Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my original characters and anything else that you may not recognize.

It was amazing what weeks of sleepless nights and skipping meals could do to a person's body. It was also amazing to what lengths Natasha would go to hide the cuts and bruises that littered the skin underneath her clothes. Sometimes it was long-sleeves and scarves, other times it was makeup, and recently she'd taken up to using her medical knowledge to conceal the contusions. Oh, what joy it was to be a doctor and have the appropriate technology available for personal use with the pretext of, "it's for an experiment."

Who was she kidding?

Never in her life did Natasha think that it would come to this—the hiding, the secrets, the lying—but that was the thing about life. Something, no matter what, always happened to the ones who least expected it…

… To the ones who least deserved it.

Catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Natasha scarcely recognized the redheaded woman staring back at her. Gone was the happy-go-lucky young woman who smiled at the simplest of things—the woman who saw the world through rose-tinted glasses. In her place, there was what Natasha liked to consider a monster; a former shell of what she used to be. Her eyes, a startling sea-foam green, used to be so full of life, so expressive and always smiling, but now they looked on ruefully, dull, guarded; cautious of the ways of men and those unknown. Her skin was pale, stuck between a sickly yellow and a ghastly white; underneath the baggy t-shirt and jeans was a patchwork of purple and black contusions, some shapeless, but others taking on the definite form of handprints and sporadically, burns.

Skipping meals (for the stress of everything had made her lose her appetite) had taken its toll on Natasha's figure. She used to be a very curvy girl—some would say she was too curvy, too full-figured, but she loved her shape regardless; being bigger had had its charms. Now though, after weeks of neglect and forgetfulness, of not eating and staying up at all hours of the night worrying about this or that, nothing in her closet fit Natasha properly. Her jeans would sag, her shirts were too baggy—she had gone down a considerable amount of weight way too fast, and she was starting to pay for it. She had fainted twice in the span of a week, and her hair was falling out in clumps whenever she'd run a brush through it. Dark circles formed around her eyes, and her bones ached with unreleased stress.

And yet, regardless of everything that had happened—of what was happening, she had never wanted to end her life. Yes, Natasha had thought about death once or twice. She had given it thought beyond what one would consider reasonably healthy, but to pick up a blade, or to overdose on medications… she couldn't—wouldn't do it. She was a freshly graduated medical student from Ole' Miss; she had a good career, her whole life was ahead of her, and she would not end it because of Him and what He had done. To do that would name Him the victor, and Natasha would be damned if she let Him win.

Natasha could admit to herself that she was a coward for letting the situation get out of hand; for enabling, for keeping quiet, for hoping that "He would change," but enough was enough. The relationship had been slowly killing her, and suicidal she was not.

Exhaling heavily, she turned away from the mirror and turned off the light, exiting the bathroom and slowly making her way down the hallway and taking a left turn. Her childhood bedroom was just as she had left it before leaving home for school—filled with stuffed animals and very pink… all reminiscent of a better time, when things were simple, where the hardest thing Natasha had to face in her life was if Harry from math class would accept her invitation to the 8th grade winter formal.

He hadn't. He'd gone out with Kevin instead, and that had been fine for Natasha.

While being relatively small, the bedroom contained all the necessities that a young Natasha had needed while going through her adolescent years. A full-sized bed took up one corner, and across from it was an old bookshelf filled with more knickknacks than actual books; little trinkets gotten here and there, like the small crystal swan statue that she had purchased on a trip to Russia to visit some family.

On the other side of the room, a long vanity-dresser held six drawers, and above it propped against a pink wall was a large circular mirror with various personal photographs taped all around it. To conserve space, the dresser was also used as a makeshift desk. Its tabletop was neatly organized; on one side was Natasha's jewelry box and small collection of makeup, and on the other side was Natasha's laptop computer, touch-screen data-pad, and the random school supply that she was convinced she'd no longer use, but wouldn't get rid of.

