"Mr. Chekov," Kirk said in greeting when the man's cabin door finally opened.
"Yes, Captain?" he asked formally, straightening.
Hazel eyes took in the chess board on the man's desk and received a warm smile from Tatiana, who was seated behind it.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Chekov," the Captain explained. "I wanted to talk to you for a moment. Do you have pressing business?"
The younger man hesitated, glancing back briefly at his wife. "No, Sir," he replied. "If you'll just allow me to get dressed."
"Of course," the Captain agreed amiably. Although Chekov was wearing his uniform, he had neither his jacket nor his boots on. Kirk paced away from the door as the Security Chief disappeared back into the cabin.
He reappeared in the corridor several minutes later in full uniform. Kirk's eyes caught sight of Sulu, now at the desk with Tatiana, in the brief moment the door was open. The Captain felt both chastised and vaguely reassured by the sight. Chekov wasn't even willing to leave her alone momentarily.
The Security Chief's overactive concern for his wife was entirely characteristic of the man's ingrained chivalry. Kirk immediately understood the duties of the two sailors that traveled with the ballet company: they were there to look after Tatiana. Kirk felt all too human for having let his emotions make such a quick, erroneous judgement of a man that the Captain now understood he knew better than he'd realized.
"Lieutenant," Kirk said as they began strolling down the corridor. "While I was in the shower this morning, out of the blue, I suddenly thought of Pierre LeClef. Isn't that strange?"
"It would be for me," Chekov commented. "I never much cared for redheads."
The Captain shot him a glare, but his irritation vanished as he recognized the familiar humor in his Security Chief's dark eyes which he routinely used to avoid uncomfortable situations. The man clearly knew the point of their conversation already. "LeClef was Valedictorian of your class at the Academy. I wonder what he's up to now," Kirk continued.
"Not much, I imagine," observed Chekov. "He's been dead almost a year now."
Kirk stopped. He said nothing for a moment. "I'm sorry."
"Silly virus," the Security Chief explained, pausing as well. "The Klingons didn't even have a fair shot at him. Space travel is not a safe career choice."
"No," the Captain agreed soberly and began to stroll again. "I don't think that it ever will be. Were the two of you close at the Academy?"
Chekov's jaw shifted and he chewed on his lip before answering, a range of emotions playing over his face. Discussing personal information was difficult for him, and his decision to trust Kirk was a visible one. "No, we weren't close. I didn't even know he existed until the end of senior year. He--well I've been told he didn't particularly care for me.
"We did meet after graduation," he continued. "I didn't sense the animosity that I'd been told about."
Kirk paused yet again, turning to face the younger man with intrigued curiosity. He was always finding unique ways to earn the Captain's respect. Chekov, at the very least, was a man of extreme modesty and deep character. The Captain wondered why he ever questioned the motives behind his unmentioned marriage. "You were always valedictorian at the Academy until the very end of senior year," Kirk drew out, the significance of his statement weighing in his tone.
"I recall being told that," Chekov said with a shrug. "I had tutors because my family traveled, so I was not familiar with the academic ranking system. Competing with others still seems at odds with the purpose of education to me."
"You like to learn," the Captain observed. In addition to Spock's pet research projects, the Security Chief still was still always involved in some sort of computer course work. "You weren't Valedictorian at graduation," Kirk added.
"No, Sir. I was second in my graduating class. LeClef scored better on senior finals than I did."
Hazel eyes narrowed as Kirk studied the Security Chief. "Pavel," Kirk intoned quietly. "You nearly failed an exam in a navigation course."
"Did I?" Chekov asked simply as he began moving down the corridor again. "I don't recall what happened."
"You gave it to him," the Captain said bluntly, strolling beside him. "You didn't care about being valedictorian and you found out he did, so you gave it to him. Navigation was the one course you knew so well that you could lower your grade without risking failure."
The young man's response was delayed by a determined increase in the pace of his strides. ""Maybe I just didn't want to give a speech," he commented drolly. "With my accent no one would have understood me anyway," he muttered thickly.
"That took character," Kirk observed. "I chose you from your graduation class based on the unwavering strength of character that you possess." The Captain withheld a smile at the visible shift in the man's features.
"Reviewing my Academy record seems both belated and irrelevant at this time," Chekov stated.
"Not to me," Kirk observed. "Your strength of character is what kept you at the Academy when you should have been expelled.
Withholding another smile, Kirk knew the actual problem. The quick-witted, talented younger officer found it utterly abhorrent to be recognized for something he had actually done. Chekov preferred to be an outgoing, funny and competent member of any group around him. Any notice of his unique proficiencies took observational skills and made him uncomfortable. He actually preferred criticism.
"The assessors have far too much time on their hands," Chekov sneered.
Kirk smiled. No matter how old he grew, the man stayed hearteningly the same. The character assessments he spoke of usually came largely from the Kobayashi Maru and similar tests: which the Security Chief successfully been excused from.
The Captain hesitated, then stopped as he watched Chekov increase the distance between them.
"Why didn't you tell me, Pavel?"
This stopped the Security Chief in his tracks, but he didn't turn. Finally, he spoke quietly, his accent thin. "I don't know." Silent for another moment, he continued. "I'm sorry, Jim."
Chekov pivoted then, soulful, dark eyes seeking his Captain's. "I'm sorry, Jim. You never asked. You always assumed because I was so much younger than you that I didn't have any life events worth reporting."
