but he must have done because he was running through the lower deck within minutes, always heading towards that location he had seen on the viewscreen. A left here. A right there. Pass that hallway. Another right and then…

Blood.

That was the first thing he saw; Pavel, arms hugged tightly to his chest, blood pouring down them, staining his shirt, staining the floor.

And over him, towering and apparently deciding his job was done, was Lieutenant Fraser. Hikaru was pretty sure the man had had no idea what had hit him. Sulu'd back-fisted the man's head twice before he'd so much as seen him and he was kicking the man's legs out just as Fraser was regaining his bearings. A knife slipped from his grip and Hikaru caught it by the tips of his fingers just as he slammed the other man into the deck. A well-placed, and probably harder than necessary but damned it wasn't deserved!, kick to Fraser's shoulder had said joint dislocating and he howled in pain. Placing a restraining foot on the other arm and maintaining his grip on the knife, Hikaru spared Pavel a look, blanching at what he saw.

His communicator was in his hand before he knew it, already shouting, "McCoy to Deck 14 NOW!"

A/N: end chapter one. I know it's mean but I should have the next chapter up within a day or two. This fic's only going to be two chapters so have no fear, it will all be resolved then. Reviews are nice too, if you are that way inclined. :)

~Neilsy