There was only one window in the bedroom, large and draped in white lacey fabric, positioned behind the bed's headboard. It gave way to a beautiful view of the New York City skyline, the late afternoon's rays of sun coming in through the open window and illuminating the room with a vibrant hue.

Grabbing her data-pad, or PADD (which was short for Personal Access Display Device), Natasha took a seat on the small bench-seat that had come with the vanity-dresser. She swiped her index finger across the screen and sighed contritely as she checked her messages. She had five saved video-calls from Him dating back a couple of days ago before… It had happened; five calls she had saved because He'd been so loving and caring and it was a rare occurrence for Him to say such nice things as of late—Natasha deleted those calls with the push of a button. She didn't want His reminders anymore; He was no longer part of her life and she would keep it as such.

Searching deeper through her inbox, deleting the odd junk mail as she went, Natasha stopped and smiled as the one name she loved to see flashed across her screen: Pavel Chekov (with a smiley face at the end). However, the smile on her face quickly turned in to a frown as she realized that it wasn't a message at all, but rather an update. Pavel had video-called only ten minutes before, while Natasha had been in the bathroom. Quickly, she pressed the small icon that flashed beside Pavel's name—it was the picture of a phone with a red slash going through it that signaled a missed call. On the screen, a window suddenly popped up with three options—save, delete, call-back—Natasha pressed call-back and waited.

Pavel Andreievich Chekov was Natasha's younger cousin, the son of her mother's younger sister. Despite the fact that he was eleven years younger than Natasha was, Pavel and Natasha had developed a close-knit relationship within the past year; something comparable to close siblings… she and her family were all he had left, after all. The previous year, he had run away from home after graduating from Moscow State University at the age of thirteen, leaving his relationship with his mother and father to become strained and a bit messy.

Pavel had wanted something more. The little town in Russian that he had called his home did not have much to offer, and therefore he had enlisted in Starfleet Academy right after graduating from university.

Natasha had played a pivotal role in Pavel's little adventure; she had housed him in her small Mississippi apartment for a time, and when his parents had come looking for him, she had managed to pacify them and get them to sign the guardian-permission forms the Academy required, seeing as Pavel would be thirteen upon admittance, and therefore underage.

Natasha had also made her aunt and uncle a promise that night: Natasha would protect and care for Pavel through his Starfleet journey, and that had seemed to be good enough for them.

A year later, he was fourteen now, and he had become Natasha's confidant—her honorary little brother and someone she could always count on no matter what.

The boy was impossibly too smart for his own good; one of the Academy's top students, out ranking most upperclassmen in intelligence. He was a brilliant mind, and yet he was very humble, never presuming to know everything for the sake of upholding his title as a certified genius. He was in the Academy to become a navigator, to chart the stars and lead great ships through them, and many a times he would video-call Natasha to inform her of how things were going with his studies, or to simply chat about this and that when he took a break from hitting the books, so to speak.

Today though, the video-call was strictly business—Pavel appeared to be on a mission.

"I haff done eet," was the first thing to escape Pavel's lips as his face appeared on Natasha's screen, "Eet iz set."

Natasha resisted the urge to chuckle softly at her cousin's thick Russian accent, though Pavel saw straight through her façade and grinned good-naturedly, ruffling his light brown curls in slight embarrassment.

"Yiss, eet iz bad," he sighed ruefully, a mock expression of hurt on his young face.

"It's better than before," replied Natasha encouragingly, offering her cousin a soft smile, "just keep practicing; Rome wasn't built in a day, Pavel. You've only been speaking English fluently for a year and some-odd months. No one expects you to get it perfect from the get-go."

"You don' haff en accent…"

"I really do have an accent… it's just not as pronounced as yours, and that's because I have years of speaking English," answered Natasha with a small smile.

"I steel prefer to talk in Russian…" trailed off Pavel with a suggestive look in his clear eyes, and this time, Natasha let a soft giggle escape her lips.

"Then let us talk in Russian," she replied in Russian, causing a brilliant smile to stretch across Pavel's cheeks.

