The sound of fireworks were much too similar to phasers, explosions, or old fashioned rifles for Pavel to ever really feel comfortable around them. He used to plug up his ears and watch their cacophony of blue and pink and green and yellow and every color that smear harshly against one another with no hope of aesthetic harmony. Back in mother Russia, they blistered liked knock-off stars until nothing but slivers of smoke drizzled in their absence.

He could never see them when fireworks blazed about, the real stars. It's different on a starship, there are no fireworks to outshine the galaxies or to make him flinch or feel nostalgic about anything. Pavel likes it out in space during such holidays because it reminds him of where he wants to be… which is exactly where he is.

So when the captain makes an unwarranted announcement that, as it will be their last opportunity before the much anticipated five-year-mission, that particular New Years would be spent back at headquarters, Pavel had to fake his smile. Kirk even went so far as to publicly gush to his first officer about the firework display Starfleet had prepared as a celebration to their cast-off.

Pavel knew that he would have to find some sort of excuse, whether cultural or legal (no doubt Jim Kirk would attempt to shovel alcohol down the ensign's throat and Pavel was sure there was no way he could know about the bottle of Vodka he kept in his quarters) to explain his lack of attendance in the festivities. He already had a list of possible justifications before the shift even ended. Too bad the captain was having none of that.

"It doesn't have to be about culture or drinking, Chekov," he'd said from chair with his legs primly crossed, "it's practically a going away party. How could you even think to miss it?"Pavel didn't have the heart to remind him that it was, officially, exactly that sort of party or that there were a thousand reasons for him not to attend and they were all in assorted colors and shapes. "I expect you will be alongside your comrades?"

"Yes zir."

"Good," and Kirk stood to pat his back in a familial yet, dismissive matter that had him pouting for seemingly hours.

When the 31st came around, Pavel tried to make himself as scarce as possible. Ever since he'd taken up a more permanent residence on the Enterprise, he'd sold his flat and stayed with Hikaru should he need to be boarded for the night. This time, however, his best friend would be attending the 'shebang' (Kirk was really excited about it) and he couldn't much tuck himself away without, well, giving himself away and all the little fears he'd prefer to keep to quiet.

His final option would have to make due although he had hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Pavel arrived at Starfleet headquarters just in time to catch Uhura, Spock, and Bones testing the alcohol content in the punch, to which Bones said, "I knew that little shit would spike it. Didn't I tell you he'd spike it?"and Uhura snorted.

"Welcome Mr. Chekov. I trust the Captain has succeeded in his persuasion?" and really, did Kirk have to tell Spock everything? Pavel supposed that it went hand in hand with the blaringly obvious sexual and romantic tension the two shared everyday on the bridge.

"Aye commander, pleaze let him know zat I am here should you zee him," Pavel said, smiling with teeth and a curt wave. He had been sighted, and now should the captain inquire, his most trusted (Commander Spock, obviously, but should that not be enough then McCoy and Uhura as well) would say that the young Russian had in fact been there and is likely loitering among the hundreds (yes, hundreds) of attendees.

"I will do just that," Spock said, returning his attention to his PADD as if the exchange had never occurred. Pavel suspected that the first officer was entirely aware of his intentions and yet chose to stay silent about it. If so, he was immeasurably grateful.

Pavel found himself wandering through hoards of Starfleet personal all patting him on his shoulder for whatever reason. Some thought his 'heroic actions' aboard the Enterprise in recent events (aka, his floundering about as chief engineering officer) were praise worthy while others were just impressed by the fact that he was aboard the Enterprise when the whole thing went down.

Honestly, he hadn't laid eyes on the war criminal Khan until he was holding their captain on screen and threatening to turn their corpses into a sort of red carpet. Pavel would not admit that his breath had been positively taken away at the first deep rumbles of the voice that had the crew locking their trembling knees in fear. Had he not already been directly in front of a screen, he would have had to run and find one to see the source of such a chilling baritone and how could he explain that?

Alas, the image flickered to life and as oddly captivating as the voice had been, Pavel was on the alert the instant Jim Kirk's face came into view. He looked worse for wear and the satisfied twist of his captor's lips angered the small Russian. It angered every person aboard the ship.

Khan made a lot of enemies in that transmission, because over time Jim Kirk had made a lot of friends. No one had been distraught to see Khan put back into his cryosleep. When the announcement had been aired, Pavel had even heard a whisper behind him of 'good riddance'. It was sad, he'd admit to that, and he didn't think the bitterness in which his comrades acted was something worthy to be called heroics.

In the end it still felt like they had extracted vengeance, although the whole lesson to be learned from the mission was that vengeance was a loop that never stopped… not even after three hundred years.

Mostly, Pavel just wanted to see less smirks over the fiasco and more solemn, down-turned heads.

He took the various congratulations with a grain of salt as he made his way out of the recently-turned-ballroom. He didn't want to be overdramatic but the air in the flickering hall was as refreshing as the silence. He'd escaped. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw no Kirk, no Hikaru, he was practically home free.

Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly home. He'd rather be back on the ship, but leaving the premises would be too risky. Any member of the crew might see him and although Kirk would never get mad, he would be sad that Pavel didn't join in on what he'd considered to be his party. As if the world had completed another turn around the sun solely in his honor.

Normally, that was the sort of thing Pavel liked about his captain, but it was already past ten and the first crackles of fireworks could be heard in the far off distance. They were like bullets at his ankles, driving him forward. There wasn't really anywhere he could easily access that would hide him from the abhorrent noise, but he had little other choice than to travel up to avoid crossing paths with any stragglers or fondling couples that strayed from the party.

