"I…" The man hesitates, almost trying to decide if what he's seeing is real or not.

"Pavel?"

The mention of his own name has never made Chekov feel so completely speechless in his entire life.

Because the man standing before him is not a stranger.

It's a person Chekov's seen everyday for the past two years of his life, the man he considered a brother.

The man who was once his Captain.

James Tiberius Kirk.

Chekov remembers a time once when he was very young and loved to climb the tall trees in his backyard. Many times, he'd ascend the thick branches to be as close to the sky as he could. But it happened once that he lost his footing and slipped; he tumbled down and down toward the uninviting ground and eventually landed on his back. The wind was knocked right out of him and he was left panicked, scared, and desperately gasping for air.

Suddenly, Chekov feels as though he's right back there on that day, terrified and unable to breathe.

He's only just found out that he's roughly three decades ahead of where he should be and that the man standing before him, gaping in shock, is supposedly James Kirk; the man who he's seen only minutes ago trying to keep his ship from harm.

But for some reason, staring at this aging man before him doesn't make sense. Kirk is youthful, vibrant; only 27 years old. This person he's looking at is mid-50s at the least: no way he's the same wise-cracking jokester Chekov has come to know as a brother.

And yet, this man bares every resemblance to Chekov's revered Captain: the eyes, the hair; hell, even the confused furrow of his eyebrows is the same.

It seems almost undeniable; any and all doubts are put to rest when this man recognizes him enough to even use Chekov's first name. It shouldn't make sense. It doesn't make sense. And yet, Chekov cannot dispute it.

"Keptin Kirk?" He says as more of a statement than a question.

The man's eyes widen in recognition and Chekov is sure of it now: this stranger is no stranger. He is James Kirk: Chekov's friend, brother, and apparently now, former captain.

There's a brief moment of silence before Kirk takes a hesitant step forward, eyes scanning every inch of Chekov from top to bottom with the utmost scrutiny. Chekov is seemingly frozen in place as Kirk moves closer and closer, stopping only a mere few inches from him.

Kirk bends ever so slightly downward so that his eyes are level with Chekov's.

Chekov doesn't breathe. He watches this older version of his best friend stare intently into his eyes. What he's looking for, Chekov does not know.

"I don't believe this," Kirk breathes, "it really is you, isn't it?"

Chekov does not know how to respond for he cannot find the words to speak; so he simply nods his head slightly in response.

Kirk takes a small step back and runs a hand through his hair.

"This doesn't make sense," he says, turning back to face Chekov, trying to rationalize the situation, "you…you were gone-I don't understand…how is this possible?"

"I don't know," Chekov replies honestly, his voice small and unsure, "I vas trying to help save the ship. There vas some kind of storm cloud and it vas overloading our systems".

"Storm cloud?" Kirk asks, recognition registering on his features.

Chekov nods his head. "We didn't know vhat to make of it. It all happened so fast. I vas in engineering and I had to to shutdown the-"

"Fission chambers," Kirk interrupts him suddenly, "you had to shut down the fission chambers. Scotty was trying to manage the lower levels of the ship and needed you to restrict the energy flow to the core".

Chekov feels a chill run down his spine as Kirk repeats verbatim what has happened literally only minutes ago.

"You…remember…" Chekov whispers.

Kirk can only nod his head, a look of hopeless grief upon his face. "I could never forget that day," he replies, "the day we lost you".

And suddenly, Chekov understands the disbelief in Kirk's eyes when he first saw him; the hesitant belief that it really was the young ensign standing before him. Because as far as Kirk is concerned, the last time he's seen Chekov, the last time until now that is, is the day the storm cloud overtook the Enterprise.

Meaning the day that Chekov was only just living a few minutes ago is, in this reality here and now, thirty years ago for Kirk.

30 years since he last saw the boy. 30 years since he thought he lost his youngest brother forever.

"After all this time," Kirk says, bringing Chekov back from his revelations, "for you to end up right here, of all places, in front of me."

There's a sort of bittersweet tone to the way Kirk says that.

"I just can't believe it," he repeats, staring at the young boy before him.

"To be honest, Keptin," Chekov says, finally finding the strength in his voice, "I'm not really sure I believe this either."

And amazingly, Kirk laughs.

"Still have that same sense of sarcasm," he notes.

Chekov smiles.

"Vhat were you expecting, Dr. McCoy's distinct lack of humor?" He jokes.

And with the mention of the old Doctor, Kirk's face pales.

"The others," he mutters, looking to Chekov, "they don't know you're alive".

A realization dawns on Chekov as he thinks about how changed his friends must be in this time. He can barely believe Kirk is this age, standing before him; but to think about the others, how different they must be…

And then a different realization creeps up on him suddenly; one having to do with what Kirk said about the the others.

They don't know you're alive.

"Jim," Chekov begins hesitantly, "did you and the others…did you know vhat happened to me?"

There's a wistful, almost painfully nostalgic look upon Kirk's face.

"No," he replies simply, "we didn't. One minute you're there and the next…" his sentence trails off.

"We never saw you again".

Chekov can almost feel a piece of him break in that moment; knowing that for 30 years, nearly half a lifetime, his family had no idea what had happened to him. For all they know he just…vanished; only to show up some three decades later unexpectedly alive and not even aged a day. Chekov cannot even begin to imagine the pain that was inflicted upon his friends for so long.

"Listen," Kirk says, straightening up as he does so, "we should go sit somewhere. We have a lot to talk about, and a lot more to figure out".

