"I am so so sorry…" "I have let you guys down." "If fate has it let them live and take me instead, but if not let us meet in another life." "Pray we can be friends again." "Above all else no matter how many times we have disagreed I have and will always love you."

White light. Darkness. Coldness. Loneliness. Jim woke up from what seemed to be a hazy dream of himself being a captain of some futuristic ship. There were voices that sounded like his own when he woke up but he could not place them nor who he was talking about or to. He was alone like always in the dark, damp, dreary abandoned house in the poorest part of London. As his memory began to set back into reality he began to stand up to get off the cold ground. His dreams never gave him the warmth of being loved, courage, feeling needed or wanted before since all of his dreams were crushed along the way. His dad died in a ship accident, he ran away from home as a small boy and though smart and able was not allowed to enlist in the army to get a chance at a better life. He walked over to the small bucket in the corner of the gray room that was used to catch water when it rained which it had been raining for quite a few days now. He cupped his hands into the bucket and splashed his face to refresh himself. He ran his fingers through his messy honey blonde hair. As he paced through the room he wondered if his dream was really a dream and this was his reality. It all seemed so real to him even if it was highly futuristic. Victorian era London did not have ships that could fly to distant "lands", guns that did not shoot bullets or even the structure the cities in his dream had.

The air was getting tense so Jim decided to take a walk outside to clear his head. The air was cold and crisp against his dirty skin. The world around him was dark, dirty and desolate. He walked by people who always looked down upon him and saw poor boy who just got into trouble. He kept his head down to avoid the glances. His memory was still a haze. He could not remember the last time he fell asleep but it was like his body knew what it was doing and what to feel. He could not shake that this felt fake as if someone planted this feeling inside of him to cover some long lost fantasy up. He just let his feet do the walking and ended up on a pier overlooking the channel. As he thought and thought it began to make sense that his dream was just a figment of his wishes and wants. Life was life and dreams just get in the way of reality and drive you insane. Leaving the pier he looked through the trash for something to eat since he was famished and light headed. All he could manage was some old bread which will have to do. What was I thinking for even considering that I have a better reality elsewhere instead of this nightmare? Passing by the pier again he looked into his reflection in the water. All he saw was a street boy dressed in clothes that were… no not clothes, those were much nicer than these rags. Snow began to fall as he started his walk back to the house he inhabited even if it was a danger to him. He had nowhere else to go and it was in the dead of winter.

Jim walked past Dr. McCoy's office. He was a miracle worker amongst doctors is the word on the streets even if he is new to the area. As the office passed him Jim bumped into someone. "Sorry" was what he was going to say but as he looked at the stranger something inside Jim made him feel reminiscent of some dream. The man was tall and gave Jim a cold condescending look down. Dark brown eyes met vibrant blue but not with a friendly intent but annoyance and held back ill temper. Jim was put off by this man for some reason even though the look was common. He saw the jet black hair that the top hat hid and the pristine suit that matched the hat. If not for the ill glance the man gave he would be quite attractive for a man in Jim's opinion. As Jim began to turn around he fell to the ground hard with a body lying on top of him. The curly mop looked up at Jim with embarrassment and shock.

"Oh sorry sir! My fault completely! Are you ok?" The young boy said in such a thick Russian accent it was hard for Jim to understand for a moment.

"No no, please I should have been looking where I was going…" As Jim was getting up the young boy started running again but dragged Jim along with him as if protection was what he really needed. The duo reached a dark alley when Jim stopped running.

"Why are we running or more so what are we running from?" Jim said as he looked behind him seeing if they were being chased.

"Well sir if you cannot tell I am not from around this area. I worked in a factory nearby as an immigrant worker but showed up one of the mechanics by fixing one of the machines. He really did not care for that and we got into a fight but before he could lay a hand on me I started running and hehe here were are." Jim saw that the boy was a hard worker, loyal and would never intentionally pick a fight with anyone. Somehow the boy's accent tried to once again trigger Jim's memory of something but not sure what it could be.

"Hey scum, move out of the way so we can teach that low life a lesson!" Jim slightly startled but knew what was behind him from the look on the boy's face. The man behind Jim was not taller than himself but was much more built. He walked towards Jim slowly.

"Why should I? He ran into me and I was going to deal with him so you can just wait or get lost."

"He is our worker, our property and should be dealt with only by us." The man got closer and Jim was running out of time.

"You know, what is that behind you?" Jim lunged at the guard with all he got which was enough to knock the man off balance. Jim felt a punch to his face that was from the side which meant for Jim that he had to fight off two assailants. Unluckily for them Jim had more strategy than brute force. Though Jim was pounded hard he quickly took down the two guards with punches to their pressure points which gave him enough time to get out and run away with the boy he saved. They ran all the way back to Jim's "house" before they caught their breath and could relax.

"Wow thank you so much sir. You saved me a beating. I owe you one for sure! Though I wish I could fight like that." Being out of breath did not stop this lad from dishing out compliments of gratitude. Jim saw the amazement in the boy's eager eyes.

"For one thing keep low in the factories even if you think it would do the factory good. They like to think people like you are brainless workers who cannot do shit and I mean that literally. Another please for the love of God stop calling me sir!" Jim did not like being called something he clearly wasn't even if the boy meant well. Something then dawned on him, he did not know the lad's name or if he had a place to stay especially in the cold of winter. He looked again at the Russian boy who was a little bit disheartened by Jim's words. "Hey boy what is your name and do you have a place to stay? The name's Jim by the way. Jim Kirk."

"Chekov, Pavel Chekov si… Mr. Kirk. No I do not have a place to stay at the moment granted I did run away from my job which housed me basically."

"It is the dead of winter so why not stay with me? A young boy like you should not be sleeping in the streets or left for dead when a storm blows in. One condition is that if we find food we share with the other. Sorry if this place is the dumps but it is all I got."

"O thank you, thank you! I will do my best to try to get another job after the factory mess er um…"

"Clears up?"

"Yes! Pardon my poor English from time to time. I have been learning stuff as I hear it and learn what it would mean in you guys tongue compared to back in Russia."

"Doesn't bother me one bit." Jim thought it was quite cute of Chekov to have broken English and would try to help him as best as he could even though he would not want to change that about him. Jim took out his bread he collected earlier and broke it in what was supposed to be half but with how hard it had become it looked more like a quarter and three fourths. Jim gave Chekov the bigger piece since he was younger and most likely did not have a proper meal in a while. Even if this meal was small it was something.

"Here take it. You need it more than me. You need to put on more bulk to keep alive on the streets." They both took a bite of the bread. The bread was rather hard and tasteless but it was better than nothing. The haze which was Jim's memory was clearing as he saw Chekov in front of him. His voice all familiar and the same with his appearance. Chekov caught the glance and tilted his head with questioning eyes. "Oh sorry, you just seem familiar like I have seen you before even though it would be unlikely giving you are from Russia and worked in a factory." It was clear Chekov did not remember Jim from anywhere but something was sparking and Jim did not know what or how long it would take for that spark to catch fire and overtake these memories and events.