Okay everyone, this is the definatly the most anticipated chapter. You all will either love me or hate me by the end, but this is always where I saw it going. I hope you guys like it, and I still need suggestions on what scenes to include pass this point. Hit me up with your thoughts, and enjoy!
The ninth time she saw Pavel Chekov, she wanted to hold him.
Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. She sat at the tactical station alone, Sulu currently falling through space and Chekov down in the transporter room trying to save him. The entire bridge had gone silent as the view screens showed Vulcan shuddering, folding in upon itself.
She turned away, trying to block the memory from her mind. She left the bridge, and no one asked her why, or told her to return to her station. No one was sure who could give orders anymore.
She followed Chekov's path to the transporter room, arriving just in time to see Spock fade out of the room.
"Where is the captain going?" She asked no one in particular. Kirk looked up from his spot against the wall and answered.
"He's going to get the Vulcan High Counsel. Apparently they have some special cave that blocks beaming." McCoy came around with a tricorder, and Kirk flinched away from him.
"That hand looks like crap." She said, glancing down at the mess of blood in his lap.
"Thanks." He still had it in him to roll his eyes. She smiled gently.
She turned to McCoy, who seemed to read her expression with a single glance. "They'll both be fine." He grunted, and she felt a shift in the weight on her shoulders.
Natalia smiled again when she heard someone to her left mumbling in Russian. She placed her hand gently on Chekov's shoulder, careful not to surprise him. He smiled slightly, the only indication that he knew she was there, and kept working. She allowed him, taking her hand back and going to ask Bones if he needed any help. She wasn't ready to go back to the bridge, but she needed to be useful.
"I'm fine." He said, then changed his mind. "Here, hold this." She didn't even look at what he handed her. He would steal it back occasionally, and had just in time for Spock's voice to break through the lull.
"Spock to Enterprise, get us out now."
"Okay, just stay right where you are." Chekov came to life, his hands flying over the screen as he locked on the Vulcans. "Transport in five, four, three, two-" He gasped, and the entire room turned to look at him.
"I'm losing her!" He was screaming, and she saw true panic written across his features. "I'm losing her, I'm losing her, I'm…" He trailed off as five figures appeared on the transporter pad. She counted again, and sure enough, there was one missing.
Only one other face looked more devastated, and she couldn't bear to look at her Captain in that moment. She walked slowly over to the beaming station, where Chekov was staring at the screen, his hands frozen over the controls.
"Come." She whispered, taking his hands in hers. She gently pulled him from the chair, keeping her eyes only on him. The room around her began to move, but not at the pace it had been before the single spot on the transporter had turned up empty. She caught Kirk's eye for just a moment, and he nodded, silently giving her the permission she needed. She ran his arm around her shoulder, wrapping her own around his waist and guiding him to the turbolift. She sent it down to the deck holding the crew quarters. She checked his status from the corner of her eye, and was worried by how wide and blank his bright blue eyes were. She exited the lift, leading him down a short hall, stopping at what she had been told was her door. She entered the code she had been given quickly, pulling him inside and letting the door hiss shut.
"Pavel." Her voice was soft, and when she turned to face him she had tears in her eyes. "Say something."
"I had her." He said, his voice hoarse. "I had her, but I lost her." His eyes suddenly cleared, and he saw her for the first time. His entire expression broke, and he reached for her, his fingers brushing her shoulder. She needed no further encouragement, and she pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him. He bowed his head, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She felt his breath in short, quick bursts, his tears burning against her skin. He pulled her flush to his body, his arms wrapping around her torso.
"You are not to blame." She said softly. He shook his head slightly, nuzzling her with his nose. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers.
"I am." He said. "I could have saved her. I could have locked on her signal."
"No." She pressed a finger to his lips, forcing him to stop talking. "You couldn't have. I saw it, Pavel. You did have her signal, then she moved, and you didn't have time to regain it. Unless you have figured out how to stop time, you had no control over the situation, which means it is not your fault." Clearly she had already spent too much time around Spock, if she was trying to reason her way through this. She held his face between her hands, staring into those troubled eyes. "You were just as helpless as the rest of us."
He let his forehead meet hers, never breaking eye contact. "You want me to believe that."
"Because it's the truth." She whispered, running her fingers through his curls. He just stared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes, unable to turn his face away. His face was red with guilt and shame, and she felt her own heart breaking. She didn't need to be an empath to understand the emotions swirling around him.
Suddenly he opened his eyes again, the grief not gone but lessened. "You are sure?" He asked. She nodded.
"No one could have saved her." She said softly. His heart rate was still elevated, and he didn't look convinced. "No one is going to blame you, not even Captain Spock. You couldn't do anything for her then. Don't blame yourself when no one else will." He recognized the conviction in her eyes, and wanted to believe she was right. She saw his worry, and couldn't stand it. She lightly brushed her lips against his, wanting only to calm him.
She hadn't been counting on the opposite effect. His heart rate jumped, his body going rigid with shock before he tightened his grip on her, which had been slowly relaxing.
"I'm sorry." She said softly, ducking her face away from his, her forehead against his shoulder. "I didn't mean to-"
"Natalia." She looked up at his voice, which was oddly husky. She had expected him to be angry or upset or some other negative emotion, but to her surprise, he wasn't. His eyes were burning with the same intensity he had when given a particularly good challenge, and just a hint of uncertainty. Slowly, he lowered his face, his nose brushing against hers before their lips met.
She understood with a sudden clarity that his reaction hadn't been negative at all, but simply surprised. She hesitated only a second before tightening her grasp on him, her hands against his neck, in his hair, holding him to her, hell-bent on keeping him close.
She had spent hours wondering what this would feel like, and was pleased to say that she had been entirely wrong. His lips were warm and inviting, shaping to her own effortlessly. He was careful, but not hesitant. He moved slowly, not out of fear, but to savor the moment, both of them committing it to memory. While he wasn't her first kiss, he was the one she cared about, the first time she wanted to remember.
What seemed like a lifetime was really only a few seconds. As they broke the contact, opening their eyes, both were pleased to see the other smiling gently. Chekov lifted one hand, running it through her dark hair slowly.
"How long have you wanted that?" She asked softly. He shrugged.
"Years, maybe." He seemed unconcerned. "It doesn't matter. I was willing to wait."
She was not as calm as he was. "Years? Seriously?" He saw her frustration growing, and raised his eyebrows, silently asking her why. "You mean we could have been doing this earlier, and we weren't?" She asked in a frustrated growl. He laughed lightly, kissing her forehead. "Was it my fault?" She asked.
"No." He moved his lips to her temple, enjoying the small shiver she let escape as his lips brushed gently against her skin. "I wouldn't have ever told you how much I cared unless you had asked me, and you wouldn't have asked because you were afraid of the answer. At least, that's what Rachel has been saying."
"She's known this whole time." She said, absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. "She was probably taken bets on how long it would take us to figure it out on our own."
"Perhaps." He shrugged, though he couldn't care less. His guilt over losing Amanda Grayson wasn't gone, but the initial pain had found a cure in the girl between his arms.