The Enterprise was quiet as it glided through the vast emptiness of space. From the outside, no one could tell just what happened inside the many decks of the majestic ship.
In the lower decks of the Enterprise, a boy sat at a window, his knees pulled to his chest as he stared at the stars. From the outside, no one could tell that his shoulders were shaking, no one could see the starlight reflect on the trails of tears that fell from his eyes.
From the outside, no one could see Pavel Chekov sob into his hands as he sat back against the window pane.
The stars were beautiful. They shone through the silky blackness that was space, and their constant light, something that usually brought him comfort, only served to make the feelings of anguish intensify as he thought back to the reason he was feeling such sorrow.
His father died.
He tried to hold in his sob as he repeated the words in his brain, and failed. The cry left his lips, and he almost didn't recognize the noice. His voice sounded... small. It sounded so much younger and... sad. He couldn't register the amount of emotion that escaped in that small cry.
He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to will the tears away. His eyes felt swollen as he blinked back the tears starting to pool in his eyelids.
The news had come in the middle of the night. A message that popped on his PADD and disturbed him from his usual midnight reading. It was a video message from his Uncle.
His Uncle, who looked so much like his father told him the news in whispered Russian, his own eyes red and puffy. It was an accident, he said. A malfunction of the heating system of their house. The fire engulfed the whole house, and his father was dead before the flame even reached his room.
It was a shock to him. Pavel's father... The man who seemed to know everything. The man who taught him how to be the person he was... was dead.
They were so far in space, the message had come two weeks late. He'd missed the funeral.
Pavel took a breath in, his throat feeling as though it was closing in. His eyes closed, and he tried to calm the rising queasy in his stomach. He was so busy trying to stop crying, he didn't hear the door to the observation area open, and he didn't hear the approaching footsteps.
He didn't notice anything until he heard someone sit down across from him on the window ledge. He jumped slightly, his head flying up from his knees. Sitting across from him, Captain James T. Kirk was silent as he looked at the stars.
"I just got the email from Starfleet," He whispered, his voice soft. "I'm so sorry Pavel."
Chekov didn't say anything for a while. He didn't trust his voice yet. Jim forced himself to meet the eyes of the boy in front of him. Pavel looked horrible. The usually composed, and carefree boy was pale, his eyes were red and his hands shook slightly. He was hunched over himself, his knees up to his chest. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
After a few agonizing moments of silence, Pavel finally spoke. "I never got to say goodbye..." He said, his voice hoarse and full of so much pain. It broke Jim's heart.
"I talked with some of the admirals. The ship is due for some upgrades... They're letting us go to earth for a short shore leave. It'll take about a month to get back, but... You'll get to be with your family." He watched the kid in front of him carefully, wanting to see his reaction. They actually weren't due back for another few months, but he'd managed to pull a few strings and trade their docking time with another ship.
It wasn't easy, and he owed the captain of the U.S.S. Bradbury a bottle of Andorian Ale.
Pavel nodded his head. He wanted nothing more than to be with his family. He just wished he could be with them now. "Thank you, sir." He whispered, his eyes not leaving his hands.
"I talked to the others too, they said they'd be willing to go with you. Me included, of course."
"You don't have to give up your shore leave for me, sir..." He argued weakly.
Jim smiled bitterly. "But I want to, and the others do too. You aren't alone, Pavel."
Pavel nodded, his eyes finally meeting Jim's. "Thank you, Jim."
"You're welcome buddy. Now come on, let's get you something to drink, you look like you need it." They stood together, Jim's arm across Pavel's shoulders.
He wasn't alone, and Jim was determined to make sure Pavel would never forget it.