He'd figured that the empty offices would be the first to become occupied should any choose to participate in a new years' groping session. In fact, the only place he could think of to park himself away for several uninterrupted hours was the storage floor.

At least it was climate controlled.

Pavel was almost excited about it, sitting on a stack of boxes and drinking vodka from his family flask. It was all the celebration he'd really needed. He picked a room at random, because he'd come to learn that all storage units looked the same inside, and then he let himself in with a not-so-legal override code that Scotty had shown accidentally. Of course he'd pretended that he'd forgotten it within moments. His superiors often overlooked how intellectual he was and he'd like to keep it that way. Seeming harmless opened a lot of doors… including the one to storage 6B.

It slid shut behind him with a prominent hiss and the loud clunk of the lock sliding into place. Pavel wanted to relish in the satisfaction of being alone for at least five minutes but of course, it took not even a moment to realize that he wasn't alone… not really.

Storage 6B, seventy-three ice grey cryotubes lined up like dominoes across the massive unit. Pavel may not have had any close up experience during the whole fiasco but again, he was smart and knew much about technology and its development over time. He would have recognized them for what they were even if he'd had no prior knowledge of the incident.

"Oi yo."

It had been all over the news, the announcement that Khan would return to his cryotube and be placed in a facility, but they'd left out the fact that the facility had been a storage unit. A storage unit… like for vehicles or multitudinous jars of sweet pickles… not for people.

It just seemed that Pavel's New Year insisted upon getting worse.

He thought about leaving, but the idea of leaving all those souls trapped in a sort of purgatory while the world celebrated in unity for the coming year… it didn't settle well with him.

"Vell, zis izn't ze most lively party I've ever been zo," he said, running a hand along the glass of a pale and almost statuesque woman. He pulled out his flask and took a drink, letting his stomach churn at the familiar heat. "Pavel, you 'av got zo stop talking zo yourselv."

Each face tucked away behind the shield of glass was different, yet sported the same lifelessness. They were all corpses dressed for an open casket funeral, something Pavel had always been perturbed by. He couldn't remember if those in cryosleep dreamt, but hoped for their sake that should they be dreaming, they were not plagued by nightmares.

It was as dreary as a museum, walking down each aisle to stare at the display. Each exhibit felt the same and the faces began to blur together. It was no different that walking through a crowd; although he took long, calculated looks at each prisoner, their features seemed to slip away once they were out of sight.

Maybe it was he who had become trapped in a nightmare, one with never ending paths and solemn faces and the only thing that kept him from feeling lost was the horrible racket of the fireworks that grew more numerous as midnight drew closer. He visited every one of those tubes and peered at the secrets locked within them. So many lives so purposeless, the minutes trickled by like running water… right through his fingers.

"Zis is absurd," he murmured through another sip of vodka, using a gentle hand on one of the glass coffins to steady himself. It was the very last of them, tucked away in the corner where the light from the windows could illuminate it like a showcase.

"Oh," Pavel said, putting a bit too much weight on the glass, "Iz you."

Of course he'd recognized him. When his face appeared on every screen aboard the Enterprise, his features had been seared into the minds of all who laid eyes on him. Even in a state between life and death, Pavel could not help but notice (again) how handsome the man truly was. He imagined that he'd never lay eyes on the man after his sentence, let alone in such close proximity.

Pavel's eyes traveled down the long line of Khan's neck, bouncing across his freckles like stepping stones. He hadn't noticed them before, doubted anyone had. They were so small, like pin pricks.

"Figures you'd 'av skeen like a zilk sheet." And really, Pavel wanted little else than to see if it was as soft as it looked. It wasn't abnormal to want to get impossibly close to something dangerous, Hell, that was why Starfleet existed in the first place. It was that curiosity (and insanity) that made a good recruit, so naturally Pavel had his fair share of the desire.

The saddest part of it all was how the augment's eyes lay shut against his razor cheekbones and hid within them a blue bluer than the sky. At least, that was how Pavel remembered it, being floored by that riveting gaze. Just thinking about it had his fingers trembling. It really was a shame that someone so beautiful could be so awful.

"You 'av suvvered a lot. You all 'av," he said, running a finger across the glass. "I am zorry."

Time had escaped him. He was forcibly dragged back to reality by the sound of a loudspeaker counting down from ten.

"Alreazy?"

Pavel had been certain that the night would drag on endlessly, but it was already time to bring about the New Year and he hadn't even spent the last two hours dreading it. As the countdown descended, his hands tightened their grip on the edge of the case and when it ended…

Something happened.

There are several theories equating terror and love, but Pavel never read about them because it wasn't on his 'to do' list. He thought he understood though as the absolute mayhem of midnight went off like a chain of explosions. He couldn't remember it having ever been so loud and he blamed the five year mission for it. As the fireworks blazed, not only did Khan's pale face light up like a Christmas tree in an array of gold and red and blue and green but Pavel was almost certain that his heartbeat stuttered.

The feeling of its irregular whisper in his chest combined with the awe of seeing someone look more beautiful than God would have deemed fair… it was akin to falling in love.

"Yah mai yo," he whispered, his chest still seized and cheeks beginning to burn. He couldn't help but to lean forward and take the only chance he was ever going to have to act on the illusion of love that overwhelmed him.

The glass was cold, reasonably, and he felt like a child kissing the window as his parents left for work.

"'appy new year."

Then the lights were not just from the window, but blinking up at him. Pavel pulled back to see that beneath his palm, the console had lit up.

"vat?"

It clicked twice, almost in tune to the Ensign's sluggish blinks, before a loud hiss assaulted his ears and it dawned on him what was happening.

He'd turned it off somehow, with a stray hand.

Khan was waking up.

"Dudki…"