And with that Chekov follows close behind Kirk as they journey on through the rest of the Academy: a place Chekov should find so familiar, but can only feel like a foreigner in as he continues on his way through it.

...

...

...

Chekov absentmindedly taps his fingers against the coffee table he's sat at as Kirk continues explaining to him what exactly happened to lead to this moment.

"You travelled through a temporal vortex," he says. "It's basically a rift in the space-time continuum that allows you to travel from one point in time to another. The entire ship would have been caught in it had it not been for the fission chambers erupting. The excessive release of energy caused the rift to collapse in on itself and disappear completely. But not before you were sent into it. Scotty got there just in time to hear you screaming from inside the chamber room. By the time the smoke cleared, there was nothing left. We found no trace of the vortex…or you".

Chekov takes a moment to let the explanation sink in. Most everything made sense now; the explosion, the harmless smoke that had filled the room. It hadn't been a cloud at all. It was some kind of entity they'd never dealt with before. An entity that had cost his family dearly.

"It wasn't until 15 or so years later that scientists were finally able to understand the effects of a temporal vortex. But by then, it was too late. There was no way of tracking the rift from there. It simply vanished, you along with it".

Remembering that day is clearly taking an emotional toll on Kirk. Chekov can see the sadness in his eyes; can hear the forlorn tone in his voice.

"Vhat happened after I disappeared?" Chekov asks, anxious to know what became of his friends after such a traumatic event.

The expression on Jim's face is not promising.

"Things were never really the same after you disappeared," Kirk begins. "Scotty blamed himself for what happened. He retired from chief and eventually got a job teaching engineering classes here at the Academy. Bones fought to raise the enlistment age for Starfleet. He wanted to make sure nothing like that happened to anyone that young ever again. Eventually, the board agreed. The age of enlistment was raised from 18 to 22, with no exceptions, even for kids like you."

"It took a long time to find someone else to replace your positon. Sulu never got along with the man they eventually chose. They were always arguing, could never seem to agree on anything. It wasn't very long until he requested a transfer; said the Enterprise held too many memories he was trying to forget. And no one blamed him for that. It was hard not to see you everywhere we went on that ship".

"Uhura never really got close to any of the younger cadets after that. Usually she got along so well with any new crewmembers. But after we lost you, she was too afraid to befriend anyone she thought she could lose. Spock, well-you know Spock, he hates letting people see his vulnerability. But you could see it in the way he did things differently: no longer asking the new navigator for assistance on any research, isolating himself during his scientific experiments-he missed you. You were like his protégé for all of the things he did. When you disappeared, he never got around to choosing another assistant for help on projects. He didn't believe anyone could do the work the way you did."

Chekov looks up in time to see Kirk wipe a few tears that had begun falling down his cheek.

"And you?" Chekov whispers.

Kirk gives a small, wistful smile and Chekov can barely see a few new tears beginning to form.

"You were my little brother, kid. How was I supposed to deal with losing you forever, not even getting to know what happened? I spent so long wishing that I could have some kind of answer-that if maybe I knew what happened to you, I might be able to accept it. But I never got that. I've spent the last 30 years of my life wondering what I could have done differently; what I could have done to stop us from ever losing you."

He pauses a moment, staring out the window as the memories slowly come back to him.

"And now," he says, voice thick with emotion, "I find out that you never were gone. I'd see you again…I'd just have to wait thirty years to do it".

Chekov looks away and scrubs a hand over his eyes to rid himself of the tears threatening to fall.

"I'm…" He doesn't really know how to respond. What can he say that would mean anything worthwhile to his hurting friend? The truth is, there isn't anything he can say.

"I'm so sorry," Chekov finally manages.

"Wasn't your fault, kid," Kirk replies, "wasn't anyone's fault. I just wish we had known sooner what was happening. Maybe if we'd known what to do, we'd never have lost you."

There's a beat, and Chekov remembers a time not too long ago when he himself could not seem to let go of his own past mistakes.

"Do you remember vhen you told me it vas stupid to try and figure out what you could have done differently in the past? That we had to move on and not vorry about all the mistakes we could have prevented?" Chekov asks.

And Kirk laughs; genuinely.

"Look at you," he says, "using my own lecture on me. Bones would be proud".

Chekov smiles at that. And the mention of his older friend prompts his next question.

"So the others, they should know, shouldn't they?"

Kirk thinks about it for all of half a millisecond before answering.

"Yes," he replies. "They should".

"So, we'll be going to see them then?" Chekov asks.

"No," Kirk replies. "They'll be coming to us. I'll call everyone; have them meet at my place. Maybe then we can figure out how we're getting you home".

With that last statement, Chekov immediately straightens up.

"Home?" He repeats.

"Well yeah," Kirk smiles, "you need to get back to your own time. Can't have you causing havoc here now can we?"

And hearing Kirk telling him that things are going to be okay; that they'll find a way through this, it gives Chekov comfort knowing that even after 30 years, his friend is still the reassuring man he's come to know as a brother.

Kirk is already on the phone in a few seconds, patiently waiting for whoever is on the other line to pick up.

Chekov can just barely make out the grumbled 'hello' on the other line before Kirk's face lights up with that all-too familiar smirk.

"Bones!" He says excitedly. "Meet me at my house as soon as you can".

He glances at Chekov for a moment, and it makes his smile grow even more.

"I've got something to tell you".

To be continued…