Nobis ✴︎ Pavel Chekov

Chapter Forty Seven - The Russian Queen

"I've been reading my letters," Pavel mutters to Scotty. "I've only read Irina's but fuck, I've no idea how I'm supposed to get through any others.

"Y'know," Scotty starts, his mouth still semi-full of mash potato, "It's not like you have ta' read any others. They were written assuming you'd never read them."

"I know, I know but I want to see what everyone really thought of me."

"Dead or alive Pavel, most people I know adored you or envied you."

He smirks, still in disbelief about the whole situation. "What happened to my transporter theory? Is my name in all the Starfleet textbooks yet?"

"Not yet lad but it will be soon. They're testing it at headquarters and there's a lot of interest in it. Just wait until they hear you're still alive to answer all of their questions. Wait until they hear you're not even an engineering major."

"I'm glad I'll have some part in transporter theory history. It's always been a goal of mine to have my name in a textbook somewhere... Be a part of history."

"You will lad. You deserve it."

He smiles, thanking Scotty quietly. His PADD buzzes and he picks it up, seeing a message from Irina.

'Can I come see you? I need to ask something important.'

'I'll come to your room soon.' He messages back, wondering what it is she needs to ask. He tells Scotty he'll come down to engineering later and gets up, hoping not to run into anyone else on the way there. Irina answers the door as soon as he knocks on it and he takes a step back, a little startled. Without saying anything, she gestures for him to come in, a concern plastered on his face.

"What's that on your foot?" Pavel asks, noticing something on her ankle that he hasn't picked up on before. She steps away from him, swallowing and looking like she has no intention of showing him her ankle.

"I got a tattoo," she admits quietly, crossing her other ankle over it to hide it.

"Are you going to show me?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

Pavel smiles, sitting on the end of her bed and watching as she raises her ankle up for him to see. It's a simple black crown, not shaded and not coloured. He can't think of what it means until he goes back to the letter.

'Your Russian Queen'

He swallows. Irina asks if he's figured it out yet; he nods.

"It seems a little stupid now. I honestly thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd never see you again. I wanted something permanent. I wanted to ask something of you... My letter, I don't want you to read it."

He doesn't know whether to straight up tell her that it's already been read or not. "Why not though?"

"I wrote it thinking I'd never see you again, okay? There's some things in there that now that I wouldn't want you reading, that I wouldn't want to explain... I said something in there that I couldn't have you read now because it'd just making everything messy..."

"Irina, everything already is messy."

"I know but it would make things worse. Please don't open it."

"Irina..."

"Please Pavel."

"Okay," he says weakly, knowing that he's just going to create more issues to deal with later. He swallows and stands up to leave, still feeling a little uncomfortable in her presence.

"You're going?"

"I still have a lot of people to see," he mutters, wanting an excuse to leave before she can pick up that he's lying to her. "I died, remember?"

She nods, giving him a tight hug before he goes. He feels terrible hugging her. He feels like all his affection should be given to Emory, not to her. He gives her a soft smile before her leaves, wondering when he'll break it to her that he knows. He knows that she still loves him.