Dreams by Lynne Buckley This was His place. The place where he felt his true self could come out without fear. Everywhere else, he was terrified that someone would see his inner self and he couldn't stand that. All it meant was pain. He'd had enough of that. "Nyet. No more." Looking around, his dark eyes searched for any hint that someone else was here. Smiling bitterly, he knew what these kind of mistakes had cost him.He shuddered as the felt the ghosts of rough hands on his collar. The faint sour smell of cheap alcohol filled his nostrils and his father's slurred voice spoke as though he was there now. "Aaah Pasha. You didn't know that I could find you here did you? But there's no where you can hide. I can smell you like a rat. You'll never get away from me. You're my reward. She could go star faring as long as I had you to bring her back." His father had been right too. She came back once a year. Her slight frame and dark eyes, so like his, watching him as she spoke. "I can't stay here Pavel. You do understand, don't you? My work is important to me and to the Federation.Your father loves you and wants to bring you up in his ways... in this place... " She brought him books and vids of other worlds, but no love. Shaking his head, he tried to stop the pain exploding into anger. People noticed him that way. His fights had got him into trouble at the Academy. "Chekov, this behaviour is unacceptable. You have an exemplary academic record. If you want to be a Starfleet Officer then you must learn to control yourself, or we will have no choice but to dismiss you from the Academy and send you home." He felt his hands clench at the remembered words. They didn't understand. No one did. No one had ever cared enough to try to understand or help him. "His father loved him".. she said. Oh yes, he loved to use him as a whipping boy. An outlet for his frustration against his errant wife. It had always been worse after her visits. Explosions of violence that had left him terrified and hiding in any dark corner like a beaten dog. Silent tears slid down his cheeks as he remembered the slaps, kicks and punches that had left him bleeding and bruised; his dark eyes bewildered and frightened."Don't look at me that way!" His father would scream at him. So he'd learnt not to. He kept his head down, and tried to stay out of his father's way as much as he could. But when his father was drunk he always hunted him down. Every safe place would be found out. Each punishment getting worse as he grew older. "Love me," he said harshly. "He loathed me because I looked like you! You didn't want me and didn't care." Rubbing his hand across his eyes, he looked towards the starview from his hidden corner. Well, he'd made it, he thought triumphantly. Away from that stinking place. Out to where she had talked about. 'I did it on my own. I beat him at the end. You can't follow me here.' But the voice inside told him the truth.His father followed him all the time. In every conversation, workplace and shore leave he saw his father sitting and watching him. "That's right, Pasha. You tell them of Russia and of home and how good things are. But we know the truth don't we?" "But they don't!" he cried out in anguish to his shadow. "They don't care! I'm Pavel Chekov. Russian and proud of my heritage. Even you," he laughed bitterly. "They see the perfect Ensign. Everybody likes me. I tell them what they expect to hear, and they smile and pat me on the back like a long lost friend. I've made myself a past I can be proud of, and I can laugh now because I'm winning the game!" "Are You?" The darkness asked. "You don't look any happier here than when you were with me. They don't like you anymore than I do. They just don't care about knowing you. You're a kid to pet and to patronise. 'Good work Chekov. Nice going, kid.' Empty words, Pasha. Empty words." "No!" He slammed his hand into the wall, feeling the pain explode as the shadow of his father disappeared. His knuckles were stinging. They'd be bruised in the morning, he thought dispassionately. Physical pain no longer hurt him. He'd had too much to notice any more. But people would see his hand. Uhura's eyes would look concerned and troubled. Sulu would be joking with him. "Fighting over your latest conquest, hey kid?" But they wouldn't ask him any questions. People never did. Did they care for him? Or was his father's view right? He'd told him over and over that people didn't see him at all. "You're faceless and worthless, Pavel. People don't care about you, because there's nothing to care about. They see you sulking at the back of rooms with that angry look on your face. What's to like? You're not funny or kind to them. You shut everyone out.You think you're better than them. Your mother is away in the stars, and that's where you think you should be. Not here. Not making a contribution to our co-operative. We're not good enough for you." He'd always been angry there. Always alone. Why hadn't someone helped him ? They'd heard and seen his father's treatment of him. But it was as though it never happened. They'd ignore his bruises and pain. "It's what you deserve." They told him. "You have no respect for our ways." 