The title of this story is "Memory." I chose to write it in Cyrillic because the companion piece/prequel of sorts is also called "Memory."
Enjoy!
Sasha:
I walked into rec room seven, glancing around the hallways to make sure nobody was following.
I closed the door softly behind me and turned on one light. I didn't need to be blinded, I just needed to see.
I walked over to an elegant black shape in the corner. I stopped in front of it, and then sat down. I placed my fingers on the keys.
I did some quick scales first, quietly, of course. It was the middle of the night, and I didn't need the whole crew hearing me play.
I took a deep breath, and started a song that I'd played since I was thirteen.
I played the introduction, and then began to sing:
Memory, not a sound from the pavement.
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone.
In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet,
And the wind begins to moan.
Memory! All alone in the moonlight.
I can smile at the old days;
Life was beautiful, then.
I remember the time I knew what happiness was.
Let the memory live again.
Every street lamp seems to beat a fatalistic warning.
Someone mutters, and a street lamp gutters, and soon it will be morning.
Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise, I must think of a new life, and I mustn't give in.
When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory, too,
And a new day will begin.
Pavel:
Pavel Chekov hadn't been able to sleep. Now he was perfectly awake, having heard the word and music to a song that had been the favorite of a childhood friend. The pianist was in the middle of an instrumental section again, and Pavel closed his eyes, thinking.
Thinking about the night when the moon was so beautiful, and he hadn't wanted to go home, had wanted to roam the streets and watch the sky. He had held Sasha's hand, and the had watched the moon, and then the sun. It hdad been wonderful, and it had been the last time he'd seen her. Pavel being a thirteen-year-old genius, Starfleet had come soon after. Russia had become a memory, along with Sasha.
Touch me, it's so easy to leave me,
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun.
If you touch me, you'll understand what happiness is.
Look, a new day has begun.
Pavel gasped; the last line had been in perfect Russian. Without thinking, he opened the door to rec room seven.
A dark haired girl sat at the piano, seemingly unaware of his presence. He started when he heard her whisper. The first time it was hard to make out what she was saying, but the second time...
"Pavel," she said quietly. "Я люблю тебя. Черт побери, я люблю тебя! Ах, воспоминания..."
"I love you. Goddamn it, I love you! Oh, memories..." she had said. A strange feeling engulfed him at the sound of that voice, older, but so familiar.
"Sasha," he said.
The girl stiffened, and turned slowly. "Pavel."
He crossed the room as she stood.
"Oh, Pavel." Her voice was like the barest breath of wind; soft, beautiful, and clear. There were tears in that voice.
He walked closer and took her hands in his. "Sasha. Sasha, my wonderful moonlight girl."
Her eyes were dark, the light barely reached them. But he could see they were glistening.
She spoke in Russian. "В эту ночь, ты держала меня за руку ... Мне было холодно и грустно. Но ты держал мою руку, и я почувствовал тепло и безопасного снова ... Павел, мой Павел."
И тогда я думал, что я никогда не увижу вас."
He drew her close. "You are safe again."
She pressed her head into his chest, no longer capable of holding back tears.
He spoke once more. "Я люблю тебя, лунный свет девочку."
The first Russian spoken is translated, but the second and third ones are:
"That night, you held my hand...I was cold, and sad. But you held my hand, and I felt warm and safe again...Pavel, my Pavel.
And then I thought I'd never see you again."
And:
"I love you, moonlight girl."
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