A/N: The next chapter will pick back up with the 'Moments' series, but first here you go(:
Chekov held his breath.
The gold enveloped his body and vision.
His atoms slowly reconnected taking longer than usual, his feet traveling from starship to sediment without having to move at all.
He was sent ahead alone to survey the surface, something he did often. Their mission was to analyze the planets foliage in search for a specific plant, it's rare stem holding the cure to a disease ravaging an innocent planet a few light years away.
Chekov's eyes met a storming sky. He looked down to see he stood on a precarious precipice and instinctively went to take a quick step back. Only, no action would have been soon enough. His weight immediately made the weak muddy rock crumble beneath him.
He slid, tumbled, and fell for what felt like far too long. Over boulders and ridges, tossed around like a plaything for the landscape to tease.
Him and the mudslide slipped into a canyon type ravine coming to an ungraceful stop.
Chekov gasped for the wind that was knocked out of him, finding any sound exiting his throat not only didn't make it out but caused horrible pain. There was nothing he hadn't banged or bruised on the way down, including knocking his throat into something hard. He touched his tender neck with his careful fingers and winced.
He wiped the mud from his eyes trying difficulty not to gasp or grunt with pain.
Chekov pushed himself up gritting his teeth, separating from the mound of liquid land.
He swiped the brown from his yellow and black, trying to look as presentable as he could for no good reason.
Finally he looked ahead in front of him, his actions suddenly stopping and his eyes slightly wide.
Something between a woman and a girl looked at him. Her own eyes were slightly wide, probably at seeing what had happened. Or at a foreign life, a stranger. She wore long blue cloth, her hair dark brown reaching her waist, her irises painted bright green. Her arms held a large vase, she stood by a small body of water, it was easy to assume her reason for being there.
She looked to be about his age, that is if her species aged the same or similarly. And her face conveyed concern.
They stared at each other for an unknown amount of time before she walked up to him. Something in the air of her innocence told him to not be hesitant in letting her do what she was going to do.
She reached to his face and gently wiped away mud with her soft fingers. He didn't move, he only watched her movements.
"Are you alright?", she asked.
He couldn't answer so he did not. He didn't know the answer anyway.
"Do you have a name?", she tried.
Chekov put his hand on his throat. She understood.
"I'm sorry.", she said apologetically and sincerely.
He loved the way she spoke. He strongly felt he would very much like to watch her do it for hours.
He shook his head in reply as to say it was not her fault.
She moved her hand to the gold emblem on his chest. She looked at it in wonderment of it's meaning, but it reminded him of his belongings he'd had.
He searched his body frantically finding everything missing including his phaser and communicator. He sighed and ran a worried hand through his dirty hair.
She grabbed his elbow tenderly pulling him to a nearby boulder so he could sit. He was at her mercy.
"Are you alone?", she asked.
He nodded, vaguely wondering what he was to do. All he really could do was wait.
"How did you find your way here?", she asked further. She was so soft spoken but not too shy, just enough to make him curious.
He answered by pointing up.
"Space travel? I'm not very familiar with the subject. But is your ship not landed on the surface?".
He shook his head. He made a fist and circled his finger around it.
She laughed. "It is in, orbit?", she guessed, happy she remembered the word.
He chuckled and nodded once. Her laugh fell nicely on his ears. Very nicely.
"What are you doing here on this planet? Only answer if it's not too difficult.".
Chekov looked around and bent over toward the ground. He stopped finding what he was looking for and plucked a plant out of the ground. He was surprised to find the very type he'd been sent to find. Though there were few like it in the area and they were very small.
He held it up in front of her.
"You are collecting plants?", she asked.
He nodded and pointed to it to emphasize it's importance.
"Just this one?", she asked.
He nodded.
She took it with study.
"There is a field of these nearby. Plenty for you to take as you wish.", she said sweetly. She hoped this would make him happy. She found herself wishing for the return of his smile. It provoked a feeling with which she was unfamiliar, but it was strong.
He raised his eyebrows and did indeed smile softly. It was a question clear as day, asking her to take him.
"But are you not injured?", she asked.
He was scraped and bruised, muddy and messy, but nothing to keep him from walking or doing his mission. Then maybe when the others came they would find no further action was needed. But the thought of leaving now wasn't as enticing as he thought as he looked at the girl.
"Let me go.", she said simply as she stood.
As she turned he pinched the edge of the back of her dress. But his fingers weren't quick enough to stop her and they slipped right through. She was already out of sight.
As she was gone his eyesight was a blur. His thoughts so deep he could have forgotten where he was. His body tingled in the layer of mud and bruise. Little cuts stung and his hair felt disheveled. His face dry and tight. But it all felt sort of nice. Calming. Like later when he rinsed his poor body in hot water it would only leave behind a few aches and pains and a very tuckered out ensign. Just then in that thought his heart half dropped in a realization. What of the girl? Was he just to leave without a word? She'd never know his name. He didn't even know hers.