'Were they right?' he thought. 'Was it all my fault?' He had wanted desperately for someone to like him. No one had. So he'd made a past that hid his pain. He was loved in his dream world. Russia was a place to be proud of. A wonderful heritage. Of course, his mother's name in the Federation had made things easier for him. Star Fleet didn't want to think of the families left behind whilst their scientist went exploring. Everything had to be right in the home, didn't it? These people nderstood the need for Star Fleet to move forwards and onwards. Don't look too closely at the homes where this wasn't true. Like mine, he thought bitterly. But here, on the Enterprise things were different. He'd watched, with a growing hunger, the interactions between the crew here. Captain Kirk led by example. He'd always stopped to talk to him. Made time to make sure he was settling in, his golden eyes full of interest at his hesitant comments, until he felt that someone here was really interested in him. That someone really cared. Doctor McCoy had been interested too. Too interested. McCoy made him nervous. It was though he could see into Chekov's past and soul. His piercing blue eyed gaze would watch him talking of home and he'd say....Nothing. The doctor would talk about his health, his youth and StarFleet policies... "Mother a scientist for Star Fleet too, hmmm? See her much?" McCoy never asked about his father. He didn't want to think about why he didn't. Now, as part of the bridge crew, he was surrounded by warmth and caring. His skills were praised.His opinion valued. But it didn't stop there. Each shore leave or time off, Sulu's bright eyed gaze or Uhura's face would appear. "Coming with us?" they'd ask. He wanted desperately to have friends, but he didn't think he could break the barrier between them. He 'd always been alone and no one had ever asked or cared before. Why should these people be any different? Just because he wanted them to be, wouldn't make it so. But there had been a spark of caring here from these people. Sulu's pats on the back and encouragement, along with Uhura's motherly attitude had made a part of him feel warm inside. Then the pain hurt even worse. It chipped away at his emotional shell, putting tiny cracks into it and he could feel himself bleeding inside. But he decided on his past now. There was no turning back with them. With anyone. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't tell them that he'd lied. He couldn't lose them now, or Captain Kirk's opinion of him. He couldn't face the emptiness of being shut out again.To see friendships from the outside and know he could never be a part of that. He'd wanted this chance at friendships at the Academy. But the pain had been too raw then.It hurt so much inside. He couldn't stand it. He'd had to prove to to himself that he was the best. A winner. He'd had to beat his father's shadow. To make his words a lie.He'd always said he'd fail there. That he'd never make it as an officer but he had. He had made sure he beat everyone like his shadow there. Moving his hand to his lips, he blew softly on the stinging knuckles. Everytime he saw someone act or look like his father at the Academy, something would fester inside of him until he could prove he was better than them. He'd pick fights or compete against them until he was certain that he and everyone knew that he was superior. "I had to win. I had to keep the wolf of my father in his cage somehow.To show him that I was my own master now.That he was wrong about me.I'm not worthless." He said outloud. But your image would remain, he thought. Mocking and brutal, tainting everything I tried to do there with your shadow. But perhaps here among the stars that could change. All he had to do was reach out his hand. He knew he was ready for the tentative hand of friendship that had been extended to him, even though his father still twisted the knife into him every day. At the Academy he had been alone. Here people wanted him to belong. To be part of their family. "I'm frightened," he said out loud. "It hurts. Make it stop. Make him go away.I don't want to lie anymore." Only silence heard the words and sobs of the frightened boy.He failed to hear the silent approach of the blue clad figure, whose gentle southern drawl startled the Ensign. "I'm here. You're not alone anymore... let me help."
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