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[personal profile] deawrites
Title: Forget and Follow
Author: [ profile] dea_liberty
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov (Star Trek XI)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Forced slavery.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Just playing in someone else's sandbox.
A/N: Originally written in answer to a prompt for collar and leash around Chekov's neck at [ profile] st_xi_kink. For that reason, this is unpolished and unbetaed.

He doesn't know how he ended up here. Just knows there was a diplomatic mission and it went wrong, and some time, he blacked out. Now there's a collar around his neck, attached to a leash that keeps getting pulled around - and there are hands that keep touching him, slapping him every time he tries to look up, tries to see what's going on.

Head down, they snarl. Head down and be a good little slave, boy. This is it. This is your life now. Forget everything that came before.

Sometimes, the voices were almost kind. It's the best thing to do. Forget everything before. Don't remember so you don't miss it. No one's coming for you. You'll never go back to whatever it was. Wherever it was.

He thinks about home - Earth home, and how his mother will cry. He thinks about the Enterprise - Real home - and wonders what everyone's doing. He tries to figure out what day it is, what time, what he would be doing, instead of kneeling at someone's feet, a stranger's hand in his hair, naked as the day he was born.

He tries to remember Kirk's voice, remembers Uhura and Spock and Sulu - what they'd say, how they'd sound, and all he gets is a tug on his collar, a firm slap on the face when he tries to instinctively look up, and all he hears is, Forget who you were.

His leash gets passed on to someone else. And someone else. And he loses track. They all feel the same - the hard tug that sends him scrambling wherever they're pulling, to kneel at their feet, to look at nothing and let them touch him, pet him, assess him.

It gets passed on again, but he notices this one; the tug is gentle, coaxing, careful. He comes back from that place he's found in his head, where it's quiet, and he remembers he was once the youngest navigator in Starfleet, a boy genius - and not someone's toy.

"I'll take this one tonight," he hears, and his heart actually stutters. He's been inside his head too long. It almost sounds familiar. He doesn't dare raise his head, just stares at the floor and keeps pretending - because it's better (and it's worse but it's almost better) than knowing it's some stranger, than letting that little bubble shatter and accept what's going to happen.

He gets to his feet when he's told, follows where he's led - squeezes his eyes shut and prays when he hears a door click behind him. He's shaking, he can feel it, he's trying to go back, back to that place where he doesn't have to be here, where he's Ensign Pavel Andreivich Chekov of the USS Enterprise. Tries so hard he hears, "Chekov. Chekov, open your eyes," like its actually in the room with him, like he's on the Enterprise and he's having a nightmare.

"Pavel," the voice says. "Pasha, please, open your eyes."

He never lets his dream call him that. There's only one person that calls him that. His eyes snap open and he finds himself staring into Sulu's eyes.

"Hikaru?" He chokes - and all but throws himself at him, wraps his arms tight around him and sobs like he hasn't let himself since he woke up here.

"It's me," Sulu says, lips pressed into his hair. "It's me, Pasha. I'm here. We're going to get you out of here. God, it's going to be okay, I promise. I promise." Sulu's hand trails over the collar then slowly down his back.

And Chekov lets go, stops repeating everything in his head - the authorization codes, the protocols, the maps and systems and charts. He just lets go and trusts Sulu to hold him.

It's the one hand in the entire universe he'd trust to hold his leash and not lead him astray.
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January 2015


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