"This is so much better," the boy replied in relief, before lowering his voice secretively and adding, "It is also more convenient this way; my dorm-mate does not know Russian… but he's not here right now, so like it matters."

"Alright," stated Natasha with a smile, drawing back the conversation to its earlier topic with, "now, you said that everything was set?"

"Yes," stated Pavel with a firm nod, "I hacked into Starfleet's records—"

"Pavel!" exclaimed Natasha, her tone reprimanding and an incredulous look set in her eyes as she stared at her cousin's image on the PADD screen.

Pavel simply brushed it off, continuing with, "Yes, I know that what I did was bad, but I grew impatient. Anyways, the comments they made—they are very impressed with your application. Your name has already been added to the student roster for this incoming school year. They expect you in the fall—that's when the new school year starts, but you'll need to take an entrance exam—"

"But you said that they've already accepted my application. If they've already enrolled me, then why do I need to take an entrance exam?" asked Natasha suspiciously, slightly confused by her cousin's rapid explanation.

"It's strictly protocol," answered Pavel coolly. "Your aptitude tests and school records surpass their standards—technically, you do not need to take the entrance exam, but they need a record of it regardless of how good you are."

"So, apart from that… I'm in?" asked Natasha hesitantly, receiving an excited nod from Pavel.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands, "You will start classes at Starfleet Medical College in the fall! It's right on campus, across the main Academy buildings, so we'll see each other a lot! This is great, is it not?"

"I'm relieved more than anything else, really," admitted Natasha warily, sighing in relief and feeling a heavy weight lifting itself from her conscience. "I can't wait to get out of this city…"

All excited feelings for his cousin quickly left Pavel, and he was silent for a moment, running his cousin's answer through his head. She should be excited, shouldn't she? Not just anyone was admitted into Starfleet just like that… but Natasha was "relieved"—really? He couldn't believe it. Something wasn't right, and he had a hunch as to what was going on. He only hoped that he was wrong, but with Natasha saying, "I can't wait to get out of this city," well… Pavel had his answer, and now he just needed to confirm it.

"Be honest with me," he said abruptly, startling Natasha with his harsh tone, "why are you doing this? Are you running away, or do you really want to be a part of Starfleet?"

Natasha hesitated. Why was she doing this? Was she running away? Did she genuinely want to be a part of Starfleet and serve as one of their medical officers?

Well, the answer was simple…

"Both," she said quietly, her hands shaking as she propped the PADD against the wall underneath the mirror. "I need to show you something, but promise me you won't freak out."

"Tasha…" started Pavel warningly, his eyes hardening, "what did He do?"

"What did He not do?" muttered Natasha despondently as she rose from the bench-seat, her hands going to the hem of the shirt she was wearing.

In a swift motion (accompanied by a visible wince and a soft gasp of pain), her t-shirt was off and on the ground, and Natasha stood before her PADD in nothing but a sports bra and jeans. She watched as Pavel's face turned a light shade of red—he was only fourteen after all, and here she was standing shirtless in front of him, but embarrassment quickly turned into blinding rage as Pavel caught a good look at Natasha's bare skin…

Pavel knew of the toxic relationship Natasha found herself in—he had been told about the beatings, the insults, the humiliation and ridicule. Natasha trusted him to a point where she told him everything… or at least everything that she deemed he needed to know. There were things she left out for the sake of his own mental health. Pavel didn't need to know about the rapes, nor the time when she'd nearly been stabbed… but aside from all that, she had showed Pavel her bruises and scars, she had shared her stories with him, and she had told him of how very afraid she was…

But it was never this bad, not like right now. All the skin of Natasha's abdomen was black and blue, there were bruises in the shape of handprints on her shoulders, and a very defined footprint was placed underneath her left breast, looking raw and fresh and nauseatingly painful.

Pavel could only image what else was underneath his cousin's remaining clothes.

"It was never this bad," he muttered, more to himself than to his cousin, "He… He'd never hit you this bad—"

"He pushed me down a flight of stairs," explained Natasha quietly, her bottom lip beginning to tremble as unshed tears glistened in her eyes. "I… I was pregnant—and He pushed me down a flight of stairs..."

