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Chekov couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep a full night in weeks. He never mentioned it to Leonard, too afraid he'd laugh at him or put him on some medications that he didn't need. He didn't have a problem.
It was just nightmares.
They weren't anything anybody else would find worriesome, but the young Russian found them terrible. Vivid dreams that the doctor that slept next to him every night didn't love him, dreams that his crew had forgotten him or dismissed him for being too young. Dreams that took place when he was still in the Academy, his first year at the meager age of fifteen, being pushed around and tripped up in an endless hallway, a sea of angry men in red outfits.
He hadn't slept a full night in a year, now. He'd always been too afraid to sleep, or was jerked awake after a nightmare that left him in silent tears.
One night when he snapped awake, Bones was just crawling under the covers with him. "Did I wake you?" He asked, wrapping his arms around the ensign. "It was a late night. I'm sorry."
Chekov shook his head, wordless as tears streamed down his face, almost invisible in the darkness of their room. McCoy pulled him closer, taking a quick look at his face as the Russian collapsed onto his chest, his shirt growing damper with tears. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, running his hands through his blonde curls. The boy only shook his head, sniffling as the doctor pulled the blankets tighter around the two. "Chekov, tell me."
The ensign sighed shakily, wiping his eyes with his too-long sleeve of his jumper, the ends of the sweater going to the boy's fingertips. "It vas just a nightmare..."
Leonard finally saw it. Feeling Chekov stir beside him almost every night, some nights finding the other side of the bed empty completely. "It's been happening all the time, hasn't it?" He asked softly.
Chekov shook his head. "Pavel, don't lie to me."
The boy wiped the last of his tears away, looking up at the man. "I didn't vant to vorry you..." He said, trailing off as the doctor's grip on the boy tightened somewhat.
"You shouldn't have been worrying about me," He said, kissing the boy's forehead. He looked so innocent like that, his eyes watery and looking like all the hope in the world was gone. He wondered how the hell he managed to seem so hopeful when this was happening. "You should've been worrying about yourself. I'm a doctor, I could've helped."
Chekov nodded. "I'm sorry,"
"It isn't your fault," Leo cut him off, shaking his head. "Just, tell me things."
He felt the boy nod again and then settle next to him, curling up next to the older man. "I vill." He said softly.