A/N: I can't believe it. I keep expecting it all to be a horrible nightmare, and that I'll wake up and Anton Yelchin will still be alive. He was so young, with so much life left in him... He will always be missed.

RIP Anton.

"You can do it, Pavel," Hikaru said encouragingly.

Pavel glanced down at the fencing gear he wore. It felt thick and unwieldy, resting awkwardly on his young, thin frame. The rec room's white walls loomed over him, lined by a large portion of the crew, with a red mat in the middle for the contestants to duel on. A rack of foils sat by each wall, but the other equipment had been cleared for this tournament.

The captain had arranged a fencing tournament for the younger crewmembers. For some insane reason, Pavel had signed up for it, even though he would prefer chess over this any day. He had spent the last month practicing, using all of his free time to do it, but as he watched his opponent walk onto the mat, nervous adrenaline coursed through his body.

"No, I ken't, Hikaru," Pavel protested. His hands trembled, and his legs felt ready to buckle.

Most of the crew was watching, including the entire command crew. They already saw him as the helpless baby of the group, the Russian genius who couldn't fight, who needed protecting. Maybe he had signed up to prove them wrong, maybe he had just temporarily gone insane – he didn't care at the moment.

Hikaru grabbed his arm, turning the young navigator towards him. "Look at me, Pavel. I started off just as inexperienced as you, Pavel. You ken do zis. Ok?"

Pavel shook his head, his eyes wide. "I'm not you, Hikaru."

"No, you're not. You're Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreievich. You are the smartest teenager I've ever met. You solve the impossible for fun. This tournament is nothing compared to what your brain does in your free time."

"But zat ees different, Hikaru. I ken't fence," Pavel insisted.

"Then don't fence. Strategize. Pretend it's like a game of chess. All you've gotta do is plan ahead, watch your opponent's moves. Your body will eventually fall into step with your brain."

Pavel nodded. As he took in the advice, he calmed slightly – enough to keep the foil from obviously shaking, anyway. But as he started to fight, he kept losing. Finally, when he was one point away from losing, Hikaru jogged up to him between bouts.

"Hikaru-" Pavel began dejectedly, trying to forestall the inevitable encouragement.

His best friend cut him off. "We believe in you."

Pavel glanced up at where the command crew sat. Commander Spock simply nodded a bit, but Nyota, the captain, Carol, McCoy, and Scotty smiled at him. The captain nodded at his opponent, mouthing "Go get him."

"Aren't you supposed to be impartial?" Pavel checked.

"It's not about you winning," Hikaru replied, returning to his seat.

Pavel took a deep breath, glancing once more at his friends. Then he plunged into the fight, letting Hikaru's advice take over.

And he fenced himself straight into first place.

Pavel gaped at Captain Kirk as he announced his success, grinning brightly.

He, Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andrievich, had… won? Won the fencing tournament?

Suddenly, Hikaru was sweeping him into a congratulatory hug, Carol and Nyota were planting kisses on his cheeks, Scotty was clapping him on the back, and Commander Spock was coolly congratulating him.

"I told you that you could do it," Hikaru pointed out, any cheekiness lost in triumph.

"Next time I need a fencer on the away team, I'll take you instead of Sulu," Captain Kirk told him happily.

Pavel grinned, their warmth buoying his spirits to impossible highs.

Maybe he wasn't the group's helpless baby Russian genius after all.

I ken do zis.