"Tasha," Pavel said tenderly, his eyes softening into a look of sympathy as his heart broke for his cousin.

"I'm not pregnant anymore, in case you're wondering," continued Natasha, her voice thick with emotion. "After the fall, He came at me and started kicking me... He… He really didn't want…"

Pavel silently watched as his cousin broke down in tears, her hands going up to shield her face, muffling her sobs.

Natasha took a step back, bumping into the bench-seat, and turned to the side as if to get away from Pavel's watchful gaze. She didn't want him to look at her, to see how weak and pathetic she was, but turning only served in offering her cousin a view of her side and part of her back. Amongst the old marks from previous altercations, her skin was black and blue and red and yellow, making Pavel's own skin begin to tingle as if he was the one who bore all those marks. He could feel his own tears stinging his eyes, his heart feeling heavy and his breathing beginning to become erratic as he struggled to get a handle over his emotions. His cousin—no, his sister, because Natasha was as good as, needed him right now. She needed him to be strong, for her, and he could not be strong if he began to cry along with her. He would allow himself a moment behind closed doors, but right now, Natasha needed him.

"When and where did this happen?" he asked carefully, running a hand tiredly through his short, curly locks.

Natasha was quiet for a moment, no longer sobbing, but still crying silently. Her hands dropped to her sides and she turned back to her cousin, looking at him through the PADD screen for a moment before saying through her silent tears, "A… a few days ago, at His place."

"Did you go to the authorities?"

Natasha nodded her head, taking a seat back on the bench-seat as she whispered, "I woke up in the hospital… I guess someone saw what happened and… made the call."

"So they got Him?" asked Pavel pryingly, almost eagerly, "He's in prison now?"

Natasha shook her head, wiping the tears away from her face and taking in deep, calming breaths as she willed herself to stop crying.

"Tasha—"

"No," replied Natasha, a haunted look crossing her eyes. "When the police got to His apartment, He was gone. They don't know where He is, or where He could have gone. They're doing a city-wide search right now…but that's it."

"What?!" exclaimed Pavel, outraged. "They're only doing a city-wide search?! What if He has fled the city? He could be across the state by now! Why aren't the police—"

"My case isn't a big deal to them," interrupted Natasha, "there is the possibility of attempted-murder, but right now it's being classified under: domestic abuse."

Pavel was silent for a moment, drinking Natasha's words in before he began muttering to himself angrily in Russian, his sentences mainly insults and threats and comments about how you couldn't trust the police. Natasha simply sighed as she let Pavel vent, resting her elbows on the dresser's tabletop and cradling her head in her hands.

"You done?" interrupted Natasha when enough time had passed.

"No," muttered Pavel moodily, "I'll never be done, but for now… okay."

Natasha nodded, keeping her head down as she took in a deep breath.

"What happens now?" asked Pavel resignedly.

"The police told me that, if I didn't feel safe where I was, that it would be best if I moved… you know, to start all over—"

"That's why you were adamant in joining Starfleet," said Pavel quietly, now understanding Natasha's sudden interest in the Academy. "You're running away…"

A soft smile crept its way up onto Natasha's lips. She dropped her hands and lifted her head, her eyes suddenly softening with innocent mischief—it was a stark contrast of how she had been only moments earlier. She nearly looked like her old self again… nearly.

"Well," she began, playing with a lock of her red hair, "I did always want to live amongst the stars."

Nodding, Pavel simply said, "The closest Starfleet base to you is the one in Iowa. A shuttle is scheduled to depart from the Riverside Shipyard in August. It will be bringing new recruits and returning Cadets back here to San Francisco. I will inform you on the exact date and time when it is announced."

"Well then... Riverside, Iowa, here I come."

Author's Note: Let me know what you think with a review. And also PLEASE leave me a link to any completed Bones/OC stories. I haven't found any good ones so I would appreciate the help.