PROLOGUE

Summary: After a risky away mission ends with Chekov being sent to Sick Bay with a concussion, he wakes to find himself equipped with the uncanny ability to hear the thoughts of the crew around him. At first, the ability proves to be one of the most frustrating nuisances Chekov has ever had to deal with in his life...but after hearing one particular opinion of him from a woman that he has found himself attracted to ever since his days at the Academy, Chekov realizes that, perhaps, it's not so bad as he thought.

He turned, his muscles tautening as they braced themselves for the impact before his mind could even register the imminent danger. The deafening whir began to amplify, the room vibrating as the circuits overloaded. There was no time to escape.

"Chekov, look out!" The Lieutenant's voice, muffled by the mind-numbing blare of the machines, resounded behind him.

Before Uhura could reach the stunned navigator, a break in the system caused the laser to fire. The thin red line collided with Chekov's body and the strength of the beam propelled the navigator into the crumbling wall behind him.

When he woke, Chekov found himself lying beneath cold, thin sheets. At first, the harsh glare of the lights and the pale, sterile surroundings which met his blurred vision gave him cause for alarm. Am I…dead?

However, the feeling of slow, omnipresent dread settling over him in that terrible dream-like haze began to diminish as he caught sight of Nurse Chapel nearby. Slowly, his hearing began to settle into reality and he detected other footsteps as well and realized that there were a handful of nurses on duty. He counted five, exempting Chapel from the estimation, and was thrilled to realize he could still count. A sigh of utter relief escaped him, capturing Chapel's attention; she cast him a half-hearted glance and he noticed how exhausted her young, thin face really looked beneath the garish white lights. In fact, the only lively attribute she'd seemed to retain in the midst of her fatigue was her cropped, polished blonde hair.

She turned back to the database, her nimble fingers dancing over the touch screen as she began accessing the patient files. But even as she turned away, Chekov began to hear a voice...her voice to be exact. And he had a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his aching stomach that though it was her sultry, soft-edge tone he heard, he couldn't be certain if she was actually speaking them aloud. He couldn't mistake the sound if he tried...it was renowned for its unique qualities, and he had suffered the effects of a short-lived crush on the woman and that angelic voice of hers for at least three weeks.

Oh, good…he's awake. Time to alert McCoy.

Oh, heavens above. Why do I have to be the one to have to report to that rat bastard? God, how I hate him sometimes. When is he going to ask me on a date? I've been hearing from Sara-Cruz that he's been harboring some sort of feelings for me ever since before the Narada incident, and even if it's just mild interest it should at least account for something, right? I've been waiting for a month and still…nothing! I might as well walk around naked if I want to catch his attention, but…then again, he might still be too busy being an ass to notice that either!

He shook his head, trying to revive his battered senses as he endeavored to ignore the reception of such unwanted reflection. A few blinks and a wiggle of his nose later, he found himself staring at the woman as she pivoted on the heel of her boots to greet him. Her mouth wasn't moving, he could be sure of it now; but what he couldn't fathom was why her voice still seemed capable of echoing throughout the room.

Maybe I should think of trying that. It would certainly be surprising!

"Are you…talking to me, Nurse Chapel?" He attempted warily.

She looked up from her PADD and the incessant chatter seemed to stop abruptly for one moment. But as her expression molded into one of assertive vigilance, the talking resumed.

Oh hell, he must've really suffered some damage down there. I checked his stats thoroughly, there shouldn't be any reason for hallucination-

Chekov vaguely felt the pressure of a curious frown form over his brow. "I'm not hallucinating."

At this, Chapel dropped her PADD out of sheer surprise, her eyes widening as she realized there was something very wrong about the young navigator. "Someone get McCoy down here!"

A nurse nearby replied, "I'm on it!"

For a moment, Chapel was absolutely silent as she thoroughly traced his figure with a tricorder, her expression seeming to darken as she realized there was nothing physically wrong with him. There had been a few lacerations and contusions from the brute force of impact, but it had already been confirmed that he had not suffered any immense cerebral damage or hemorrhaging.

At last, she met the boy's soft, tentative gaze. God, he looks like a Botticelli angel…Chekov felt the heat in his cheeks rise as he heard her words, spoken so gently, as if she were whispering. But when he saw, again, that her mouth had not moved, all traces of the approaching flush had dissipated with the comprehension of such a private statement. It was almost as if…her thoughts were accessible to him.

"Chekov, I want you to be very clear and honest with me, alright?" She searched his gaze, finding only apprehension in their wearied, watery blue shade. "Whose voice are you hearing?"

He inclined his head, almost as if he were confused by the inquiry. "Yours, Nurse Chapel…I'm hearing your voice."


I'm not sure if all the chapters will be rather short...I'm thinking maybe 2k to 3k words per update. Anyway, enjoy! As for the explanation regarding Chekov's sudden telepathic abilties, I already have it! I'm doing as much research as I can on the subject so I can make it as realistically Trek-friendly as possible. As for Chekov's accent - I'm going to let you just use your imagination. Not because I'm lazy, just because I think it sounds campy written out and I want Chekov's characterization to be different than that.

Disclaimer - I do not own Star Trek. If I did, Chekov would most definitely be a nice addition to my list of worldly possessions. Hah. Alas, he belongs to Gene Roddenberry and J.J. Abrams.