Her manner and softness toward him was something he didn't know he'd been starving for. She was so beautiful too. Not just obviously though that was certainly so, but her actions and persona held modesty, humility, and also kindness and sincerity. Empathy.
How much time had passed he wasn't sure, but eventually he'd heard the slightest bit of noise.
She was returning.
His heart beat slightly harder.
Her silhouette was far, it cut through the misty fog that hovered above the crevice of the canyon she walked through.
She held the top layer of her skirt up and to her waist. It held bundles of the plant poking out almost overflowing.
Her hair was pushed behind her in the subtle wind and her gait toward him. Her dressings mimicked her hair, their trim cutting through the unfriendly terrain. Her veredescent eyes peircing the grey air around her, looking through his own like a moth to a flame. But who played the moth, and who played the flame?
As she got closer to him their eye contact did not break, her knees finding the ground as she extended her arms to show him her accumulation.
It flooded over, some falling behind her as she had walked. She had done it for him. But what had he done for her?
He looked at it and at her. Chekov raised his hand to glide his thumb across her chin. And with it came not a smile but a look in his eye that said to her 'you did good, thank you'.
Her instinct would have been to sheepishly smile and bow her head, but she could not get her head to move.
Their noses touched, then their foreheads, their breathes sharing the same oxygen. Then their lips stopped teasing and blended together in a soft melody. His hand finally got to touch her hair, weaving his hand gently through it finding somewhere to stay.
Her clean fingertips slid through the layer of mud on his cheek, but then she pulled away.
"I'm sorry!", she said as she backed away.
Pavel's face was pure confusion, his hand reaching for her in instinct.
"I should not have I-I am not destined for you!", she said backing farther away.
Chekov shook his head showing he did not understand.
Her arms held herself as tears flooded her shimmering eyes.
"I am in an arranged engagement to no wish of my own, I am sorry!", she said as she turned to pick up her vase and run away. Through the fog and brush she disappeared within the shadows of the canyon.
Chekov sat dumbfounded and heartbroken. It was possibly the quickest romance turned tragic in all of history. And all he had to show for it was the fading taste of her lips and a torn dirtied uniform.
His hand reached for a few of the plants from the pile she'd left. They were soft and thin paying homage to her hair. They danced in the wind within his slender fingertips.
Then something cold stung his neck. He slowly looked up, his beaten throat straining itself. Obsidian clouds roled ominously in over his head. A few drops landed in his eye as he blinked them out, rolling them away down his cheek like a tear. Fitting he thought.
A drizzle became a downpour, a downpour became a waterfall.
The water drummed the canyon in a hum. It was steady and tired. His hair hung heavy in front of his eyes as he sat leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
He hadn't even heard the team beam down in front of him until a voice interrupted his blank stare.
"Chekov what happened?", asked Spock softly.
He was soaked through, dripping as he blended into the stormy sedation. Mud caking him up to his torso and scrapes riddling his skin beneath his ripped uniform, a cut sleeping in his cheek bone.
He stood and bent down to pick up the bundle of plant. He walked up to them praying they could just go home.
"Mister Chekov?", repeated Spock.
Pavel grasped his throat expressing slight pain to get his point across.
Nyota lifted his chin up. Blue and green bruises were forming across his throat.
The group looked at him with questions and empathetic pain.
"What's this?", asked Kirk who crouched down to pick up a gold necklace. It was in the shape of a rectangle with an unknown symbol in the middle.
Chekov gently took it looking at it with both surprise and solemnity. He couldn't help but look in the direction she'd left. They followed his eyes, not sure what they were looking for though they were connecting the dots.
He folded the necklace in his hand, a look in his eye they had never found before but they were so curious by it's meaning.
"This is more than enough.", said Kirk throwing his hand on Chekov's shoulder as he referred to the plant.
Someone hailed Scotty and soon enough they were out of the rain, but you couldn't convince Chekov of that.
As per protocol they all found themselves waiting in medbay.
The others were checked for weird alien diseases and things and of course were found clean. Their eyes were drawn to their young team member who sat on a bio bed, his legs hanging off the side.
His ruined shirt removed to his black undershirt that brought out his sore green eyes.
McCoy said things to him that they couldn't hear. Chekov would nod or shake his head in response, only clenching his jaw not daring to move it further.
Bones was mild and kind to one of his favorite patients and closest companions. He eyed the boy with watchful worry, but gave him his time and silence.
When he asked him for his forearm Pavel extended it without opening his fist. McCoy asked him to open his palm which he did reluctantly. His stiff scraped fingers creaked open revealing the gold necklace. He removed it with his other hand, the symbol now stained into his skin.
When he was given the okay to go he hopped quietly onto his feet. And silently he left.
Once healed and after some time they would find out what had happened.
His mission report was itself a broken sonnet.