Quite the opposite was true, Kirk knew. Why he could still be surprised by anything in Chekov's past was unexplainable. "You didn't...you don't want anyone to know that you have anything of interest in your past," he said, approaching the younger man's stopped form. He heard the Security Chief chuckle sardonically.
"How do you explain this to someone?" Chekov asked. "I'm not sure there are adequate words to make it reasonable after you thought you knew me. I couldn't just come out and say 'I'm married', now could I?"
"You managed to make the Academy understand," Kirk observed as he leaned back against the bulkhead. "Frankly, with the Academy rules being what they are, I wouldn't have even gone back to face them. I would have just sent for my things to be shipped home."
Sheepishly, the Security Chief averted his eyes. "I was taught to take responsibility for my actions and to be answerable for my choices."
Too well, thought Kirk. The man was ridiculously hard on himself. "Your choice proved the wise one," he observed aloud.
Hearing hesitating in the man's voice, Kirk knew they had encroached the wall of privacy that kept Chekov comfortable. He didn't press it. "You're a good friend," was what he said, and he didn't mean it flippantly. The Security Chief had a natural gift of making the people around him feel important. He noticed them and made them a priority.
"So are you going to tell me about your marriage?" Kirk knew if the man left him with scant details from his personnel record than the issue would linger between them like a rotting tooth. Personal conversations simply did not come up easily with Chekov.
"You obviously know it's not really a marriage," the Security Chief observed. "Tatiana and I became friends at the Chapman Clinic. After we went our separate ways, the ballet Director abused her. She was a ward of the theatre: a child with no one to protect her. Tatiana finally came to me for help when she was too ill to bear it anymore. I married her to remove her guardianship from the theatre. I was able to move her in with my parents so that someone who cared about her could take care of her."
"I know what your parents are like," Kirk reflected. "They've practically adopted Sulu. Why didn't you let them become her guardians, like you claim they are? I'm sure they were willing."
"Yes, they were," Chekov agreed. "But there wasn't time. To become the legal guardian of a minor you're not related to involves interviews, examinations, tests, investigations...it can take years."
"A simple marriage ceremony takes only five minutes," the Captain concluded.
The Security Chief looked mildly surprised. "No ceremony: we just signed a paper."
Still, at fourteen, she must have had needed permission from her guardian...the government."
"I didn't give them a choice," the man stated darkly.
"I still don't understand," Kirk continued curiously. "Why you didn't wait until June, when you wouldn't have risked your career."
"She would have died."
Kirk's eyes widened in curiosity. "That was a judgement call."
The Security Chief's lips drew into a fine line. "Have you ever seen a death-camp victim?" he asked.
The Captain straightened and started to speak, but knew from Chekov's somber tone that he wasn't exaggerating. Besides, the court-martial board had unconditionally endorsed cadet Chekov's actions at the time.
"You gave up your career and well, quite frankly," the Captain continued with a smirk, "pretty much any chance of dating in your home town. The court-martial board assessed that as a better test of character than anything they've ever come up with."
Chekov rolled his eyes. "They were a bit over dramatic."
Hazel eyes gleaming, Kirk's smile turned wry. "Something you'd be a good judge of, I imagine."
He received a glare in return.
The Captain stood up away from the wall, his eyes still shining as he studied the younger man. "So, you actually do think of her as your sister? No more? I mean, there's never been anything more between you?"
Kirk noticed the brief hesitation before the younger man's face drew into a dramatic, albeit charming, pout. "Sulu says she is 'the girl next door'."
Kirk stilled, eyeing Chekov cautiously as he mulled over the thought. The Security Chief's attitude toward Tatiana, and his actions, began to coalesce in the Captain's mind. "The girl next door?" he repeated.
Chekov's pout faded as he regarded his Captain patiently. "Yes. It's an American Urban Legend. You don't know it? Of course," he concluded, a tiny, warm smile creeping into his dark eyes as his accent grew thicker. "In this case, 'next door' is a bedroom, not a house."
"I know the legend," Kirk answered blandly. The play of emotions on the Security Chief's face as he spoke held his attention. It was clear to the Captain that the man's knowledge of 'the girl next door' legend was blissfully incomplete. Sulu had apparently failed to mention that one day the boy realizes the girl had grown up.
The way Chekov was naturally attuned to people created a natural diplomacy in the younger man, and he recognized instantly the imperfection in his commander's behavior. His eyes narrowed. "This is not accurate?" he asked suspiciously.
Kirk could already see the retribution against Sulu being plotted in the man's dark eyes. To be taken in by a scheming friend would be humiliating for Chekov, although it was not something anyone would put past Sulu.
"No," the Captain assured him. "Everyone knows about the girl next door: it's accurate," the Captain assured him. He flashed Chekov a warm, bright smile then for good measure. Accurate, he was thinking, although somewhat incomplete.
Chekov and Tatiana's childish tormenting of each other made sense to Kirk now: it was teenage foreplay. It was apparent that Sulu understood this...and that Chekov did not.
Kirk found that he was grinning like a hyena, his hazel eyes wild with delight.
Chekov's eyes were narrow and regarding the Captain suspiciously. His mind made the immediate, erroneous connection between Kirk's original question and delighted grin.
"Jim," he warned tonelessly. "There are three rules for dating that all men know. One: you don't date your relatives. Two: you don't date the relatives of your friends, and three: you don't go near the relatives of dangerous men." He stopped for a minute and fixed Kirk with a deadly look.
"Take your pick."